Out of the Dumps

It felt good to get that last post out, but since then I feel like I've been spending way too much time focusing on D and his life and his recovery and his actions and behavior. I've just been having one of those weeks when I want to ask every day, multiple times a day, if everything is going ok with him and if he is sober. I know it's not healthy, and I'm trying to kick the habit once again and get the focus back to me, but it's been more difficult this time for some reason. We did end up talking a bit more about the moving situation, and it was a calmer discussion but when it comes to this kind of thing, we often seem to come to the same conclusions over and over again. It's not that the conclusions aren't satisfying--they're just difficult to pin down.

Basically what always happens is D does everything in his power to reassure me that he is fine, nothing is wrong, he is not acting out or thinking of acting out, and then he gets hurt that I am once again suspicious when nothing is wrong and that he cannot go a (insert here: day, week, however long it's been since our last discussion) without me bringing up the past or assuming something is wrong with him. He doesn't like to think about it because he's trying to just be a good, normal, non-sex addicty person. My problem is that while he tries his damnedest to avoid thinking about it, I often cannot escape thinking about it. It follows me. I mean, things are wonderful in our life right now--D has been sober almost 18 months, school is going very well, we are planning a lovely and well-deserved vacation, etc. etc. etc. There's really no reasons for me to be worried or suspicious, but every now and then I'll just be driving down the road on my way to somewhere innocuous like the grocery and all of a sudden I just have a random flashback to a really bad point in our history. Those kinds of things have been happening more recently lately, and I think it's contributing to my not-so-fabulous state of being, even in the face of the outer fabulous that life seems to be at the moment.

Maybe it's the weather--I've long said that I feel I really do suffer from seasonal affective disorder, especially in this time of year when spring seems so close and yet so damn far away. I want to start wearing skirts and tank tops again, and find myself wishing I could will it to be warm just so I wouldn't have to bundle up so much on my way to class and work. Either way, though, I'm sick of being here, and while I know that sometimes you just have to accept where you are for the moment and know that "this too shall pass," I also know that sometimes I can't get better if I don't do something about it. And so I'm setting a goal this week to start doing a few little things to help me concentrate more on me and what I can do to stay healthy, rather than focusing so much on D. Goals for this week are to spend more time with my higher power each day, exercise at least 3 days (that's another thing the cold weather does to me--I'm not motivated to exercise, which just makes me feel worse which makes me not want to exercise...it's a vicious cycle), and make a gratitude list each day. Starting now.

Today, I am grateful for the excitement that my next school year will bring as I move into more career-oriented work. I am grateful for my wonderful family. I am grateful for the new items I recently bought for the house that make it feel so much more homey. And I am as always grateful for this blog, its readers, and all my other wonderful recovery friends and resources who are such a help when things get difficult.

Anger

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.

Backsliding

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...

Pros:

• 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.

Cons:

• 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.

God-talk

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.

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.

Sharing (Or Not)

My school sent me an e-mail today informing me that there will soon be a session for incoming grad students about dealing with addiction--both in the people we serve and in ourselves, as we work in an often busy and stressful environment that can often lead to higher percentages of such problems. There will be various community panelists who have battled addiction coming in to work with small groups, to let these new students know about the harrows of addiction and recovery from various substances and behaviors. In the e-mail, one of our professors asked for any of us who might have had experience with addiction (either on our own, or family/friends etc.) and would be willing to share to join in the small groups as panelists, were we comfortable doing so at this point in our recovery.

I think, first of all, that this is a fabulous idea. Too many professionals (in most fields, not just my own) don't realize just how prevalent addiction is among us, and knowing that some of your fellow students have dealt intimately with the subject could be incredibly helpful to those who might otherwise be too afraid or proud or ashamed to step forward and seek help otherwise. In fact, I think it's such a great idea that I'd love to step forward and help out as a panelist. The problem is, I'm not sure if either my husband or I would be prepared to take such a huge step in "outing ourselves."

I have gained a great deal from others as I have worked through my own recovery from this crazy disease that is SA. Without other bloggers, online meetings and support groups, and real-life counselors, I don't think I would be where I am today--let alone my husband or my marriage. And it is one of the major points of most recovery groups that the ultimate in giving back is to share the message with others. But yet, there is something incredibly private about sex addiction, especially given the stigma that it carries in the media and society in general. If my husband were a recovering alcoholic, this would seem to be a much simpler answer, but sharing with a group of colleagues, some of whom I know relatively well and some who will be my superiors as I continue in school and career, is much more difficult a prospect given the sensitivity of the subject. I know first of all that D may not approve, and his privacy is equally as important as mine. Even if he approves, however, I am not sure that I would feel comfortable being so open to these people I work so closely with.

I have some time to make a decision, but I find myself intrigued by the prospect of doing so. What do you think? If you had to chance to share your experience with co-workers and colleagues in a setting like this, would you take it or protect your anonymity?

Empathy and Its Downfalls

A close friend of mine (let's call him/her J) recently discovered that an immediate family member has a life-threatening illness (it's so terribly difficult to share things like this and maintain anonymity, so you'll have to forgive the vagueness). This particular disease, once diagnosed, has a very short life expectancy--a year, perhaps, maybe a bit more or less. Obviously, I feel terrible for J. I cannot fathom what it must be to be going about life minding your own business and suddenly be facing the imminent death of someone you so dearly love. There are always the survivors, of course, those who defy the odds, but the odds are still not good. As a result, I find myself trying to do and be what J needs right now, to help facilitate the maintenance of as normal a life as possible given the circumstances. But I just can't help but feel that I'm running into trouble.

It's not that I'm over-extending myself trying to care for J. In fact, J is almost as stubborn as I am in refusing to ask for help if it's needed, or at least is still in shock and just unsure of how to feel and act--and as a result, I honestly haven't found much that J will actually allow me to do to help at all. Where I'm finding trouble is that I think I'm just transferring way too much of J's emotional climate to myself in an effort to be empathetic. I've always cared very much for people and naturally do feel like I am more in tune with others' feelings than most, and I know that it can be a detriment as much as an asset at times. Right now with J I can't seem to stop thinking about how awful I would feel if this were my mother/sister/father/spouse, and what in the world I would do without one of them, and what if one of them was going to die--and then I actually start feeling scared as though it were happening to me, or at least sick with worry that it could happen to me and mine. Much of this grows from my love for J, from whom I would spare this pain if I could--but it's not my burden, and I am growing tired of these feelings of fear and anxiety for J and for my own family.

Yet another thing I can't control but can't seem to stop stressing over.