Sunday, February 28, 2010


I'm still working through the issue that arose yesterday with D helping his friend move. Sadly, I didn't handle the whole situation all too well--he ended up coming home a little later than expected, and when he called to let me know he was returning, I pretty much blew up. Of course, expressing my discomfort with the situation was not made better by my own screaming, but sometimes I feel that I just can't express exactly how I'm feeling otherwise. And that realization, along with Bernadine's most recent post, helped me realize that one of the issues I still have (and have never really worked on) is the anger I have felt (and still feel) toward D for this whole situation.

I have never really, fully admitted to just how angry D's behavior has made me. I mean yes, when disclosure first happened and as we worked through his probation and counseling we discussed the fact that he had hurt me and made me angry, but I've never really examined that anger, gotten to the core of it. At heart, I have to admit that this whole experience has, indeed, made me incredibly angry. I am angry that I had to waste so much time and money driving to counseling and PO appointments, angry that because of his criminal record we will always be limited in terms of D's career options, angry that my partner and best friend lied to my face for years about behavior that was painfully obvious. I am angry with myself for believing all of it, angry that I somehow became the kind of person who accepted that kind of mistreatment in exchange for security. I am angry that someone I love so completely was capable of mistreating me so horribly. Angry that D spent so much time with other women--either chatting online, texting, talking, or being together face-to-face instead of building time with me.

But more than anything I am angry that I cannot get back the trust that was broken. Angry that almost every day of my life, no matter how normal life seems to be, I am in some way reminded of the innocence I can't get back. I am angry that I cannot kiss my husband goodbye in the morning without saying a prayer that he will stay sober that day. Angry that I cannot simply be glad when my husband goes to help a friend move, but instead can't help but think through his motives and actions with a fine-tooth comb. Angry that I feel silly for getting upset about such a normal activity, yet also know that my reaction is justified. Angry, in short, that my world can never just be the simple, happy life I had before sex addiction found its place in our lives.

I'm still trying to figure out exactly what made yesterday so triggering, so that I can possibly set a new boundary or at least discuss it with D. Yesterday evening when we talked/fought about it, D offered to let me call the people who were there (both girls and guys) to confirm that nothing bad had happened, but it didn't make me feel better. He offered to not agree to something like this again without checking with me first, but that didn't help either--after all, I don't want to be the horrible wife who prevents my own husband from being a good person. I think that all this points to the ultimate problem being my inability to confirm his motives. Sure, nothing may have happened. There were many times when nothing happened with women he was seeking out before. My problem is, I will obviously never be able to truly know his intentions, thoughts, motives for almost anything, so I'm not sure if there are really any ways to make this better or prevent it in the future. But maybe just talking about it and admitting that some of this still makes me really, really angry is a start.

Saturday, February 27, 2010


D informed me last night that he was going to spend a couple hours after work today helping a (female) friend move. Now, when I work through things, I tend to love making lists. So, without further ado...

  • He told me about this apparently as soon as he knew about it.
  • I know the friend. She's a pretty nice girl who has hung out with us several times.
  • D promised he had only agreed to help for an hour or two because we haven't seen each other very much lately and he wanted to make sure we got to spend an evening together.
  • I have no reason to believe D has any interest in this girl or is doing anything other than being a nice, helpful person to her/her roommate/her family/her dogs.
  • This kind of shit still makes me get nervous. Still.

I wish, oh but I wish I could just hear something like that and not react. But I can't yet. Maybe I never will. When he first told me, I stayed calm and asked for details, but inside I was shaking and my bottom was dropping out. And then, of course, come the little niggling voices... "What if he's only doing this because he's trying to flirt with her?" "What if she asked him to do this because she's interested in him?" "What if they've been texting or e-mailing under the radar this whole time and the moving thing is just a front to hook up?" "Last time he helped a female friend move it was many years ago when he was still acting out and he was being too flirtatious and manipulative with her." And on and on.

Like I said above, I have no reason to think D isn't sober. I openly explained to him this morning how I was feeling--that I didn't mind the idea of him helping his friend move, but situations like these still sometimes stir up old, bad feelings. I even explained the fact that the last time he helped someone move it was a person with whom he had an inappropriate relationship (albeit not physical, but emotional infidelity hurts too). But somehow it still doesn't feel like enough. I still don't feel right about it. I'm still worried that somewhere somehow something bad is going to happen (or already has). I just wish there were a way to make the thoughts and worries and stomach lurches go away so I can have a nice, normal, non-sex-addiction day.

Monday, February 15, 2010


We have (yet another) snow day today as nature continues to inundate the midwest and east coast. I enjoy how pretty the snow can make things, but honestly at this point I'm just tired of it and ready for some warm. The chance to kick back and have nothing on the docket does, however, give me the opportunity to do some much-needed thinking and writing.

I've been thinking a lot about religion lately. I was raised in a Christian church by a decidedly liberal family--raised to question the authority of the capital-c Church, to understand the historical aspects behind the Bible and those who wrote it. I never grew up thinking that the bible was infallible or that the world was literally created in 6 days. And I like that. I've always appreciated my parents' efforts to make my siblings and I educated, thoughtful, and non-complacent when it came to religion. At the same time, however, we have always attended church. The same church, in fact--always in our same pew, every Sunday. And recently, that church has started to chafe me a bit. I suppose it's been a growing problem for a long time, but has recently started coming to a head as I've spent more time thinking about what it is I really believe (and also just how much I can't stand the current pastor).

This newfound soul-searching has coincided with the fact that my friend Sue has recently begun attending a new church with her boyfriend and thoroughly enjoying it. This church is what is known as unitarian, which essentially means that as a church, they welcome people from all religious backgrounds and encourage members to seek their own Truth while affirming the inherent dignity and worth of all peoples and beliefs. That one sentence was enough to get me hooked, and further research into the idea basically showed me that this concept (at least on paper) is exactly what I have been looking for in a church all my life. I do consider myself somewhat more Christian-based than the unitarian church as a whole, but what I love about it is that I can be Christian and find my Truth in that way, while respecting that the person next to me may find the same Truth via Hindu scriptures or Humanism or Paganism or anything else. This, for me personally, is a huge revelation--I have always felt within myself that there is truth to be found in all the major religions of the world, and here is a religion that affirms that fact.
And so, with this exciting new knowledge, D and I joined Sue and her boyfriend John for church on Sunday. And we both really, really enjoyed it (which is relatively shocking, because D has always been an ardent non-supporter of organized religion) and wanted to return.

Hooray, right? The only problem is that while I feel such a draw to this practice, I have a feeling that my family may not be as supportive. It's probably a stupid fear--my mom in particular I don't think will mind too much, although she will probably be happier if I at least continue also attending our family church at least until my grandmother dies. My dad, on the other hand, is another matter. Not that he disapproves directly, but he tends to be very set about his traditions and life, and would probably be generally upset if I were to stop attending church with the rest of the family. In fact, when D and I broached the subject at family lunch on Sunday following the service, my dad's initial reaction was, "Wait, WHAT kind of church was this?!!?" Even though he may agree with may of the tenets, he just can't wrap his head around the idea that I would choose this path.

My problem is that I'm just not sure how to deal with this. Obviously I want to do what makes me happy and what I feel is right for me, but I also don't want to cause strife with my parents. Especially with my parents, my people-pleasing properties tend to be especially strong and problematic, and so part of me wants to just say they can get over it, and part of me wants to avoid confrontation. I'm obviously hopeful that they'll just come to accept my choices, but even if they don't, I hope that I'll find the courage to stand up for myself.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Thoughts of Spring

There were fresh tulips at the grocery yesterday. Now there are fresh tulips on my kitchen table.
This morning I was awoken by birds chirping outside my window.

We may have 6 more weeks of cold and snow, but it's the tiny signals that there will be a spring that are the highlight of my Winter.