Month: February 2019

Follow up to “Help Wanted, please!”

Late last month I wrote about how our CSAT tasked me to come up with a list of my needs. I drafted a list and asked for your input and suggestions, to add to my own,to take that to our next session.

Before doing so, however, I took A Reformed Cad up on his suggestion and asked Handsome to write a list of what he thinks my needs are at this time in our recovery. I can’t say that Handsome was excited about it, but after asking two questions about the list that I came up with (“how many things are on yours?” and “are they all emotional things or actions or both?” – the answers being 25 and both) he set to work.

Due to some scheduling snafus we ended up having to review the lists by phone, but I think it was a good exercise for both of us. There were 14 things that were on both lists from the start. I took that as a really good sign. It was also a good sign that Handsome said that he agreed with the 11 things I had on my list that weren’t on his list. Those items included things like healthy selflessness, patience, humility, contrition as well as other objective tasks like a post-nup and annual STD testing.

I was also heartened to learn that I didn’t disagree with any of the items on his list that weren’t on mine, such as:
– show initiative in healing
– friendship
– recognition and appreciation
– be kind/ random acts of kindness
– romance
– pride and support
– control anger/ no rage
– be Handsome 2.0
– keep making daily calls to SA and intensive contacts

Some of these things weren’t on my list simply because I didn’t think of them, and other things were left off the list because – while they would be lovely – they seemed to set the bar really high. Perhaps too high. For example, romance has never been Handsome’s strong suit. He proposed to me in our living room while we were eating pizza and watching TV. (Some of my more cynical self-talk suggests that this disappointment should have been a warning sign of things to come.) Grand gestures are completely foreign to him. I’m not even sure how he would define romance, but I thought it was sweet that it at least made his list.

I feel a bit the same about the inclusion of friendship on his list. Yes, I have dear childhood besties, but Handsome was clearly my best friend and confidant. I have said, not entirely joking, that I could never have had an affair because the first thing I’d want to do is tell Handsome. For the better part of the last 20 years he was always my person… my go-to. I do not believe that I was ever his best friend prior to DDay #1. In fact, I’m not actually sure that he ever viewed me as a friend. Being his girlfriend, then fiance, then wife seemed to have me in my own relational silo in his mind. I have often thought that if he actually viewed me as a friend he never would have done some of the acting out that he did. He is a pretty faithful and steadfast friend. I asked him point-blank once who his best friend was and he named a former colleague. (This was very early on post DDay #1, and of course I started to cry and he tried to back pedal on his answer.) I think he was completely truthful in that moment. All that said, I do think there has been a noticeable shift since his addiction was outed. As he has worked to heal himself and as he has focused on addressing his (emotional) intimacy issues in our marriage, I believe he has come to view me as more of a friend than he ever did before, yet he still often deals with me as though I’m out to hurt him, rather than as the faithful wife who loves and supports him in spite of his unquantifiable betrayal. It raised my eyebrow to see friendship on his list.

One other thing on his list – pride and support – made me tear up because it is yet another thing that I always assumed I had from him, not knowing what was going on behind my back. To my face he was always praising me and playing the dutiful, supportive spouse and yet I know now he disparaged me and tore me down to all of his acting out partners to justify his behavior. I understand why he did that (to keep the hits of their attention coming) but I am still sickened that it happened.

So, Handsome is now in possession of a roadmap of sorts to my needs in our marriage. The big question is what will he do with it? If it was me, I’d try to knock things off of that list with a vengeance to right the foundering ship. Handsome is not me, however. He gave some indications in our CSAT session this week that indicate that he’s not as “all in” as he claims, so we will have to wait and see. Only time will tell.

Vacation Mulligan

I went quiet earlier in the month for a bit because we packed up the kiddos and my 86-year-old mom and flew to Florida to visit a very famous mouse. You may recall that when Handsome and I tried this as a grown up get-away weekend last September, it all went to hell in a hand basket. This time went much better, even with Valentine’s Day tossed into the mix just to amp up the stress.

The first two days of the 11-day trip were not great. (I think I told Handsome that they sucked ass, to be blunt.) Handsome was tired and irritable and I started to worry that I was going to have a repeat of September on my hands in front of my mom and kids. And then, somehow, things turned a corner and got better. Very much better, in fact. There were a few stressors (my daughter is a challenging tween, my mom is a challenging senior, and my son’s relationship with Handsome is still strained… and then there’s me with all my betrayal trauma baggage), but we had fun and packed as much as we could into each day and night.

Last year I had forbidden any celebration of Valentine’s Day except with regard to our kids. This year, I leaned into it a bit. Finding a suitable card was tough, but I found a good one for Handsome and he picked a lovely one for me. He also gifted me a cute bracelet that pays homage to my favorite Magic Kingdom ride – the Haunted Mansion (everyone in my family hates that ride and I have loved it forever). We had lunch with the princesses in Cinderella’s Castle and then dinner in the California Grille on top of our resort overlooking the Magic Kingdom. It was a pretty perfect day.

We rounded out the trip with a few sunny days of rest and relaxation in Vero Beach and, thanks both to the willingness of our kids to eat pizza and watch movies and the unfortunate flu that wiped out my mom for a few days, we were able to have dinner together, alone, twice. That was a nice treat. My husband was his non-addict self and I was reminded why I fell in love with him in the first place.

I got really sad about two days before we flew home because much of the trip seemed like the best parts of my pre-DDay life. (Because, let’s be honest, ignorance can indeed be blissful.) Knowing that I was coming home to meetings and CSAT visits and unresolved disclosures and other dilemmas (our nanny of 5 years tendered her notice, and hiring a new one is a daunting experience when your husband is a sex addict), all just made me unbelievably sad. It sharply marked the difference between life “before” versus life “after” disclosure.

We were sitting at the beautiful pool, on a gorgeous day, our kids were being kids and having a blast, and Handsome asked why I looked sad. I debated my answer. I could lie or downplay what I was thinking. That seemed counter-productive. So I told him the truth: “Because this moment right now is incredibly awesome and yet it highlights for me how much I hate my new life at home.” He didn’t ask me why. (I’m sure he thinks he knows.) He did tell me that he was sorry and express some empathy. That, I suppose, is progress in and of itself.

Handsome has slept poorly every night since we got home. At our CSAT appointment yesterday, he blamed it on my statement about hating my life. He said that makes him think there is no hope and it makes him think of running away. Handsome starts researching houses to buy when he gets in these woe-is-me moods, seemingly forgetting that we’d need to divorce before he could buy a house and that he’ll not be able to afford to maintain his current lifestyle if that happens so he’s looking waaaay over his actual budget.  That “poor discouraged me” victimization crap drives me insane. CrazyKat wrote eloquently about it this week on her blog. It is indeed destructive and cowardly. It also highlights the difference in thought processes between my brain and his.

Let’s switch scenarios. Assume for a moment that I ran him over with my car. There he is, the person I say I love most in life, bleeding out in need of aid. Personally, I would be elbows deep in the gore trying to save him, ease his pain, and comfort him. After he received treatment, I would be fully dedicated to assisting him with rehabilitation or taking him to appointments, or doing whatever else is necessary for him to heal. I wouldn’t have to be asked (much less begged or cajoled). I would just do it because I love him and it is the right and decent thing to do, to try to make things right when you cause harm. I cannot even imagine running from the scene, but that is exactly what Handsome’s house hunting mode equates to. One response is pure childish selfishness, and the other is not.

I shouldn’t have to tell him that a thoughtful response to my truth would be to reflect on his efforts to heal the marriage to date and consider how he might more actively support our healing as a couple. It shouldn’t have to be spelled out for him that maybe whatever efforts he was making on the vacation – which had been truly terrific aside from the initial bumps – need to continue at home. I would think those things are obvious. Apparently not. I did ask him to read Kat’s blog post. The irony of the timing of her post, coupled with the similarity of our experiences, was not lost on him. That too is probably a bit of progress, but I’m not sure it balances out the BS that Kat describes so well. Nonetheless, I’m chalking up the vacation as a success, even if it shed light on some serious work to be done in the coming cold winter days at home.

Dopamine Strikes Again

I have suspected over the last 14 months that terrible news is having more of an impact on me than I’d care to admit. I hear it and it mostly just washes over me, and yet I seem to live in a perpetual state of just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I sense that I have grown more fearful and apprehensive generally. I was not, I don’t believe, a fearful or apprehensive person prior to DDay #1. Quite the opposite, in fact. I spent months traveling alone in a third world country as a young single woman without much of a care. A few weeks ago I had to pop an Ativan just to board a plane to attend a work meeting an hour-long flight away. I believed this unfortunate development was just the residue of trauma, but based on an article I read, it seems there may be something more to the story.

“When you experience stressful events, whether personal (waiting for a medical diagnosis) or public (political turmoil), a physiological change is triggered that can cause you to take in any sort of warning and become fixated on what might go wrong.”

Yep, that’s me in a nutshell. And what triggers this reaction, you ask? Dopamine. After living with an addict and now reading this article I’m beginning to think of dopamine as the root of all evil. Dopamine is a neurotransmitter in the brain that affects many things; most significantly, pleasure. When our brain is working normally, we receive a positive reward in the form of pleasure from dopamine induced by things like normal eating, drinking, and sex. Of course, humans like these dopamine bursts so if we find ways to increase our happiness and pleasure – like more eating, drinking, and sex – and some of us go to extremes to keep the hits coming. Just as dopamine feeds our pleasure response, apparently it also feeds fear and dread. So that very thing which fueled my husband’s addiction also makes me fearful. Awesome. Betrayal and infidelity are truly the gifts that keep on giving.

The article makes complete sense to me. Hyper-vigilance isn’t just obsessively checking up on your spouse or cyber-stalking. It can also be the plain act of sensing danger where you wouldn’t have considered it before.

After Handsome returned from his intensive I learned that he gave his phone number to many people he met there, including one woman. She was one of about 8 people he ate meals with each day. To say that was an error on his part is an understatement. It should never have happened. When she asked for his number he should have politely wished her well but declined. Nonetheless, I’m mindful that Handsome has long had female friends and colleagues who appear to have been legitimately “just friends.” That never troubled me before. In fact, I thought it was healthy. Now, where women and my husband are concerned I sense overwhelming danger.

You might say “well, yes, but that’s based on your betrayal experience” and that is completely true. It is also true, however, that for all I know this woman was 70 years old and covered with warts. He never said. I didn’t ask because it doesn’t matter. If she’s female, she goes into the “threat” category. I am, indeed, fixated on everything that might go wrong. I dread the other shoe dropping.

I’m glad this “neural engineering” as the article calls it, helped our ancestors to survive. Perhaps it is even helping me to survive the onslaught of other women and my husband’s addiction. I only know for sure that it is exhausting to anticipate danger everywhere. While I am glad that I am no longer living in ignorance, I have to admit that I do miss the bliss.