Fart Theory

Yesterday I learned from my Harvard educated counselor about his fart theory in recovery. Yes, he has a fart theory. So, this theory is really a tool that can be used when negative or intrusive thoughts come your way. Counselor says we cannot expect to avoid all intrusive troubling thoughts but its what we do with them that matter. So, he says we can thin of these rude, unavoidable circumstances  or thoughts as farts. The are unpleasant, uninvited but the best thing to do is to simply let them blow away and keep walking forward. Don't chase your fart, sit in your fart and play with it, don't idolize your fart. Given it the credit it deserves for simply being a fart and keep moving.  The context of this conversation was in regards to situations where husband has a rude, uninvited thought that is triggery.   This was probably one of the best sessions we've had to date and I am truly thankful to God for bringing us to our Fart Theory Counselor who always has wonderful analogies.  So there you go, fart theory folks.

Where Have I Been?

Uhhh...where have I been? Well. I've been living.  Doing things that I think healthy people do like cook for themselves,clean their house regularly, pay their bills, spend time with their family and friends (and enjoy it).  I started personal training and lifting heavy things again and life is...different. Husband and I both are going to recovery meetings and we are now seeing a therapist together (uh huh).

This isn't to say that all has been cheery and wonderful. Since December he's had slips, I've had slips. I've cried, brooded, hated, loved, laughed and yelled.  But this marriage is different. We are learning to talk to each other with respect -shit, we're just learning to talk to each other in general.  We've learned things in therapy:

Harsh startups. 4 horseman. Flooding. How to touch. Hugging. Diaphragmatic breathing. The now beloved phrase "onward and awkward" which is accompanied by a fist pump.

Last Wednesday I had a serious melt-down over a third beer. I just snapped. I felt like I was losing him again and I was scared and sad. Thursday he acted out and Friday he disclosed.It sounds like the same story but it's not. Never before have I known the signs and seen it coming - not consciously.  Disclosures always came as a surprise - a shocking blow.  How I reacted to the disclosure was different - I didn't hate myself, blame myself or feel ugly, stupid or inept. Don't get me wrong - I felt betrayed (because that's normal and healthy) but I didn't feel responsible for it and that was beautiful.  Typically, what follows disclosure for me is a lot of self-loathing but recovery is truly helping me let go of lies I believed about my husband and myself.

"...we come to realize that just as we did not cause the sexaholic's acting out, we cannot "cure it" either.  We learn that it is not our responsibility to keep the sexaholic sexually sober.  Instead, it is our job to manage our own lives, whether or not the sexaholic chooses sobriety."

Two is Twice as Nice as One

*Note: I wrote this in December (it's now May) , saved as draft and never posted! Yikes. It seems unfinished but I don't want to add to it because that seems wrong.

I regret the hiatus between posts - simply because I find it so daunting to figure out what exactly I should write about.  The first phase of recovery, for me, means a lot has happened in a short amount of time.  However, if I had to pick a topic, any topic - I would say it would have to be that Husband has officially began his recovery. 

In 12 step recovery, we talk a lot about the importance of not getting wrapped up in someone else's recovery and to focus on ourselves, so I want to make it clear that my posting about his recovery doesn't mean that I'm taking responsibility or ownership for it. There are a few reasons I want to post about this.  First, because it's a part of our story which means it's a part of mine.  It changes things. It complicates things. And it also, more than anything, has transformed our marriage.  Second, I want to share hope with anyone who comes across this blog.

I can't promise that two people in recovery means your marriage will be saved. Sex addiction is far more complicated than that and I have already seen that sometimes there is so much trauma in the marriage that the bleeding cannot be stopped.  I empathize with these situations and I don't think it's lack of faith or lack of effort - it just is what it is. However, I can say that with just over a month of Husband attending SA meetings and seeing a therapist - the dynamics in our house, and our marriage, have improved for the better.  Details to follow.

Am I Dreaming?

What a night.  A week I guess. It's been 12 days since I moved upstairs after a long, angry, tearful, anxiety ridden night full of blaming, denial and admission. I really don't feel comfortable getting into the details, especially since Husband specifically said he didn't want to share in the first place since he feels like I tell everyone everything he tells me - but what I can say is the next morning I knew that I needed new boundaries and I needed to be honest with Husband about my expectations.

So.......

We had an honest conversation about the fact that I was moving upstairs for an undetermined amount of time.  I communicated that he would need to find someone to talk to about his addiction because I couldn't do it anymore. After he found someone to talk to (and actually talked to them) I would consider coming back - if I felt safe. No guarantees.

I had a lot of guilt from the boundary setting and for moving upstairs. I told my S-Anon group I was really concerned that this was manipulative and that I was undermining my true want - for him to just want to be better and go find help without ultimatums and without "consequences."  What my group helped me understand is that doing what I need to do to feel safe is not manipulative (yes, I have to go to a weekly addiction support group for them to share revelatory ideas with me that aren't really revelatory at all.)

One woman flat out said to me: "Ginny, do you want to live in a relationship with someone who has a sex addiction and is doing nothing about it?"

(obviously) "No."

"Okay - then the reality is that in order for this to work, he needs to do something?"

"Yes."

"There's your answer."

Not fair. Why was that so easy when I had someone to talk to about it? They say that's why I need a sponsor. Dear God. I can't bring myself to do that right now.  I can just hear the conversation now: Hi, ____, this is Ginny.

Hi Ginny. (S-anon style)

I was wondering if in the midst of your full time job, family, friends, church commitments, s-anon group, and your own sex addiction ridden life - you could help me with mine?

Um, yeah, Thank you Ginny.  I am honored you would ask me that but the reality is.....

Yeah, no. I can't take that kind of vulnerability and rejection right now.

Anyways.

Husband told me on Monday (10 days of upstairs sleeping) that he made an appointment with a counselor for Sunday. He also bought a book at Barnes and Noble about Porn Addiction.  I didn't ask him what the book was, I just said that was good and I hoped he liked it. What I was really thinking: THIS IS AWESOME! I can't believe this is happening.

But wait. It gets better. 

Fast forward 12 nights of sleeping upstairs by myself to this evening (about an hour ago actually).
He wanted to know if he could talk to me about his book - I said "sure."  He goes on to tell me how he thinks this book is helpful and that he really was hoping he would discover he didn't actually have a problem and this would prove it - but that's not the case (yes, because I'm putting myself through hell for the "fun of it," yeah a freaking carnival I can assure you).

Then, he started using words like triggers and recovery and steps and journaling and I. was. in. shock.
It's happening.
He gets it.

Step One: Admit you have a problem and you are powerless over lust. (paraphrased)

Honestly, I'm terrified of the let down and when we'll crash and burn. But I am going to let that go. "One day at a time." "Let Go and Let God."

12 Step

I think it's time to write about S-Anon.  Because the group is anonymous and everything shared in the group must be kept anonymous, I really can't share anything about what happens from 7:30-9 PM on my Friday nights. However, I want to tell you about S-Anon, about my recovery and what I'm doing these days to take my life back (even if it doesn't feel like).

I had two goals going into camp in September.  The first goal was to figure out if my husband really had a problem (denial) and the second was to figure out what I was supposed to be doing about it.  Obviously, confirmation of the first was evident as soon as others began to tell their stories.  The second goal - I quickly discovered was not going to be very simple. Each story revealed to me how each person's journey is unique to them and their partner.  However, I did find some common themes that helped me get a pulse on my situation and what seemed logical moving forward.

1. Do what I need to do to feel safe immediately
2. Start a journal
3. Start taking care of myself
4. Talk to other WoPAs
5. Set boundaries
6. Start recovery process

Recovery process? This I learned for most partners of Sex Addicts begins in some type of 12 step program (or something like it) such as S-Anon.  I have heard of another program called Addo and another called Lifestar.  Lucky for me, there is quite a network of SA and S-Anon groups here in the Portland-Vancouver Metro area.  When I got back from camp I decided to go for it - but I was sooo nervous.

When I pulled into the church parking lot - there was one other car parked there and it was dark.  I pulled up in the spot behind the other car and just sat there. I thought about going home. I thought about just staying in the car. But I needed it and I knew it.

I sent a facebook message to my Scabs Sisters and put on my big girl panties. It was time.

I went to find the room but the building lights were out and all the doors locked. I walked back to my car and the other woman parked there rolled down her window and asked "Are you here for the uh...um.. 7:30 meeting?"

Me, being direct as usual, "Yeah, the S-anon meeting."

She laughed - probably more out of relief than humor - and started to tell me her story. It kind of scared of me. It was just a lot and I was scared anyways. But atleast I had a friend to walk in with.

The group coordinator pulled up shortly after I started talking to my new friend and we found our room. The location was...ironic...I guess. We meet in a children's sunday school room. Seriously. I know. It still freaks me out and I've been to three meetings.  Parts of the meeting were really confusing, I didn't realize that they really do introduce themselves and say thank you "name" over and over again. I'm still not used to it but it's catching on.

I cried when we read the S-Anon problem. I cried when I shared. I cried when others shared. And I just cried. It was so good. The meeting format was familiar - it had a liturgy I understood from my newer Anglican membership and I enjoyed the quiet time we spent writing. The group read Step 1 in my honor, since I was new - I needed it.

Step One: We admitted we were powerless over sexaholism--that our lives had become unmanageable.

So, I have been to three meetings, I bought the book (2 day rush) and I'm working through Step 1. I think it will probably take me another week or two to finish but I can tell you it's changing me.  I can't sit here and tell you I feel better and happier and I'm on top of the world. But I will say that it's turning over soil and bringing emotions, thoughts, and feelings to the surface that needed out.  I have probably reread Step One atleast 10 times and I get something new out of it each time I read it.

I think this is saving my life.

Scab's Sisters

Background: Shortly after the Netflix incident, I went on a google rampage (if you haven't done it, you will). After 6 years of broken promises like "I won't do it again" and "I won't ever do it again," I figured there had to be something "wrong" because it hurt so freaking bad and he still did it. I knew he couldn't control the impulse but I didn't know why. I wanted solace and I wanted to know someone to give me a reason.

[Enter Two of My Favorite People Ever] - Jane and Scabs.

I found their blogs during one of the google rampages and I couldn't stop reading. I saw myself in their stories. I saw my husband in their stories. And most importantly, I found a name for this uncontrollable impulse that causes immense grief, pain, trauma, heartache, loneliness and confusion: Addiction.

"Seriously?", you say, "Duh."

I know. Like I said before, Denial and I are good friends.

While hawking Scab's blog one day at work (July 2013), I noticed she had posted about a camp she was coordinating in Idaho. "Hmmm...interesting...maybe I could go to this camp. I could figure out if HE has a problem. I could get a plan."  So, I emailed Scabs and registered for my spot at Camp Scabs. I bought a plane ticket and committed to a weekend in a remote cabin in the middle of the woods with 18 other women I didn't know whose husbands are sex addicts (crazy much?)

The morning of my flight was filled with anxiety. Will I have to tell my story? What if they can't stand me? What if my story traumatizes them? What if my ugliness makes them reject me? What if there's no coffee? Where will I poop? What if I can't poop? (ok, I know that's nuts, but c'mon, I can't be the only one that thinks about these things).  I won't even put on paper the fears I had about the difference in religious beliefs (it's embarrassing and not okay).

To cope, I bought Starburst Jellybeans, Pretzel M&Ms and a Maxim magazine to burn. (Yeah, I could write an entire blog post about the humiliation of checking out at the grocery store with those three items but I will leave that to your imagination).

I boarded the plane: 1 carry-on, 1 personal item and a lot of emotional baggage.

What ensued was a life altering experience.  Women who understood my pain, listened to my story and forgave my trespasses - the extension of grace from these women brought so much healing.  And their stories, oh their stories, changed me. And I'm not talking about me sitting there listening and pitying their plight. I'm talking about admiration for their courage, the love for their family and spouses, the "ovaries" to walk away when it's time to be done and the strength to be vulnerable and the willpower to heal and seek recovery.

I didn't take much to realize that "he had a problem" - I figured that out on the bus ride to the cabin.  But what I took away from that weekend was much bigger than that: I have a problem. I have codependency. I have trauma. I have "defects of character." I have courage. I have bravery. And most comforting of all - I now have this beautiful group of friends that are willing to share their knowledge, wisdom and friendship which is pretty amazing.

What did we do: we ate, we talked, we burned crap, we cried, we laughed (really hard) and we healed.

I wish I could share every detail and divulge every thing that happened - because it all changed my life. But I can't. And I wouldn't. These are my girls -  my Scab's Sisters - and what happens at camp stays at camp.

This is what I will say: Find someone to talk to - care about yourself - join a recovery group - go to camp - and get on the bandwagon people.  Your friends are waiting for you.

Denial

I know it's been a while since I've posted. I got scared. I felt like I needed to figure it all out and have a plan before I posted. I often feel like people are expecting a blogger to have it all together. That even if they're "real" in their posts and their writing is raw and talented - they have a plan and so it's comforting to read their stories. I've come to the realization that my blog isn't going to be memoir written after it's all happened, I've decompressed and have answers.  This blog will be my real confusing life worked out in cyberspace - I don't have all the answers and I don't always have a plan.

So what's happened since I last posted - A LOT. I went to Australia in August for work - I was gone for about 10 days which I'm sure most of you can understand is stresssssssful. I worry. About my him, about IT, about IT happening, about laundry, my child and what news awaits me when I get home. This trip ultimately resulted in a mind-numbing coping mechanism called: denial.

I love denial. Because denial and ignorance are cousins and we all know ignorance is bliss.  

While I was on my trip and shortly thereafter I doubted everything I knew about Husband's pornography addiction.

I told myself many lies. To name a few...

• He doesn't do it that often
• It's not that bad
• Everyone does it (right?)
• He's a guy - it's normal
• I think I'm okay with it - really, I can live with this. People live with a lot worse.
• It doesn't hurt that bad
• "Insert Friend's Husband's Name here" does it and he's not an addict

I know I can't be the only person who prefers denial over mind-consuming obsession. Complacency over control. Procrastination over preparation.  If this is you - I understand.

As it turns out, my denial was predestined for extinction by one of the most amazing, painful, joyful weekends of my life in the mountain of Idaho with a group of women who changed my life forever.

I had decided to go to camp.