freedom

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I'm not perfect.  And I haven't always been the happy, shiny wife, full of faith and hope.  I've come a long way.  Which is why it's helpful to reread past journal entries, and remember how far I've come in the past year...  Last night we had dinner with Husband's sister and we were able to share what we've learned in counseling.  We weren't too specific on certain aspects (ie. why we were seeing a therapist), but as we discussed our progress something interesting happened: I found it difficult to pinpoint certain emotions or situations, simply because I have healed.  Oh, I have the scars to prove it!  But that doesn't mean I'm finished, that I'm whole.  And I will continue to heal.

I always read about addicts (or codependents) in recovery, but I've never heard of a recovered addict.  Recovery, and healing, is a process, not a destination.  And it takes time and effort.  Healing is not the same as forgetting.  Forgive and forget.  Both require the submission of our will, they don't just happen on their own.  I choose to forgive my husband, and I choose to "forget" the hurt.  Now, I'm not perfect.  And I will readily admit that when he relapses, I relapse and I am more than capable of remembering all past hurt.  The pain and injustice is never forgotten.  It's a part of me.  It's forever changed me.  It will never leave me; at least not on its own.  But, it is up to me to actively choose to let it go and give it to Him who can heal me.  And so I do.  Let go and let God.

So, this is what it feels like to be free?

learning to listen

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September 18, 2011

A few days ago I realized something.  I've written earlier how I've been struggling with my pregnancy, Boy’s behavior in school, and Husband's addiction.  I used to think that it was too much, that I couldn't handle all these trials at once.  I used to think that it was unfair, that these difficult experiences were just heaped on top of the other.  I now acknowledge what a blessing this pregnancy and motherhood is, and that they’re all related.

Husband and I were recently talking about our mutual desire for a heavenly home.  Within that conversation, I realized that these recent struggles are truly a blessing in disguise.  And it dawned on me that due to my weakened pregnancy state (where I truly feel awful and have to physically slow down) coupled with the efforts of providing a peaceful, quiet environment for Boy (no TV or video games), the Lord has literally forced and/or prepared me to listen to the Spirit.  And I've noticed in just the past couple of weeks that as I act on those promptings, I’m better equipped to hear the still small voice.  Because it really is so very quiet, and can be easily missed.  These struggles have helped me the most in dealing with Husband's addiction because I have had to turn to the Lord; and because I've unwittingly created an environment in which He will answer, and I can listen.  I never could have foreseen the cause and effects of my aforementioned trials, but He has.  I’m amazed at how well He knows, and loves, me.

mighty miracles

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I sliced my right middle finger real good the other day, and it's amazing what an annoyance it is!  The simplest task becomes such a pain, literally.  Like fishing something out of your jean pocket, or tying your kids' shoes.  Or typing an email or blog post!  Blasted finger.  But as my therapist is wont to say, "Sometimes a trial is just a trial."  And you know what, my finger is quickly healing.  The human body is awesome!  I am fascinated with what we can overcome, both physically and emotionally.  It's been just a little over a year since D-day, and I feel like a completely new person!  I'm confident and hopeful.  And I'm stronger than ever.  As painful as it may be to cut your finger, or to have your husband cheat on you, healing is absolutely possible.  Scars may be ugly, but they serve me well.

Anyway, I had an epiphany while reading my scriptures and I had to write it down before I forget it, as I'm wont to do...  I've recently discovered this surviving thriving community of wives banding together, all because of their husbands' poor choices.  And it makes me both happy and sad.  Sad to be a member, but happy, and proud, to be amongst the ranks of such strong women.  We can do hard things!  And we will come out better because of it.

Anyway, back to the scriptures.  I was reading Alma 26 and the entire chapter took on a whole new meaning, as scriptures are wont to do.  I especially loved verse 12: "Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things; yea, behold, many mighty miracles we have wrought in this land, for which we will praise his name forever."  The land of sex addiction is a dark and nasty one, where thousands of our brethren, our very husbands, are encircled about with the chains of hell.  There are also thousands of our sisters, us wives, who are encircled about with the chains of hell.  We all have our cross to bare, and dang! are those crosses heavy and laden with splinters.  BUT, we all "are encircled about with the matchless bounty of his love; yea, and we have been instruments in his hands of doing this great and marvelous work" (verse 15).

A year ago I felt so alone.  These unifying blogs were nowhere to be found.  Instead, I only found articles on how to forgive and forget.  And dang! those articles were infuriating and laden with guilt.  I have done my fair share of heavenly fist-shaking, but I am in such a better place now.  And I don't feel bad for being angry or hurt.  At the time, I did.  I was at war with myself, beating myself up for being upset and "un-Christlike", which would only make me feel worse.  I was driving myself crazy!  Thankfully, I have since learned that I am allowed meant to feel a range of emotions.  It's validating.  It's healthy.  So I feel, and then I let go.  Because those chains have been loosed from the Most High God.  He has reminded me of who I am.  His daughter.  And I am capable of so much more than I give myself credit for.  I can do hard things!  Me, and my recovery, is a mighty miracle.  A work in progress, but a miracle nonetheless.

against the stream

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September 12, 2011

How to start?  Life is hard.  It always will be.  I’m currently pregnant, and hoping this time it’ll stick.  I’m mothering a “troubled” child, and hoping I’ll have the courage and strength to raise him in this world.  I’m currently suffering as a victim of pornography, and hoping that one day my trust in my husband will be restored.  I have felt alone and empty for a long time…  “Oh God, why hast Thou forsaken me?”  And then yesterday something spoke to me.   It was quiet, and I’m surprised I even heard it.  It said, “I am here, and waiting to help you.  How do you expect Me to answer when you don’t listen?”  And I realized that although I was reading my scriptures every day, and praying every day, that I was just going through the motions.  I've known this for a while.   But yesterday I realized that for a long time that I've been ignoring impressions as to when I should be reading my scriptures.  And I realized that by pushing those impressions away, I was denying myself the answers I so desperately sought after.

For a long time I've been so worried and focused on how I was reading my scriptures.  I felt guilty that I wasn't able to study them as I used to during college.  I mourn those days of spirituality, and I felt that those studying habits were what brought about that increased sensitivity.  But as a young mother, struggling in the day-to-day tasks and trials, sometimes it’s all I can do to put one foot in front of the other.  Every morning I pray to make it through the day, and every night I’m grateful that I made it through yet another day.  And so I resorted to scripture reading as a habit; as far as habits go, it’s a dang good one!  I know that my consistency in reading my scriptures and saying my prayers has been a safeguard to me.  But it has stopped at that.  And so today, while reflecting upon my latest insight, I realize that for now, it isn't about how I study.  However, I can choose to listen to that still small voice and read when it tells me to.

Today, I listened and I read when I was told to read.  I didn't spend hours reading.  I didn't spend hours cross-referencing.  I didn't spend hours pondering.  I read the same amount, and with the same intensity as I have been.  Really, nothing more than I have been doing for years.  The only difference this time was to read when I was told.  I listened.  And then I was answered.

I am yet again working my way through the Book of Mormon.  Today I read the next chapter in Mosiah.  A great chapter about the Atonement, but it’s mostly geared toward the sinner.  I need the Atonement to heal me, for I have been wronged.  In verse 9 it reads, “Believe in God; believe that he is, and that he created all things, both in heaven and in earth; believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth; believe that man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend.”  It goes on to talk about humbling yourself, to forsake and repent of your sins.  I have not sinned.  I must forgive.  But just as the sinner cannot repent on his own, the wronged cannot forgive on his own.  While reading verse 9 I was reminded of Nephi and when his brothers beat him outside of Jerusalem.  Even after the angel came and visited them, they murmured “How is it possible that the Lord will deliver Laban into our hands?”  They doubted that the Lord was more powerful than Noah.  I always thought this was ridiculous and only showed how blind they truly were.  But I realized that I too have been blind.  Who am I to say that the Lord isn't more powerful than my husband’s addiction?  Who am I to say that the Lord isn't more powerful than my pain?

For a long time I have wondered if God loved me.  I know He does, and I believe He does.  But I don’t feel it.  I don’t feel His arms around me.  I don’t feel an overwhelming confirmation that my belief is true.  But today, in reading when I was told to, I felt a spark.  There was comfort.  Peace.  Enlightenment.  I will continue to listen, and read.  And then I will write my answers.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Yesterday was Stake Conference.  There were a lot of great talks.  One was even about being a victim and the importance of letting go.  You would think that would be the talk that spoke to me.  Mostly it made me feel worse…  It was not comforting.  But the talk that hit me, that spoke peace to my soul, was a talk meant for the youth.  It was about holding to the rod of iron.  Nothing too groundbreaking, really.  But, the speaker shared a personal story: as a teenager, while staying at her friend’s house, she decided to go to the Saturday session of Conference, alone.  And she said that she realized something about herself that day.  She realized who she was, and what she stood for.  And that was her strength.

I am my own person.  My husbands’ actions do not define me.  I am a good person.  I will make my own choices, and I will not let his choices determine what those choices might be.  Heaven forbid he falls completely off the path, but he will not take me, or our children, with him.  I will stand for who I am and for what I believe.  No matter how hurt I may be, or justified I might feel in leaving him or the church, my actions and my choices will determine my salvation.  I will always read my scriptures.  I will always say my prayers.  I will always go to church.  And I will always go to the temple.  I will see God again, because I will make it back.

There’s a painting called “Gently Up the Stream” by Linda Curley Christensen.  There are two boats, each individually manned.  Both are rowing against an oncoming waterfall.  They are together, and their course is the same.  But they row their own boats.  I will row my own boat.  I cannot take the oars from my husband and row his boat while successfully rowing my own.  And I will not hop into his boat and row it for him.  Hopefully, and ideally, we will row side by side.  But until then, I will continue rowing my boat the best I can.  And that knowledge brings me the peace and strength I need to move forward against the stream.

it takes two

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I can't call it my story.  Without Husband's story, I wouldn't have a story to tell...

Husband has been battling pornography and masturbation since the ripe young age of 13.  Husband is now in his thirties and still battling.  I knew of his "problem" before we were married.  When we first started dating, I had asked him for a priesthood blessing.  He couldn't give one.  I was shocked, but naive, and we continued to date.  It wasn't until we were practically engaged that he fully disclosed his unworthiness.  I chose to marry him anyway.  Yes, we were married in the temple.

Things were great!  Or so I thought.  Fast forward to two months after the birth of our firstborn.  Seven years ago, on a chilly October night, my eternal companion confessed to straying into the dark paths of his past.  We had been married for a year, and he had struggled the entire time.  I was blissfully unaware.  I was heart-broken, but still naive.

Things were better!  Or so I thought.  Fast forward to five months after the birth of our second-born.  Three years ago, on a sweltering August night, my eternal companion confessed again.  I was suspiciously unaware.  I was disgusted, and not quite naive.  The following months were some of my darkest times.  But I chose to stay.

Things were hard, but good.  Or so I assumed.  Fast forward to the first month of my last pregnancy.  One year ago, on a dark September night, my eternal companion confessed again.  We were having the usual fight over sex, and as I was walking down the stairs, he lashed out: "I'm masturbating!"  I had never heard such a tone as the one he used then.  It was full of scorn and blame.  He might as well have kicked me down the stairs.  The wind was knocked out of my lungs, and I may have stopped breathing for a few seconds.  I had endured past confessions, but they were all sincere and remorseful.  This was different.  He had meant to hurt me.  This was not my husband.  And so I left.

I got in the car and froze.  I didn't know where to go or who to talk to.  So I drove to the nearest church parking lot and cried my heart out.  Husband called a few times and I ignored him.  He left a voice-mail or two, worried about where I was and if I was ok.  His voice was full of anguish and concern.  He sounded normal again.

It was really hard to drive back home.  It was all I could do to not pack up the kids and head to my mom's.  But I stayed.  We talked.  We cried.  And then, we got help.

For the first time in our eight years of marriage, and in his twenty-something years of indiscretion, our eyes were opened: Husband was addicted.  An addict?!  Addiction!  We both now fully realized the extent of his "problem".  It was not just a label, and it was NOT an excuse.  Realizing it was an addiction allowed us to ask the right questions and to finally get some helpful answers.  Turns out there's more to recovery than just reading your scriptures more and praying harder.  Naive no longer, we both understand what it's going to take to make this marriage work.  Husband and I are a team.  His actions do NOT define me.  And I can NOT control his actions.  But we can support each other in our personal recoveries.

Yes, there are relapses.  Yes, there are hearts to be mended and wrongs to be righted.  But we are slowly getting better.  I'm getting better.

this is me

I am the mother of three beautiful children and the wife to one handsome husband.  I also happen to be a devout Mormon woman, a closet hippie, and an avid foodie.  I love polka dots, the color red, and anything vintage/retro/antique.  This is me and this blog is my outlet for healing; healing from the sex addiction of said husband.

As a wife, mother, disciple and civilian, I feel strongly that such a heavy and disheartening topic needs to be addressed and discussed with love and the realization that anything and everything is possible through the Atonement. Satan thrives on secrecy, doubt and despair. But there is a light in all of us, and that is the light of Christ.  Peace and comfort are made real, through Him.

"The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light:

they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death,

upon them hath the light shined."

-- Isaiah 9:2

I know our Father in Heaven loves His children. Each and every one of them, regardless their past or future. He has a plan for each of us, and He is intimately aware of our happiness and sorrow, our joy and pain. His grace is sufficient. I love me, I love my husband, and I love my Savior.

You are loved and you are not alone! No one is :)