Honoring my Heart

I recently reached out to a support group to share a journal entry I had written about my most recent counseling session.

I'm having a love-hate relationship with counseling right now. Mostly on the side of hate.

Too many things have happened that make me feel squeamish and uncomfortable. I feel my heart yelling, "THIS IS NOT SAFE!" because of things he has said and opinions he has shared that differ from my core beliefs.

As my wonderful sisters reached out to me to offer love and support, one of them pointed out that my description of my counselor and things he said (specifically yesterday) made her uncomfortable. She said she is learning to honor that in herself.

I need to honor that in myself as well. I am the type of person who always looks for the benefit of the doubt. So, even though I feel unsafe being vulnerable with my counselor, I keep telling myself things like, "He is a good guy," or "He was recommended to me by people who swear by him," or "He is a well sought-after LDS counselor in this area," or "Ben really likes him, though, and he is helping Ben a lot," and giving him the benefit of the doubt that somehow, eventually, I will feel safe and it will be a great counseling experience. I mean, in reality, he has done a lot of good for me. He has helped me see some things with more clarity. But that isn't outweighing the additional pains I am suffering because of things he has said to me.

My heart is screaming at me to get out and find someone else. Or just stop going to counseling altogether (because I can handle this on my own...which I know is probably not true and I know with a baby there will be all kinds of added stress that I will probably need help with anyway).

So, my goal for myself is to honor the feelings my heart is telling me. Not just with this situation, but in all things. God whispers. I need to focus on His whispers to my heart and allow myself to be open to what He is saying to me. Maybe this counselor was great for certain things. And maybe he is great for certain people. But not me. Not right now. So I think I need to listen to the red flags my heart is signaling.

Camp Scabs: The Warriors

I was blessed to have the opportunity to attend Camp Scabs last week. When Scabs told me I was the recipient of a scholarship, I cried. At the time, I didn't even know how much I would need this. I was also planning on attending Togetherness Project, but I have since decided not to due to the state of our finances (*tear*). Thus, Camp Scabs became my only source of real connection with women in my same situation, and right now my healing is in a very fragile place. I know many women applied for a scholarship, and I am so, so grateful I was one of the few recipients for this round.

Every women who has suffered betrayal trauma needs a safe place to go. We need connection, and that connection is so healing. Even though many people know my story and know I am dealing with this, I still can't openly talk about it like I can with my warrior sisters. Unless you've gone through it, chances are you don't know how to empathize with me. Because of the way our society is built, there is so much I have to keep inside.

With my warrior, there are no boundaries. We can develop friendships much faster, we develop trust more deep, and we develop a love so strong because of what has brought us together. We can openly joke and talk about sex and porn. We cry. We laugh. We "burn shit" and cry and laugh while doing it. My most vulnerable and safest friendships have formed because of the hell Ben's addiction has put me through.

Camp Scabs was simply beautiful. Each woman in attendance is full of grace, beauty, and strength. Each woman is a warrior. We have all been through so much pain, and sharing that pain with one another brought our group strength to carry on together.

It's hard for me to write about the specifics of Camp Scabs right now. I have so much on my mind, and the experiences I had over the weekend are so near and dear to my heart, that I just can't share it in detail with the world (although I'm positive that with time, little pieces of my thoughts and pain will come out as I process my walk through this mess).

I hope and pray that every woman suffering in the way we have suffered can find the support, love, and laughter she needs.

Empathy Fuels Connection

Even though we are in recovery and overall, things are going well, sometimes I feel super disconnected with Ben. It's hard to communicate, and I honestly feel selfish most of the time. I have felt these feelings of selfishness quite frequently lately, and I know some have some real grounds while others don't (because I'm depressed and think not-so-nice things about myself).

But Sunday night, I realized where some of my selfishness comes from: Empathy. Rather, lack of empathy.

I practice empathy with my friends. I try to practice empathy on myself (because sometimes if I don't empathize from an outside perspective, I will be really mean to myself). And I prefer people to show me empathy too. So, why why why do I rarely show Ben empathy?

Quite often, when he comes to me with something big--like struggles he is having with his job, our finances, our infertility, or the addiction--I tune out. I blame him. I "at least" him to death. I respond, rather than connect. Many of my responses drive a further wedge between us, and then I blame him for the disconnection we experience. Why? Because he is the addict, and I'm depressed, and everything is his fault! Duh.

Except it's not. Not everything is his fault. And sometimes I am selfish.

Watch this video:

Empathy fuels connection! It's feeling with people and sharing their sacred space that feels like a deep, dark hole.

Sometimes when Ben comes to me in his deep, dark hole, I respond kind of like, "Well, that sucks. Now listen to how depressed I am." "At least I don't look at porn too." "At least you're not going to be a mother. You have no idea the pain I feel with infertility." "Infertility would feel much harder if you were in my shoes. Because a lot of this is your fault anyway." "At least you have a job." The list could go on. And that list is selfish.

When I'm in a dark hole, Ben generally comes down to me and sits with me. But when Ben is in a dark hole, I tend to remind him who's fault it is that he is down there (not always, but way too often).

And I wonder why we feel disconnected.

In reality, it doesn't matter what kind of pain he feels. It doesn't matter what kind of pain anyone feels because PAIN IS PAIN. That person's pain is their reality. We have to understand that. Even if their pain looks small on the outside, to them, it's big. I'm positive we have all felt pain before. And we can use our reality of pain to connect. Connecting with your reality and understanding of the pain and darkness you have felt can be scary because it's vulnerable. And it can feel uncomfortable. But once we connect with our experiences, we can connect with the person in the dark hole and build connections and show empathy, which will help lessen the burden.

"I know what it's like down here, and you're not alone." That should be my response. That should be all of our responses to anyone's pain.

If I can't imagine the pain my husband feels when he is aching for owning his own business and the stress of providing for our family, that's okay. Because if he is in a dark place, and he is inviting me in to that sacred space, that space can be used to fuel our connection. I can connect with his pain because I have experienced pain of my own. I know that sacred place. (And if I don't know how to connect, I can say, "I don't know what to say. But thank you for trusting me with this." And then I can sit with him as long as he needs me to.)

And if, for some reason, I truly can't connect because of my own trauma and depression that is related to him, I can let him know in the most empathetic way that I can't be his support at that time. Because I do need to keep myself safe and hold on to my boundaries.

Empathy is what has been missing in my relationship with Ben. I don't connect to that piece of me that does understand his pain. Sometimes it's because I really and truly can't be vulnerable in that way because of what is happening in our marriage. But, especially lately, quite often, I can connect and choose not to.

I realized on Sunday, if I want our relationship to work (and obviously I do), I have to choose empathy. I have to start choosing to really connect with him on both of our terms, not just mine. There was a time when I really needed distance and space, and we couldn't be vulnerable. Now is the time to start being vulnerable in ways we haven't in a long time. I need to choose empathy. I need to choose vulnerability because that is what drives connection.

Our Recovery: Part 3 of "Our Recovery"

Credit

I've been kind of quiet on here for the past week. That's because I was preparing to make the big move... Yep. I'm officially in Texas with Ben. And we are officially working on our recovery.

I'll be honest and say I'm not a pro at this "our recovery" thing because I am in the thick of it. I can't look back and say THIS IS WHAT WORKS--DO THIS!!! because I'm not through it. I'm still in it. Besides, there is no one thing that works. Everyone is different. Every individual recovery is different, and every couple's recovery will be different.

That being said, these are my ideas and generalizations about what I have found to work and theories about what can work. I do have a few years of experience working on our recovery, and I've certainly found things that do and don't work (for us). As always, I'm not saying this is 100% what you need to do. Because it's not. This is about what I've found to work from my experience and what I've heard friends say. But, like I said, there is no one thing that works.

Please feel free to add additional ideas and thoughts in the comments. I'm sure people reading this could use more than just what I have to say.

Our Recovery

It's important to note that in the past, when I've only focused on us and our recovery, things haven't worked out super well. I mean, I guess things work out okay for us for a time, but then the stress of everything takes its toll. If I'm not taking care of my recovery, our relationship will suffer. The same goes for him, especially since he is the addict. If he is not taking care of his recovery, the relationship will suffer. He needs to be in recovery. If he is not in recovery, then our life consists of him committing adultery (in his head...porn/masturbation/fantasies/lust), lies, deceit, manipulation, and all the other fun stuff addiction comes with. Then our life consists of me hating the addiction and, in turn, my loss of love for him. And eventually, I would give up because it just wouldn't be worth it.

Some people can accept the fantasyland, though. Or some people can accept it for now because they hope in the future, things will change. It all depends on your expectations, desires, and hopes. We all have our own expectations for our marriage, and that is okay and normal (we are, after all, individuals). I can't accept it, and if he is not in recovery--which is crucial to me and my ideas of our recovery--then our marriage is in jeopardy.

If I am not in recovery, then I'm just giving, giving, giving and losing myself in the marriage. Or maybe I'm living in constant fear and losing myself. There are so many consequences of me not living in recovery.

What it comes down to for me is that we both need to have solid, individual recovery underway for any efforts towards our recovery to work.

Right now, I'm in recovery. I'm taking a break from life to be in full-fledged recovery and get my feet under me, something I know I am extremely blessed to be able to do.

Ben is also in recovery. He is working recovery like I have never seen before. He has had a change of heart, and I have a lot of hope for us.

The feelings and emotions I have about where we are right now are a different post for another day. The gist of it is, though, that we have been in a bad place recently. As written, he completely broke me and my idea of what our marriage has been. In February, I suffered through a horrible disclosure (which was part of his change of heart--to tell me so many things he had consistently lied about since we were dating), and everything came crashing down around me. I went into a severe depression and set new boundaries (also another post).

I just moved back in with him. We were separated for two months. The separation was due to his new job, which was a tremendous blessing (also another post. Haha) both for the money and the timing of separation. During that two months, he had time to really evaluate what he wanted from his life and what he wanted with the addiction. He spiraled down (and I pray it was rock bottom), and now we are on the upward climb. Together.

When he decided to choose recovery, we agreed on one month to continue living apart. During that time, we could both get our recoveries underway. He found a sponsor (something I've begged him to do for at least two years) and is living with a recovery mind-set.

The one month came and went, and now we are back together. But after living through hell and living apart for two months (which, I realized, is a lot longer than it sounds. We got out of many habits, and I started turning to other people as my primary sources of support and love), we are out of practice of being married. Or at least that is how it feels to me.

These are the keys to our recovery:

--First, you (both) have to choose recovery: If your heart isn't in it and you aren't willing to make sacrifices for the relationship's recovery, it won't work. I've learned that from experience. He may want recovery, but if I'm not willing to give the relationship a shot, no matter how many motions I go through, we will not be in recovery. That doesn't mean don't be safe and hold to your boundaries. It just means choose recovery.

--Boundaries: Boundaries are so important to our relationship. I think we both need boundaries to respect the privacy of our individual recoveries but also to protect our relationship and bring us closer together. For example, one boundary that I think needs to be in place (maybe not now, but at some point as he gains more trust) is that we are both each other's #1s. That is a boundary that would protect our relationship. Ideally, I would be going to him first about everything. I used to, but as our relationship was broken down, I stopped. Now I have specific support people I go to first about somethings. I want it to be him. If he is my husband, he should be my #1.

--Vulnerability/Emotional Intimacy: Vulnerability is hard. Being vulnerable means you will experience pain, heartache, and fear. But it also means you can experience higher levels of the positive emotions too, like love and trust. This doesn't mean we are 100% vulnerable all the time. As we are a little bit vulnerable, we gain a little bit of trust. That trust opens the door to more vulnerability, which opens the door to more trust. I've already seen this working in our marriage, and even though my heart has been broken, stomped on, and tossed in the trash (dramatic, anyone?), I'm feeling healing taking place as I step a little out of my comfort zone to be a little more vulnerable every day.

--Respect: We need to respect our individual recoveries and the time that must be spent there so we can both be made whole. We need to respect our boundaries. And we need to respect the vulnerability and each other's emotions. As we respect each other, we will gain love and trust.

--Service: I've heard it said that you love those you serve. Well, okay, I've also experienced that so it's totally true to me. You love those you serve. When I did the Love Dare last summer, it really helped increase my love for Ben. When I taught high school, I really loved my students. When I served in young women's, I loved my Miamaids. When I've given service of any kind, I have truly loved those I've served. As trust is gained, I will serve him more (and I hope he will serve me more too). It helps me put focus on him and forget about me a little bit. It has increased my love for him in the past, so I know it will prove useful as we work on our recovery.

I tried to think of more keys to our recovery, but as I thought, everything I came up with falls into the categories I've already created or comes as a result of those categories.

So, let me just tell you my story of how I've decided to approach our recovery as I moved back in:



I had a nice six-hour drive to think about things as I left Arkansas and drove to Texas. During the drive, I kept asking myself, and God, what I needed to do. I was so afraid (I'm still afraid) of our relationship and what it would bring. As I thought, the conclusion I came to is that we need to start over. 

Last week, while talking on the phone, I asked Ben what he thought were reasonable expectations, given where he is in recovery and the things our marriage has suffered through. His response was, "Well, I think it's reasonable for you to expect zero tolerance of the addiction. I've used so many excuses in the past, and I have none left. I have to be in recovery, and I have to live addiction-free."

I'm glad he recognized that because if he had made excuses, I don't know what I would have done. It was very vulnerable of me to even pose that question, and we had a good conversation out of it.

So, since we are living zero-tolerance of the addiction, and since I have suffered in so many ways, and I have been feeling like our love is lost, I decided it's time to start over. I fell in love with him once, right? I could do it again.

Friday night, we went on a date [by the way, if you've been following my blog, I guess now is a good time to tell you I moved Friday instead of Thursday. Just so you aren't confused.]. We live a mile from Chuy's, so we walked there and talked. Back when we were dating, we always went on walks and had good conversations. That was one of the things I loved: we always had something to talk about. And he was super easy to talk to (except for our first date, which was super awkward and he grilled me). On our date, we discussed boundaries.

As a boundary, I told him we are starting over. We were now officially in the dating stage, and this was our first date. We didn't really hold hands or anything (I mean, seriously, that would be so forward for a first date :D). We just talked and laughed and had a really good time. We rented the new Thor movie on Redbox, and he kind of put his arm around me towards the end of the movie, and I kind of leaned into him a little bit--but not for very long because it freaked me out a little.

Since that "first date", we have taken things rather slowly (to me. I mean we are married, so it's going a little quicker than a real dating relationship probably would). We have had good conversations. We have been emotionally intimate, vulnerable, and present. We have shown respect for each other. Things are progressing well. I still have to be careful and steady with the progression of things. But "starting over" has taken pressure off the table for physical intimacy and made the other things that build a good relationship a priority.

I feel like this plan generates a lot of hope. I think over time, as we choose each other, enforce boundaries, are vulnerable, treat each other with respect, and give service to one another, we will feel the desire to choose each other grow stronger every day. We are still in a rough position. And I'm kind of impatient, so I keep asking myself how long this dating stage will last. I want more (which is good because that tells me the plan for recovery and love is working), but I also know that my heart is still broken and my trust shattered, so I HAVE to be patient and let things heal with time.

There is no rush to recovery. We just have to take it one day at a time and know that God is guiding and directing us. 

Oh I guess I should mention prayers/scripture study/family home evening. Those are very intimate and vulnerable things, and we did not do them together when we were dating. So while we are "dating" we will grow our friendship and desire to be together. And when the trust and healing comes stronger, we will add in those things. I know it's important to keep God in our relationship. Trust me, I've had plenty of people tell me that. We are doing that as we pray together at night, and I pray for him in my personal prayers. But I'm not being that vulnerable with him yet, and I think that is perfectly fine for our situation.

Anyway, I have hope for our marriage. And every time I admit that I feel super vulnerable.
Things are healing. That's all I can ask for.


Read Part 1: His Recovery, here
Read Part 2: My Recovery, here

An Unexpected Lesson Learned

On Thursday night I went visiting teaching. If you aren't LDS (Mormon), I'll give you a little background. If you are, feel free to skip this part.

In our church, we have a women's organization called the Relief Society. There are three purposes of this organization: 1) Increase faith and personal righteousness, 2) Strengthen families and homes, and 3) Seek out and help those in need. As part of fulfilling those purposes, we have what is called visiting teaching. To put it simply, we are assigned a companion (there is power and strength in numbers) and are asked to visit specific women in our congregation each month. As we visit these women, we focus on meeting their needs (physical, emotional, etc.) and being a spiritual strength to one another. Ideally, we become friends who really and truly care about one another. When visiting teaching is done right, it is a very fulfilling and uplifting experience on all sides and a truly inspired program.

This month I was assigned a new companion and my list of people to visit changed. I went with my companion to visit a lady who hadn't had visiting teachers come in a long time, and she also hasn't come to church in a long time. We were a little nervous to visit her, but we had an amazingly fantastic visit. I could write tons about what I learned just about the process of visiting teaching that night, but that's not what I'm writing about. I want to write about what I learned about hardships, strength, and vulnerability from this particular visit.

In this post, I will refer to my companion as Ashley and the lady we were visiting as Melissa (not their real names).

As we chatted and to get to know one another, Ashley said, "Melissa, I want to know what has been your hardest trial along with your greatest success in the past month." Melissa thought for a second, but she didn't come up with anything right away (and let's be honest, she probably felt very on the spot). Ashley asked me if I would start. I thought for a second, and then I felt the Spirit burn within my heart, and I shared a very recent story that I will summarize here:

You all know that I've had a hard time lately. Ben recently moved to TX to start his new job, and I've been back in Arkansas fulfilling my responsibilities at school (and learning about more porn, more lies, and having very uncomfortable disclosures, so...). To say it has been hard is minimal. The past month has been among the most hellish of any month since I've been married and have faced the world of porn and infidelity. I didn't go into details with Ashley and Melissa about what is going on in my marriage other than simply saying we are having a really hard time, and he has done some pretty bad things to our relationship, and I would be warranted in getting a divorce if I really wanted to right now. So with that and everything that has happened recently, I've put a lot of thought and prayer in making a HUGE decision. That decision was to resign from my teaching job. Teaching has been my dream since as long as I can remember. But because I've been so depressed this whole school year, and I've given so much time and energy to my school and my students, and because my relationship with my husband is suffering so badly (along with other stressors such as finances, medical, infertility, and so on), I feel that I have to quit right now. It's brought a lot of heartache and mourning (but as my counselor-friend pointed out just yesterday, I need to mourn this stuff and also realize that mourning is different from regret. I don't regret my decision, I'm just mourning my losses right now). Making the decision to quit and move to TX at the end of this month is one of the hardest decisions I've ever made. Telling my principal was one of the hardest things I've ever done. And I'm anticipating something even harder: telling my students. They will be heartbroken because, not to brag or anything, they love me. I'm a great teacher, and I have a way with teenagers. I love them, and they love me. So this is just really hard.

But this exhaustingly hard experience has also been my greatest strength this month. I feel strong in the process I've taken to make this decision. I feel strong in my faith in God and my ability to follow His plan and give my will over to Him. I know I'm doing the right thing for God, my future, my relationship with Ben, and my mental/emotional health. I know I need time right now, and I don't have that time while I'm giving my all to my students.

I feel strength surging through me. I know God is giving me strength and peace as I take these baby steps closer to Him. I know without a doubt I am doing the right thing even though it is scary and hard.

As I talked to these women about my hardship and strength, we all felt the Spirit very strongly in the room. As Ashley and Melissa both told their stories, I discovered something. I've already known this, but it was  very validated by the Spirit that night: Our hardest times can lead to our greatest strengths and the greatest blessings. Both Ashley and Melissa's hardest trial and greatest strength were related, just as mine were. I thought it was amazing how each one of us were thinking of two stories to share--one hard and one strengthening--and we all three ended up sharing one story that incorporated both of those elements.

It's true that our hardest times can lead to our greatest strengths and blessings. Haven't I seen that over and over? Because of this trial (the porn crap) in my life, I have gained strength I never knew was possible at my young age. I have a strong testimony of and strength in the Atonement. I have strong faith and ability to understand the Spirit and follow God's will. I'm not perfect by any means, but I know I have grown in insane amounts over the past three years. This trial has also given me great blessings, not only in my strength, but particularly in the friendships I have formed as I have sought healing. And a stronger vulnerability in my marriage. Stronger hope in my marriage. Stronger understanding of the gospel. Everything good is directly related to the bad and hard. I can't hate this experience because if I hated it or wished it away, I wouldn't have all the good I have now.

I said at the beginning of this post that my visiting teaching experience on Thursday taught me about hardships, strength, and vulnerability. Here is what I learned about vulnerability: Vulnerability is crucial. It's simple, but listen to how I learned it.

As I said, Ashley and I didn't know Melissa at all. She hadn't been to church in a long time, and she hadn't had any visiting teachers visit her in an even longer time. We started with small talk and asking the usual questions. But then Ashley boldly expressed very real things. She talked about her "pet peeves" with visiting teaching and promised Melissa that she would not be that kind of visiting teacher to her. As she talked, she said, "We are now officially friends. I'm not ever going to ask you what we can do for you when we visit you. Because we are friends, and when friends are in need, we tell each other. And when we think our friends are in need and they haven't told us, we act on it anyway." As she talked, both Melissa and I cried because of the spirit and light Ashley carried as she was vulnerable with Melissa. With that vulnerability, we all had an instant bond and an increase in trust.

The other part that taught me about vulnerability was the question Ashley asked during the "getting to know you" chatting: "Tell me about your hardest trial and your greatest strength in the past month." That opened up a very honest, vulnerable, and spiritual conversation. We got to know one another on a much deeper level than I have ever experienced on a first visiting teaching visit. I left that house feeling a bond with both Ashley and Melissa. I left feeling trust, not only in them, but in God.

I'm working on vulnerability in my marriage. It's hard because my trust has not just been broken, it's been shattered. But I'm finding as I am vulnerable with my husband, even in the smallest ways, it mends something broken in our relationship.

There is power in vulnerability. Granted, it's hard. It's so hard to be vulnerable, open, and honest when your husband has been a liar and a sneak. There are many levels of vulnerability, and it works best when both people are vulnerable with one another. Right now I'm being a surface level of vulnerability with my husband. But I know that our relationship can't grow stronger without that vulnerability. As we are both vulnerable, I feel things mending and strengthening, and it gives me hope for my marriage in the future.

This visit taught me a great lesson. Sure things are hard right now, but I am counting my blessings. And sure, sometimes I have no clue what to do with my relationship with Ben, but I have tools to use, and I'm learning the power of vulnerability. Things are good. They are hard, but they really are beautiful.