234567890-Note: This post has been sitting ready in my draft folder for 3 weeks. Although Steve has repeatedly given me the go ahead, I have procrastinated. From the outset we have been open about addiction, but it’s harder to do that when the days are messy and ugly. This post takes an honest look at exactly how messy things can get. If we are authentic about the good days, then we owe it to our readers to do the same with the bad. If you haven’t already read my 5 part series about addiction you may want to. For those who know us (or are related to us), we are fine; still fighting and clawing our way along the too steep path, and still thankful to be on the journey together. ~Holly
It has been here for weeks. Its roots probably go back to February. How can something that can’t be named cause so much angst?
Restlessness, suspicion, and indignation!
I have had a general nose-out-of-joint feeling shadowing my every step. I have nursed it, fed it, and allowed it to grow; resulting in my choosing to play the victim and I’ve felt justified in doing so.
But I have been wronged! I thought we were past this madness. We have lived in recovery for over 10 years and it’s not my problem.
From the beginning, we have been embarrass-your-family open about Steve’s struggle with addiction. We are like poster children for how to do it right. We don’t profess perfection, but we have stayed together. We have fought, clawed and scrapped our way through to preserve our marriage. Bearing the scars of addiction and co-addiction, our family has survived and even at times thrived.
Steve and I regularly speak about our journey and how we each played a part. Our marriage is healthy and we are closer than we ever have been. So we are over it, right? Please God, tell me we are over it! I thought so, but I was wrong.
February hit us and threatened to leave me down for the count. An innocent question at the beginning of a 12 hour journey was met with an answer I didn’t expect. I sat shocked, speechless, praying I wouldn’t cry on the plane. Truth is I cried most of the trip home – a gut-wrenching, sobbing, mourning cry.
I felt so betrayed. But why? I’ve been on this journey long enough to know that Steve’s actions aren’t about me. I didn’t cause them or ask for them. But they rocked me to my core.
This was not supposed to happen again. We are supposed to be past this. And why does it have to cause a palpable ache? It’s not my problem.
Or is it?
At the core… no, it’s not my problem. But I am not an island of me. Better or worse, good or bad, what Steve or I do drastically affects the other. If I’m in this for the long haul then I will have deal with it.
But I want to whine and cry, and feel sorry for myself! It’s been 10 years. TEN YEARS! When do I get to hurt him? Why do I keep doing the right thing? When do I get to misbehave? When will it be over?
However, I finally come to terms with the fact that it won’t, and it’s simply naive to think it will be. Steve can live in sober recovery from now until the day he dies and that won’t change the fact that I am married to an addict. I didn’t think I expected him never to slip but my reaction revealed the truth – I thought we were finished actively dealing with addiction.
It also revealed that I still have my own work to do. Bad attitudes, unrealistic expectations, & bitterness – these are a good place for me to start. And then there’s forgiveness. I can cling to my right to be angry or I can choose to forgive.
Forgive because Steve does the same thing for me every day.
But what I do isn’t betraying trust. What I do doesn’t flirt with unfaithfulness.
And then I realize as I write this that I want to categorize wrong. I want to say that his wrong is worse than mine. That’s the acceptable social trend; women marginalizing men’s suffering rendering themselves superior victim status. I want to pretend that the way he hurts me is more painful than how I hurt him.
But it is, isn’t it? Forgive or be bitter? If I forgive again, am I enabling? I battle this line of thinking everyday!
I forgive because I value a relationship more than being right; and because I am so very aware of my own imperfections, imperfections that are just as damaging even if I don’t want to admit it. I will take my advice and choose to forgive once again and remember that we will never be over it. Never!
I have been troubled by our society’s portrayal of men, husbands and fathers for years. Commercials, sitcoms, and movies often portray them as inept, dumb, and unable to do anything without a female telling them how. As a mother of three young men, I worry about the messages they are receiving from media. At best, they will see what no to do. At worst, they will see a bar set way too low. And what do these messages communicate to my daughter? Do they affect her view of what a man is?
I ran across an article this week that made me want to stand up and applaud. The author, a father, was addressing a few of the misperceptions our culture has about fathers. Unfortunately, I have often witnessed similar situations. As recently as last Saturday I sat behind a very capable dad traveling with his son who was under two. The dad was handling the over-active boy excellently, but halfway through the flight a lady walked over to him and, under the guise of helping, told him what he was doing wrong. In the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that when Steve and I first had children I was at times guilty of the same behavior. I am not without fault. I’m still not perfect, but I have learned a lot! So, to the women out there who feel like men can’t take care of their children, listen up, and learn from a few of my mistakes.
Whether it was diaper changing or hair-bow placement, I assumed that there was only one right way to do things: my way. Those words look so arrogant now, but I honestly thought that. I thought that things such as the way a diaper was done, which side a hair-bow was on or which shoes went with what outfit were tantamount to national security. In doing so I caused other problems, which leads me to my next point.
2. If I want my partner to help parent then I can’t control everything.
Steve and I went from no children to four in 3 years and 3 months. I was desperate for help, and was lucky enough to have a husband who wanted to be hands on. But in the beginning I was such a control freak that I wouldn’t let him help. I was inhibiting myself from having the help I so desperately wanted. In order for me to have help, I had to stop trying to control everything. I have had this talk with more than a few moms over the years and here’s a hint. If you find yourself saying something like, “I wish Joe would help out more with the kids.” stop and evaluate whether you allow him room to do so.
3. As my husband parents in his own, unique way we all win.
Me, him, and the kids. We all benefit from two parents who parent with their own nuances. I benefit from seeing another perspective and from watching the relationships that develop between my husband and his children. He is given the opportunity to grow into an excellent father when I get out of the way. And the kids are blessed with two parents who are 100% committed and invested in their lives.
It would be an understatement to say that the advantages have far outweighed my fear of giving up control. Steve is an intelligent man and didn’t need me telling him how to go through life. When I took a step back, I realized that just because I have a uterus didn’t mean I was innately superior in my parenting skills. Kids need dads, dads who will push them too high in a swing, who walk too close to the raging river, and who hold the back of their overalls and let them look out over Lover’s Leap. Even if mom is cringing and has to shut her eyes while it takes place.
The moment was surreal. Conversation flowed freely and laughter filled the air as Steve and I shared an order of nachos. A last minute date to a movie preview was followed by an impromptu late-night stop at Fuzzy’s Taco. As we recounted the movie we laughed so loud that other people began to stare. We were thoroughly enjoying each other’s company! In that moment, I couldn’t imagine being happier. For a moment I thought I was going to cry.
So what’s the big deal? Don’t all married couples enjoy times like this? I can’t answer for everyone, but I know that I didn’t. Stilted date nights and unmet expectations were the norm. Like being stranded on an island unnoticed by yet another passing ship, the lack of intimacy in my marriage left me disappointed and dejected. I craved a relationship where scenes like the one above occurred.
How did my marriage get from where it was to where it is? With a lot of hard work and determination! And, a lot of God!
As Steve and I began to deal with his addiction there were times I was completely overwhelmed. We both were. The issues were much deeper than just an addiction. We were actually dealing with an intimacy disorder. I wondered if we would make it. And honestly, there were times when I doubted the effort was worth it. Part of me wanted to give up because in addressing his problem I had to look in the mirror. The reflection was more wicked step-mother and less Snow White. I had to hear and own how my actions were contributing to the problem. I had to swallow my pride for the sake of my marriage. In reality, I didn’t have to – I chose to. And I am so thankful I did.
I like my husband and I respect him. We enjoy being together and don’t need other people as a buffer. I don’t worry about how to appear sad if the police were to come to my door and tell me Steve was gone. We have awesome conversations, we have a fantastic sex life, and we inspire each other to be better. We can argue and it not threaten to ruin our relationship. And most importantly, we can just be. We can sit in silence without feeling the pain of a void. We don’t have to worry about keeping up walls to protect ourselves. We have dreams and goals and without wishing time away, look forward to an empty nest.
When I think back to where we were compared to where we are, I feel like we need some kind of medal. There are moments when I want to stop and shout to everyone around, “Do you see how amazing this is?! Do you see how far my husband has come?” But really, it wasn’t just him. It was both of us. We are reaping the fruits of labor from seeds that were sown in our tears. We made it. Do you hear me? We – made – it!
How? Because we didn’t give up! If I could give one piece of advice to a version of myself 10 years younger, that would be it. “Holly, don’t give up!” I can only credit God’s abundant grace with giving me hope and helping me persevere when I could only see the end. More days that not, I thought it was over. The last time we went to counseling, my motivation was to justify divorce. Today that sentence brings tears to my eyes. If I had given up, I would have missed the absolute best years of my life. Yes, it was hard, but worth every minute. Every tear, every fit, every day that I thought I physically couldn’t bear the pain anymore was worth it.
No, things aren’t perfect. But I know that there will be many more impromptu dates, moments of laughter and cherished memories. No matter what life throws, I have faith in us. We will get through it. Together.
The mind is an amazingly complex thing. I can remember with vivid clarity some silly injustice from kindergarten, but have no clue where my keys are on a daily basis. Given my ability to remember such unimportant things, is it really possible to forgive and forget?
And what if the faithfulness and honesty of a partner is involved? I think the answer is no… and yes.
When we hear the term forgive and forget I suspect we think it means to literally forgive and never think about, remember, obsess over or plot revenge about said incident ever again. Ever! Or at least that was the understanding I used to have. Why on earth did I ever put that much pressure on myself? It is literally impossible to not remember; especially when it involves hurts inflicted by our spouse. Telling yourself not to remember is like trying not to stick your tongue in the hole where a tooth used to be. The harder you try not to, the more you do it.
I have often heard the insecurity in a woman’s voice as she says, “If I’ve truly forgiven, why can’t I forget?” They doubt they have actually forgiven because they aren’t able to forget. I remember that feeling of guilt! I remember feeling that if I was a better Christian I wouldn’t keep thinking about something that I thought I had forgiven. That feeling is exactly what caused me to rethink the way I saw forgiveness altogether.
Life experience has taught me that forgiveness is a choice. It’s something I choose even when I don’t feel like it. And it’s a choice that has to be made over and over. It is a process – not an event. It’s much like the decision to lose weight. When someone decides to lose weight, they aren’t successful by making a one-time decision. It takes lots of decisions everyday to be successful; eat this – don’t eat that – go to the gym. And like forgiving, decisions regarding lasting weight loss are made over and over, day after day.
Over time, as I have continually chosen to forgive all the hurts that came from Steve’s addiction, I have been set free. I have been freed from the guilt of remembering. I have been freed from resentment and bitterness. And oddly enough, I have even been freed from seeing the hurts in a purely negative light. The more time that passes, and the stronger our relationship becomes, I find myself seeing those very hurts as a blessing in disguise. Remembering allows me to see how far we have come.
If you have chosen to forgive, whether the offense was big or little, don’t doubt the sincerity of it. Yes, you will remember from time to time. When you do, give yourself permission to feel whatever you feel in that moment; name it and move on. Then make the choice to forgive all over again and forget, at least until you remember it again.
Some questions can be taken at face value. When my kids ask me what’s for dinner there typically isn’t anything behind the question other than a hungry stomach. Other questions aren’t as simple. They stem from something deeper – there’s a question behind the question. What’s being spoken is only the tip of the iceberg. What’s beneath the surface is the real issue.
The day I sat eating with Morgan, I wondered what was behind her question. “Is he thinking of someone else while kissing me?” were the words coming out of her mouth. “Does he desire only me?” was what was in her heart. On the surface, she knows he desires her, but does he desire every other woman he sees too? This fear lurks behind the veil of her question.
When we enter into a committed relationship there are some basic expectations that come with the territory — one of the most primal being that we will be the sole object of our partner’s desire. It is innate. We long to be desired. And we don’t expect to share that position with anyone else. I, like Morgan, never expected to be one of many women who floated through my husband’s mind. In reality, over the course of Steve’s active addiction, I was one of thousands. I wanted to be the only one.
Walking the road of recovery with Steve, I have learned that wanting to be the only one is fine. Actually being the only one is unrealistic. Before you have a heart attack, let me explain. Yes, in marriage it is fair to expect faithfulness – emotionally, physically and mentally. However, expecting that Steve will never have some image flip through his head is unfair. So the real issue becomes the intent.
In an active addiction, there is a complete lack of emotional intimacy between partners. An addict will attempt to fill this void by pursing false intimacy with someone else — real and/or fantasy. The intent is to use images or people for one’s own pleasure. It is selfish in nature and it is wrong. But if I’m honest, I have to admit that while I have never struggled with a sexual addiction, sometimes there are uninvited thoughts and images that appear in my own head. How can I hold my partner to a standard that I, myself, can’t keep?
So, maybe measuring the health of your relationship with the ruler of ‘being the sole object of his desire’ isn’t the most accurate way of finding relational security. It would be more accurate to use the gauge of intimacy. As real emotional intimacy develops between two people, the need for false intimacy will decrease. A working definition of intimacy is the willingness to be known for who I really am and the willingness to know someone for who they truly are. And true emotional intimacy can only take place in a safe environment.
I have found that when I am concerned with who else might be in my husband’s thoughts, the best thing I can do is provide a safe environment for him. This doesn’t mean I condone his entertaining thoughts of others, simply that I can inspire his focus to return to me much better than I can require it.
So if you value your relationship and want to heal it, it is better to focus on what you can do to cheer him on and turn his heart (and thoughts) back toward you, rather than berate him with a bunch of questions that can’t really be answered in a futile attempt to calm your own insecurities. Because in reality, there will never be a way to know who is in your spouses head as they are kissing you. But build emotional intimacy and it won’t matter. You’ll know his heart and body belong to you, even if another unwelcome woman invades his private thoughts on occasion.