Why Isn't This Working for Me?

I was reminded of this quote at group this past week.  I stopped in my tracks when my eyes caught these words. 

Am I so broken that I can't apply this truth in my life?

Love repairs personal relationships:  "Love is the healing balm that repairs rifts in personal and family relationships.  It is the bond that unites families, communities, and nations.  Love is  the power that initiates friendship, tolerance, civility, and respect.  it is the source that overcomes divisiveness and hate.  Love is the fire that warms our lives with unparalleled joy and divine home.  Love should be our walk and our talk."  (President Dieter F. Uchdorf, Healing Through Christ, Step 10, p.96)

I got a text from H this morning, telling me about a Peter Cetera concert coming up.  In another life I would have loved the idea of having my husband take me out.  

But Peter Cetera?

I love his music -- but his songs would be so triggery for me sitting next to H.

H wanted me to make a fast commitment because the tickets were selling out.  I had an easy out when  he told me the cheapest tickets were $105.00.  

Yay! for an overly practical nature.  $105.00 for a concert is not a choice I would make with that kind of money.

Then there was this quote....

   ..and I realized I am in such a bad place with this.  Love is not a healing balm for me -- where H is concerned.

Some of this is true for me where my WoPA friends are concerned.  I have felt amazing love, validation and acceptance from my WoPA friends.

But H....

Love isn't repairing rifts.
I'm not even feeling love for H these days.

When he's gone, I can physically and emotionally relax. When he comes in the door I can feel myself physically tense.  I start to guard myself for what might come next -- even if it doesn't.


Weekends.....

No!  I'd just rather not have one when H is around.

This past weekend had me in tears.  
We aren't functioning well around each other.

..and I am exhausted...

  ...so exhausted

D-day Anniversary Numbing

This past weekend we marked a year with H at home. I spent the weekend numb and hiding and pretending.  

It's what I do.

It was general conference weekend, and Easter and a reminder of a horrible disclosure all rolled in to one.

I hate these reminder days. They have become points on the calendar to mark time. I've stared using the dates in passwords. It just how my life rolls now.

I don't think H even had a clue we'd past this milestone. Although....he can tell you every date, place, and time his band played, every navy accomplishment, everything about his daughter from his first marriage.  

This one fact is the why life with an addict is a very lonely life.  

It's not like it would be the day to rub his nose in his past crimes, but is it that selfish of me to want him to reach out and say something like: "hey, I know this was a rough year.  Thanks for sticking it out with me" ?

and this is why I write...

 ............because wounds nead air in order to heal.  

Trauma

A friend shared this story.  It makes so much sense to me.   It goes like this:

"A Church Leader shared this story with the congregation. He told about a time that he, the husband, caused a pretty bad car accident with his wife in the car. He was speeding on a major freeway---and even though she'd tried to get him to slow down, he chose not to. The car accident he caused -- going too fast and didn't have enough room to stop, totaled their car, and they had some whiplash, but luckily--no one was hurt. Well--he noticed that after the accident, whenever he was in the car with his wife, that she started displaying certain behaviors. If he started to speed a little, she would put her hand near his. If we went about 5-10 over the speed limit, she would grab his arm. If he sped more than that, she would literally put her foot on the dashboard, with a look of complete fear on her face. At first, as he said "cause he was younger and less wise", he thought it was because she had not forgiven him for causing the accident. But, after some time and prayer, he realized that HE had made a choice that had endangered the life of his wife, and that as children of God, we have every right to protect ourselves from being hurt again. This has NOTHING to do with forgiveness---but with our innate nature to protect ourselves, and those who need protection, from harm. As a loving husband, HE realized that he had to change his behavior if he wanted her protective instincts to not naturally appear."


This story resonates so strongly with me. Every time H comes home from work, or whenever he gets physically to close to where I am, I find myself mentally bracing myself.  

This is trauma.



This study on trauma had this to say:

Wives of sexual addicts experience distressing symptoms in response to the disclosure of their husbands’ compulsive sexual behaviors and often describe the disclosure event as traumatic. The results of this study suggest that a majority of wives of sexual addicts respond to disclosure with significant trauma-related distress. The data also reveal that years married at the time of disclosure and number of previous traumatic event exposures best predicted total trauma symptom severity scores. The study concluded with a discussion of the benefits of using a trauma model to understand and treat wives of sexual addicts following disclosure. 

In the same article: "researchers such as Bergner and Bridges (2002) and Milrad (1999) state that many partners of sexual addicts display symptoms consistent with posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) in response to the discovery of sexual acting out in their partners.."



I can find article after blog post after website validating the reality of this type of trauma.  The difficulty for me -- is getting past it.  

The trauma responses I am experiencing are consistent, in spite of years of step work and recovery effort, and in spite of H's efforts.  

I feel hopeless.  Like I can't seem to shake this off.  No matter how much I try.  Any small interaction with H in close proximity sends me physically running.  I can feel the trauma physically.  Nerve endings in my body start to over-react.  My skin itches. 

And this is so hard to explain to people.