I shared his secret. The secret that you don't want anyone to know. The kind of secret that invites judgment. The kind that makes relationships fizzle out in a matter of seconds. The kind that he hoped he would never have to share with me.
I stayed. Not because I'm some sort of superwoman or martyr or anything really. I stayed because I was in love with this person. I stayed because I could not reconcile the information he told me with the person I knew. When we first met, way back in 1999, he was the guy that made good thought provoking comments in Sunday School. The guy that had such kindness in his eyes. The guy that would have melted my butter all that long time ago had the stars been aligned and had either one of us been where we needed to be in order to get together.
As I dated him and came to know him better I liked what I saw. I felt so comfortable around him. So at ease in conversation and mannerisms. He was possibly the only person I dated that I didn't feel inadequate around. I was comfortable in my own body. I didn't even question it at all. We could talk about anything and we did. Past relationships. Things we've learned over the years. Stupid things we've done. He laughed at my jokes and I laughed at his. We couldn't seem to get enough of each other. Everything that I knew about him said "this is a good person". Pornography addict never even entered my mind. It would have never entered my mind voluntarily at all.
He thought he could get it taken care of himself. He thought he could recover on his own and that I would never have to know his dirty little secret. He was ashamed. Ashamed at his own inadequacies, his own lack of will power, his weakness, his selfishness, and all the other ugly words that come in that downward spiral of self-loathing after an incident. He didn't deserve me. He was worthless and hopeless.
That's the state of mind I found him in on that Monday night when I wouldn't take "go away" for an answer. The downward spiral. I didn't know the terms for it then though. I just found him depressed and not at all himself. This was in November as far as I can tell. I have begun scouring my journals so I can give accurate information on how I was feeling about all of this at the time. Unfortunately I didn't write about it. What I wrote about is how much I loved him. How good we were together. How much fun we had.
Part of it was my naivety. I didn't actually know the extent of his addiction. I remember being frustrated when he'd confess that he's messed up. He was meeting regularly with is bishop and that was good. We had been counseled together by his bishop and I agreed to be his "safety net". Meaning that if there was temptation coming on that he could call me anytime 24/7 and I would help. We started reading scriptures together every night before going to bed, whether in person or on the phone. I was investing what I could. If we followed the formula for a perfect life then we'd be fine right?
I wish it were that simple. Go to Church + Read scriptures daily + pray daily + exercise + eat right = happy temptation free life. It never is though is it. They are definitely part of the solution, but what about all that time you aren't in church? When your nose isn't buried in the scriptures?
I used to get so angry when he's mess up and confess to me. Well not at first. At first I was the epitome of perfect encouragement.
"I'm so sorry! You can do it though. You can get through this. Call your bishop. Get back on the path. Put up more pictures of us, of the temple the things that are important to you! Rah rah sis boom bah!"
Then after the 5th or 6th time my cheering was not quite so enthusiastic.
"Seriously?! Didn't that happen last time? What were you thinking? Didn't the picture of us and the temple on your computer screen even make a dent? Rah rah, boo, grr, roar! I'm sorry. Did you call the bishop?"
His bishop suggested counseling for real. You know, therapy. With a doctor. His therapist wanted me to go with him so I did. At least for awhile. It was May 2005. I was ridiculously uncomfortable and kind of wanted to wear a hat and dark sunglasses so that no one would recognize me as I went into the building. This is the only journal entry I have about it:
May 15, 2005
I have also started going to his counseling appointments with him. He is seeing a wonderful counselor that his helping him take the necessary steps to get rid of his addiction. It was weird being there at first, but it got better. It will be a good thing for me to go with him.
It was a good thing. I knew the steps that he was supposed to take. More importantly I got a inside view (well as inside as I could get) at what was going on in the brain that made pornography so addicting. I knew that habits needed to be changed, and more importantly thought processes needed to be re-routed in the brain in order for things to change effectively. I knew the "addiction cycle" and what happens to him emotionally when he falls. I found out that I could ask him how he's doing and support him by having someone besides himself that he is accountable to.
I also found out that I can't do it for him. That as much as I wanted things to clean up, as much as I wanted to literally slap this stupid addiction out of him, as much as I poured out all of my good energy hoping it would help him get over it... it wouldn't. It could help motivate him for awhile, but not if he didn't want it as well.
June 21, 2005 Tuesday
This week has been interesting. A time of re-evaluation. I guess it's time I came clean about a few things in my life.... So my future posterity, be prepared for a shock. [The man I'm dating] is battling pornography. That is why it is taking him so long to propose to me. I know that he still wants to propose to me, but this last few days have been harder for me to handle than I ever thought it would.
I went home for Father's Day as well as Friday night and Saturday day. He called me on Sunday and confessed that he had slipped more than he had told me and that he had lied to me about going running a couple of Friday's ago. I was hurt and mad and frustrated. My mom could tell that something was up so we went on a walk and she guessed and I told. I couldn't not tell her. I have kept it inside for so very long and the only person I could talk to about it was [him] and that just doesn't help at all. So I told her everything that I could and felt would help her understand the situation and my dilemma.
My dilemma or decision was to re-decide if [he] is right for me or not. Are we just living a lie? Do we want to get married but really it just isn't right? And does he really love me or just the support I give to him.
I'm finding it easier to back away now. I'm not going to his meetings with the psychologist anymore I think he can do it himself in that aspect. I think he'll be more honest if I'm not there. He doesn't want to hurt me and frankly I don't want to hear the words that they use.
I feel like [he] needs to be more responsible for his actions. And I think I need to figure out why I love him. I need to have a solid foundation to stand on or else I might just fall off.... I want to remember why I like him.
I need to remember why I like him. Still.
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