I Can Do Hard Things!

This is pretty much how my weekend went with H.  Complete with the empty dialogue in the speech bubbles.   Really, it wasn't pretty.  

Something happened though, that has me thinking....

I Can Do Hard Things!!

I stained my deck.

I stained my deck -- all by myself!

This was no little thing.

I did not go into the weekend planning to do this job.  It was H's job.  But about an hour into 

it -- it all came apart at the seems.  

I don't want to stain decks, mow lawns, haul trash or do any of the things I think a husband 

should do.  I can do them, if I have to.  I proved that to myself this weekend.  Maybe this is 

an antiquated way of look-ing at things, but I think H should put some effort into this home 

he owns.  He should be willing to work on the jobs that home ownership require of him.  

For years, one of the reasons I was afraid of divorce was because of all the things I thought 

I needed a husband for.  I crossed one of those things off that list this weekend. 

This isn't a good thing.  It's sad.  

I don't know what is going on with H.  This isn't a new issues.  I've had problems in this area 

all my married life.  We have always owned a home.  The first one, belonged to H before we 

married.  When I got there, it was a nightmare.  

Red flag, huh?

Before I sent H to the store for another gallon of stain (twice what we really should have had 

to use) I asked him what was underneath this issue with him and jobs around the house.  It 

seems like they are always imploding on him.  Over the years we've had so many unfinished 

projects, project fights and paid handymen because its just easier than having to battle this 

out together.  

He's frozen.

He's dysfunctional.

When everything came apart, I knew that we didn't have time to stand around debating it.  

We spent thousands of dollars to have that deck built.  I wasn't about to have it ruined by not 

taking care of it. The season is waning, the weather turning, and that part time job that was 

supposed to be helping us financially was not what H thought it was -- at all.  Short of money, 

If H couldn't do it.  I would have to.

I stained my deck.  

I did it.

It was no small feat either.  I have a pretty good size deck.  It looks great considering this was 

my first time.

I'll be doing it again in the spring.  Just for good measure! :)

And now....

H is sleeping the guest room.

Not because he wouldn't stain the deck.

Because we rushed into him coming back home.  

Because its been a really hard six months.  Things haven't been right.

Because he's been lying.

Because of all the anger.

Because I haven't been right since he came home.

Because healing takes time -- and some times that means healing alone.

Because we can't work on us if he isn't working on him.

Because I need to work on me -- without H.

I honestly do not know what to do about my marriage.  I remember some notes I took at 

Togetherness last month in Maurice Hawker's session that I should go back and review.  

Maybe it will make sense of how to look at where I am and how to know when it is safe to 

try again.  

A year ago this month, I was just moving into my new house -- alone.  It was one of those 

gut decisions I made, and was so glad I did.  I didn't have proof then to back up that decision. 

I just knew I needed to act and wait for the answers to come.  

I spent the holiday alone -- and at peace -- without H.  

As the months past and the revolving door of separation ate up the beginning of 2014,  I came 

to understand why we separated and what those gut instincts were all about.  I'm glad I 

followed those impressions.  Along about May though, things started taking a life of their own, 

with H's remorse, phone calls to priesthood leaders, and promised to seek out recovery for 

his addiction, I felt pushed into re-uniting.   

Time to fall back and re-group.

 

Lying Yelling Anger and Boundaries

I want to go on record to say that recovery work is not for the weak.  It isn't for anyone without a strong resolve to heal and to move away from the ugliness.

It's still pretty ugly though  -- and freakin' hard!

If I could break down the pieces of H's addict behavior, the two that are the most difficult for me are

lying and anger.

I hate lying.

It makes me angry.  And I hate that.

It stirs up fear and doubt.  It brings back to the surface every lie and every moment of mistrust that ever happened.  At least, that is what it does with me.

It feels like cheating too.  Any kind of deception feels like that to me. 

It doesn't matter whether the lie is a big one or a little one.  A lie is a lie is a lie.  

It's wrong.

It hurts.

James E. Faust once said, 'Honesty is more than not lying.  It is truth telling, truth speaking, truth living, and truth loving."

I have always loved that quote.  It puts this issue right where it needs to be.  Truth living.  Truth loving.  

I watched an excellent CES Devotional about truth this week for school (kind of ironic since we are having lying issues with H again)  The title is What Is Truth.  It's long, but so worth watching.  It made me think about this issue for me and for H.  What are our truths vs. our beliefs.  Are they the same or different?  Are we rationalizing or justifying or are we seeking truth from the only source truth can come from?

I'm re-thinking my truth now that I've caught H in a few more lies.  I'm re-thinking him, me and us.  Especially because when I called him on the lie, he got up from his seat, came right over in to my personal space and yelled.  "I LIED!"

I wanted to crawl in a hole.  

I know you lied H.  I know the truth.  I see the evidence of the lie and the evidence of the proof of what I already knew.

The question is why?

How did this lie help you?  How did it help me or us?

When H came back home in May I established boundaries for lying.  The one that is being implemented right now is that H goes into the other bedroom until I feel safe enough with him.

H is sorry today.  

Right now, I don't care.

I've crawled back into my numb bubble.  I don't want to feel or care.  When he came up out of his chair and yelled at me his admittance as though that owning made it ok and now we could just call it what it is and move on ignoring the angry outburst...

NO!

No, I won't be treated like that.  I might have let you before.  I might have said, by not doing anything, that it was ok to disrespect me.  I might have sent an unspoken message of agreement that yelling at me, in my personal space, was an acceptable way to treat me -- because I was too afraid to stick up for myself.

It is not ok.  Not any more.  Not now that I know who I am and I know being treated this way is wrong for me.

Being yelled at by a man is not a new experience to me.  My dad yelled at me.  He had a mean look.  A scary look.  Really, I tried hard not to cross him.  I wasn't stupid, I knew the outcome of setting him off.  But I was a kid and I did stuff sometimes, not even realizing it.   I'd ignite the short fuse.  His voice would elevate.  His face would contort.  His finger would wag -- about as close to my face as it could get without hitting me.  

And I would cower.  

Until one day, when my dad got up in my grill -- I let him have it.  It was Thanksgiving.  My brother and I lived in California at the time.  I lived in the east bay and he lived on the peninsula, near where we'd lived most of our childhood.  My parents were in town.  In fact, the whole family was there, sister, sister's hubby and baby daughter.  

They were all over at my brothers.

They didn't come see me.  

I don't know how things are in your family, but in mine, we had a lot of unspoken expectations.  Things you just knew you were supposed to do.  Making sure I was at my brother's for Thanksgiving dinner was part of that expectation.  So was making a contribution to that dinner.  

I did that.

For two days, I was at my house, by myself prepping dishes to take to my brother's for dinner.  I had a baby and a difficult husband.  I didn't have a mom or a sister or sister-in-law to enjoy the preparations with.  It was just me getting ready to bring my part of the fun to them.  And hope it was acceptable.

By the time I got to the dinner, everyone was ready (I blew it there -- not being there to help, by the way).  I was dragging by the time I made it across the bay -- food and baby in tow.  H had gone to pick up our step-daughter so that she could join in the family event.

I want to say that dinner went well.  I can't.  

Dinner was served. They talked. They ignored me. They wouldn't eat what I brought.  Well, H did. He liked it.  To the rest of them....I was a nothing.  So was my food.  There wasn't anything wrong with the food, by the way.  I'm actually a very good cook.  

As these kinds of things go, its only a matter of time before they get worse.  In all the chaos, excitement, tired mommy-ness and too many people, my  little boy, a bundle of nerves and over stimulated  - threw up.   It wasn't that big of a deal, but it put me over the top.  I was exhausted.  I wanted to go home.

I gathered up all my things, packed my car, excused myself and was heading out when my dad came charging out into the street in hot pursuit.  He didn't come across the street to where I was putting my baby in the car.  He stood on the lawn and hollered at me.  He demanded to know where I was going and what the heck I thought I was doing leaving in the middle of family time.

I lost it.

I closed the door of my truck, walked around to my side and hollered right back at him.  "Who do you think you are?  And where were you or mom or anyone the past two days?  Do you have any idea what I've been doing or how hard I've worked to make this day special for all of you?  I'm tired.  S doesn't feel well.  We are going home."  

I got in the car.  Slammed the door,  all the while my dad was yelling at me from across the street.

H came out.  He didn't say a thing.  He just watched.  

That day, for once in my life, I walked away from a yelling man.  I stood my ground regardless of what anyone thought of me.  I said what I felt and left.  It was an ugly situation for sure.  I felt empowered. I felt like for once I had been true to me.

I haven't always been able to do that.  In fact, like the other night, I more often cower at first.  I feel intimidated.  I feel frightened, unsure if I am safe or if the anger will escalate and become physical.  It never has.  The reality is, it could, which is why these things are so frightening.

I don't know if H thought he would shut me up getting up in my face the way he did or if he just lost control of himself and wasn't thinking.  Between the lies and the anger respect boundaries have been violated.

I haven't been good at initiating boundary consequences since H came back.  This will be difficult on both of us.  Before H started into recovery any talk of a boundary was seen as an ultimatum, always met with anger, and more acting out.

I'm praying hard to just hang on right now.  H is pretty angry.  On top of this, he's trying to get our new deck stained before winter hits.  It's cold today, not too bad, but any cold is bad for H.  He also hurt his back this week.  Again, not badly, but any twinge makes him whiney.  Angry. Cold. Whiney.  It's not pretty.  He doesn't think right when he's angry either.

Things I Cannot Feel and Planning a Divorce in My Heart

Last week at group I mentioned that I needed to work on finding a way to feel.  Maybe this sounds odd, because I know I feel.  I feel pain when I burn myself cooking.  I feel delight when I see little children or animals do cute things.  I laugh at funny things.  I can get mad when I feel mistreated.

So what's the big deal?

The big deal is when H says something to me, something that I should be able to respond to in kind -- I can't.

When H calls during the day and says, "I love you" at the end of the call.  I hurry and hang up.  When H tells me how important I am to him, I squirm and want to run and hide in some safe place.  Yesterday H came up behind me and whispered something into my ear, something most women would love to hear.  I hated it.  I told him not to say that to me again.

What the heck, right?

Finally, after years of pain and frustration with H I can see he is trying.  I can see him behave in ways that I wished he would all those years ago.  I hear him saying things I knew he said to other people and know now he is only saying to me.

And I am just...'so what' about the whole thing.

I can't figure out why.

I want it to stop.

I said in my share last week that I needed to work on this.  I needed to find a way to be open and to trust that it is ok to feel.  I just don't know how.

So this past weekend I was in a lot of pain.  I have a pinched nerve in my back that is bringing me to tears.  I don't usually have back trouble.  I have an old injury from being badly rear-ended many years ago, but typically I have a good strong back.  I needed H to help and all I got was a frozen, stuck, hands-in-his-pocket response.  I was mad, hurt, frustrated.  I wanted to boot him to the curb but he doesn't have that other home to go to now that I have my married kids living there. That made me feel more stuck. (See I do feel here....at some level..just not what I think I should be feeling.)

This all got me thinking, as I was sitting on the couch this weekend alternating ice and heat to relieve the pain that I've have this go-to response with H.  I've developed this plan over the years to help cope with the life I've been given.  I could never really leave, physically.  So I left emotionally.  I planned in my mind this leaving point in the future, after the kids were grown.  After they were old enough to "see" what was going on in their lives and know the truth.

I know I haven't always been this closed off.  I also haven't always lived in my mental planning stage either.  There was a time, right after the acting out started again, right after my parents died and all I had was H, that I opened up fully to him.  I tried to live like I really loved him.  I tried to start over with him like it was in the beginning.  Mistakenly believing this would some how fix what was wrong.

It worked for a bit.

Until I found more acting out.

Until I felt more betrayal (and realized what I was really dealing with in my marriage).

And now...here I am, living this pretend life.  Telling myself that I should love him. I should tell him more often.  I should show him more often.  I should.  I should.  I should.

and...

I

Just

Can't.


I hate this.  I want to find answers.  I want to not be stuck. I want to know if the reason I can't is because this whole thing -- this marriage -- this relationship is wrong.

For years I believed I stayed because I didn't have a choice.  I home schooled.  I wanted the right to be the mom to the only two children I was ever allowed to have.  I refused to walk away from my things.  I refused to be the one to lose everything.

So I stayed.

I pretended.

I tried even -- sometimes.  Most of the time.

But now, now when I want to be real and authentic.  When I want to know after all I've been through if I'm doing the right thing.  I can't feel what I need to feel to validate what I see.

I feel stuck.

The Reason I Work Recovery

I went back to school this past September (insert huge 'fiiiiiiinnnnnaly' here).

I loved it.  I'm working an online program through BYU-Idaho's Pathway.  I love being back about BYU.  I started my education at BYU-Provo.  Being back here is a lot like that 'coming home' feeling I've mentioned before.

As I was studying recently, I had a thought come to me as while reading this scripture:

“Behold, you have not understood; you have supposed that I would give it unto you, when you took no thought save it was to ask me. But, behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right. But if it be not right you shall have no such feelings, but you shall have a stupor of thought that shall cause you to forget the thing which is wrong…    Doctrine and Covenants 9:7–9

It also hit me, while reading through this scripture a few times, this is why I work recovery.  This is my reason.  So many, many times as my 25 year marriage progressed I would ask God why this was happening.  So many times I would pray for guidance and direction, for help in making decisions of should I stay or leave or even divorce.  I always wanted my Heavenly Father to be a part of my decision process. 

I did not understand.

I thought prayer and faith was the process.  It was, in part, but to understand what I was going through I also needed to ask and to study it out in my mind and to do my part.  

For me, it took a lot of time to figure out what 'doing my part' meant for me.

When it became apparent that I was dealing with addiction a path opened I purchased recovery books I could get my hands on.  I started reaching out to support groups and to therapists.  As I came to understand what I was dealing with and the effect it was having on me, I had a place for some of the answers that Heavenly Father had waiting for me from all those prayers I'd offered over the years.

My early marriage years were lonely, confusing, full of hopelessness and constant prayers of despair until H's issues played out enough to diagnose them.  I know that during those horrible years the Lord placed a protective bubble, so to speak,  around me to shield me from a lot of the pain I could have lived with.  As the disclosures have come forward now the past couple of years, I know that I am strong enough to handle them.  

I would not have been in the early days of my marriage.

I have been in a lot of trauma over the years.  They were hell years.  It was hell hearing each of the disclosures as well.  The trauma from this addiction has damaged me.  I am no where near free from the pain of H's betrayal.  

I just know that I am on a healing path.  A two-part path that has come to me from my recovery work and from my knowledge of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the power of the Atonement.  Together these two sources have helped me be able to pick myself up off the closet floor and stand upright again.   

The course is not an easy one, I have to tell you this.  I'm having to do some really hard work to get to a place of healing where I can stand on my feet each day and not cave at each wave of addiction or trauma. 

It feels good to not feel alone in this anymore.  

I spent so many years alone.  With no one to turn to and no where to go for help. Even my prayers and pleas to God felt ignored at times.  In my heart I knew they weren't, but in my despair and in my hurt the Adversary tried to convince me they were.  

If you are looking for a place of healing I know of several that are very good.  Here are a couple of my favorites to start with.  

Healing Through Christ

The Togetherness Project

Addo Recovery


Being able to connect with women who have walked this path has been one of the greatest sources of comfort for me.  The validation I have received from them that it is not me, that I'm not crazy, that this is addiction and it is ok to say that it hurts or it sucks.  Or even to say that you don't want to live with it any more.  This has empowered me.

This is how I found my strength again.

Now I can take all of this; the validation, my therapy, my recovery books, conferences I attend and even that scary video I did and decide who I am and who I want to be.

Before recovery -- I was doing good if I could just get up in the morning and breathe in and out all day.

Going and Coming Home

I've been quiet here the past little bit while I took time to prepare for a trip home.  I just can't explain adequately how good it felt to finally get home, and not have to rush through a quick visit.  Little D and I took this trip by ourselves.  1400 miles (one way).  It was awesome.  The best part of the drive for us is when we find ourselves west enough that we begin to see the foothills of the Rocky Mountain range.  Excitement builds realizing that we are getting close to 'home'.  We love the mountains as much as the family and friends there.

I loved being on this trip by myself.  I know H was sad to have stayed behind, but oh how I loved the break.  Is that terrible?  This was all about self-care for me.  I didn't even allow myself to feel bad. Maybe I should have felt bad -- I just didn't.  That in and of itself is a huge switch for me.

Maybe I am healing -- somewhat.  At least in the sticking up for myself aspect.



I had a wonderful time.
I spent most of it with family.  People I love and miss dearly.
I attended the Togetherness Conference finally putting faces to some of the best women in the world.
I ate some awesome food.  I even got brave enough to try the Thai food my family is so fond of.
I did some massive shopping.  What can I say here -- it was awesome.

and then...

I cried when I left Utah.

I cried because I knew I had to go home.  I've lived in many places during my life time, but I am my most happy in Utah.  It wasn't always this way, but time has a way of calling hearts home.  My heart belongs in a valley in the middle of the Rocky Mountains where each day I looked out my window to the changing seasons revealing themselves on the mountainside.




I've spent the last 14 year wishing I could go home.

Maybe I should stop that.



Maybe I'm not seeing this the way I should.  I have a lovely home.  All my things are here.  All the pieces of 'me' that I have collected over the years, pieces of me that tell my story.  My kids are here.  And now grandchildren as well.

When I moved in to my current home, alone, I had the great advantage of being able to set it up without any of H's input, which makes this really, truly, my home.

In this home I am as much me as I can be.



As time goes on,  I know I'll settle back in to my routine and be fine.  I'll forget about the mountain view.  I'll put the people on the page they sit on the back burner of my life's mind.  Time will march on busy with family, church, school and life in general until the pull begins again.

Have you ever felt that pull?

For me, it is like I've been hiding from something the very core of me needs and I can no longer push it out of my mind.  Ignoring it means ignoring me.

Working my recovery has been a lot like this emotion.  As I work on the different elements of recovery I find the pull even stronger.  It is as if I need to acknowledge me.

The need to dig myself out, to un-bury me from the pain, the neglect, the betrayal is a crucial focus for me.  Much of this trip was for my recovery.

Here's some of what I gained:

1.  Bravery:  Realizing that I could drive those 1400 miles -- both ways, secure hotels, stop for gas, food or anything else -- on my own -- was big time brave.

2.  Self-care:  Taking this trip alone, knowing H had to stay here for work, was motivated by my need to for self-care.  Time away would be healing for me.  Allowing myself the privilege to not have to put myself second was huge for me.

3. Education:  This one belongs in bravery too, because heading to Togetherness alone was brave.  Attending Togetherness was a huge reason for making the trip when I did.  I both wanted and needed the education and training I would get from the awesome presenters speaking at this year's Togetherness Conference.

4. Faith:  Knowing I would be making the trip alone created a lot of anxiety initially.  The desire to follow through on my plans was large enough that instead of canceling my plans, I sought out priesthood blessings to help bring peace to my anxious soul.  As the trip progressed uneventfully, my faith increased, along with my gratitude to my Heavenly Father for helping me find the strength I had lost so long ago in the turmoil of life.

5. Connection:  Not only was it a blessing to be able to connect with family to renew those special relationships.  I was also able to make connections with women who share this life trial.  Women who know.  Women who have walked this journey and kept their beauty, their spirit, their love of life whole enough to share it with me.  I love these women dearly and am grateful to have been able to meet women I have long called friends, as well as make new ones that have already enriched my life.



Every time I make this trip I spend a lot of time pondering the possibility of returning there permanently.  I don't know if it will ever happen.  I would hate to make that life change and miss the sweet little grands I live so close to now.  I am pulled by both homes; the one I long for and the one I live in. Then some times, in my nostalgic moments, I long for the home that will tie all these emotions together, connecting all of the important people and memories in to one single place, and from that place -- never, ever, have to leave again.

My Husband Is Not the Enemy!

I want to go on record with this statement -- from the get-go here.

My husband is NOT the enemy!

I know what is causing all the chaos and strife in my home and in my heart right now.  I know the source of the pain and grief.  I know the source of relief and deliverance.  It's just not coming together as I would have hoped.

I've been having discussions about the difference between recovery and healing.  It's been interesting to get different perspectives on these two terms.  Often they are used interchangeably. To me, they are very different.

One friend used these definitions

Recover:  Return to a normal state of health, mind or strength; to find or regain possession

Heal:  To become healthy or well again; to restore to original purity or integrity



I loved these definitions.  Actually I loved her whole take on this topic.  I found it interesting that we have been working on similar posts.  Great minds?  (Maybe I can get her permission to link her post here.  I think you'll enjoy her thoughts.  When she's ready to share them.)

Over the past few weeks the topic of healing and recovery have run a continual thread through the discussions between H and I.  We are not on the same page -- at all.  I feel like I'm no where near where I need to be to give to him what he is looking for.  He on the other hand feels like I need to be there.  In a similar way, I need H to be in a place he isn't and doesn't feel he's ready to be.

This makes me feel crazy.

It frustrates H.

I often feel like the rat in the wheel.  I go round and round and get no where.  

Right now, the only thing I know to do is to go back to the beginning and start again with the process.  I know I'm not healed.  I know there are gaping holes inside me. There are pieces of me yet to be found, knowledge still unlearned.  I've heard it said that recovery isn't an event, it is a process.  

There's a great article here where I read this comment:  "Healing from the impact of betrayal is not a linear experience that starts out with the pain of discovery and then automatically feels better with time. Instead, it’s a unique journey for each couple based on several factors such as the unfaithful partner’s willingness to tell the truth, previous betrayals, duration of the affair, and other factors."

Several key points jump out to me here:
 1. Not a linear experience
 2. Partner's willingness to tell the truth
 3. Previous betrayals
 4. Duration
 (and there's that last one:  'other factors')

My story wraps around each of these points, several times. 

For me, it feels a lot like"   

Shell Shock (noun) psychological disturbance caused by prolonged exposure to active warfare, especially being under bombardment

Or maybe this:

Stress breakdown: is a psychiatric injury, which is a normal reaction to an abnormal situation

This seems to fit too:

Trauma, which means "wound" in Greek, is often the result of an overwhelming amount of stress that exceeds one's ability to cope or integrate the emotions connected to that experience.

Which ever term we go by, it is going to take some time to work through.  And on a good note here, time is what we have going for us.  

Alma 34: 37 "And now, my beloved brethren, I desire that ye should remember these things, and that ye should work out your salvation with fear before God, ..."

However, Elder Joseph B. Worthlin warned us about our time here: "The days of our probation are numbered, but none of us knows the number of those days. Each day of preparation is precious."

While my precious pieces of time pass with each moment and each experience, I'm trying desperately to heal that wound caused by the trauma of betrayal.

In a talk by President Thomas S. Monson made these two points regarding grief:

What Is Grief?

Grief is the emotional, and often physical, response we have when we experience loss. The more profound the loss, the more profound the grief will be. Grief can involve virtually every emotion or can leave us feeling numb and disconnected from the world around us.

Grief Is Painful, but Do Not Avoid It

Grief hurts, but it can be the salve that helps us heal when it is allowed to do its work appropriately. The first step in handling grief is to recognize that the pain is a normal part of the process. It needs to be acknowledged, not avoided.

My questions is how do I get through this ^^^^^ to feel more like this vvvvv??

A marriage, eternal in duration and God-like in quality does not contemplate divorce. 

Elder Dallin H. Oaks said; " Under the law of the Lord, a marriage, like a human life, is a precious, living thing. If our bodies are sick, we seek to heal them. We do not give up. While there is any prospect of life, we seek healing again and again. The same should be true of our marriages, and if we seek Him, the Lord will help us and heal us."

A particularly favorite message of mine is found in 2 Nephi 2: 1-2: " 1 And now, Jacob, I speak unto you: Thou art my firstborn in the days of my tribulation in the wilderness. And behold, in thy childhood thou hast suffered afflictions and much sorrow, because of the rudeness of thy brethren.

 2 Nevertheless, Jacob, my firstborn in the wilderness, thou knowest the greatness of God; and he shall consecrate thine afflictions for thy gain.

I love that promise:  "Thou knowest the greatness of God; and he shall consecrate thine afflictions for they gain."

I know how awesome and great Father in Heaven is.  I know that he can take my afflictions and turn them in to goodness (gain).  That 'gain' of healing and hope would be a consecration of the afflictions of this marriage.  I know this comes through the healing power of the Atonement.  

As I stated in the beginning,  my husband is not the enemy.  Though maybe in years past I saw him as such.  I know that the struggles we face currently come in great measure from the workings of the Adversary who would like nothing more than to see H never return to full membership.  He'd like nothing else than to see this marriage and family dissolve once and for all.  In my mind I know why this struggle is so very hard.  If I could just get my heart and my head to align this struggle might feel more conquerable.

Too often I feel stuck.  Too often I feel the broken-ness of our communication.  The effects of addiction on the brain are real.  Every day feels like a battle to get past the gas lighting and blame-shifting to what is the truth and then to navigate the issue at hand with truth-based principles.  

Too often my method of 'managing my safety' looks to H like I'm controlling everything he does.  It is difficult to speak the same language here making conflict resolution feel impossible. 

I find myself constantly asking how do I take the knowledge I've mentioned above into the difficult and often explosive battles of day to day life with a recovering addict?

That question brings me back full circle to: what is recovery and what is healing?  

The only answer I have is that recovery is my process to find that healthy state of heart and mind.  Healing will be when I feel restored to my original purity and integrity.  When individually I feel restored and our marriage feels restored.  

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Things I Do Not Like

Now that recovery is my way of life H and I spend a lot of time frustrated with each other. Even though H has been working the ARP recovery program, we are still on vastly different pages.  

I used to grin and bear, stuff, pretend, hide, ignore, forget, and even go without so much of my own emotions that finding them, feeling them, sitting with them long enough to even recognize them has taken tremendous effort for me this past year.  Years of blocking my truth and my story because H couldn't cope with it has trained me to not feel.  At All.

I don't want to blame it all on H though.  I have a huge span of my childhood I have no memory of.  Why I blocked it I do not know. I just did. I don't think I was hurt, physically, or abused.  The only thing I can figure is that it must have been traumatic -- to me-- at some level in my childhood home. I didn't have the coping skills to process whatever it was.  Blocking became my go to safety technique.

As I look back now, maybe it was good that I had that skill down pat. I'm not sure how I would have coped with the past few years without it.  

Now, though, I'm trying to not stuff, pretend, hide.  H doesn't like it. It isn't the way I used to be and he's having to change.  We spend a lot of time not liking each other.  

I decided this morning as I was working my recovery that I wanted to make a list of things I don't like. Maybe there are some here that are out of line. If you feel brave enough, and love me, you might gently point me in the right direction.

Here's my list. In no particular order. I'm hoping writing this will help me get to the emotion and to the resolution.

1.  I do not like H to tell me that he's "babysitting" when he stays home with D. 

What's with that anyway?  He is her father for crying out loud.  Babysitting, really?

2.  I do not like H to correct little D.  

The two of them have anger management issues badly.  They are fire and gasoline.  It's horrible.  I often find myself in the middle of a combative situation that I struggle to resolve.  When H corrects he often says hurtful things, derogatory things.  I've asked him to back off from correction for a time while he works his recovery and we give D time to heal from her hurt a bit.  Maybe then she and he will be able to work issues out in a more reasonable and Christlike way.  

3.  I do not like H to have unaccounted for money in his wallet. (Are you calling me controlling?)

This is a hard one for a lot of people to get their mind around. You'd have to know my story to understand where this comes from and what is underneath all of it.  You'd have to know how H hid money from me.  How he lived double lives, more than once, for long periods of time.  You'd have to know what deception and fear of not being able to provide for your children does to you that would make this a real issue.  And yes, H and I argue about this one.  And no, its not that he doesn't spend money.  It is more that right now, while I am trying to feel safe with him, I've asked him to not ask to have money he doesn't have to account for.  (One other point for this issue; we are the poor owners of two homes.  Every dime has to be accounted for to keep both those mortgages paid. Neither of us has the luxury of having go to heck money right now.)

4.  I do not like H to be on his phone. Period.

That's bad huh?  If I had my way he wouldn't have one.  Except that we don't have a landline and it would be difficult to communicate with one another these days without one.  I just hate it.  During the past three years, when H was acting out so badly, and had another double life he carried on behind my back he was on his phone all the time.  We couldn't eat dinner together without his face in his phone.  He had it when we sat to watch a movie.  He took it to the bathroom (and he was in there a ridiculous amount of time).  He'd go upstairs to the bedroom and be gone for hours in the evening with that $(^&$@#$ phone.  What I naively thought was mostly a game addiction, I later learned was a instant message ap he had hidden in another ap where he talked to other women.  Right  in  front  of  my  face.

He was like that with his work laptop too that I never had access to because of all his work securities.  He would sit at the kitchen table (because we had that family rule -- no electronics in bedrooms or behind closed doors) and he would get on Craigslist or dating sites and talk to other women while I was sitting across the room from him in plain view, and set up hook-up dates or look at porn, or do whatever he did right under my nose.  If I got up from the couch and walked across the room to get a drink he had plenty of time to just close out that window and open up one that looked like he was doing school.  

I hate H having electronics. Period!

5.  I do not like H being in my home when I am not there.  (yup, I'm that messed up, huh?)

This is just another of my triggers.  When H went back to school to finish his degree he was working a full time and a part time job. The only option for him was distance learning through an online program.  It was during this time that he began wandering off of his class website and school assignments and onto some of the most despicable websites on the internet.  It was during this time that scenario above was a nightly condition.  He would also lie to me and tell me he was at his night job.  Well, the lie part was that he wasn't working, he was physically there, but he'd go into the break room and get online there where he wouldn't get interrupted and have to close windows and end conversations because the kids and I were home and passing by his laptop or sitting at the table when he was trying to get on his dating sites.

But why don't I like him home alone you ask?  Because each Sunday when little D and I were attending our church meetings H was in my home with his, I don't know, you pick an appropriate name for them...either online, or in person, or by text or whatever he could get...and I would sit in church knowing exactly what was going on behind my back, but pretending that H was doing school and not cheating on me or looking at porn. All I could do was sit there, trying not to squirm and pleading that the Lord would help me out of it or find a way to show H a way to stop.  This went on for 3 years.  It was three years of hell.  Three years of torture.  My home was violated.  It was almost impossible to worship or even stay half way present at church.  Leaving H alone in my house is like giving him an open invitation to act out.  Especially on a Sunday.  He knew exactly how long he had before he had to clean things up and pretend he'd been doing his school work the whole time.

6.  I do not like H to touch me.  

Do you think I'll ever get past this issue?  H feels rejected more than empathy for why I am like this right now.  It is so maddening.  I hate addiction.  I hate what it has done to him and to me.  I don't want to be married sometimes.  I stay, but it is a battle I fight every day.

7.  I do not like that H can't seem to figure out how to communicate. 

Even with little things like, 'can you please text me if you plan to stay after group to talk so that I don't have to heat your dinner up 3 or 4 times trying to keep it warm for some unexpected and uncommunicated arrival?'


8.  I do not like how hard this is for me or for H.

The truth is, trying to recover from trauma is very difficult.  I can spend hours in my step work and still run smack dab into all these issues I listed above.  They still trap me.  As hard as I try to apply the principles of the Healing Through Christ.  I struggle.   

Today I started step 6 "Become entirely ready to have God remove all our character weaknesses.  Maybe it will help me with some of these issue I have listed above.

In a couple weeks I'll be leaving on a trip. Just me and little D.  H will stay behind to run our business.  I'm scared to death to leave him here.  I want to lock the door behind me and send him somewhere else for two weeks so that when I come home I will still have my  home, my world, the way I left it.  Unviolated.  So I won't have to wonder if I've been lied to while I was away.  I won't have to go look through cupboards to see if things are as I left them.  I won't have to worry if H honored the agreements we will make about money or food or the business expenses.

It stinks when you can't trust the person who has the greatest ability to damage you.  If I don't do this H won't ever have an opportunity to prove to me and to himself that he's changing.  

The question I'm afraid of -- what if he's is still the same?  What will I do then?  What will I do if I return home and find out he did not keep his word?  So much of my future, our future depends on this turning out right.

I don't like that.