|
by Anonymous
I knew he had been looking at porn before we got together, and since he had been single for a while, I understood (although I hated it) and never really thought it was a big deal. I never really gave it much thought at all. Until one day, about six months after we were married, I noticed how rarely we were having sex. (Having sex, not making love. Didn't really realize that distinction til after.) Since we both have really high libidos—a match made in heaven in that regard, as well as many others—I figured out in a flash that the masturbation was cutting into my action!
I said hey, that’s got to stop, that stuff is stealing our intimacy.
He said he understood and agreed, and that he would stop… but then I caught him red-handed just a few days later. I was so angry, for him giving the images on the computer what was mine and only mine, according to the promises of fidelity we made to each other when we got married, and even before that.
He said he was sorry, he tried to stop, but he was unable to stop looking at porn. He was literally not able to stop. I called him a few choice names, kicked his computer (smashed in the front of it, as I had some pretty solid boots on), and went back to work.
Unable to focus at work, I went home again, and found the computer sitting inside the front door (for him to take it to be fixed, I guess). I took the computer out of the house and back to work with me... then after work that day, when everyone had gone home, I looked through everything on his computer to see what he had been looking at.
Having been careful enough to erase all traces of proof, there was nothing to be found... except a single email in the trash that had not been deleted. When I went to the web site I could not believe what I saw. It was totally immoral and disgusting, and I am no prude—this was BAD. I made one phone call, to an organization to report the web site. While I talked to the guy on the phone he told me they get 1500 reports a WEEK about sites like these—more than they could even start to investigate.
I had unwittingly entered a dark world that I previously didn’t even think about. It took me a few hours to gather my composure… I can’t even tell you what I did when I got off the phone with the nice man at the bad website reporting organization. I do remember wondering how in the world someone could do what they do for a living... to protect and rescue innocent human beings from exploitation. After what I'd just seen on my husband's computer, I knew that they must have guts of steel. I was sickened, appalled, incredulous, furious, but not stupid… I knew I needed to take the time to calm down and be sure that I wasn't going to kill my husband when I went home. I actually went kind of dead inside. I had to. I could barely tolerate the intensity of the feelings that were rushing through me.
When I went home, I calmly told my husband what I had found and he started to tremble and cry, totally ashamed, and surely terrified of what I would do. He said he couldn't stop looking at porn, and he had tried for years to stop. He said that it took more and more extreme and weird stuff to get aroused (which we now know to be the pattern of porn addiction), and he was disgusted with himself. I told him, “Here's what you're going to do: I am going downstairs to our son's bedroom,” (thank God my teenage son was out of town for two weeks, he didn't have to witness any of this). “I'm going to lock myself in that room, and when I wake up in the morning I want you gone.”
I hated him, and I told him so, for lying to me every day, while I trusted him in every way, especially the infidelity. He did not argue or try to defend himself, his guilt and shame were so overwhelming, he just nodded his head yes.
In the morning, after a fitful night's sleep, I came out of the room and he had respected my wishes—he was gone. I did not know what to do. Who could I talk to about it, who could I tell? We live in a very small, remote town, and I was ashamed, even though I had done nothing wrong. My son has a promising sports career ahead of him, and I knew if the media got a hold of this, it would be harmful to him too. I could not let that happen, my son had worked so hard for so long to get where he was. Such good reasons to keep it to myself.
I didn't even feel that I could talk to my favorite pastor, as sweet and kind and loving and wonderful as he is... he thinks the world of us, and I didn't want him or his wife to know about this ugliness.
I lay on the couch most of the day, numb. I had no answers, no solutions, only the cold steel knife of betrayal through my heart, and the shattered pieces of what used to be my soul. I thought of my poor husband... as much as I hated him for what he had been doing behind my back every day of our lives together, I could not help but feel compassion for his helplessness. This is a sweet, sensitive, loving, happy, laughing man, a wonderful husband and father. I remembered once hearing about how when someone starts drinking, they never think in a million years that they could some day have a problem with it and not be able to stop drinking whenever they want to, as many people can't. I kept hearing him in my mind what he said to me: that he was not able to stop using porn although he wanted to so badly, and tried to stop so many times. It made me think of alcoholics, or any addict for that matter, and I understood.
That day was a blur. I was numb, and I had no idea what to do next. Thank God it was a Saturday and I didn't have anything I really had to do. After a good night's sleep, I woke up thinking, I miss my best friend. It was Easter, the day of rebirth. Even though I didn't really feel like I knew this man anymore, I knew I could not live with myself throwing him out on the street in his hour of most extreme need—that's just not me. So I texted him and told him I wanted him to come home. He was relieved, terrified, contrite, ashamed, guilty, hopeful. He had already talked to several of his friends about what had happened (since he was staying at one of their houses), and had been surprised to have received a lot of support. One of them, a recovering alcoholic, suggested that he attend a few AA meetings, that the 12 steps could be applied to all addictions. It sounded so positive and hopeful for him, but through my eyes now I could only see this creepy lying pervert who I had thought was someone else... a man that I had loved, trusted, connected with and admired enough to marry and bring into my family… my soulmate... betrayed and confused doesn’t even begin to explain how I felt.
With his blessing I immediately put passwords on all the computers in the house, blocked the TV stations and programs that were over a certain maturity rating (age 14), taken over the finances (as I had also discovered he had subscribed to some porn websites)... protected him as much as I could. My husband is in between jobs, and work in our small town is hard to find, so he has way too much free time. For a couple weeks I was actually what is termed a "co-addict"—obsessively thinking about what he was doing all the time, checking in with him every half hour or so when I was at work, freaking out if he didn't answer the phone or text me back right away—very unhealthy. As soon as I read about this phenomenon on one of the websites I had been researching for help, and recognized what I had been doing, I stopped.
As the days and weeks dragged on, he went to the local 12-step (AA) meetings every day, twice a day when they were available, and drove three hours round trip to the nearest sex-addict anonymous meeting once a week. I watched him change, as he shared every phase of his triumphs and transformations with me. Focusing on my job was difficult, but it saved my sanity, as it is very brain-intensive work, and I had to concentrate completely to get it done. Nobody at work knew what was going on of course, and I got caught up before anyone found out I was behind.
As this was happening, as he was bravely facing and defeating his lifelong fears with the support of the groups and books, and with my “support” (not kicking him out and divorcing him although I had every right and reason to do so) …I felt myself being left behind. He found ways to conquer this monster that had been plaguing him for most of his life, with his days being spent working the program, talking to people in the support groups, getting referrals to other folks to talk to, reading everything he could find, recognizing his triggers and re-wiring his brain patterns to avoid getting anywhere near the feelings that used to pull him in, and essentially refusing to let Satan anywhere near his soul. He still has not been on a computer, and said he will not do it without me being right there with him.
After the first 30 days I found that I did not hate him anymore—I had never seen anyone work so hard to do the right thing, to fix what had been broken, and he gave me much of the credit for my strength and support during this difficult time. When I became overwhelmed with what had been put upon me by him—which happened almost daily, usually when he shared a new insight or triumph with me—I would crumble and cry and yell at him for putting me through this and ruining my life and our future... and he would just take it. He had been told by all of his supporters to let me vent, not to defend himself, to just live right and everything else would sort itself out. Then after each tirade, I felt worse, guilty, like I was punishing him for getting better. But as he was getting better, I was sinking slowly into a depression I had no idea how to get out of. I used to be the happiest person you knew, always able to see the bright side of any situation, and I realized that I could no longer even smile. When I did it felt forced. I couldn't even remember the last time I really laughed. I did not want to be that sour woman. I wanted to be my sweet, happy, laughing, lighthearted old self again.
The other morning I woke up crying again... I actually said "oh no, not another day..." I have read everything on all the spouse-of-sex-addict support websites, I have ordered 5 books that have not arrived yet... but I could see that I am actually going to have to go talk to somebody. I started seeing two counselors, one is a sex-addiction specialist my husband is also seeing, a three hour round trip drive away. The other is a grief specialist, a lovely, compassionate woman here in town that I can't be totally honest with, as she does not specialize in addiction, let alone the horrific stuff I’m dealing with. So I am getting help, albeit fragmented.
Before I went to see the sex-addiction therapist my husband is also seeing, he had told my husband he wanted me to come in if I would, because it would help him work with my husband knowing where I was coming from. I kind of feel that is my role there... this kindly old man can help my husband, and help me understand sexual addiction (more than I probably want to know), but whether or not he can help ME remains to be seen. So far I feel like part of a case study or something. I've only just started seeing him though.
One of the worst things that I’ve dealt with so far was the full disclosure part of the twelve-step process. The addict has to do what they call a fearless moral inventory, where they actually have to figure out what days, what times of day, etc., they went for the porn, as part of their understanding of what the triggers are, so that they can know when they were approaching a dangerous situation, and have an alternative ready, so they don’t relapse. Then with that information there’s the 100% honesty part where your husband tells you everything… when the addiction started, the whole history of the addiction, you name it. I thought, well finally I will know everything about my husband. This is not as cool as it sounds, and it takes a great deal of courage on your part as well as his. I actually had to stop him at a certain point, I already couldn’t handle what I had discovered on his computer, and my morbid fascination was not as strong as my instinct for self-preservation. For example, he told me he had only been looking at the stuff I found on his computer for a short time, and I’m thinking, thank God, like once or twice… then I asked him how long and he says a couple years… I knew I had to stop him. I have always known and been told that God does not give you more than you can handle, but I don’t think I believe that anymore. Also I now know that I’m not quite as tough as I thought. Apparently there is a textbook progression in porn addiction stimulus that the normal person can not imagine… I learned it from the sex-addict counselor, who just rattled it off like… a textbook. Factual. Horrifying. He told me before I could stop him. Now I can’t get it out of my head. It is unfathomable, unbearable.
The nice grief counselor lady in town is telling me I have to figure out what I need, she says that's what I have to think about right now. Let’s see: my only child is on his way to college, my husband’s problems have turned life as I know it inside out so that I can barely function, both our families—parents, siblings, their kids—are coming out in a couple weeks for my son's high school graduation, I have parties to plan and money to come up with… and she's telling me to think about what I need? I know exactly what I need! I need to change the channel… like when you're watching a movie and it gets too scary or sad, and you change over to the comedy channel? THAT's what I need! But I can’t find the remote…
And then, just like that, I’m sick of it. I can’t deal with it, think about it, read about it, write about it for one more minute. Will the horrific images in my mind ever go away? Are they still in my husband’s mind? (I guess we never know about that one really, anyway.) So I will take my sweet doggies for a twilight walk by the river, appreciate every other wonderful thing that I have in my life… and wonder if I will ever be able to make love with the man that found himself aroused by stuff that sickens me beyond comprehension.
—Porn addict’s wife, six weeks into his recovery
Tags: porn addict sex addict recovery from porn addiction spouse of porn addict wife of sex addict
|
|
