Bi And Large

OK. So I am PISSED because my last post took a lot of emotional energy to write before it got poofed, plus now if I want to try typing out the whole thing again I am not only upset and emotionally drained but sore - this morning Charlotte got overexcited and pulled me on the ice and I went skidding into a hard fall in the frozen mud, ice and gravel, messing up my hand. It makes typing difficult. So please excuse my typos.

This was a really difficult and craptastic entry to write the first time. I wonder if it will be any easier the second time. It's more than a bit stream-of-consciousness so forgive that.

Many of you who are regular readers are RL friends who have known me for years. In some cases most of my life. You guys know almost everything about me. But there is something that I have kept mainly to myself because I have not been brave enough to share it completely with anyone, even people who I know love me. Partly I have been protecting someone else. Partly I have been dealing with my own overwhelming feelings of guilt and shame.

I am married to a sex addict. More specifically, a porn addict. Now, I'm not talking about the oftime glance through a penthouse or ralph. If you know me, you know I would have absolutely no problem with that (and in another lifetime would have done so myself and encouraged my spouse to do so with me for kicks.) This is way, way different. It's intense, destructive, compulsive, addiction. It is to the average guy's consumption of porn, what a late night out with Lindsey Lohan and Ted Kennedy would be to your average person's glass of wine with dinner. It doesn't come in to enhance stuff, it comes in to exclude, separate and destroy. It is out of control. It has brought other people into a marriage that should be sexually exclusive and has robbed our family of emotional intimacy. We're always hiding something. Even the kids pretend to be happy when they're not, already they have learned that. We're always trying to smooth things over. We're always trying to pretend there's a connection and happiness there that simply does not exist.

I knew about it before we got married. I thought maybe I could be interesting enough, crazy enough, sexy enough to replace it. I was mistaken. We have been in some kind of therapy, off and on, basically our entire marriage. We're lucky (in a sense) in that THE guy, the leading expert in the US on sex addiction, lives in our city and runs a clinic at the university. Pete's been in treatment there for almost 3 years and I've been in therapy there with him. It's helped. No doubt. But it isn't a cure.

I feel certain it has taken a toll on Pete personally, but I cannot speak to that. I know it has devastated me. I know that I look back at the girl I was before I met him and I barely recognize her. My self esteem has hit rock bottom. My husband, the one person who promised to always care for me and to love me, continually passes me over in preference for strangers. I keep telling myself that maybe if I look different, act different, smell different, wear something different... basically anything to camouflage the fact that I am ME, he will forget long enough to love me. But it never works. The reality of it is that I am still me, I can't hide it, so I am no longer wanted. And I haven't been for a long, a very long, time. Maybe not ever. I wonder about that a lot. Was I chosen as a cover? Was I chosen because he thought I was pathetic enough to put up with it? Am I? I don't know. The anger and hurt have eroded any intimacy that ever existed between us over the years. The constant and numerous betrayals have long ago removed anything resembling trust. When he is in treatment, and he is not using regularly, it is better. But there are always relapses, and when he is using he is a different person. He is cold and withdrawn, angry, he snaps at the kids and I can feel the emotional walls between us. Amy is old enough to notice the change and she asks what she is doing wrong to make daddy so crabby. She has found his stuff before, and asked me what all those girls were doing together. What do you tell a 3 year old about daddy's pictures of orgies?

In short, it is no kind of way for any of us to live. Last year in therapy my therapist told me repeatedly, although gently, that part of my codependence issues with Pete involve continually taking him back, no matter what. I can say oh, but I love him. But the choice isn't about helping either him or me - it is enabling.

So last weekend, Pete had another relapse. I had known it was going on for a while but had it confirmed over the weekend. And last Monday, the 3rd, Pete moved out.

I have never been strong enough to stick to it before. I feel like it is killing me. I am scared shitless. I spent the entire first day, last Monday, laying on the floor sobbing hysterically. I do NOT know how to do this. I do not want this. This is not the life I would have picked for myself, and definitely not the life I would have picked for my children. I worry so much about how this is affecting them. I feel frantic and desperate. And I am so angry, and even more furious that any time show any signs of anger towards Pete he threatens to dissolve completely under it, so talking about it is out for me. I am forced to either play the grieving lonely wife or just to show no emotion at all. And I AM sad, and I AM grieving, but I'm also so angry. I have years and years of anger he will never let me express because he can't handle it and I don't know what to do with it.

Then anger passes and I just feel so worthless, sad, and ashamed that my husband won't choose me. I feel like an utter failure as a wife. I'm not good enough for him - and that just devastates me. The only anger I feel then is at myself. It goes in circles.

I like Pete. I love him. He's a great dad, a good friend to me. This would be so easy if I just hated him, but I don't.

Beyond the emotions, rationally what it comes down to is this: It is as simple as a boundary being crossed. I have to accept that no matter how much I want to, I cannot control Pete. His actions are his own and he has to take responsibility for them. They are not mine and they are not my fault. I cannot change how he acts or force him to choose the way I want him to. It's outside my control. What I can control is how his actions affect me and the girls. Last weekend there was a relapse. Relapses bring unbearable hurt and grief to me and anxiety to the girls and distance to our family as a whole. I don't want to be continually hurt, and I don't want my girls growing up in that kind of anxious atmosphere, or thinking that they have to look or act like porn stars to be acceptable and loved. God forbid! I just can't have that, period. So if Pete is bringing his addiction into the family, the most responsible choice I can make is to ask him to leave in order to protect myself and the kids. That, I can control. Beyond being the right thing to take care of me and to be a good parent, the therapists at the sex addiction clinic seem to think that he has not yet been sufficiently motivated to actually want to get well, and losing his family might be what he needs to see that this has serious effects. So maybe this is the best decision I can make for Pete as well.

I am confused and I need some time to get my feet under me, stop being scared, and get my head straight. Right now it all sucks and I am fucking miserable. But then, I was miserable before too. At least now I have the quiet strong feeling inside of knowing that finally, I am doing something right for myself and my children. I just need to know what the hell I do from here and how I do it. I need advice and support and I'm so alone in it. I don't want to hurt anyone, least of all people I actually love. I am trying to tread very carefully so that I don't, but sometimes it seems like I smash something at every step. I miss Sam and I want her counsel on this. She would be fantastic in this situation. I know Pete is struggling too and I hate that he is also hurting so much, but I can't help him any more than I already have over the past several years. I feel trapped and stuck.

So there's that.

It wasn't any easier writing it the second time around.

Damn you, BlogSpirit, for eating my post again. What's with the new boot function when writing a long post?

Evil, evil, evil.

Has it been a month since I updated?

I don't mean to leave you all in the dark. Honest. I've been struggling with my mental health and then with adjusting to a doubled dose of my anti-seizure meds. Which work fantastcally, but for the first few weeks I sleep like 20 hours a day and get all zombied out. Luckily that's all good now so let's see if I can't get back in the habit of updating my poor neglected blog.

What's been going on....

We're all sick. BUT this is like the first time all winter we have been I think, which is a huge improvment over previous winters. So no complaints. Just trying to get over the sniffles and coughing and sore throats.

Amy has done her developmental screen for kindergarten and of course flew through that no problem, but the school district did assign her a child psychologist to help with her anxiety issues. I'm glad if it helps her but it's still hard for me to admit something might be wrong with my perfect baby.

She's also had a series of severe allergic reactions lately and needs to see an allergist to get an epipen to carry with her. Thursday she got sent home from school with what turned out to be a hive in her right eye - when I picked her up I freaked because she had a black eye. I love her pediatricians and they are SO good with her but her anxiety means the docotrs and stuff are hard for her to deal with and I'm about done with that.

Otherwise she's doing well. She loves school (preschool) and excels there. She has lots of friends and was invited to her first birthday party a couple weeks ago. She now comes home happy every day with piles of artwork and cool stories to tell me.

Iris is anxious to go to school too, and she will probably start going a couple days a week in the fall, when Amy goes to kinder (and we have a little extra money.) She's pretty much potty trained at home now and LOVES to show off her underpants, but I am not game to let her out of diapers when we go out or when she sleeps yet. She talks a mile a minute and still says the most precocious things. (Like flopping on the bed with "I SO need a massage!") She is like having a 16 year old trapped in a preschoolers body! She loves to shop, and try on shoes, and borrow her sister's clothes (which she fits into!) and shave my legs for me or pretend to shave hers, and talk on the phone. She's also tough as nails and will never back down from a fight, a total spitfire. She's amusing as hell to watch! It's a ton of personality to pack into a 25-month-old body.

Charlotte's legs have almost healed completely - and without surgery!!! We were very strict about making her rest them and she can now run and jump and chase the kids again without trouble. Sometimes she is a little stiff getting up, especially if she has overdone it the day before. I doubt she will ever be trekking the alps pulling stranded travelers to safety or anything. But given that 98% of her life involves snoring on my bed or the living room carpet, I don't think this is a problem. She's an awesome dog and we're having a lot of fun with her. If only we could stop her getting into the garbage when we're gone.

Pete and I are doing well. Like every marriage there are ups and downs, and sometimes it is frustrating. But it is also always worth it and I'm thankful for him. Next week he goes on a business trip to Atlanta, his first one since the girls were born. Shockingly, I'm not worried about how I will cope - my meds are good stuff and I am in a good place now especially compared to where I have been. A couple years ago this would have been occassion for all out panic but now I am fine with that part of things. What I am sad about though is how much I will miss him. I hate feeling that we are across the country from each other. Hopefully all will go quickly and absence will make the heart grow fonder and all that.

I'm OK too. Getting there. Mentally OK, although the past few months have been hard. I think it's under control now. I need to find a new therapist. (I have an awesome psych who does my meds, I need a therapist for talking to.) I had one I loved and she got married and moved, and it's a royal PITA to find a new one that I click with and trust. I am working on doing something good for myself, even if it is embarrassing to admit. As you all know, I'm no slender chick. I'm quite fat. Normally this is not a problem for me but with the meds since Iris was born, not to mention the effects of 7 pregnancies, my belly has gotten out of control. Dieting has gotten me nowhere, and seeing all the specialists I do has not given me any answers about why I gain weight when I don't eat and do exercise, and depending on who you ask they mostly say weight loss surgery would not do anything for me because of that so it isn't an answer. And meanwhile my belly is getting in the way, making walking and washing and sex just more problematic. SO, while my docs figure all the weird weight gain stuff out, I am finding a plastic surgeon to have it taken off! My insurance should cover it because of the health issues it causes, and my life will be so much easier without it. It's kind of exciting.

Otherwise we're just waiting impatiently for spring here. Everywhere else in the country the snow is melting and signs of spring and appearing - not so here. We're still snowed under and frozen. At my parents place my mother is decorating her house with blooms from the garden. My brothers house, which is in a colder area with a cold snowy winter, already has crocus coming up through the snow. And here? It's like the fucking arctic tundra. Gardeners have a term called the Average Frost Free Date, the average date on which hard freezes end for the year. It helps you figure out when to plant. So guess when ours is? May 20th. Not March 20th, MAY 20th. Like 3 whole MONTHS away. And that's only an average, half the years i is frozen later than that. YAY.

I love where we live. No joke, I absolutely adore it and I never want to leave. I could be buried here and happily spend eternity going through these 4 seasons. I don't mind the winter, the snow, the hard cold. But this time of year is the only difficult thing, when the rest of the northern hemisphere is celebrating spring and we have months of frozen hard grey cold left to endure. One does get anxious to get outside or open a window eventually!

I'll try to keep up now that I've updated everything I can think of. It's just been a very non-talkative few weeks is all. Hope everyone is doing well.