sex addiction – Page 2 – Betrayedwife.net

Part 1: They tried to make me go to rehab, but I said, “No, no, no”

Several weeks ago Handsome headed off to rehab. Not, as you might imagine, for sex addiction. He was sober and not struggling with his sobriety. He was, however, struggling with being an a**hole. Yes, there’s a rehab for that.

When I say that Handsome was not struggling with sobriety, what I mean is that he wasn’t feeling compelled to masturbate, view porn, pic collect, go to massage parlors, or any of the other things he did to act out. He is repulsed by his old, addictive behavior. So what’s the problem? He was struggling mightily with recovery. He was sober, but still not in a good place mentally. On some level, his acting out helped him regulate his emotions.** If you’re used to having an orgasm or two to release your stress when you have a crappy day, what do you do when that’s not readily available? Without the right tools (or willingness to use the tools you have) you bottle that stress up and become miserable. Then you take that misery out on everyone around you.

It’s not that every day with Handsome was awful. Far from it. Good days were often great days. That said, there were enough cruddy days that something had to change. Pre-DDay, Handsome was prone to angry outbursts (never physical, just ranting about whatever he was upset about) and moody. Very moody. In the aftermath of DDay, his temperament improved tremendously, probably because he was terrified and trying to be on his best behavior. You can only fake it for so long though and the moodiness and anger seemed to come back in full force from last May forward.

I admit to tolerating a lot of that before DDay because I foolishly thought it was all some kind of a mid-life crisis passing phase, but I just can’t now. Why? Two reasons: (1) I see clearly the toll his moods have taken on our kids, and (2) I can’t walk on eggshells in my own home. Our kids and I deserve better than that from him. When I met with Doc 2 prior to Thanksgiving, he thought that with two sessions a week he might be able to get Handsome to make some progress with emotional regulation. I was skeptical, but willing to give it a shot. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work. We went on a two week vacation over Thanksgiving and he was often a hostile jerk. That was a last straw for me. I told Handsome that either he could go to rehab or one of us needed to move out. When he dragged his feet, I picked a firm date and told him that either he would be getting on a plane that day or I would be packing my car and leaving. I did not run that by our CSAT or waffle about it. I know he was stunned. I know he resented having a line drawn in the sand. I have a feeling he felt betrayed. (Welcome to my world…)

He opted for rehab. There are a million to choose from, but after a good bit of research on our own we opted for Sierra Tucson in Arizona. We picked ST for three primary reasons:
– fully covered by our insurance;
– they have a mood disorder treatment protocol; and
– they have a program for vets and first responders.

Of those 3 factors, the first two were by far the most important to me. Would I have found a way to cough up the money for him to go somewhere? Probably, but I also strongly feel as though we’ve spent a fortune on him already and that comes at the direct expense of everyone else in the family. Not having to pay out of pocket was a huge consideration. (To quantify this, the fees for Handsome’s treatment at ST exceeded $90,000. Of that, we paid $173 for a medical visit he needed off site. The rest was fully covered.) Having him get very specialized care at a highly regarded facility was also incredibly important. There was no point in sending him for treatment if they weren’t equipped to address his particular issues.

In the days right before Handsome departed, he vacillated between being incredibly kind or shockingly mean. When I dropped him at the airport I was truly glad to see him go (and also sad it had come to this). He didn’t say goodbye. He gave me a half-hearted hug and walked into the terminal. I would not have been surprised to find that he changed his ticket and just bailed. He didn’t. He got on the first of his two flights. He called me from his connecting airport in tears. I think it finally hit him that the coming weeks were a Hail Mary to try to save his family. That was, however, the last heartwarming conversation we were to have for many weeks. Things would get much rougher before they got better.

** My dear friend Crazy Kat pegged this too. I swear she is a savant. She would write about how her husband’s addition seemed to help him stay regulated and – for a long time – I just couldn’t relate because my husband seemed so much “better” in his sobriety. It took nearly 18 months, but starting last summer I got to see how hard it truly is for my husband to regulate his emotions and stay on keel without relying on his addictions. This is especially true when it comes to dealing with anything that causes him discomfort or unease. He dealt with those emotions before by tamping them down with alcohol or sex. Absent those things, more recently he often turned to anger and frustration. None of those coping mechanisms are acceptable though, so there was a lot of friction in our home.

Things I wish I knew before my husband went to rehab

I intend to write in detail about my perspective of Handsome’s inpatient experience after he returns home, but in the interim I thought it might be useful to someone to put some of this down in my blog right now. I should clarify up front that although Handsome is a sex addict, he went to inpatient care for his mood disorders, trauma, and to endeavor to manage his medications including new medication for ADHD.

In no particular order, here are things I wish I knew beforehand:

1. I did not know that he would have extensive contact with women. While he is not in an SA program, the fact that he’s a SA is woven throughout the intake materials. The facility did put him in the housing unit for men, but that is also where they put all the women who create too much trouble in the women’s housing unit or the co-ed housing unit. (That fact continues to blow my mind.) His daily group meeting was also 6 women, plus Handsome and one other guy. Handsome is over two years sober, and by the account of his therapist he maintained good boundaries, but I’m told it’s not unusual for these process group folks to keep in contact after they leave. That’s awkward since one of our boundaries involves Handsome not texting, emailing, or calling women outside of work, childcare, or relatives.

2. I did not know how little time he would have to communicate with anyone. I knew he’d be on literal lock down when he checked in, but I figured things would loosen up afterwards. Not really. In the 3rd week he earned the ability to use his cell phone 2x day for about 20 minutes. Given that one of those sessions is when I’m at work and the kids are at school, that leaves 20 min or less a day to read some news, take care of “life stuff”, work, and family. And that’s only if the class he has before his media time ends on time.

3. I did not realize how iffy a discharge date can be. We were under the impression that Handsome was pre-approved for 30 days. Nonetheless, on day 25 the insurer did a review and could have cut off his coverage that day. They didn’t – and in fact they authorized an additional week of treatment – but Handsome watched others in his unit get sent packing early because their insurance ended coverage earlier than expected. (People were pulled out of meals and classes and told “Hey, your insurer cut you off so you can switch to self-pay or you will be discharged right now.” Like pack-your-bag-and-don’t-say-good-bye-to-anyone kind of right now.) My advice? Don’t buy a return ticket that isn’t easily refundable or changeable.

4. I did not know how hard the limited communication he could have with us would be on me (and at least one of my kids). I’m not sure what I expected, but the first two weeks he sounded miserable. Angry. Withdrawn. He actually sounded worse than before he left. I hadn’t expected that, and it was awful and disheartening. I cut our calls down to once a week (just me, he could still call the kids). It didn’t help. I’m not sure if I was expecting to hear something that I didn’t hear or if he was just drugged (they were certainly adjusting his meds regularly) but I ended up being a ball of anxiety after each call. My daughter held out a bit longer and then asked me if she had to do the calls. I asked her to try once a week. Handsome was devastated, but it might have been the wake up he needed because things seemed to turn a corner after that.

5. I did not know what an IOP is. If you’re like me, an IOP is an intensive outpatient program. After an inpatient program, they like to discharge patients to the care of an IOP as a step-down process. Broadly speaking, most are about 3 hours a day, 4 to 5 days a week. It sounds like it would be helpful BUT the burden of finding such a program seemingly falls to the family at home and, to a lesser extent, on the patient’s home therapists. Through my involvement in that research I learned a lesson about the single biggest issue with IOPs. If your loved one is coming out of an inpatient program, especially a good one with highly trained staff, they are likely to be (at best) gravely disappointed and (at worst) possibly set back by the way many IOPs are run. Very often there is no discernment between substance and process addictions so the treatment isn’t individualized. Also, it seems to be the case that much of the care is provided by interns working towards their degrees. After investigating every option within a 50-mile radius of our home, Handsome’s therapists opted to develop a Plan B – a custom plan that they would coordinate among themselves that would involve individual, group, and marriage counseling as well as EMDR. I am honestly not sure how well this will work, but time will tell.

More to follow…

The Backslide – Anger

Handsome is off at an inpatient rehab. More on that to follow in a week or three.

I’m putting pen to paper because suddenly, I am experiencing my own two-steps-back in my recovery. Even though Handsome did not relapse and he went mostly willingly to rehab, I am angry at him. Like really, really mad as hell. I thought that I had worked through and processed my anger after all of the DDays. I thought that I had worked through and dealt with my anger at all of the screw up and bombs in between. Yes, there were occasional flares of what seemed mostly like exasperation and frustration, but not like this. Yet, this is where I find myself recently.

I’ve noodled it for a few days. Why now? Why is the anger back with such force? I have come up with a few theories:

1. Yes, he’s in a locked down medical facility, but he’s also playing with horses and going on hikes and singing songs around a campfire while I am breadwinner, chef, taxi driver, washer woman, dog walker and homework helper. There’s some resentment there. While I know it isn’t helpful it also isn’t unjustified. He’s the addict and yet the burden of this treatment falls squarely on me and my kids. That sucks.

2. I’ve never really had the luxury of letting my anger come out before. Yes, I cursed at him under my breath and out of earshot of our kids for weeks after DDay 1, but after that life simply had to go on. Our kids needed me to not be a banshee in front of them. My anger took a back seat to preserving our family. Once it became clear he was a sex addict, my anger seemed somewhat inappropriate (you wouldn’t scream at a schizophrenic for their disorder, so how do you scream at a SA, I thought). I’m sure I was angry – I was devastated, so it was surely in that mix – but I shifted to trying to get him appropriate help and giving him space to work his recovery. I marched on and plastered a smile on my face. Life went on. Without him around every day though, it’s like a pressure valve has been released. It’s all coming out. I tried to change our cat litter last week (a task that I’d never done before in my life) and managed to overturn the garbage can and dump dirty litter all over our laundry room. An hour of clean up, bleaching, and repeated carpet shampooing later and I’m pretty sure that I wished him death in a fire-filled pit of kitty poop hell. I was alone, so the anger poured out without consequence. So did the tears.

3. He simply isn’t here. While it’s clear something is missing, it’s not all bad. Far from it, in fact. Our kids are helping out and literally getting along better than I’ve ever seen them. I’ve rolled up my sleeves and found time to clean and to clear clutter that hadn’t been touched in years. I’ve made such a dent that one thing became evident – Handsome did nothing around our house other than laundry. Before he fell back into his addiction he would dust and vacuum, polish woodwork, mop and things like that. It’s clear to me that hasn’t happened in forever. Given what I’ve been able to accomplish in a few weekends on my own even with working full time + and all my other inherited tasks, any reason he has for not helping is pure BS. I always gave him the benefit of the doubt about being busy (among other things) but the reality is that it’s just another example of how I made my needs small to cater to him. I am dedicated to ensuring that doesn’t happen again.

That is what I think leads to the main root of my anger. I am living a nice, normal, hectic but happy life right now. With Handsome temporarily out of the picture I see clearly how devastating his behavior was both during the throes of his addiction and at the lowest points during his recovery. I am happier and less lonely than I was for the last six months, and yet HE IS NOT HERE. I miss him, but not the “him” I’ve seen since last May, and certainly not the “him” I saw during his acting out.

What I thought was tolerable when I was in the fish bowl with him is clearly intolerable from outside. Addicts can suck all of the oxygen out of a room and, in our case, I see how much he sucked out of this family. I’m really angry at him for that, but I am almost equally mad at myself that I couldn’t see that in real time and that I allowed it to happen.

Before Handsome left for rehab I made it clear that upon discharge he wouldn’t be coming straight home. He can spend a week or three in a tiny AirBnB or economy hotel while he reintegrates into his job and our family. He needs to meld to our new normal. Not the other way around. One good thing to come from this anger is a hard commitment by me to ensuring that things don’t go back to the way they were before.

Support or Sabotage re: Sex Addiction

I recently stumbled across a site called sisterhoodofsupport dot org . I’m not going to link to it because you can find it yourself if you want to after reading this. I am actually speechless. If you all knew me in real life you would understand how monumental that is. I literally argue for a living.

I don’t know the woman who runs the site, but someone clearly peed in her Cheerios at some point. She claims “By 2011 my [old] website marriedtoasexaddict dot com was bursting at the seams. Tens of thousands of women visited the site each month and were asking for a private place to discuss their experiences. They needed a place away from the prying eyes of the public and their families. A place where they could feel safe sharing the most intimate details of their ordeals with others who understood. In February of 2011 The Sisterhood of Support was Launched.” Hmmmm… “tens of thousands of readers” (a claim she states more than once) yet only a few comments and no substantive back and forth discussions on posts. And, in spite of the name of her old site and the mission of her new site, she flat out denies that sex addiction is real.

I’m actually marginally okay with the addiction deniers. There are crazy people everywhere and as long as they don’t force me to join them, they can do as they please. I am, however, indignant when someone with no applicable expertise tries to pass themselves off as an expert. The author/host backs up her opinions by stating “Because of my medical background I also bring a vast amount of scientific research.” Oh really? She was (is?) a nurse. Nurses are awesome. My mom was a nurse. I love nurses. I am, however, unaware of any RN degree that comes with a psychiatry or psychology degree, or even a deep dive in the DSM. According to the site her medical background seems to have been in hospice care. There is no peer reviewed research on her site. None. And yet she makes proclamations like this:

It’s one thing to tell a Partner “Hey, nothing is for certain. He might relapse. He might not.” That would be fair. Telling someone to bail upon the discovery of their spouse’s acting out because “long term change simply does not happen” and using one’s “medical background” as some indicia of authority or expertise??? That is seriously screwed up.

I’m 25 months out from my first DDay. Had I found that site back then? Holy crap. And sadly, the few stories that accompany the blog posts are heart breaking. Partners are reaching out, looking for facts and support, and what they are getting is nothing more than doom and gloom. She somehow manages to make ChumpLady look like Little Suzie Sunshine by comparison. I’m surprised she doesn’t accept ads from divorce lawyers.

To be clear, I don’t think that any partner of a sex addict should be hoodwinked into any assurance that their spouse will recover or that they will stay sober. I also don’t think anyone should put all their marbles in the “my marriage is so much better post-affair” hopper. Maybe it will be, maybe it won’t be. It all depends on what it was truly like beforehand and how much work both parties put in post-discovery and every day of your life thereafter. To me it is also true that there is a sex addiction industry blossoming that includes a number of questionable practitioners and methodologies. That said, the mantra of “Abandon hope, all who enter here… [insert wailing sounds]” seems a bit hysterical. And like sour grapes.

I agree with her that there is a lack of peer reviewed research on sex addiction and the benefits (or lack thereof) of certain treatment methods. Her position that data can’t come from surveys or statements from the addicts themselves, however, would invalidate almost all studies of psychological and psychiatric issues, including those regarding betrayed spouses. There is no objective, observable measure of my trauma, for example. You have to ask me about it and I have to tell you or describe it to you. A researcher would need to depend on me to be truthful and/ or build in a margin of error to account for untruths. The author/ host simply can’t have it both ways: citing Dr. Minwalla on one hand (whose own research involves partner interviews), and yet undermining and invalidating addict interviews on the other.

I fully and freely acknowledge that my own husband may fall flat on his face and our marriage may end. Only time will tell. I don’t know what will happen. I don’t think Handsome knows for sure either even though he would bet the farm that he won’t relapse. That being said, this “expert” certainly doesn’t know – or have any legitimate basis to know – and is in no position to make these absurdly definitive proclamations.

When You Can’t Catch a Break

To be clear, the guy in the photo above isn’t Handsome, but it might as well have been him.

When we last left off, Handsome was scoping out rehab centers for a 30-day inpatient stay. We had basically reached the point where he either needed another leap forward or we needed some kind of a therapeutic separation for my sanity. He’s sober, but not in good recovery otherwise. By Christmas Eve he had his choices narrowed down to two rehab centers. We had a lovely Christmas. On the 26th he learned that our insurance will pay for 100% of either rehab center. All that was left was to pick a location and book a plane ticket. Cool.

But also way, way too simple. And NOTHING is ever simple these days. I should have seen the storm clouds moving our way on the horizon…

Handsome thoughtfully decided to get a few chores done around the house before vanishing for 4 weeks. One task involved changing the light bulb in the decorative fixture over our foyer stairs. The light is about 2 stories over the closest landing. There is no good, safe way to remove the glass shade and change the bulb, except possibly driving a rented cherry picker or bucket truck onto the lawn and coming in through a window. Opting not to do that, Handsome tried to stand on the railing of the stairs as he has done other times. This time he lost his balance… with the glass shade in his hand. (Yep, start cringing here… you see where this is going…) He basically fell 2 stories ONTO the glass shade.

I was at work. How do I learn of this? By this text from my 10 year old:

So I call Handsome and my hysterical 13-year old answers the phone. I knew it was bad when she told me that Handsome told her to call 911. (This is a guy who would try to drive himself to the ER in almost any kind of emergency.) Two ambulances and a trip to our nearby Level 1 trauma center later, and he is taken into surgery within hours to clean and close the wounds to his arm and abdomen. He was exceedingly lucky as no major organs were damaged and he didn’t break any bones.

So, in some ways, perfect time to go to rehab, right? Can’t exactly go skiing or even to work. Nope. Apparently he will not be accepted at rehab until his sutures are removed in about two weeks. We’re working on seeing if there is any flexibility on that issue, but if that remains the case a 30-day stay won’t be possible. He’ll have exhausted his available leave and will be just a few days short of the full 30 he needs.

This was an awful accident that could have been much, much worse. I’m relieved that Handsome is home and healing and nothing is broken or severely damaged. I’m sad for Handsome that he’s hurting. I’m also sad that what seemed to be coming together so well for his recovery is at risk of being blown out of the water. It was a big step for him to commit to a 30-day inpatient stay. Having it fully paid for is amazing. I’d hate to see that opportunity disappear. The implications – for both of us – are serious and material. We were both counting on this to help us. It’s not how I wanted to roll into 2020. Please send some good vibes our way in the hope that we can get this all sorted out.

I hope everyone has a safe, healthy, and Happy New Year!

2 Years Later – Life Goes On

My world imploded at around 11:00PM on December 9, 2017. The next four months of my life were pretty much a complete sh*t show. It wasn’t until DDay #2 that I really grasped that my husband’s behavior crossed a line into compulsive sexual behavior. (CrazyKat had pegged it earlier, but I couldn’t grasp the truth of it until the facts were laid bare before me.) That was a turning point of sorts, but December 9th is the day that triggered everything that has flowed forth thereafter.

Last year, I was pretty much a mess in the week leading up to the anniversary. I was irritable, sad, quiet, angry… and just generally lacking balance. This year was better. Not great and not without issue, but better.

At worst, I was somewhat agitated on the 8th. On the 9th itself I felt like I had a heavy cloak on all day. It was as if there was this invisible weight I was carrying that I could feel but no one else could see. It didn’t distress me. It didn’t hurt. It was just… there.

It happened to be a particularly stressful work day as I had my compensation meeting for next year. (Each December we have to make a case to one of the firm muckety mucks about what we should be paid and why for the next year, back it up with data, and then we wait about 7 weeks to see if we were persuasive enough.) I was a little scattered, but I thought that overall the meeting went well. It just so happened that Handsome and I had tickets to one of a series of literary lectures we attend, so we went out for dinner together and then to the lecture. That was probably a good thing as I believe the change of scenery and routine was helpful.

Last year, Handsome tried to ignore the day and make believe it didn’t exist. That didn’t go well. It felt as though he was ignoring my pain and distress. To be fair, I hadn’t asked him to do anything, but I felt like he should have known. This year, after we got home and put the kids in bed, he approached me and said “I know these anniversary days are really awful. If there is anything I can do to make it better, I’ll do it. I’m so sorry I caused you all this pain.” It was sincere. It didn’t sound like he was regurgitating something from his sponsor or therapist. He remembered that just ignoring it hurt me. It was a meaningful gesture.

If you told me two years ago that a DDay anniversary would come where I wouldn’t be a wailing mess, I’d have thought you were nuts, but 24 months later that seems to be the case. I still bear the weight of the history of the day, but it doesn’t control me. I have changed and grown. I am certainly stronger than I suspected back then. Rebuilding myself is an ongoing process and Handsome still has a lot (A LOT) of work to do on himself, but I do recognize and take some comfort in how much progress ~~he has~~ we have made.

Inpatient Rehab for Sex Addiction – Suggestions Needed

No, Handsome hasn’t relapsed. Yes, he is still sober (2 years next week) but he is … stuck. He goes to his meetings and he makes all of his appointments. Intellectually he knows what he needs to work on and how to go about working on it. He just can’t seem to bring himself to actually DO much. His emotional regulation is still crap. He has a decent pool of resources to rely on, but when his ship is sinking he is unable (unwilling?) to reach out to anyone or to do much of anything about it. He simply can’t bring himself to call on anyone for help when he needs it and yet he remains utterly unable to right his own ship.

Both our CSAT and Doc 2 have strongly suggested that he attend a 30+ day inpatient rehab where he can focus on family of origin issues, traumas, and other things and where he could hopefully develop the emotional regulation skills he so desperately needs. I believe that for proximity issues alone, they’re pointing him towards KeyStone Center outside of Philadelphia. I hear that Russell Brand did a stint there. He writes fondly of his recovery but less so of the facility. Also, rather than staff physicians and counselors they use an “independent contractor” model which seems a bit sketchy to me.

Handsome can go anywhere in the country. He isn’t stuck on the East coast. If you or your partner have insight on any inpatient rehab programs, whether positive or negative, please share them. We originally connected with Dr. Minwalla through relationships built here in the blogosphere (and he was an absolutely fabulous asset early on in Handsome’s recovery), so I value and appreciate any recommendations or criticisms you may have for any facility. Information would be particularly helpful on the program broadly (particularly substance versus fluff), duration, family involvement (if any), and insight on whether sex addiction is truly a specialty or area of expertise. It seems that there are a number of facilities that profess expertise in sex addition when they actually have little training or meaningful experience in that area.

It’s not a sure thing that Handsome will be going, but I’m type A enough to try to get some ducks in a row just in case it actually happens. As always, I thank you all for any assistance you can provide.

In the Moment – Part II

I met with Handsome’s new doc for the first time last week. It was not, to be honest, quite the calamity I expected. Handsome was mostly controlled and, for him, almost unusually reserved. I didn’t see any resentment till we were in the car on the way home, and only a very small dose.

I’m a person who never turned down a good visual aid, so I showed up with one. I prepared a “trauma timeline” covering the bigger traumas caused by my husband in the last two years. Think DDays, discoveries (lies uncovered), vacations ruined, waitress-gate, and the like. To each of the 16 traumas on the timeline, I attached a small image: a plain dot for a smaller trauma (but one still big enough to make the list), a small explosion for a slightly bigger trauma, and a red bomb for the biggies. Of note, there were three red bombs on the timeline since June. I asked Doc 2 how I could be expected to heal or stay in the marriage when the traumas are unrelenting. My simple comment was that Handsome needs to stop hurting me.

We talked about Handsome’s struggles with integrity. We talked about his anger. Doc 2 did, at one point, start talking about how wonderful it is that Handsome is throwing himself into this recovery process and how committed he is to his sobriety and… I just kind of sat there. It’s not that I disagree necessarily, but I’m ambivalent at best. Doc 2 seemed befuddled that I didn’t jump for joy so he went on about how Handsome is so forthcoming about what he did and how he is so willing to share all of that with me. Again, he looked to me seemingly for some kind of validation and I said “Well, Handsome has always been willing to tell me things about what he did, it’s just that 90% of the time those things were untrue or grossly minimized. As far as his sobriety, I’m sure that being sober from one’s addictions is very hard. I’m sure it’s a challenge every day. That said, while I appreciate the point you are making about my husband’s sobriety I’m not going to get excited over him not sleeping with other women and having emotional affairs for two years. I never agreed to anything less from him. If all I get out of this is a sexually sober husband, but I still have to put up with all this other BS, that’s not enough for me.”

I realized after I left that the last part is really the essence of my current state of mind. I’m glad he’s sober (beats the alternative) and I’m sure it’s not easy (really, while I can’t say that I understand it I do believe that it must be hard for him), but there simply has to be more for me. More empathy, more kindness, more thoughtfulness, more patience, more honesty, more connection, and more love. That is where I think Handsome has struggled most. It’s as if it takes all he has to stay sober and do his recovery work and so there’s no “more” left for me. (To be fair, he often has little left in the tank for his own needs, which may also be part of the problem.)

Doc 2 intends to increase his sessions with Handsome to twice a week while Handsome is off on medical leave. I think that’s a great idea. He says he has a plan for what he wants to focus on. Fabulous. I’m supposed to go back in 5 weeks to assess any progress from my perspective. Fine. I just hope it all helps.

We did have a lovely road trip. Handsome and my kids had never been to Niagara Falls, so we jumped in the car and did an overnight stay. It was the birthday present I asked for. Grand gestures are not in my husband’s wheelhouse so, although we celebrated his 50th on the Rhine somewhere around Amsterdam, I was unlikely to get anything like that or a theater weekend in New York or a stay in some lovely spa somewhere. I asked for what I thought he could possibly pull off. He had booked a beautiful room overlooking the Falls and bought tickets for different activities and he even helped pack. Aside from some brooding and snark from my soon to be 13-year old daughter (where did my sweet girl go????), it was two great days of fun. We had adventures and some misadventures but I’m glad we did it and I’m glad it was wonderful.

In the Moment

I don’t normally post here in real time. I generally take a day or two to draft, revise, and re-think. Not today.

I am scheduled to meet Handsome’s new therapist tonight. Unlike Doc #1, this gentleman is a CSAT and specializes in treatment of sex addicts. (He adheres to the trauma model as far as spouses are concerned, not codependency.) I’m anxious for this meeting as I feel as though Handsome spun his wheels with the last doc. I’m not intending to walk in there and dump all over Handsome, but I am intending to be honest. That means some of it is going to be tough for Handsome to hear.

Even though I’ve been looking forward to this opportunity, I’m nervous to have this appointment as well. Scratch that. I’m start-popping-Ativan-level freaked out. Why? In no particular order:

– On some deep, dark level, I want this guy to fix my husband. I know and fully understand that he can’t. (I get it. I really do. It’s just…)

– Talking about Handsome in a frank but honest way can still elicit a good bit of resentment and anger. If there was a fairly immediate follow up appointment between Handsome and the doc to address any of those emotions that arise, I’d feel better. There isn’t. Seems like wildly poor planning to me.

– My family is heading out of town on a road trip Saturday morning. Trips with Handsome have been hit or miss during recovery. I am not excited to get in a car with him for a 4+ hour drive if he’s in an angry or resentful place. Again, the lack of immediate follow up seems like a really bad idea.

– This doc has been listening to Handsome talk about me for 3+ months. I have no idea what he’s expecting. I feel oddly like it’s a major job interview. I don’t need him to like me, but I do feel like I’m in the hot seat. I’m accustomed to pressure, but I’m feeling overwhelmed.

I have tried to talk to Handsome about how I feel. He assures me it will all be fine. I’m less certain, and I really can’t take another iffy trip with Handsome. My thought is to open with my concerns and offer to postpone if the doc cannot follow up with Handsome tomorrow. I’d rather waste an hour in the waiting room and kick the can down the road than have it all blow up on me this weekend. I have enough posts in the can about long- planned get-aways gone awry.

Fear & the Future

My recent emotions about Handsome are no doubt heightened by two other issues in my life. After 4 months of mammograms, ultrasounds, ductograms (yep, it’s a thing), MRIs and the like, I was told that I have a small mass in one breast that requires some attention. I’m seeing a wonderful surgeon. We did an MRI-guided biopsy and, blessedly, it’s not cancer. Surgery may not be necessary unless my genetic testing reveals that I carry either of the BRCA genes, but she is still withholding judgment on a definitive plan of action.

My thoughts on this? A part of me is scared, for sure, but I keep telling myself that it’s no big deal until the doctor tells me otherwise. It does, however, feel like just one more sucky thing to have dumped on my plate.

I have updated my advance directive to make my 86-year old mother my representative. I know she has my back, has fine judgment, and that she would carry out what I want. Could Handsome do the same? Today, probably, but I’m not putting those eggs in the Handsome basket right now. His judgement until recently has been alarmingly off, to say the least, so I’m better off to rely on my mom. It makes me sad to say that, but it is what it is. (For the record, it’s not that I think he’d have an itchy trigger finger on pulling the proverbial plug. Quite the opposite, in fact. I fear he wouldn’t pull it if it needed to be done.)

To be fair, Handsome has stepped up in the way that I deserve and need from him. He attended all of my appointments, even taking off work to do so. He sat with me and held my hand while the IV team turned me into a human pin cushion last week. He has been gentle and thoughtful and caring.

It could be worse. We’re catching whatever this is early. I’m in a city with fabulous health care options. I do have great insurance and a supportive – if often dimwitted – husband. I don’t want to board the “Why me?” train, but c’mon… sex addict husband, HPV, and now this? My gypsy great grandmother believed that bad things happen in threes, so maybe this is the end of the bad luck? Maybe I’m due for whatever good luck is out in the ether? I hope so because if that whole “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle” thing is true then I’m afraid someone upstairs has grossly misjudged my capacity to cope.

I’m also turning 50 tomorrow. It’s fine. I’m not exactly bummed about it (cake!), but I’ve been more reflective than usual. Half my life is in the can. I think I’m a kind and decent human. I’m happy with my achievements and accomplishments. I enjoy my job and find it rewarding. I have two healthy and great kids. My mom is still here and reasonably healthy. I have everything material that I need and a whole bunch of stuff I simply wanted. Our cat doesn’t hate me. The only thing I long for is a mentally healthy and stable partner. Handsome is coming up on two years of sexual sobriety so there is a part of me that feels like a jerk for complaining, but I’ve seen firsthand that sobriety isn’t the whole enchilada. It’s the baseline essential item,but I need more from him.

Handsome knows this. He just had a surgery that will keep him home and off work for 3-4 months. He is pouring himself into his recovery work. Some things are going better than others (Anger management work = good, Step work = not so much), but he’s dedicating serious time to it each day. He’s going to try ADHD meds and see if they make any difference. He’s getting to more meetings and making calls. I am starting to see him shift back to a healthy place. He had the epiphany a few days ago that it’s not my job to ensure he doesn’t get “hangry”. Seems like a no brainer to me, but you’d have thought he invented the wheel. He realized that for all of his adult life he has abdicated responsibility for his own needs and unilaterally delegated that responsibility to others – some who were incapable of meeting those needs and others who simply aren’t responsible for them. He was really sad and frankly embarrassed as he realized he’s been acting like a demanding toddler for years. It’s hard to see him realize what a mess he’s been (and for how long) but if this leads to some lasting growth and improvement it will be the best birthday gift he could give me.

Intent

Image result for intent

Does the intent of our partner matter to the betrayed? To me – others may differ – the answer is “no” with one initial exception.

Handsome and I have been doing a “Transparency of the Day” exercise to improve our communication and, frankly, to get him to exercise his integrity muscles. The idea is for each of us, every day, to very briefly share something that we are feeling or that happened and that may not be obvious or known to the other. At least twice a week Handsome is supposed to share a transparency specifically related to his recovery. Most days the exercise is quite helpful. On a few days the transparency or the resulting discussion has turned into an argument, but I’m seeing that the arguments usually stem not from the transparency shared, but from the editorializing that follows.

Handsome was recently officially diagnosed with ADHD. He is 57, and the understanding that he has lived with this throughout his life – and the impacts it has likely had on everything from his distaste for school to his interpersonal relationships and his addiction – has been somewhat overwhelming for him. In particular, the fact that ADHD is so readily treatable with a variety of meds led him to sadly question whether his self-esteem, judgment, and impulse control would have been any better had he been appropriately diagnosed long ago. He wasn’t throwing out the ADHD diagnosis as an excuse – in fact he noted that it was no excuse at all – but rather he was sharing deep sense of sadness over “what could have been” if he knew and was treated earlier.

Looking back, I’m not quite sure where the word “intent” popped into the discussion, but it did. (Again, the transparency wasn’t the genesis of the debate, the discussion that followed was…) Handsome opined that I should take his intent into account in assessing his actions. I told him that his intent is utterly irrelevant to me except for my initial decision to stay and to try to re-pair with him.

Why did his intent matter then? I had to believe that he did not intend to hurt or to destroy me with his acting out (even though the harm he caused was an obvious and inevitable consequence to anyone with half a brain not mired in disordered thinking). If I believed that my husband meant to hurt me, or that his behavior was vindictive and targeted at me, I would have left. It was clear to me though that wasn’t the case as so much of Handsome’s conduct focused on hiding his secrets and keeping me from finding out the truth about him. He could not have been trying to hurt me because he never wanted me to know.

After that initial threshold decision though? I could care less what his intent is. The analogy that I drew was as follows:

– If you shoot me in the heart on purpose, I’m dead.

– If you shoot me in the heart by accident, I’m still dead.

To me, the injured party, the result is the same either way. Dead is dead. The shooter’s intent is utterly irrelevant to me. It may matter to the shooter, law enforcement, or other people, but I’m still dead no matter what.

The same is true with betrayal trauma and recovery. I really don’t care what Handsome’s intent was in striking up a conversation with the Flame. It doesn’t change the harm to me. I’m not going to try to invent some reasonableness test based on his disordered thinking. I’m not going to waste time trying to justify or figure out the crazy. I can only judge his actions for what they actually are, not what he intended them to be.

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.

Summah (as they say in New England)

In July, as of my last post that month, things were crazy at home, but calm and peaceful at my happy place. I had a few weeks of bliss there after I arrived.That stayed true. Mostly.

The packages from the unknown woman came to an end sometime in early August. Handsome handled them and dealt with Amazon while I was gone and whatever he or Amazon did seems to have worked. There were 20+ packages by the time it was all over, but none for the last month.

Since I blocked all mail.com emails, I’m also not directly getting the emails someone sends me with videos and photos of Handsome at work. I checked my junk folder last week and there were several in there, but they seem to have stopped a few weeks ago as well. I didn’t open them so their content remains a mystery, but that’s fine. Those I saw in July before I blocked them showed nothing of note.

Handsome did come up to my happy place for a few weeks of vacation. To be blunt, the first five days were simply hell. He was not in good recovery when he arrived (still sober, but nasty and hostile) and he made everyone miserable. We had an emergency call with our CSAT on the 5th day. During the call, when he saw how distraught I was at his conduct, his tune changed… a little. He was less harsh, but still not quite the guy working hard on his recovery that he was in late Spring. We did have some really good times with our kids though, including a beautiful day on the water for a whale watch.

There was one gigantic triggering event before he left that derailed me for longer than I care to admit. Our daughter was ill, so while she was resting we took our son out for the day. He picked up a stuffed whale toy at the National Park gift shop. He names all of his stuffed friends so, on the way home, he was asking what Handsome and I thought he should name the whale. I’m volunteering silly names like Blubber and Whaley and Shamu, and Handsome picks up the suggestions with “…or Natalie or Sarah or Angel Baby… .” Yep. Let that sit a minute. My husband suggested that our son name the stuffed toy after one of his APs. Mind you, I’ve never heard of Natalie or Sarah, but I can guess who/ what they are and I certainly know who Angel Baby is. I had a real, immediate, full blown PTSD reaction. I knew Handsome and our son were still talking, but the sound seemed like I was hearing it under water. Everything slowed till I could hear my own heartbeat. My vision became blurry. I thought I was going to vomit in the car. I was trying to remember my grounding techniques but it had been ages since I had to use them. They were just out of my mental grasp.

Fortunately we were less than a mile from the house. Handsome knew he screwed up royally. He apologized and then tried to joke me off the ledge when we were alone (he often thinks if he can make me laugh or smile, we’re all good… not true). It took a few days to try to work through that pain. I’m fine hearing that same name in any other context and from any other person and I’m even fine using her name to discuss her with him. Coming completely out of the blue and out of his mouth (and to our son, nonetheless) it was like a shotgun blast. Do I think he intended to hurt me? No. I just think it was an incredibly thoughtless addict thing to do/ say. We did get back on track, but when his departure day came, I wasn’t at all sad to see him go. It was a relief.

I had a chance to see a few friends while I was away. These are people with whom I’ll always have a connection, even though we mostly keep up to speed via Christmas cards and an occasional email. I’ve known them for 30 years. In talking with them and having them ask me about certain things (like “where’s your camera?” since I was never without one) I realize how I’ve steadily made myself smaller to account for Handsome sucking all the ~~life~~ air out of the room. I resolved to quit doing so. Immediately. About 4 weeks out from that realization, I’m doing pretty well making time for my interests and my needs. I’m also shopping for new cameras.

We had a CSAT appointment just days after I returned home. It wasn’t pretty. I was far more emotional than I normally am, and I didn’t hold back. I left in tears that day, and emotionally exhausted, but I felt good having spoken my mind. It gave me strength which I would very much need just a few days later.

[By the way, my son ended up naming his toy Whaley, thank heavens. Can you even imagine if I had to hear him saying that name constantly??]

It only seems like I fell off the face of the Earth

I haven’t written here in almost two months. That’s probably not a good thing as blogging here is a part of my own self-care. It’s also not because there was nothing going on. Summer was a bit of a roller coaster. I’ll write more on that later, but just know that at this moment, in this instance of time, things with Handsome are okay. Often, they are quite good. He’s actively working his recovery (meetings, outreach to SA contacts, therapy) and he finally – FINALLY – switched from the Doc to a psychologist who is a highly experienced CSAT.

That last bit simply had to happen. I think the Doc had a lot of insight into Handsome and he certainly helped him through a lot of things, but my sense was always that he was ill equipped to address Handsome’s sex addiction. Could they devote weeks to delving into Handsome’s family of origin and early upbringing? Sure. Was it helpful? No doubt it was in certain respects. Did it help with Handsome’s integrity disorder? No. Did it help with his resentment towards me? No. Did it help him transition from dry drunk to a place of good recovery? Not that either. Handsome just needed something more… and thankfully he agreed to try this other, well regarded psychologist to see if he might be able to bring whatever was missing to the table. He came to the conclusion on his own that he needed to make the switch, so it’s a resentment-free transition. We’re only a few weeks in, but I’ve seen enough differences and improvements to make me hopeful.

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you might wonder why I’d ever have hope about my husband. I had dinner last week with a fellow blogger and this question came up in discussion. While my husband’s addiction was apparently always a part of our relationship (unbeknownst to me), 2012 is my defining line for my husband “before” and “after.” If there was no “before” version of Handsome, I would have walked 20 months ago (or, frankly, earlier). During the roughly 11 years we were together before 2012, not everything was perfect, but I didn’t suspect his addiction and enough was spectacular that it all balanced out to what I thought was a really good marriage and partnership. Handsome was present and an active and enthusiastic parent and partner. By way of example, our son contracted bacterial meningitis during delivery and was hospitalized for 46 of his first 48 days of life. After he was allowed to come home, 18 months of weekly in-home occupational therapy followed to ensure he stayed on track developmentally. Do you know how many of those 78 in-home sessions I attended? Exactly one. Handsome swooped in and made it his mission to ensure that our son got the services he needed and that I had one less thing on my plate. Not only did he schedule and attend every session, but he did all of the work with our son in between the visits. Spending copious amounts of time with an infant is taxing on anyone, but add in our son’s needs at the time and what Handsome undertook (and accomplished – our son is now a healthy 4th grader who counts swimming, lacrosse, flag football, and Tae Kwon Do among his loves) and it was noteworthy. He did all of that while also staying present and involved with me and our then-toddler daughter. Life didn’t revolve around him. It revolved around our family. I’m happy to add that’s just one example of the awesome, loving, giving, supportive things he did before his addiction knocked the wheels off our bus.

I have hope because that’s the guy I married. That’s the guy that I know – because I saw through proven behavior over time – my husband can be. Our Summer had some great times, but it also had some very raw, rough spots. Recovery isn’t linear. As I write about the incredibly crappy times we just went through, understand that my hope for the future is based on a very real and long term past. Just bear that in mind as I bring everything up to speed in my next few posts.

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.

Debunking the concept that OW owe the spouse nothing

“A Harlot’s Progress” by William Holworth

At our CSAT appointment this week, in the wake of Handsome’s boundary debacle, we spent a bit of time addressing the woman’s lack of boundaries with Handsome. (I think her lack of boundaries is beside the point, but I was willing to humor the CSAT.) The CSAT commented that if Julie realized that I was Handsome’s wife she probably wouldn’t have behaved the way she did. I’m 1000% certain that is untrue. I’m sure that Julie realized that I was Handsome’s wife, if not when she wrapped her arms around him, then certainly as the conversation progressed. She just didn’t care. In fact, it probably made it all the more exciting for her.

You see, Julie is probably one of those women who firmly believes that other women/ affair partners owe the spouse nothing. To me, that theory reeks of the same individualistic entitlement as the anti-vaxxer movement. [*note: I’m not drawing this comparison to start a debate about vaccinations. If the comparison stokes your ire and that’s what you’d choose to comment on, please save it.] You get vaccinated because, as a member of the herd, you have moral obligations to do no harm to other members of the herd. Disregarding those obligations is selfish and unconscionable, not because of the harm to the anti-vaxxer (enjoy your measles!!), but because by spreading disease you undermine the health of countless others and put the herd at risk. Similarly, as members of society, common morals dictate that we should not seek to undermine or destroy other relationships or families for our own personal pleasure. We are not entitled to chase our pleasure or our passion no matter the cost to others. “Win at any cost” is neither healthy nor productive and ultimately undermines the fabric that holds society together. Do people become affair partners all the time? Of course. Does it somehow make it right? No way. Suggesting that the affair partners are entitled to do what they do because they don’t owe anyone anything? That’s BS.

I am completely certain that Julie doesn’t get that. She never got the memo. Unfortunately for all spouses, there are an awful lot of people like Julie out there either waiting for or actively seeking out opportunities to destroy relationships for their own gain. My recovering sex addict husband doesn’t yet seem wise to their game. Fortunately, I know that and I’ve learned to look out for myself.

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.

Weekend Vibes

I wrote a whole post yesterday about how Handsome is really turning the corner. I clicked “post” and the WordPress gremlins chewed it up and banished it to the ether. It simply vanished. Sigh.

It was a long, stressful day at work yesterday and all of my plans to simplify things for myself over the next week seem to have been thwarted one by one. I was frazzled and in a crap mood when I got home. Handsome was at work, but he left me this lovely note on top of the book I’m reading on my nightstand (the perfect place for me to find it). It turned my mood around completely.

I am happy that he loves me too.

It’s a long holiday weekend here in the US and I hope that everyone has a chance to relax for a day or two.

A New Member of the Club We Never Wanted to Join

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.