My husband is doing better. Better than I have ever seen before. The kind of better that makes you hold your breath and not tell anyone in case you jinx the change that seems to be taking place. At last. At long, long last.
My husband confessed to me last November/December to having been caught up in pornography for the past year. He didn't tell me because he was embarrassed. He planned to tell me after he had gotten the problem taken care of. When he got it under control and it was again part of his past and not the present.
It got worse. The addiction cycle got worse. The guilt got worse, and yet he still justified his actions. Justified his need to not tell me, to do it himself. He thought he really could fix it, stop it, take care of it all by himself. I may not even had needed to know.
When my husband finally told me it felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me, but worse. I felt "led on". I was led to believe that everything was okay. That pornography wasn't the problem that it used to be. I could safely feel like one of those couples who had kicked it. Gotten rid of it. Safely in recovery never to be tempted the same way again. In fact I had asked him point blank on several occasions whether everything was "okay". He smiled and gave me the affirmative.
I was so angry. So angry that I couldn't really put words to it at first. I said things in short bursts and then walked away, only to turn around and say something else about the incredulity of it all. I couldn't look him in the eye for days. I communicated only out of necessity. We put on a good front for our child, the last thing I wanted him to do was think that something was off with mom and dad. But still, I couldn't look him in the eye. I couldn't talk to him about anything other than the weather, or whether he wanted an egg with his breakfast.
After three days of communicating out of necessity rather than want, I told him "This is why people get divorced over these things. Because of the lying."
I didn't know what to do and I was pretty sure that I couldn't help him. I just couldn't. I couldn't go through the rah rah sis boom bahness of it all again. I couldn't take any responsibility for his recovery. He had to do it. I had to take care of myself.
I began to go to the temple a lot. Like weekly if possible. One of the perks of having a husband who works from home is that I can put the little one down for a nap and then do a session at the temple. I was also seeing a footzoner who was helping me work through a lot of my own issues that had been buried for years. I was finding out about myself, why I react to some things the way I do. Why some things gave me anxiety that didn't need to. I was finding out that I had a lot of baggage that I didn't need to hold onto anymore from the years before my husband was ever involved. A lot that I could give to the Savior and let it out of my life forever. I began to see myself with more loving eyes. My whole self. Nothing had changed with my husband but lots had changed with my heart.
I went to the temple to do a session and ask for help. Help in knowing what the Lord would have me do for my husband. How could I best be of service to him. Without going into too much detail, I decided that I needed to be Adam's Eve. I needed to be the support and helpmeet to him. Meaning that we were in this together, side by side. Two are stronger than one. He is my husband, we made covenants with each other and with God. I would stick by his side and support him however I could. I would continue on with my duties and do my best to find joy in the service.
I could be a good wife. I could be a good mother. However, I could not take over his role. I could be his Eve but I could not be Adam. He had to step up to that role. He had to fill up that hole in my life, but he wasn't ready to yet. At least not completely.
My husband started meeting regularly with the bishop. He began going to weekly group meetings. He fell again. I got frustrated and angry. I found solace and comfort in the scriptures and service. They had been coming alive for me. Things that I had read so very many times before took on new meaning. Greater meaning. It was like I was seeing them with new eyes. My cup was getting filled.
He kept on messing up, I kept on going to the temple. The temple was saving me. And him for that matter. In that quiet place of solitude and service, answers were starting to come.
To be continued.
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