We had two marvelous days.
Driving home from soccer practice Thursday night, I thought, “I just want my husband back.”
Well, you have your husband. He is here. Your perception of him has changed, but he hasn’t.
So I decided. I decided that he is still the hilarious, fun, talented, spirited, strong, willful man that I have always loved. And I discovered much to my delight that he truly is. He is MY husband, and that means I can reach over and kiss his cheek whenever I want. I can talk to him about things that are troubling, or great, or mundane without permission. I can just be and do and exist as I always have with him, AND I can love him. So I did.
Two marvelous days.
Husband left this morn at 4 to China.
Last night at 10 he lovingly took me in his arms, and while gently caressing my hair, proceeded to tell me he thinks he is addicted to p*rn.
My body and my mind cooperated with one another and all went warm and calm. I could sense the daggers piercing my soul, but the sensation didn’t fully register. Instead, my focus was on the weight on my chest; non-judgmental, not trying to rid myself of it, but simply acknowledging its presence as I breathed into that space. As the weight lost its urgency, I felt the tingling in my arms. Then the warmth around my feet. Each sensation came and went as I welcomed and existed in it. As thoughts invaded my mind, I gently excused them and went back to my breath. I felt his heart pounding on the side of my face, the rise and fall of his chest with his breath, his strong arm around my shoulders.
No tears, no threats, no pleas. Just breath.
He spoke of not wanting it to invade his life anymore. Of when he was acting out sexually with other men he didn’t look at p*rn, but now that he has put a tourniquet on that behavior, it is manifesting itself through this.
Of what the hell are we doing here and why did he have to involve me in his life.
Of always living together regardless of our marital status because he can’t live without me.
Of trying, always trying to meet un-meet-able needs.
Surprisingly, I slept last night. Breathing, acknowledging, being, but not doing.
I am vacillating between “it’s no big deal,” and “holy hell, I’m out.”
Does it have to be this way? Is it always going to be either: a) acting out or b) acting in?
Here’s what will happen:
He will be in China, and I will be home. He will call in the evenings and check in and speak with the kids and have prayer with us.
Then he will come home, tired. He will thank me for being here- for not packing up and hitching the first ride out- which he would fully understand if I did.
We will embrace, we will talk of the future- re-committing to us, but with no real plan.
And we will live, and breathe, and he will continue to fight. Not with any new tools, but with what he knows. I will invite him to go through the Addiction Recovery book with me, to which he will reply with something like, “if you want to, but I don’t see how it will help,” so we won’t do it.
He’ll act out periodically in various ways- each time coming home feeling shame and guilt and helplessness. Each time offering me an out, sometimes begging me to go and put us both out of our misery. But holding on to the numerous really great days and months in between, we will re-commit- without any new tools, but with hope.
As long as we keep going, can I really ask for more?