Tag: infidelity

Catching Up

I’ve been gone for a minute. I needed Summer to regroup and repair my soul a bit. I thought I was coping well enough with my mom’s passing and with the car accident my daughter had that seriously injured my husband. In retrospect that might have been a little wishful thinking. It was a lot, all in a very short time span. I probably didn’t process either of those events very well at the time.

I miss my mom. Holy heck do I miss her. We often battled and she was a tough cookie, but I know she loved me fiercely and always had my best interests in mind, even when we disagreed over what those best interests actually were.

I have been at my (usually) happy place since mid July. In my entire life I have probably never been here for more than a week or two without one or both of my parents. Their absence has left me reeling. I have such amazing memories here with them. I’m trying to rely on those to carry me through. It helps, certainly, but the grief still comes in hard, powerful waves at unexpected times. Even the smell of the beach can bring me to tears if I don’t brace myself. I really feel a bit adrift without both of them. Not lost, just… unmoored. Like I’m trying to find where I belong now that I’m untethered from them. I’m a 53 year old orphan. That’s tough to get my head around.

I’ve had another major life change too. Handsome had to retire from his job due to his injuries from the car accident with my daughter. (I am so lucky and grateful that no one was killed. It was that bad, and easily could have been much worse.) His retirement has me losing sleep for multiple reasons. First, losing an entire salary two years before our eldest heads off to college wasn’t in the fiscal game plan. Not even close. Second, although he has been really wonderful for multiple years at this point, I do worry about him getting bored and spiraling.

Let me explain. I have a dear friend married to a lovely man. He has multiple degrees from Ivy League schools and, before he met my friend, he had an amazing work history. He gave up his last (to die for) job to move to a small Midwest city to be with my friend and he simply fell out of the job market. He went on dozens and dozens of interviews and nothing materialized. (He was often told that he was over-qualified and/or that they couldn’t pay him what he was worth – even when he was ready to take any offer.) After literally years of rejection, they decided he would stay home and she would work outside the home. Cool. I have no issue with that. But if you spend a few hours with this couple you see the mental and verbal gymnastics my friend does to make her husband feel valued and important. We all like to feel valued and important but I don’t have the bandwidth to pump someone’s ego up every day. I can’t fake not knowing how to do something so he can jump in and save the day. I need to be able to make decisions for certain things on my own without prior consultation. (Not big things, but small stuff… what doormat to buy or what flowers to plant, etc.) Most importantly, he can’t wield a credit card like a light saber when I’m the one actually paying the bill. I’ll be certifiably miserable if I have to deal with this with Handsome. I recognize that may be uncharitable and bitchy but I know myself. Valuing his contributions to the household and showing legitimate appreciation is one thing, but having I would seriously resent having to coddle him.

Fortunately, Handsome has been running his tush off shuttling children, running errands, and overseeing major construction on our home (that we contracted and paid for before the accident). He literally hasn’t had time to be bored or feel unimportant. I’m not sure how long that will continue. He has been sober since DDay, and has given me no reason (in several years) to be wary. But recovering addicts are still addicts. It would be cocky to think otherwise. I don’t know if he can find fulfillment in being a stay-at-home dad or if the absence of adrenaline rushes from work will take a toll. (His therapist jokingly told him to teach kids to drive if he’s desperate for a rush.)

These are both “new normals” that are going to take some adjustment. I’m game, but I’m also exhausted from the weight of these things on my shoulders. I know I’m still grieving. And I’ve always been okay being the primary breadwinner but being the sole breadwinner is a unique kind of pressure. It’s no one’s fault. My mom fought valiantly to stay alive and Handsome didn’t cause the car accident and had no intention of giving up his career. Things just happen. Life happens and it isn’t always filled with sunshine. I get it, but I’m already wishing 2023 out the door and hoping 2024 will bring more peace and perhaps some joy.

Questioning Karma

It may not seem like it here, but I am a reasonably optimistic person. My glass is more than half full. I have said on more than one occasion that karma would sort stuff out, so I need not worry over it. Generally it worked well for me (or for my little slice of the universe).

OW #1- Husband divorced her.

OW#2 – Husband became incapacitated so now she has to care for him 24/7 on welfare.

OW#3 – Repeatedly arrested and occasionally homeless.

It goes on and on. Karma.

And yet my own fate/ luck these last few months has been utterly awful. Or has it??

Shortly after I last posted, Handsome and my 16 yo (who was driving on her learner’s permit) were in a terrible car accident. I had to drive to the accident scene and there were 3 ambulances and two fire trucks there. Car was totaled. The car she hit was totaled. Daughter black and blue head to toe. Handsome has a lumbar fracture. Awful scene.

Then, my 90 yo mom passed away last week. She was in 3 facilities over 2 months, but was discharged to come home the day before her birthday. Six days later she had to return to the hospital with a pneumonia that killed her shortly thereafter. She was fully alert till her last breath and I was with her, holding her hand.

I really started wondering who I wronged in the universe for all these awful things to happen. Who did I wrong or betray? Was I selfish or greedy or just a general jackass? Why?

And then I took a deep breath and tried to step outside myself for just a minute. Yes, these things were all terrible and sad and stressful. (So very stressful.) And yet… there is also unquestionably good fortune in each.

My husband and daughter are alive. They can walk. Not everyone walks away from an accident like they had, but they did. Yes, Handsome is injured but he can and hopefully will heal. The car is replaceable. They are not.

I’m so very sad about my mom. She lived with me for the last 6 years. I saw her every day. I’m really missing her. But she had a good, fulfilling, long life and was in reasonably good health and had all her faculties up until the very last minute. I had her for 53 years. I know how lucky I am. Yes, she died and it hurts and I’m crushed, but I was so very fortunate to have her for my mom and to have her for as long as I did.

Maybe my karma was the good kind after all.

Safe Places

While I cannot believe that it’s July already, I am excited that means that my family’s annual summer sojourn to New England is just around the corner.

Handsome has a younger brother who, throughout the entire 20+ years I’ve known him, was in a long term relationship with a lovely woman my kids have known as “Aunt _____.” They never married but they were together as a couple during that entire time. In January, Aunt ____ was summarily replaced with a 23 year-old new girlfriend. (Handsome’s brother is 57.) It is reasonably clear that this relationship started as an affair. They were living together within days of the breakup with Aunt _____.

I’ve met the new GF. She’s what you’d expect from a young woman willing to date a recovering alcoholic who is older than her parents and whose last long term partner still had clothes in the closet when she moved in.

Handsome asked if I “minded” if his brother and the GF would stay with us on vacation. 🤔

Yes. Yes, I do mind. Very much so.

I worked incredibly hard to reclaim my happy place there from any acting out Handsome engaged in while in that house. While she isn’t an OW of mine, the GF is an OW of someone I still think of as family. I don’t need that gigantic trigger around me on my vacation. I also don’t want to normalize any of that for my kids.

I note that Handsome did not ask whether they could vacation in the same place at the same time. Evidently, they are planning to be there. (To be fair, I’m confident Handsome didn’t invite them or suggest that. I believe they planned their own trip.) The only question is whether they stay at our house so I’m compelled to see them 24/7. I think not.

Thoughts? Am I being unreasonable? Should I just suck it up and not make waves? Old me would have done that, to be honest. I’d have chewed on that poop sandwich throughout the main vacation I look forward to all year just to avoid rocking the boat. New me would prefer to burn it all down and have a bourbon while watching the flames.

Unexpected Consequences

On my DDay, almost four and a half years ago, my children were 8 and 11. After assessing who knew of Handsome’s behavior and what the possibilities were of the kids learning anything, I made the decision not to tell them about their dad’s infidelity and sex addiction. There was simply no reason for them to know.

Handsome was drinking often before DDay. While they never saw him drunk, they did see him drink daily. We did have some discussions with the kids when he stopped drinking about why he made that decision. We also talked to them about why he went to Sierra Tucson for 6 weeks for mood disorder treatment and what he hoped to accomplish after his inpatient stay.

Here we are these few years later and, while I still believe that not telling them about his infidelity/SA was what was right for them (given our particular circumstances) I now see some unintended consequences of that decision. Namely, all of Handsome’s prior bad behavior witnessed by the kids has a reason attached to it in their minds. Dad drank too much so of course he was miserable. Dad yelled a lot because he couldn’t regulate his emotions. Dad didn’t have the meds or the skills he needed to control his moods.

Those reasons are true. But…

The cherry-picking of what my kids know vs what they don’t know means that they have some context for his behavior whereas I now see that they have zero context for mine. During an argument, my now 15 year old daughter said “It’s like you woke up one day a few years ago and just decided to be mean.” 💔 I just wanted to hold her close and say “no, darling… one day your father tore my heart apart and irreparably changed me. He took my peace, my patience, my sense of humor, and my sense of self-worth. I’m still working on getting those things back and it’s hard and sometimes I still struggle. Sometimes I fail.”

That lack of context occasionally means that I get blamed for the consequences of my husband’s actions. One child expressed frustration recently that we don’t stay home for Thanksgiving (which would be a trigger for me). I was seen as the one making that decision and thus got the blame. Handsome had to step into that discussion to say “I ruined Thanksgiving at home for mom, so blame me and not her.” They assumed he meant that he ruined it with his drinking, so the explanation was accepted. That doesn’t work so well though for things like “why is mom so quick to anger” or “why does mom startle so easily?” How do we explain my CPTSD when they only know half the story?

Telling them now is unacceptable for the same reasons that were valid 4 years ago. I’m not going that route. They just don’t need to know. It is frustrating though that in my efforts to preserve their relationship with Handsome I seem to have unintentionally harmed my relationship with them in the process. Could we just blame everything on his drinking and call it a day? Sure. It just doesn’t explain everything.

Perhaps the problem is that I’m not the right person to address the issue. Maybe Handsome needs to step up more, like he did when the matter of Thanksgiving came up. That was incredibly helpful. I don’t mind being the “heavy” with my kids when it’s needed and appropriate, but I didn’t anticipate catching flak for things I can’t really control.

On being small

I recently had an experience with my 89 year old mother that opened my eyes to a lingering side effect of my husband’s infidelity and related nonsense. Namely, I am accustomed to making myself small.

I am not small in stature or in voice. Despite that, I realized that my goal since DDay, has been to blend in with the wallpaper. The seeds were certainly sowed before then, during the period of my marriage where I was slowly manipulated into making my needs nonexistent. I was astonished though to see how it still impacts me, even when I least expect it.

Picture a stereotypical New England clam shack at a beach. Great lobster rolls and seating at picnic tables with paper towels for napkins. It’s me, Handsome, and my mom. We have a terrific meal. As we go to leave, my mom gets her legs kind of caught up on the picnic table bench. At her age, her skin is incredibly thin. She immediately has blood pouring from both shins.

To be clear, I’m not talking about a normal person slow trickle from a scrape. By your standards or mine, these were small contusions. Nonetheless, I’m talking about a blood thinner- induced river of red that was running down her shins, pooling in her shoes, and soaking the ground around her feet. We were totally silent, but yet the mere fact of the situation made every movement seem loud.

I’m somewhat accustomed to this. It happens any time my mom gets cut and the slightest bruise makes her look like she has been battered. But there we sit, in the midst of this outdoor dining area, and I found myself resenting my mom for drawing attention to us. For inconveniencing the other diners. For ensuring we were sticking out like sore thumbs. For taking up too much “space” in that moment. WTF??

Of course, like a diligent and loving daughter I was on my hands and knees in the sand trying to stop the bleeding, fielding offers of assistance, and trying to get my mom situated to get her to our car. And I was so incredibly, terribly uncomfortable. Just to pile on, I recognized the absurdity of the discomfort in the moment and it made me angry at myself. Have I really allowed myself to be shoved into such a tiny box that a minor accident makes me feel bad for inconveniencing (at worst) a bunch of strangers??

Having had some time to sit with this I can look back and note times where, during Handsome’s acting out, my whole being revolved exclusively around him and our kids. Therereally was no me. Yes, I worked, but I never really got to enjoy the fruits of that labor other than on a vacation or two. Forget self-care. I recall enduring incredible inconvenience and sacrifice to accommodate him and his needs. I recall not asking for anything, ever, because I knew my request would be discounted or ignored. I’ve written elsewhere here about the one Christmas where I got absolutely nothing from him, and the birthdays and Mother’s Days where I bought gifts for our kids to give me because he couldn’t be bothered and had probably spent all his money on skanks and sex.

When you grow accustomed to that smallness, of course you start to believe that your very existence is likely a nuisance to those who don’t even know you. Fast forward to a sunny day at a clam shack and I was turned right back into that gaslit, manipulated woman, undeserving of space to exist. And I deflected that right onto my mom. How dare she have needs, in public.

I swear, trauma is a bugger. Every time I start to feel like I’m making some progress, something like this kicks me in the butt.

I often de-escalate myself in these situations by telling myself “that was then, this is now.” I need to deliberately remind myself “this is reasonable” to counter all the residual effects of the gaslighting telling me that my needs or wants are unreasonable.

In this instance, Handsome was there, working with me to help my mom and offering reassurances to us both that it would be fine. He wasn’t focused on himself. He was present, both literally and mentally. He was trying to be helpful.

He knew I was suffering, but not why. I wouldn’t know how to explain it. I’m not sure I could make it sound logical. And yet clearly this compulsion to not take up space, not make waves or rock the boat, is still deep inside me. I want it to be gone.

My Person

I married a man who had become my one of my best friends over the course of our four year courtship. I have two “ride or die” friends from childhood, but Handsome was a different kind of friend. He was my partner in life. By the time we walked down the aisle I felt that he was as much a part of me as anyone could be. To pull out an old-timey Grey’s Anatomy reference, he was my person.

I was all-in with Handsome. I told him everything. Always. I was an open book. As we now know, he was not the same with me. He kept a lot of very damaging secrets. The way that betrayal trauma screws with your attachment to your betrayer is nothing short of a mind f**k. When your person rips apart your soul, it changes things.

Our CSAT is looking at utilizing a new assessment tool in her practice. Having worked with us for a pretty long time, she asked us if we would take the assessments so she could get a feel for its validity and usefulness. We agreed. On my assessment, for the betrayed spouse, one component was the “Multidimensional Scale of Perceived Social Support.” That’s a high falutin’ name for 12 questions that triggered the heck out of me.

The Multidimensional Scale of Perceived Social Support (Zimet et al., 1988) is a 12-item measure of perceived adequacy of social support from three sources: family, friends, & significant other; using a 5- or 7-point Likert scale (0 = strongly disagree, 5/7= strongly agree). Here is what it often looks like:

Answering this threw me off my game for hours. In particular, these statements geared towards your relationship with a “significant other”:

– There is a special person who is around when I am in need.

– There is a special person with whom I can share my joys and sorrows.

– I have a special person who is a real source of comfort to me.

and the kicker…. – There is a special person in my life who cares about my feelings.

Ugh. Pre- DDay every single one of these would be “Very Strongly Agree.” Today though, I struggle with reconciling that my person very nearly destroyed me. Literally. Today, on a good day, I would probably check “neutral” or “mildly agree” with each statement… at best. I don’t yet know how I can get back to “strongly agree” when my “special person” is the sole source of trauma in my life.

Handsome clearly wasn’t around when I needed him when he was checked out in his addiction, and for a long time after discovery I couldn’t open up about my pain because he couldn’t handle the shame it caused. That occasionally still happens. He’s fabulous if a crisis has nothing to do with him, but if my pain is at all related to his acting out he sometimes still fails to show up for me.

As far as being a source of comfort…? Again, if my pain is unrelated to him he does fine. I’d actually say he’s awesome in those instances. More often than not though I need to be comforted as a result of something he did, and seeking comfort from him then is often futile. He still struggles with how to show up for me. So, does he care about my feelings? Yes, but…

He would say that of course he cares deeply about my feelings. I would say he occasionally cares only to the extent that my feelings don’t interfere with the prioritization of his feelings. If he can console me without feeling bad about himself, fine. If he can meet an emotional need of mine without cost to himself, fine. Anything else is something of a crapshoot. I have seen where I stand. I know from experience that if he perceives something as a choice between my interests or his, he will almost always pick his. There is not a self-sacrificing bone in his body.

Just to be clear, I’m not talking about practical things. He’ll take his day off and get up early to run errands or shuttle kids or handle any of the home drudgery at any time. But I could hire someone to do those things. It’s when I’m sad or lonely or hurt or whatever and I need my life partner’s support that I want him to be there for me. That’s when -even if it’s hard or uncomfortable for him- I need my person.

Maybe I’m the weird one for being willing to give anything or do anything for my partner. Maybe I give more than is normal. I don’t know. Even if I do though, it’s not a crime.

What I Know Now

I am 3 years and almost 5 months to the day after my DDay. In the scheme of life, that’s really nothing. A blip. In my heart and soul, however, it feels like decades. I feel as though I have endured a lifetime of pain. In many respects I can’t believe that it has been “only” that amount of time. I have certainly aged more in 3 years than I did the previous 10.

A newer member of this very unfortunate club emailed and asked me what the present me would say to the version of myself that existed on 12/9/17. I’d say a few things, as it turns out. Here are my top 10 in no particular order. Feel free to add any of your own advice to your DDay self in the comments.

1. I know it hurts. It’s like being fully cognizant of your own murder. Days will come when you no longer feel that way. It will take time and hard work but you’ll get there.

2. As hard as it is, don’t waste a minute on the other women. It’s easy to focus on them, but they really aren’t the issue.

3. Each bad day will pass. Relish a good day when you have one. (Good days can be fleeting too, but notice and make the most of them when they appear.)

4. Progress is NOT linear. Whether you stay or leave there will be steps forward and back.

5. The best people to have around you are those who listen well and simply offer nonjudgmental support. It’s okay for someone to say “This happened to me and here is how I handled it and how it played out.” It is less helpful to have people around you who pepper their stories with “you should” or “you must.” Be very picky about who you surround yourself with and who you trust with your story.

6. You’re going to hear a lot about self-care. Just do the best you can. Don’t feel shame if you can’t make time for a walk or yoga or meditation. Some days self-care can be as simple as showering or ordering take out. Some days it can also be crying your eyes out if you’ve been holding it in. What works for someone else might not work for you.

7. Prioritize your physical and mental health needs. It’s very tempting to pour all of your attention into your spouse and focus on getting them help to “fix” them. I won’t tell you not to work to get help for your partner, but make sure that you have good therapeutic support too. And do see your doctor. The physical impacts of betrayal trauma manifest themselves in many ways, from PTSD to Kawasaki syndrome to a laundry list of auto-immune disorders.

8. Gaslighting and lies don’t suddenly end on your first DDay. Trickle truth is real. You can be as understanding and nonjudgmental as can be and your addict may still feel compelled to lie to you. Expect it, and know that your hyper-vigilance is not codependency but a common trauma symptom.

9. This experience will change you. I’m honestly not yet comfortable with the new me, but I have a feeling she’s going to change a bit more before all is said and done. I still mourn the loss of who I was, and working through that grief is both necessary and okay.

10. If you stay with your partner and they do the work you can rebuild trust and mend your relationship. I’ll never, ever forget about what my husband did, but it appears now as an occasional dull ache and not a daily stabbing, blinding pain.

You’ll notice that there is no advice here on whether to stay or leave. I could only tell my DDay self not to make a hasty decision either way. Traumatized brains don’t function really well. I needed space, time, and some therapeutic input to be able to think clearly.

In looking over the list I think I’d like to squeak in a #11: Don’t make your needs small and certainly don’t let anyone else make your needs small. Scream from the rooftops what you need. Those around you will either rise to the occasion or fall by the wayside. Either outcome is fine. Those who wither or fail to show up aren’t worth your time, and those who support you and meet you where you are at are irreplaceable.

Impact.

Impact. And also just a drop in a bucket.

After Handsome’s disclosure, it was my turn to present my impact statement a few weeks later. Fun fact: I started drafting it over two years ago so it was 98% done by the time of the disclosure. I tweaked a few things afterwards, but not much.

Due to COVID, while our disclosure was done in-person in our CSAT’s office, my impact statement was presented to Handsome (read out loud by me) in the front seat of a Ford F-250 Super Duty parked in a local park while our CSAT participated by Zoom. It was far from ideal, but we made it work.

Handsome had been pretty agitated the day or two beforehand. I’m sure it was hard to know he was going to be gutted for an hour. I was reasonably calm, except that I was worried that Handsome might spiral emotionally afterwards. I was concerned that he’d fall into hopelessness. At some point I had a choice to either soften my words to be more palatable, or be honest. I chose honesty. I chose to give my feelings and emotions all the space they needed, especially my anger. I so rarely let my rage out, but I did so in my impact statement. I didn’t do it with yelling or cursing or name calling. I let the YEARS I had to draft it work in my favor.

Our CSAT is usually pretty chill, but she was in tears through much of it. Handsome was in tears multiple times as well. I hit a lot of nerves. Hard. I covered the impacts to me emotionally, physically, socially, financially, and the impacts to my job and to our children.

For a good bit of the last three years, my pain has taken a back seat in therapy. We spent a ton of time focused on Handsome, as we needed to, but that left little time for me. All my feelings that went unsaid, all the things I stuffed down just to be able to function, all the words that had bubbled up only to find they had nowhere to go… they all had a voice in my statement. It was 14 single-spaced pages of gut-wrenching truth. My truth, at least.

I wrote about things we have talked about, like how violated I felt that he brought Angel Baby to our home. I wrote about things that were seemingly off-limits before, such as his blatant disregard for my health and the physical safety of our family. I asked rhetorically how gaslit and abused I had to be to not buy myself a single article of clothing for almost three YEARS because of his raging rants about money. I addressed how foolish I feel now that I know where all of his money was going. I described the hurt of the birthdays and Christmases where I bought my own gifts for the kids to give me because he couldn’t be bothered. I told him I had no intention of dragging him kicking and screaming towards a better marriage.

Perhaps the title of this post should have been “The Unburdening” because that is exactly how I felt. If his disclosure was freeing then presenting my impact statement was like taking flight. I took off my heavy cloak of shame and anger so that I could soar.

In the end, it honestly didn’t matter to me how he took it. It didn’t matter whether he heard all the words or whether he agreed or disagreed. I couldn’t control any of that and didn’t care to do so. I felt better. It helped heal me, and a healthier me is a better mom and daughter and friend, and probably a better wife. That matters to me, and by those measures it was a success.

Onward!

The Gum on my Shoe Returns

Yep. She’s baaaaaack! (No thanks to Handsome.)

It seems like ages ago that I last wrote about the Flame and the havoc this woman created in my marriage. Twice. After our DDay #1, when I learned that Handsome had been communicating with her again by text for nearly 3 years, it was crushing. It was actually worse than his physical affair (the one I knew about at the time) because I knew that she actually mattered to him. He had pined away for her for almost 30 years. He admitted that he thought she was “the one who got away” for him and said that a part of him would always love her. I was squarely in my angry stage, so I think I told him to take that part of himself, stick it up his ass, and move to a hotel. That didn’t happen, but he did eventually send her a short and to the point no contact letter – in his own unique handwriting so she would know it came from him. He sent it to her at work. I sent a copy to her husband (sorry, not sorry).

Time flashes forward to the present. Our son, who is outwardly pretty chill, started to develop some odd habits in the late Spring (not wanting to touch door knobs or share certain items, coupled with a big increase in hand washing). We scheduled him with a therapist to evaluate him and see if it’s just a phase or an issue of concern.  The week before Labor Day I was away at my happy place, so Handsome took him. He walked into the waiting room and BOOM, there sits the Flame with her son.

Now, if I had the ability to write the script of how this played out, my sex addict partner would have taken a seat in the furthest corner of the large waiting room, ignored her, read his Kindle and kept his damn mouth shut. Alternately, if overwhelmed, he would have grabbed our son and fled. (I would have gladly paid the therapist’s late cancel/ no show fee.) Or he could have called his sponsor. Or called me. Or something. Just crossing paths with her – although surprising because she lives far from the therapist’s office – isn’t a problem because in his circle plan that’s just unintentional contact with an affair partner. He didn’t do anything to cause that contact.

Handsome, however, didn’t follow my script. For that matter, he didn’t follow the script he previously agreed to numerous times and that we actually role played with our CSAT, knowing that he’d likely encounter some of his APs at work. (If approached he’s supposed to say “I have nothing to say to you. Stay away from me,” and walk away.) Nope. And he ignored his circle plan and shifted the incident from unintentional contact with an affair partner to intentional contact. Handsome admitted that he approached her and asked her to go out in the hall with him AND THEN HE APOLOGIZED TO HER.

Recall that the first time he allegedly cut off contact with her, he called her to apologize for MY behavior for calling her out for her three months of highly inappropriate messages with him. He left that door open to future contact by parting on good-guy terms. He knew full well how incredibly disloyal, disrespectful, and flat-out wrong and hurtful I found that to be then. And I wasn’t wrong. That “I’m so sorry my wife is such a nut” apology set the stage for a 3-year emotional affair. Imagine how I feel about him doing it again?

Did he disclose this to me that day? No. The next day? No. The day after that, during which we had a long conversation about transparency and honesty? Nope. He told me the day after that – four days after the incident. In the first iteration of the story he said he spoke to her because he knew he needed to lay the groundwork for doing his Step 9 amends. When I blew my gasket about that (talking to her for the purpose of continuing to communicate with her??? wtf?) he walked that back and said that no, he was actually trying to do his amends with her right then.

Folks, he’s still on Step 4. He’s nowhere near Step 9, hasn’t discussed Step 9 with his sponsor, and WHY ON EARTH DOES THIS WOMAN GET AN AMENDS???

I think the women my husband cheated with deserve the miserable lives they lead, but I can dig up a sprinkle of empathy for most of them because he lied about everything to them and they bought it. They got suckered. (They suckered him too, but that’s because he was an absolute fool.) This woman, however, knew better. She knew he had a wife and kids who loved him. She knew we weren’t living apart or getting divorced or anything else. She still became his affair partner, cheating on her own husband in the process.

While it is true that there is room in Step 9 for amends to affair partners, the amends are subject to the important exception “when [doing] so would injure them or others.” I am the embodiment of the injured “other.”

I went all kinds of bananas. I moved out of our bedroom and when he asked me after a few days when I was moving back in I calmly replied that I’d move back in once he found a new place to live. He cried. It must have terrified him because he reached out to our CSAT and she saw us for an emergency session on Labor Day.

He has no good explanation for what he did. He claims he panicked and didn’t think though any consequences. His new therapist read him the riot act for that (hurray! the Doc would have spent weeks convincing him he shouldn’t feel bad for making “a stupid mistake”). I think he understands – as much as he is capable of doing so – that he deeply hurt me again.

As a basic condition of him remaining in the house (because in my mind his bags were packed) he has to have daily contact with a recovery resource. So far, he’s been diligent about it, but let’s be honest… that’s no big thing. Our CSAT and the new therapist are putting their heads together which feels much more reasonable to me than the Doc who was so intent on going it alone that he had to be begged to even talk to Dr. Minwalla after Handsome’s intensive with him. I am fine. My head is in a decent place. Our marriage is very strained, but we are talking normally and doing normal things – just with zero romance, affection, or sex – and he’s trying to figure out why his recovery plummeted. (There was no slow descent out of a healthy place. It’s like he fell off a cliff.) I’m dealing with my own betrayal trauma. He can deal with the circus of his recovery. Or not. He didn’t initiate seeing her (the reason our CSAT implored me not to toss him out) but he did initiate the communication with her to try to manage her image of him, yet again, which is frightening to me. It’s imperative to him that she thinks highly of him, even if it destroys me in the process. He denies this, but I think his actions prove otherwise.

If there is a silver lining here, it’s that apparently her home and marriage are in a sorry state. I had to ask the receptionist to move our standing appointment with our son’s therapist to avoid seeing the Flame each week and she let slip that the Flame already switched days to avoid Handsome. She apparently claimed that he “devastated her life” thus necessitating her son’s therapy. (Um, more likely her son needs therapy because he has a traitorous ho for a mom, but… whatever.) If Handsome did destroy her life somehow?  Good. Karma sucks.

Strange Things

I’ve relocated to my happy place in Massachusetts for the remainder of the Summer. I’m at peace here. It’s just me, my kids, and my mom for now. Handsome may come up later for some vacation. We’ll see.

Before we left home, a series of strange events started. Some may have nothing to do with Handsome. Or they might have everything to do with him. I’ll likely never know for sure.

About a month ago, an Amazon package arrived at our house. It was addressed to someone by the name of Chelsea R Kelly. I initially thought it was just mis-delivered, but it had our exact address on it. I figured that maybe someone just made a mistake in their ordering so I did the good citizen thing and called Amazon. They told me that Ms. Kelly – whoever she is – deliberately sent the package to our address, but that if I didn’t want the “gift” they would send me a return slip. What was in the package that came via UPS and cost about $8 to ship? A single box of Good n’ Plenty candy. I sent it back. We received about six similar packages, all from Ms. Kelly, in the weeks after. I just started writing “REFUSED” on them and tossing them back in a UPS box. (I would have just trashed them but I didn’t want it to appear that we had accepted any of them.)

Handsome pleads ignorance but has apologized if it has anything to do with someone he was involved with. Amazon wouldn’t tell me where this woman lives, but an internet search seems to show no one in our state by that name, but two women (I’m thinking mother/ daughter based on their ages) in a neighboring state about 45 minutes away. The rando that Handsome met online said she lived in that state. She also told him her name was Katie, but I’m guessing that was BS. Why might this woman have come back out of the woodwork 18 months later? Because bit$@es be crazy. Or he was still in touch with her. I don’t think that’s the case, but again, who knows?

Also, about a week before I left I walked into my office one morning and found an email in my work in-box from an anonymous mail.com account. There was no message. It had 2 pictures attached and one very short video. The photos and video were all grainy and poor quality and pretty clearly taken from multiple home surveillance cameras. The images were Handsome at work, talking to different women. There was nothing blatantly wrong in any image. He appeared to be at least 6-10 feet away from them. There were other law enforcement officers and members of the public around. Clearly the photos were sent to try to hurt him by getting me upset. It worked, but not in an obvious way.

As I was looking closely at the photos, something seemed weird about Handsome’s face. I thought maybe it was photo-shopped and then I realized what I was looking at. Handsome had a gob of chewing tobacco (dip) in his lip. Now, that might seem gross but not a terribly big deal, but to me it was huge. Long before sex addiction and infidelity became a part of my life, dip was something Handsome and I argued about and that he lied to me about. Multiple times. I never knew he used dip until about two months before we got married. I would get upset with him about it, he’d promise me that he quit, and then he’d get caught with a can and we’d start the cycle over again. He would never dare do it in front of me, but he did use it at work. It’s hideous and he actually had to have a biopsy on his lower lip right before DDay. After DDay, it was something he assured me he was giving up for good and that it would never be an issue again. It’s another big betrayal to find out that he was using it again.

Since then, I feel hurt, and yet oddly empowered. I’ve been abundantly clear that I’m not playing Wack-a-Mole with his addictions. It’s simply not happening. Also, quite clearly his integrity disorder is still in full (or at least moderate) swing. He’s been using dip for months and lying about it the entire time. I told him before he went to his therapist that he needed to come home with an actual structured plan for dealing with the lying. Instead, he came home with some wishy-washy “I need to treat it like work and run towards the danger” BS. I’m not hearing that. I told him he needs a structured and cohesive plan to address the integrity disorder or – if his therapist is unwilling – then he needs a new therapist who “gets” his addiction better and understands the role that lying and deceit plays and the harm it causes his family.

If I was home I would have told him to find a wee apartment and go figure out what he wants. My departure was planned for months though, so it just came at an opportune time. We had also planned for him to come up for a few weeks of vacation starting late next week. I have mixed feelings about that now. I’m not worried about him. I’m focusing on me. Will the next weeks be better if he is here, or no? I’m not opposed to telling him to stay home if that seems better for me. I just don’t know yet if it is. Today, I don’t have an answer. Hopefully one will become more clear in the next few days.

One other strange thing happened as well. The very day before I left I received another anonymous email at work. Whoever is sending these to me is clearly trying to hurt Handsome though me. It was an absolutely vile written message, accompanied by a photo that Fire Dude apparently posted of the Whore recently on social media wherein she looks like a complete and total… you guessed it… whore. Again, think skinny, meth head version of Mimi Bobeck from the Drew Carey Show, in a bikini top that she’s pulling down to the tops of her nipples. Blue eyeshadow. Greasy, stringy hair. It’s not hot. It’s literally quite revolting. She looks drugged and dirty, probably because she is both. Yuck.

Fortunately, I seem to have left the drama several states away. The first 2-3 days here I was still in high anxiety mode, but now I’m calm and at peace. I don’t think I’m ever quite mellow, but I’m as close as I can get right now. Last night I went to one of my favorite restaurants here. It’s where Handsome and I had our rehearsal dinner. It’s also someplace he appallingly recommended to the Flame the summer before DDay when she came on vacation here. Last night I didn’t think of that. I just enjoyed some awesome food with a ginger martini, a view of the ocean on a blustery night, and the sound of the waves in the background. No drama or strange things here. I’ve left those at home, for now.

Boundaries? What boundaries?

Many days – most days, in fact – my husband is doing really well in his recovery (18 months of sexual sobriety). Most days he also does well, or at least better, at working on our joint healing. On those days when he screws up, however, it can still be epic.

Yesterday, Handsome and I had a rare opportunity to have a mid-week lunch together. The restaurant we planned to eat at was closed, so we randomly picked a place nearby. We were seated in a big booth. I sat facing the entrance/ exit and Handsome sat facing the majority of the restaurant. We placed our orders and were talking about schedules and upcoming events when I hear a loud, giddy voice over my shoulder say “Oh my god, it’s so great to see you!!!”

Before I could even figure out what the hoopla was, some woman – a 40-something spray tanned waitress – has her arms flung around Handsome giving him a big hug, and then she squeezes herself onto the tiny part of his seat to his left. Her name, as I learned from her name tag – because Handsome made zero attempt to introduce us – is Julie.  As I’m sitting there with my jaw literally hanging open, Julie could have cared less about me. On the other hand, she was absurdly happy to see my husband.

Now, I fully understand that Handsome has no control over what other people do, including other women. He does, however, have control over his response to those people. He could have said “Hey, do you know my wife?” and introduced me. He didn’t. He could have said “Have you met my wife before?” and introduced us. He didn’t. The most I got from either of them is that she grew up in the hell-hole where he works (as if that doesn’t set off alarm bells left and right) and, probably due to fraud, one or both of her kids somehow go to the same elementary school our kids do. While it’s clear she hasn’t seen him in a while, it’s also clear that she feels she knows him well enough to act like this with him in public/ her place of employment regardless of who I am. I’ve never seen or heard of this woman before.

Julie pulls out her cell phone and starts showing him pictures of her boys, occasionally flipping it around so I could see them too. The whole time, she’s practically sitting in his lap. Does my sex addict husband slide down the seat into the 3+ feet of open space to his right to create some distance? Nope. He doesn’t budge.

Next, Julie starts talking about all the problems she’s having with her boys’ dad who is apparently some wanna-be drug dealer. (Of course he is, because Handsome sure knows which broken people to pursue and who better to risk your job and family over than a heap of trashy folk?) Recall that Handsome has a raging white-knight complex. Several of his APs started out as damsels in distress. He has read “Not Just Friends” and he knows he’s supposed to shut that crap off immediately with something like “I’m sorry to hear that and I hope you have someone to talk to about it.” Here is his opportunity to demonstrate for me that he has firm boundaries in place and that he knows how to use them. Does he do that? Nope. He jumps right in with her to discuss her ex-whatever. Unbelievable.

After about 5 minutes of this where I feel like I’m having an out of body experience, she finally gets up and leaves. Do I get any explanation/ apology/ lame excuse from Handsome? Nope. Handsome starts the “Let’s Make Believe That Didn’t Just Happen” game. I give him the benefit of the doubt thinking that maybe he’s just trying to sort through it or figure it out for himself. Here we are though, 24 hours later, and I do not know who this woman is, why she feels close enough to my husband to behave that way with him, or why he ignored all of his boundaries.

In the absence of any word from him, what do I think? I think she’s someone that he got overly friendly with at work while he was acting out. I think he ignored his boundaries yesterday because he didn’t want to seem rude. When push came to shove, he prioritized his image  management  and her feelings over mine.  That seriously sucks.  As I pointed out to him this morning, if he can’t enforce his boundaries when I’m sitting two feet away, why on Earth would I trust that he can enforce them when I’m not with him? He insists that I’m his priority, but words are cheap. I’m at the point where I need to see it to believe it and I didn’t see any success story in his handling of this moment.

He often does great, but he also must do better.

Another Anniversary

Yesterday was our 14th wedding anniversary. Last year, I forbade any mention/ reference to/ acknowledgement of the day from Handsome. It was simply too much to bear. It was too soon.

This year, I thought I was doing okay with the concept of acknowledging the day in some way. Over the weekend my mom wanted to go to this fancy schmantzy jewelry store in the city to have work done on a ring. Handsome and I drove her and while she was handling her business I was checking out the Mikimoto pearls and Handsome was off looking at watches when the sales lady came up behind me and said, “Hey, I hear it’s your wedding anniversary this week. Congratulations! How many years is it?” (thanks mom!) I did the math and answered her and then the walls closed in around my brain. I have zero recollection of how, exactly, I extricated myself from the store. I seem to have “lost” about 15 minutes of time as the next thing I knew I was across the street in a shoe store. I don’t think I fled. I went on autopilot of some sort. My brain just shut down.

Our CSAT helped me drill down on the problem. We’ve been married for 14 years. For at least 5 of those years my husband was actively engaged in acting out behavior related to his sex addiction (initially emotional affairs, masturbation and porn, and escalating after two years of that to physical affairs, massage parlors, escorts, etc.). I am terrible at math, but 5/14 means that more than a third of my marriage was not much of a marriage. I was all-in and thought he was too. He wasn’t.

Her advice? Stop counting years for a while. Ignore the number and simply take a moment to appreciate each other here and now. That 5 year window is just too overwhelming for me at present. It may be for several more years. In the future, hopefully the “dark years” will get swallowed up by good years book-ending them on both sides. It’s good advice.

I don’t want to just erase those years from my memory bank because there are so many awesome memories from that time (our son ages 3-8, our daughter ages 6-11, my last months with my dad…), but it is still painful to know that my reality was being manipulated. I was real though, and so were my kids and friends and other family members. I rely on that to move forward.

I took the CSAT’s advice to heart. It did help. Stepping back and focusing more broadly on the big picture and where we are at right now was absolutely the perfect suggestion. Handsome seems to be in a good place at the moment. I am too (most days). Our kids are happy and healthy. Rather than focusing on the anniversary as a marker of the duration of our relationship, I’m choosing to look at it as honoring the first step in the creation of our family. That is something that I can be proud of and happy about. It’s something I can celebrate.

A New Member of the Club We Never Wanted to Join

image from Recovery Warriors

I work in an office with about 100 other people. It’s large enough to give most folks the ability to vanish into their offices and tune out, and yet small enough that on the lower staff rungs there is a fair bit of gossip and schadenfreude going on.

My legal assistant, Sunny, is young, both in terms of her age (23 – very, very young for her position at my firm) and her outlook on life. The effect of this on others is likely compounded by the fact that she is 5’3″ and looks about 6 or 7 years younger than she actually is. She will be the woman getting legitimately carded well into her 30’s or 40’s. She is bright, fit, and simply gorgeous, with the kind of symmetrical features and sharp cheekbones that are usually purely aspirational absent the assistance of a good plastic surgeon. She had a somewhat disadvantaged upbringing, but she has her act together. She has a great job, she owns a car, and she’s in the process of buying her first house. (Did I mention she’s only 23??) She is kind and funny and is a really hard worker.

One day last week, Sunny went home early from work because she developed a severe migraine. She walked in on her live-in boyfriend (of 4+ years) in bed – their bed – with another woman.  There was the predictable “It’s nothing,” and “You mean everything to me,” and all of the other things we’ve all heard. She was utterly crushed. Gutted. I don’t exactly know how she made it through the days at the end of the week, but she showed up and did her job and went off to cry when necessary, trying to avoid the stares and comments of her coworkers. The rumor mill got cranking, but the truth of what happened to her is actually worse than what they ginned up about it.

Over the weekend this young woman who has an entire lifetime in front of her and who is wonderful and fierce and and kind and who has the world at her feet… she tried to end her own life with a bottle of pills. Why? Not because of him exactly. Even in her pain she knows he isn’t worth exiting this life and hurting her family over. No… instead it was because in that one instant her entire self-worth was stolen from her. Vanished. Gone.

I talked with her briefly yesterday. Her words were incredibly triggering, but I get where she’s coming from. “I thought I mattered to him and that the future we were building was real. If nothing else, I always felt certain that he was my friend, but even just true friends don’t destroy each other like this.” And also, “Nothing I thought was real is true.” Sunny is young, but her pain is raw and real and not very different from a lot of betrayed partners here in the blogosphere.

Sunny did not ask my advice and I didn’t give her any. I did assure her that she could always talk to me. (I’m pretty sure she has heard me weeping in my office on many an occasion, and I know she knows why.) She has ended the relationship. (“If he can’t keep from cheating before we get married what’s to stop him from cheating after we get married?”) Her family will pack and move her out of their shared apartment this weekend. She found and started seeing a good therapist. Sunny has reached out to her lender and has removed her boyfriend from her mortgage application. She’ll buy the house on her own. She’ll be fine one day. It just won’t be tomorrow or the day after that or maybe the month after that. Sunny will get there, but right now she is suffering. I am just hoping that she will see that speck of light at the end of the tunnel and keep reaching for it, however long it takes.

Derby Week 2019

Here in the US we are about to start the biggest week in horse racing in the lead up days to the Kentucky Derby. The Derby itself is called the most thrilling two minutes in sports for a reason, and the event is pure spectacle.

I have loved thoroughbred horse racing since I was a little girl, often watching the races on TV with my dad. We would place imaginary bets and cheer on our favorites.  I don’t have a clear memory of Affirmed winning the Triple Crown in 1978 – but in 1979, Spectacular Bid was the first of many horses I’d watch capture the Derby and Preakness, only to fall short of the Triple Crown at Belmont. Attending the Derby was on my bucket list for a long, long time.

Back in late 2011 things were going well for our family. We had moved into our new home. I had switched firms earlier in the year and, in doing so, I managed to nearly double my salary and exponentially increase my daily flexibility. Life was so good that it felt almost surreal. As a bit of a splurge, I bought a box of seats for the 2012 Kentucky Oaks (the Friday before the Derby when the fillies race) and the Derby itself. I found a hotel room reasonably near Churchill Downs, and got our nanny to agree to watch the kids for a few days. The race itself was about 8 months away, but I was incredibly excited.

Of course, if I was going, I was going all-in. Dresses, hats, boxed lunches… you name it. I spent months getting my sartorial game on, and Handsome did too. We found him the most beautiful Ralph Lauren spearmint colored sport coat (classy and a bit over the top… perfect) for Derby day and got him a new classic navy blue sport coat, dashing pink shirt, and a beautiful pair of linen pants for the Oaks.

We secured great dinner reservations in Louisville and made arrangements to connect with friends. We turned the two days of racing into a long weekend get-away and spent countless hours preparing and looking forward to the first weekend in May.

That weekend was not without rain, but it was spectacular nonetheless. I hit the trifecta on the Oaks and the exacta on the Derby. We laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. When I think back on that trip, the first image that comes to mind is Handsome in that green jacket, and the resulting smile that brings me reminds me how much I was in love with him then. I felt like that whole period was the beginning of the wonderful rest of our lives, with stability, happiness, and financial security.

We shared our box with some young newlyweds and the wife told me repeatedly how she thought we were amazing as a couple. I thought so too.

I now know that Handsome was a few months into his first emotional affair with the Flame at that point. He was apparently texting or emailing her throughout the weekend, including when he went to the betting windows to place our bets between races. I would later learn that every sartorial choice I thought we enjoyed making together had also been run by the Flame for her approval. (Since her social media highlights photos of her full-figured frame in threadbare leggings decorated with pumpkins I’m not certain what expertise she has, but evidently he felt it was greater than mine.) Our travel arrangements were apparently also fodder for discussion with her. I had no idea.

I was so incredibly happy to be there WITH HIM, but apparently being there with me wasn’t enough to keep him from feeling a need for her. That’s an ongoing theme with Handsome: actually being loved by me or our kids has not been enough to make him feel loved. He looks elsewhere for validation and affirmation of his self-worth. I wrote down a quote once that seems to capture this phenomenon: “The world is full of people looking for spectacular happiness while they snub contentment.” That was (is?) Handsome. That particular Derby weekend he seemed to have everything a man could want, a truly enviable life, and yet he still had a void inside him that led him to look for “more” elsewhere. Handsome is working on that, but I wish he realized back then what already had before he went and ruined it.

I’ll watch the Oaks and the Derby this year from home. I’ll hit the OTB parlor ahead of time and I’ll bet on my picks and cheer them on with my kids. I’ll sing along to “My Old Kentucky Home” when it’s played before the Derby. At the same time, in the pit of my gut I’ll be trying to fend off a mass of melancholy feelings as I’m reminded of that very first Derby trip. Maybe Handsome feels the same?

Beware the Ides of March (Part I)

For all the decades I have gone to the gynecologist and dutifully gotten my PAP and HPV tests, everything has always been negative. Last year, after our first DDay, I promptly scheduled an appointment with my doctor for every STD/ STI test imaginable. All were negative. She performed my annual PAP test but said that she wanted to wait until this year to do an HPV test as my last negative HPV test had been within the last 5 years. At the time, of course, we did not know that Handsome had more than just one affair partner, and that he had acted out in massage parlors and with prostitutes, as well as with a laundry list of other skanks and randos. We did not know how high my risk actually was.

I returned for my annual exam two weeks ago. This year, my PAP was negative, but my HPV test came back positive. More specifically, I tested positive for HPV-16, one of the more virulent strains associated with the development of various forms of cancer. My doctor is lovely and kind and gave me every shred of information she could impart (how my body may clear the virus on its own – although the likelihood of that apparently decreases with age; how we can test aggressively to stay on top of any changes; and how it’s a good thing that we are flagging the issue early; etc.). The logical side of my brain is good. I have a nasty but not unexpected problem, and there is a proactive plan of action in place with a caring and trusted medical professional. The emotional side of my brain, however, is a complete and utter mess.

If I can just vent for a moment… how is it remotely fair that Handsome had really expensive orgasms, and I get an aggressive virus? How did he seriously not know that condoms aren’t magic shields? Did he not read any of the literature when he took our daughter for her HPV vaccination a few years ago? He had to sign a consent form. Did he seriously have her vaccinated for something he knew nothing about? In what way was this outcome unlikely or unpredictable based on his behavior? I am really f’ing hurt, sad, crushed, dismayed, and enraged that he put me in this position. (Insert deep, cleansing breaths here…)

But that’s not the half of it. When I tearfully shared the news with Handsome, he looked stunned and crushed (as he should). And then he opened his mouth. What came out? Not “oh, God, what can I do?” or “you must be so upset, and I am so sorry.” Nope. He turned around and walked away from me and said under his breath to himself “I can’t take any more of this.” Seriously.

He did, shortly thereafter, come back to me and hug me and very briefly say he was sorry. And then…? Nothing. I have been living with him in complete shut down mode for the last two weeks. He is sulking and pouting and barely able to hold a conversation with me. He has stopped making his SA calls. I haven’t seen him journal. He has been to one and only one SA meeting.

At the same time this is going on, I have been dealing with very bad news about my elderly mom’s health. She has a pituitary brain tumor for which the course of action is to ensure it doesn’t grow or bleed. That has been going fine except that she just recently developed atrial fibrillation, the treatment for which includes blood thinning agents to prevent clotting. That treatment is completely counter to the treatment for her tumor. She is receiving the best medical care available, but hers is a difficult situation and there are no good or easy choices. Virtually any treatment option she chooses comes with high risk for one condition or the other. I feel as though I am watching her rapidly decline on a daily basis.

So, when I absolutely need my husband to show up and be there for me, he’s off in some bizarre woe-is-me Victimville, moping about and avoiding all of his recovery resources. If I put on my empathy hat, I can imagine that me testing positive for HPV is hugely painful for Handsome. I can guess that he sees it as a reminder of how dirty his actions were and how careless and irresponsible he was and – perhaps most troubling for him – as evidence of how he not only failed to protect me, but he actually exposed me to harm. That all has to be terrible for him. Fine.

I can put myself in his shoes, but he still needs to dig out his big boy pants and spend a day on my side of the equation. I am stuck living with the consequences of his actions. Those consequences may have been unintended, but they were far from unpredictable.

More to follow…

Dissecting a Marriage to Foster Healing

My marriage satisfaction timeline

I decided, just prior to Christmas, that I was done pulling punches with Handsome. I was in crisis mode – and thus we were in crisis mode – and I needed him to understand how bad I thought it actually was (particularly after he lied, again,about breaking his sobriety from alcohol, again). It appears that he received and understood the message. Just in case, I reiterated it with our CSAT and she has drilled into him that he is seriously at risk for blowing the most meaningful relationship he’s ever had. His individual therapist has done the same. I cannot say that it will matter in the long run, but I am confident that he cannot say that he didn’t know/ understand/ realize that I have reached my breaking point.

I say that honestly, but the interesting thing is that I’m reasonably sure that I’m at peace where I’m at. Yes, if he screws up again he’ll be working on his recovery in a bed-sit far from his kids and me, but I know that’s on him and not me. Yes, things could still end up in flames. Again, I feel as though he has been given every freaking opportunity possible to succeed. If he fails, it’s not on me. I have not given up… not at all. I’m just placing the burden of his recovery where it belongs: on Handsome.

One thing that he shared with me recently is that he feels like his recovery is in fits and spurts because he struggles to avoid getting burnt out or bored after a bit (this is the adult ADHD in effect). We realized that, to a degree, things were more productive when we were task oriented. You would think that would be easy for him since he is supposed to be working the 12 steps. He asked for other things to be added to the mix.

One of the tasks that we were supposed to do for our couples retreat last year was a marriage timeline. We did cursory ones at the retreat and, to put it mildly, they were quite different. Handsome’s was more or less a straight line along the “highly satisfied” axis, while mine started to look like a roller coaster starting in about 2012 when his acting out started (unbeknownst to me). I think we were each stunned to see the other’s graph. I couldn’t figure out how/ why he would cheat – relapse into his sex addiction, really – if he was so “highly satisfied” and he seemingly had no idea that I was truly unhappy so often during the time he was acting out. We clearly needed a more careful discussion to really share what was going on with each of us. We finally had that chance. That’s my actual timeline at the top of this post. I’d love to tell you that the discussion went well. I can’t. It didn’t (but it turns out  okay in the end).

Prior to 2012, the only big dip in my satisfaction with our marriage came when I found out that I was pregnant with my son. (It really wasn’t a slide to that point as the timeline seems to indicate… that’s just a function of the milestones mapped out. It was a sudden drop.) It wasn’t that I didn’t want another child… it was simply that I had just figured how to balance one small child with a full-time job and the rest of life and I found myself suddenly overwhelmed trying to figure out how to keep it all together with the addition of a second child. Handsome seemed to think it was no big deal, and I felt like he ditched me to figure it out on my own. It was not until our son acquired a deadly bacterial infection two days after he was born that Handsome and I immediately re-connected as a team and started to get ourselves back on solid ground. We stayed there until The Flame made her first appearance three years later in mid-2012 (that’s the gigantic 2nd dip you see).

Since then, the roller coaster of our marriage – to me at least – is evident from my chart. Some things are obvious: I am not happy or satisfied in my marriage if I am being cheated on (like his initial emotional affair with The Flame) and lied to. Others are less obvious: times when I was unhappy because he was so detached from me, our kids, and the marriage in general because (I know now, but didn’t then) he was really far down the rabbit hole of his addiction.

I asked Handsome to re-do his timeline thinking that perhaps he was just delusional at the couples retreat and, indeed, his chart looks very different now. He insists he was almost always “somewhere between happy and very happy” in the marriage but his new chart is like a roller coaster during his acting out too.

Data analytics aren’t my thing, but after Handsome started acting out in 2012, the majority of his “happy” periods correspond with vacations and family events. It’s when we were home (and he was acting out daily) that he’s reporting that he was unhappy in the marriage. Coincidence? I think not. He recalls that at certain points we were bickering a lot and he was upset about any number of things but, as our CSAT pointed out, he has only just recently had the epiphany that some of my behavior was driven in large part by his crappy addiction-driven behavior. To use her analogy, he can’t complain about the taste of the water when he’s the one peeing in the well.

I’d love to be able to say that we completed this exercise and hugged it out, but that didn’t happen. I asked why he had indicated that he was “very unhappy” in our marriage when his mother died. Simply stated, he recalled being alone at her funeral. Nope. I handed off our 2 tiny kids (a herculean endeavor that’s a story in itself) to an army of sitters/ nannies… and got on a plane and flew to him and was there for 3 days, all the services, and the 11 hour car ride home. Over time, he just wrote me out of the experience in his mind. Sadly, I’m sure that historical re-write was one of his mental justifications for his acting out. I’m sure he whined about it to his APs. I can picture it… “she’s so mean she didn’t even bother to come to my mom’s funeral… .” In that moment, I got slapped in the face with exactly how deep his illness goes. I am not perfect, but when I KNOW I stepped up and was every bit the wife and partner I was supposed to be? Knowing that he had erased me from the entirety of the experience of the death of his mom? It made me feel every bit as “irrelevant” as he told his APs I was.

So, where’s the happy ending? We talked through this process with the CSAT yesterday. She walked him slowly through a number of things where Handsome’s reality and actual reality differ. She told him that moving forward in life he is going to have to question every negative “season” from that period of time and decide whether the memory is real or not. He’ll have to assess what role, if any, his addiction played in his perceived experience (was he peeing in the well or not?). Since our 2nd DDay Handsome has always acknowledged that he’s an addict, but I’m not sure that he even recognized the extent of his illness and how it truly corrupted his brain. This session was probably the first time that I saw that light bulb go off for him. As pissed as I am that he erased me from such a life altering event, I’m sympathetic to the fact that it surely couldn’t have been pleasant for him to think he was abandoned by me when his mom died. It breaks my heart that his almost sole memory of those days is of standing in the cemetery at her graveside with no one else around. There’s a lot his therapist could unravel in that one memory. (Did he view his mom’s death as abandonment and switch us somehow? Was this really the driver behind his relapse?)

We did end up in each other’s arms at the end of the session, because he realized that yes, I was there for him then, just as I’ve always been there for him. He realized that while his addiction may have been telling him that I didn’t love him, surely I did and still do because otherwise I’d have left a year ago, if not earlier. He realized that the negative narrative he told himself to justify his addictive behavior simply wasn’t real. Now, we can move forward and focus on reality.

An Alternate Perspective on Trickle Truth / Staggered Disclosures

A Happy New Year to you all! I offer a big, hearty “thank you” to everyone who read and commented on my Week of Brutal Honesty posts before the holidays. It was very cathartic to me to write those posts and to participate in the comments, and I hope it was for others as well.

So here we are, rolling into 2019.  Handsome’s primary focus at the moment is eliminating his compulsive lying. To a “normal” brain, it sounds fairly ridiculous, but addicts are relentless liars. Handsome’s compulsive lying likely started in his childhood and escalated in his high school years when he first started living a kind of secret life. (His parents would think he was at school all day when he would actually leave and go hang out at the town library for hours on end. He was dying to learn, but hated school for a variety of reasons.) It certainly set the stage for the decades of addiction-driven secrets and lies that followed.

His assignment is essentially to do two things: (i) not lie, and (ii) journal about every time he thinks about lying, whether big or small, and explore his motivations behind why he was going to or did lie. If he lies he is supposed to fess up and correct the lie immediately. (I am fully aware of the irony in relying on an expert liar to admit to his lies, but it is what it is.)

I was working on some recovery materials this past weekend and one of the topics involved trickle truth and the damage and trauma it causes. As is often the case, this got me thinking very specifically about Handsome’s disclosures. In short, it occurs to me that the use of trickle truth – staggering his disclosures and lying by repeatedly stating that he had told me “everything” – was likely highly effective for him.

To be clear, I am not saying that there were no negative consequences of the trickle truth. I am instead suggesting that – on balance – the negative consequences of the trickle truth for him were likely less severe than the consequences of telling me everything honestly from the beginning. Handsome’s initial disclosure was that he had one physical affair. In those initial, highly charged days after disclosure, I was making a decision to stay or to leave the relationship based on, I thought, his extra-marital involvement with one person. If I had any inkling that there were at least five other long-term emotional and physical affair partners, plus all the pros and online randos, my initial analysis would have been very different. I tend to think that I would have simply thrown him out and filed for divorce.

It’s almost as if to stay in the marriage I had to ease into the concept of being the wife of a sex addict just as he had to ease into the disclosure of his acting out and acknowledgement of his addiction.

With that said, I do believe that we reached a point – probably about 2 months after our 2nd DDay (when his addiction truly came to light) – after which additional disclosures became nothing but destructive. After that point we had both put considerable time, effort, and money into healing separately and together… we were staying together if we both did the work… so further trickle truth just undermined the new foundation we were trying to build.

I’m not suggesting for a moment that trickle truth is a good thing. There are power dynamics and certainly selfishness and self-preservation at play when one is asked to tell the whole truth and they do not do so. It is also unquestionable in my mind that trickle truth exacerbates betrayal trauma. Instead, I think I’ve just come to the conclusion that trickle truth from a cheater is to be expected. It often works, to a degree, for them.

Perhaps I handled it all wrong with Handsome. Perhaps the mantra shouldn’t have been “tell me the truth or I’m throwing you out” but rather “move out until you can prove to my satisfaction that you have told me the truth.” Perhaps, with the benefit of hindsight, that would have been the smarter move.

A Week of Brutal Honesty – #5 – Handsome’s Clock is Ticking

This is the fifth and final post in my week of soul cleansing. You can find the first four posts here,  here, here, and here. If you’ve hung in there with me all week, thank you. Getting these things off my chest has been cathartic and I appreciate all of the comments.

I keep waiting for Handsome to do a number of things: express empathy appropriately and when needed, get his head out of his alternate reality, and demonstrate a feeling of urgency about his recovery (including addressing his integrity and intimacy issues). So far, I’m mostly still waiting.

I had intended this post to be broadly about the issue of staying versus going and how I continue to struggle with that decision. And then… well, then this past Monday happened. Two things occurred on Monday that have amped up my sadness and apathy about Handsome’s recovery. Note that I didn’t say “anger.” I find myself slowly shifting away from anger and disappointment and into apathy.

Over the weekend I was going through our bathroom closet looking for a particular product I needed and I came across not one, but two boxes of condoms. The first box, a 40 pack (must have been wishful thinking), I recall purchasing myself after our son was born in 2009. He was born in May and I had to wait until September of that year to get an IUD. Thus, the condoms. Handsome hates condoms with the fire of 1,000 suns, and I think we used no more than 3 or 4 of them. After I got the IUD, we had no need for condoms and the box sat in the back of the closet collecting dust. Imagine my surprise at finding a second box of condoms with a much later 2016 expiration date (which would mean they were purchased in roughly 2012 or 2013). It was a 12 pack. Six were left. Handsome and I have not used condoms together since September of 2009.

My truth = Handsome bought the condoms to act out and have sex with his APs.

His “truth” = “I’ve never seen those before, but they must have been for us.”

Mind you, the issue isn’t actually the condoms. I know he had sex with other women, of course. (And a part of me would be glad/ relieved if he actually did use condoms with them because even though he insists he did, he hates them so much that I tend to doubt that.) The issue is the distorted thinking and/ or the lie. He knows he bought them. Even if he doesn’t remember buying them he at least knows that I did not buy them and that we did not use them together. And yet he can’t bring himself to own that reality.

After that discussion on Monday, Handsome headed off to his weekly therapy appointment. He generally calls me afterwards and I wanted to ask him to stop and pick up milk at the grocery store. When 20+ minutes had passed, I checked “Find Friends” on my phone to see if he was still at the doc’s and saw that he was apparently parked at a beer distributor between his doc and home. I didn’t freak out. Find Friends is often less than precise. I called him and asked him where he was. He told me that he was several miles away in a different town. Find Friends is not that inaccurate. I said nothing further. I can’t make him get a grip on his integrity. I can’t force him to tell the truth.

And that brings us to today. He admitted in our session with the CSAT that he drove from his therapist’s office to the beer distributor and bought and drank a beer on Monday. Handsome will still lie to protect himself. He will still gaslight me even when it’s obvious that I know the truth and I’m not buying his BS. I’m not sure what happened in his therapy session, but it clearly stressed him and rather than using any of the tools in his toolbox to deal with it he resorted to drinking. Again.

And me?  I believe he is engaging in self-sabotage. It’s as if Handsome thinks he can’t recover so he is going to ensure that he won’t recover. It’s sad. He does so well on some things and on other things he is just floundering, but I’m the collateral damage. I’m going to enforce my boundaries. He needs to get himself to another multi-day intensive program of some kind within the next month. He needs to ramp up his meeting attendance and make daily calls to his sponsor and SA buddies. He can, as always, choose not to do these things, but then he needs to find an apartment to live in.

Boundaries and consequences are great, but my patience is wearing very thin. The goodwill I have for him is diminishing with each lie, with each incident of acting out (not sexually that I know of, but he’s clearly acting out in other ways). I’m not getting mad. I’m sliding into apathy. Our CSAT told him today that if I’m not mad he should be terribly afraid because it means that I’m finding my life jacket and putting it on and getting ready to jump ship. If he can right the ship, I’ll stay on board, but I’m not going to be dragged down with him. I love him more than he can imagine, but the clock is truly ticking. I cannot endure this for much longer. That’s the brutally honest truth here: I wanted deeply to move into 2019 with renewed hope and faith and energy, but I see that I’m still dealing with the same BS I was dealing with a year ago. I don’t think that I can do it for one more year, and that breaks my heart. 💔

A Week of Brutal Honesty – #4 – L is for Loser

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This is the fourth post in my week of soul cleansing. You can find the first three posts here,  here, and here.

There really is no easy way to diplomatically address this, so I’m just going to dive right in. There are girls/ women who date broken and damaged men because they either like the drama involved in trying to get them to change, or they enjoy the project of trying to spiff them up, or they think it’s the best they can hope for in a relationship. That has never been me. With one particular exception (it was a brief, 6 month bad-boy phase right after college) I’ve dated guys who were squared away. I’ve never liked drama. I dated men who seemed to have confidence and were secure in who they were and what they wanted out of life. Some of them were selfish assholes, to be sure, but they were far from secretive or apologetic about their lives or their goals and dreams.

I had one long-term (10 year) relationship prior to Handsome and he was not a project in any way, shape, or form. Neither he, nor any of the men I dated, were into porn or escorts or massage parlors. They openly mocked the men who utilized such services. They referred to the women involved as dirty, skanky, trashy and a host of less printable names. Mind you, none of these guys were chaste. Every one of them was completely into sex, sometimes overwhelmingly so, with their own unique takes on kink. Every single one of them was reasonably adventurous, but they wanted that adventure with someone “clean.”  That matched well with my sexual background and experience.

I came into my relationship with Handsome fully believing that men who paid for sex or sat in their basements self-pleasuring to porn were losers. Who pays for sex when you just go out and find someone you like and get it on?

If guys who watch porn and pay for sex are losers, what is my husband?

🙄

I struggle with this. Handsome has been a sex addict for decades… long before he met me. His pattern is to start a new relationship sober, and then after several years fall back into a phase of acting out until he walks away from the relationship (he tries to leave first so he isn’t dumped). Our CSAT calls this the “rinse and repeat” cycle.  If I knew the truth about Handsome, I never would have dated him. I certainly never would have married him. And yet here we are. I find myself married to a man I deeply love, but now struggle to respect.

That’s a tough spot to be in. I used to look at him with admiration. Now, all too often I see him through glasses colored by sadness and pity, generally with a dose of resentment thrown in as well. When he would walk into a room pre-DDay, even when I was tired, or ticked, or hungry for that matter, I would smile and get a warm fuzzy feeling. Now, I often look away. There is still love there, but it has a lot of hurt and disgust piled on top of it.

And yet this result was very predictable. Nothing in my background would suggest to Handsome that I wouldn’t be violently disgusted by his behavior. His boss is (allegedly) a complete male whore and Handsome and I used to talk about his antics disparagingly all the time and discuss how sorry we felt for his wife. More than half of that time Handsome was doing the same or worse things. (Transference, perhaps?)

Handsome certainly knew that when I found out that he’d been going down on the town syphilitic whore, it would turn my stomach for him to do that to me. He had to realize that knowing that he came inside women who were basically smashed by a steady train of paying guys all day long, having him inside me would be a lot less meaningful or fun or intimate. He must have known that the knowledge that he trolled for anonymous pussy online – and that he’d essentially fuck anything – means that whatever he says to me about wanting me is kind of a moot point. Why wouldn’t he want me after what he’s been fucking?

Of all of the issues I’m covering this week, this may be the one that is most difficult to overcome. Handsome has to work – hard – to regain my esteem and respect. So far, a year in, his record is lackluster. Yes, he has made strides, but then he undoes everything with a giant helping of lies or trickle truth or gas lighting. That can’t continue forever.

I want desperately to rebuild trust and respect for him, but only Handsome controls whether or not that is possible. I want to look at him and be proud of all of the hard work that he is doing to heal himself and us. I have had that at fleeting times throughout the last year, and then it vanishes when he undermines and self-sabotages his own hard work. I’m willing to do everything I can to help him, but he also needs to help himself.

Tomorrow – A Week of Brutal Honesty – #5 – Handsome’s Clock is Ticking

A Week of Brutal Honesty – #2 – Regrets: I have a few (but maybe not what you think)

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This is the second post in my week of soul cleansing. You can find the first post here.

My best friend is one of the few people I have told about what is going on with Handsome. She is supportive of me, for sure, and also of the marriage (if Handsome does the work needed). She is also frank with me in a way that only a best friend can be. She asked me if I regret marrying Handsome in the first place. Hmmm…..

Do I regret marrying him? No. I don’t. I made the choice to marry him based on what I thought to be true. The lies only recently came to light. I can’t undo 14 years of marriage (and 2 awesome kids), but if he wants to continue in this relationship he needs to double down on his efforts to rebuild what he has carelessly and selfishly destroyed. He can’t just float through and be occasionally nicer to me and think it will fix everything. He needs to figure out how to show empathy without pouting. He needs to be able to articulate how he is going to work to make things better, and then he needs to follow through and do those things.

That said, I do have other regrets:

I regret the way that I handled Round 1 with the Flame back in 2012. Here was my husband, in daily inappropriate communication with another woman and, after I found out and pitched a hissy fit, I took him at his word that it was over and done with and that we were all good. I believed him when he said he was sorry. (He wasn’t sorry. He thought that I had over reacted. He had no intention of not communicating with her ever again.) I believed him when he assured me that he wouldn’t humiliate me that way again. (Ha! Little did I know…) I was upset enough to leave him over the incident. I told him that very bluntly, but I don’t think he ever believed it. Still, I didn’t insist on counseling or take any other protective steps.  That was stupid on my part.

I regret how I handled Handsome’s drinking. After this episode with the Flame, Handsome’s drinking escalated for a time. He had always had a few beers (2-3) but this is when it got really bad, seemingly out of nowhere. It was taking a toll on our family and on Handsome’s health. I grew so worried about him that I actually reached out to his dad and asked him to come stay with us and talk to Handsome about his drinking. Handsome’s dad has been sober for a few decades and still attends AA. I thought he might be helpful. He was useless. First, Handsome didn’t drink in front of his dad the entire time his dad was at our house (heaven forbid that daddy see him drink 8-10+ beers a night). His dad left thinking I was just a crazy wing nut. I also know now that Handsome’s dad is likely a key component in his family of origin issues. He is squarely in the man-box, and is seemingly incapable of empathy let alone much self-awareness. He probably couldn’t have helped if he had wanted to and my sense now is that he could never admit that his golden child is also an alcoholic (like him, and Handsome’s mom, and Handsome’s brother…). Again, I would have been better off to insist on marriage or family counseling and see if the drinking could have been addressed there.

I regret the way that I handled Porngate. When Handsome finally stopped gas lighting me and came clean, I should have insisted on counseling of some kind. I didn’t. Again, I believed him when he said he was sorry and that it was “just for fun” and that it was over. (Yep. I was such a freaking idiot!) If it was no big deal he would have owned it and brushed it off. He didn’t. Today, I kick myself for not seeing (1) that a pattern of acting out behavior was emerging, and (2) that Handsome was escalating, and (3) that he was lying through his teeth. Perhaps more importantly, I was crushed to find out about all the porn. Handsome never had to deal with that devastation. He never addressed how it impacted me. I just had to push it down inside, and he marched on and started engaging in increasingly outrageous behavior about a month later.  What followed was by no means my fault, but I do feel as though I missed an opportunity to possibly prevent things from blowing up in such epic fashion. If he had help earlier, maybe his addiction could have been identified and addressed before it got so terribly out of hand.

Finally, I regret not trusting my gut more and not speaking up for myself. I’ve written about that here on multiple occasions, and it continues to be true. I did not know about Handsome’s affair with the Whore (or all the others) prior to DDay #1, but there were things that gave me a great sense of unease and I just tamped that feeling down and ignored that gut warning. I’ll never do that again. I trust my gut now. If something seems wrong, it probably is, and Handsome no longer gets the benefit of any doubt. Quite the opposite, in fact. Moving forward I am highly likely to always side with my truth (or my sense of it) over his.  That’s his fault, of course, and perhaps it will change with proven integrity over time, but we aren’t anywhere near that yet when staggered disclosures continue to occur.

Tomorrow: A Week of Brutal Honesty – #3 – A Crime of Passion (a.k.a. Why I’ll never get picked for a jury)