Sometimes I wish...

Sometimes I wish that when we fight we'd scream and yell and GET IT OUT! But we try to be calm and collected and rational (which is hard with emotions).  I like to keep my sailor tendencies in check (as in swearing like a...).

I told my husband that I feel like he's being passive with his blog (pot/kettle maybe?)(and actually I didn't flat out tell him, he read it in my journal) despite it being under his real name because he hasn't told anybody about it.  It feels like he's just waiting for someone he knows to stumble across it and say, "Wow that's hard, let me walk with you while you do this." Instead of him saying, "Hey guys, this is hard.  Will you walk with me while I do this?"  Been there.  Done that.  Done waiting.  So there are people in my real life that know about this blog.  And sometimes I get an email saying, "Hey I read your blog...you ok?"  Here's the thing though.  His recovery is HIS recovery, HIS journey.  I CANNOT dictate what it should or should not look like (though I'd love to).  I recognize that.  Which is precisely why I did not tell him and why I wrote it in my journal.

Should I be the Pot or the Kettle?

I really don't know where I'm going with this.

I am exhausted.

Emotionally drained.  It's been a long week.  Talked to my Stake Relief Society President about pornography and my life and it was lovely.  Healing to be heard.  But draining.  My therapy session yesterday was great.  And also draining.  Next week my husband is leaving town for a week and I'm trying to keep it together.  To not totally wig out.  But I kind of am.  Because the last binge of pornography for him was on a business trip.  Followed by a month of lying.  I'm hoping to meet up with him at the end of the week and we'll do a little family vacation.  But man, I am STRESSED.  He's been doing well lately and I'm grateful for that.  But I still get triggered and freak out.

Today has been a lot of BREATHING and listening to beautiful piano music and thinking, praying, journaling and talking with some friends.

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.)

I freaked out, a little.

I might have freaked out a little just now.  My 6 year old is home from school sick with a lovely cough that will probably sit in his lungs for a week or so. That's just how it works.  He was watching Netflix on my phone and I let him (and his little brother).  Then he needed to use the bathroom.  He walked into the bathroom, holding the phone, not watching where he was going, shut the door, LOCKED it (which I assume was to keep the toddler out- he's very curious).  He didn't think anything of it.

But I did.  And I tried to act as calm and cool as I wasn't.  I told him no movies while he's going potty.  He can finish it afterwards.  "Pause your show and slide the phone under the door please." I felt like I was insane.  Innocent.  Barney for goodness sakes.  But the fear that it will turn into habit shook me.  That when he's older and has his own phone it will be an easy access point for him. And habit at that point.  He handed it over no problem.  But I'm still shaking.

I wasn't expecting that trigger today (or ever really) but I worry that this is all going to hit the fan and spread to our children.  So I'm proud of myself for acting on my instinct and for keeping calm and collected.  But it shook me.

I'm well aware of the "what if it fell in the toilet" argument and while gross- it doesn't phase me.  What is far more gross, in terms of size of the matter and content, is looking up porn, or maybe not outright porn but music videos or this or that.  I do think my 6 year old is a normal six year old and doesn't even really know about all that yet.  I hope.  But I know I'll be discussing this with him on his level soon. And that is also grossly scary.