Square 1

My husband pointed something out to me that I think I was hoping to ignore.  But it hurt and I'm sharing it.  Because I don't want it to become shameful.  (Shame hates being spoken you know.)

If we had kept moving forward when we first found the word "addiction" we would be at a 3 year mark.  I say a 3 year mark not "the" 3 year mark because I don't know what 3 years would mean.  3 years where we still denied it for 2 1/2? Or 3 years with real insight and discovery and HEALING.  In that time we moved 7 hours away, in with inlaws, had a baby, moved out, bought a house (fixxer-upper) back in with the inlaws, out again as we continue to work on our house.  Not to mention day to day life.  3 kids.  Extended family weddings and other gatherings.  Hectic. There's been a lot to distract us from the pain.  And so here we are now.  It hurts to be at square one. To feel like the road is so long ahead and we've only just begun.

I know that every journey begins with a single step.
I know that I can only focus on where I am right now.

But sometimes I look at the road.

I see others ahead of me who have found peace and I am sad because that is NOT where I am right now.  Right now I feel like our relationship has so many ups and downs (because I feel the ups and downs personally I assume that's our relationship too).  We had a good day again the other day where I felt like he was actually hearing what I said.  Like he saw ME, the real me not just the shell.  And now I'm back down.  And feeling like I let myself down.  Three years from now our kids will be 5, 7 and 9.  And for some reason that makes it hard for me to breathe.  Which brings me back to the beginning of this blog when I thought it was all about my healing from depression.  I don't know how much is my trauma and how much is my familiar depression.  Good ol' pal.

I'm trying to do self-care and self-comfort.  But again, that's really hard to do when there are three children looking to me to entertain, feed, clothe, listen to etc.

But I needed to put that out there.  That I feel the weight of weariness looking ahead.  And so I'll leave you with one of my theme songs.  Because it always makes me feel better.

Triggers come in all sizes.

3:40 the red numbers say.

ScrtichScratch.

Ugh. Seriously?!

A mouse again.

It triggered me. BIG TIME.  I wasn't expecting that. Maybe it was being so tired that allowed me to follow the trigger to anger.  Whatever it was, I went there.  Yet ANOTHER thing I can't control. AGH! So mad.  I could tell I needed to calm down.  I was already starting to get a tension headache, and my back, which already hurt, was now hurting in new places.  So. Mad.  I hate the stupid little rodents.  I hate their sneakiness.  I hate the deceptions- "Oh no, we don't live here- what that poop? That's not mine- must be from some other mouse." F'real? I laid awake FUMING for a full hour until it started to dissipate.

Husband asked is I was mad at him.

"No. The mouse triggered me."

I feel stupid for even admitting it- but there it is.
And so no, I wasn't directly mad at Husband.  But I was mad that this mess was brought into my life.  And that is on him.  And so I was kind of mad at him too.  And THAT is on me.

I did finally fall asleep- sort of.  Husband got up around 5ish- I don't know what time it was because I didn't want to look at the clock again.  He decided that if he had any hopes of getting his scripture study in this morning he'd better get up. I'm proud of him for keeping on his track though I was derailed.

So now here I am, tired, at 8am, sore and in my footie pajamas with a hatred for a wee bitty rodent and a giant elephant named Lust.  And I own that.

A mouse triggered me folks.

It's going to be a long road ahead.



And you'd better believe that the first thing I do when I get outta these footie pajamas is to go buy more mouse traps and poison.  No mercy in battle.  (And with the addict- no mercy with addict- mercy is reserved for HUSBAND.)

Two addicts?

I have got to write some of my thoughts down before I go crazy.

My husband struggles with an addiction to pornography.

I have read blog after blog.  Forums. FB groups. You Tube videos.

I know I'm not alone now.

Which is huge.

But it's all still very raw and scary to me. Which is odd because we've been married 7 1/2 years and I've known the whole time that it's an issue.  But didn't understand that it's bigger than that.  All the people I've talked with and read from suggest boundaries.  Boundaries are what make me feel safe.  I've tried but never had words or encouragement that I was doing what was right for me.  I'm still angry that I even have to have boundaries in the first place.  That I could be so hurt feels like my fault.  It feels like I should have seen it coming.  I should have put up the boundaries to keep myself safe and free from hurt but I didn't so, like a fool, I got hurt.  There's a lot of personal shame that I feel about the whole situation and that kind of pisses me off.  Why am *I* the one that feels the shame when *I* didn't do anything.  I didn't go out and look at other men. I didn't sit and think sexually about someone else. And yet I feel the fool.

So it's hard to reach out.  To get the help and support *I* need because I feel like I should have seen it coming and prevented the pain somehow.  I've always known he's struggled with pornography.  I don't totally understand addiction and the cycle and the chemical side.  I know that addiction runs in families and his parents have struggled with it.  This video hits the heart of the matter though.  I am afraid that I will reach out to the wrong people.  That in the end I will be hurt more.  Like when we told his parents about his addiction and I got bip. Zero. Nothing. They pretty much said, "Thanks for telling us." And left it at that.  Maddening. The few friends I have reached out to have been pretty supportive and I would be lost without them.  Someone else, a family member, that I told- said "Yeah, we struggle with it too." But there was no connection.  No "I feel your pain" like I thought there would be.  So it's hard.

I'm a mess most of the day.  Telling myself that I *HAVE* to get dressed, that I cannot get back in bed and wallow like I want to.  I research and when I hit a raw nerve or feel like "YES! She gets it! I'm not alone and I'm NOT crazy" and then sit at the computer sobbing I wonder how much the kids can handle seeing.  I'm a mess and they know it.  Internally they get that.  So I call it quits before I feel like I'm done.  Wipe away the tears and go make lunch.  Because I still need to do that.  But I really just want to run and cry and get better.  I'm not sure how to balance that with every day life.

There's a term of "co-addiction" that scares me.  I'm not an addict.  He is.

But I might be.

I might be addicted to acting out on the fear because that's what I know.  It's still new.  And I'm offended by the thought that I might be an addict too.  (And usually when there's offense it's because it hits close to home.) More thoughts on that as I figure out what it even means.