HOLY CRAP.

I'm pregnant again.

So I guess I'm in AA now.

I seem to have hit bottom. It was Babykins birthday party. I drank too much. Way too much. So much that I blacked out. At my son's first birthday party. And apparently I fed him, bathed him, and nursed him, all blacked out. Jesus fucking Christ. That's not good. Thank God we're all okay. But I don't want that for my son. I don't want that for my husband. And I sure as hell don't want that for me. I felt so ashamed the next day. And husband was pissed. He's not said a word to me about my drinking since the discovery of his sex addiction 2 1/2 years ago. He tried to talk to me about it, but I was so upset and so ashamed that I couldn't take it.

So I started going to AA meetings last week. And I'm definitely an alcoholic. Definitely. No doubts about it. Anyway. That's it for now. I'll talk more about this another time. Maybe I'll change the name to My Husband is a Sex Addict and I'm an Alcoholic.

Yeah, I've got a problem with alcohol

Back when husband was acting out, this was our pattern. I'd come home from work, usually late, usually around 9 pm, we'd crack open a bottle of wine, we'd eat dinner, then husband would escape into the front room and do his acting out, meeting ladies (supposedly) online for their hours of cyber-sex while I sat in our bedroom on our bed sipping on red wine and entering sweepstakes online. Really, that's what every night looked like. We were both escaping. Now, things are different.

But not really.

My anxiety went through the roof after babykins came into the picture, as did my insomnia. At about 4 months post-partum, I developed a raging dependence on benzos. Ativan & Xanax. I know about people who are very addicted to benzos, and I'm not really in that realm, but I was taking about .25 - .50 mg of ativan to help me sleep each night.   I also started drinking again pretty quickly after I delivered the baby. I don't mean drinking with a capital D. I mean drinking. One dark beer each night. Rationalizing-- it's good for my milk supply.

 Then I knew I had to quit the benzos so I did.  Because, yes, I was breastfeeding my son with benzos in my body. Again, not high levels, very low levels, my prescription said not to breastfeed him within 6 hours of taking .5 mg of ativan. But usually he'd wake up and I'd nurse him.  Please don't comment and lecture me. I hate myself for it.  I also had some xanax hanging around the house (it's husbands) which I would take when ativan wasn't cutting it.

I also take either benadryl or 1/2 of a unisom to fall asleep each night.

Goddamnit. I want to be able to sleep without medication. I really do. 

Now, I think I can quit benzos because of the mere fact that we only have about 5 xanax left. They're going to run out and I won't have them.

But that leaves me to alcohol. I drink every night.  Usually one glass of wine or one beer. Sometimes two. And then, every once in a while, usually on a Thursday or Friday night, it's 3.

Last night was bad. It was one glass of wine while watching the world series. Then one beer after babykins went to sleep. Then a xanax (a whole .5 mg pill, I usually only take a half) then a glass of wine, then 2 benadryls.  I passed out.

Then woke up with raging anxiety about how fucking much I hate myself.


I have been waking up in the middle of the night with anxiety about how much I hate myself because of drinking alcohol for 20 years.   I know that drinking 1-3 drinks isn't DRINKING the way drinking is for many. But I hate it.

I hate it.

I fucking hate it.

And I make these grandiose statements about quitting booze all the time.


And I go for one day. Sometimes I can go for two.  But alcohol has such a fucking grip on me that it feels impossible. I feel like the urge is impossible to contain.

If I were my Psychologist, I'd tell me to get thee to an AA immediately. Not to think about it, just do it. Be in the program. Be part of the program. Find a women's meeting. If I were my patient, I'd have all the typical excuses that I have. I don't want people to see me. I don't have time. I don't want to never drink again.... Then Psychologist me would remind patient me that I don't never have to drink again. That it's one day at a time. Then patient me would say, "yeah...but..." then psychologist me would tell me that my alcoholism is making excuses for me not to go. Then patient me would get angry and reject the disease model. Then Psychologist me would say, "yes, the disease model is not for everyone..." and ask me to just think about it, to just check out a few meetings. Patient me would agree.

Thank god I'm not my own shrink. I feel like an exhausting patient.


Meanwhile, I don't want to drink anymore. I really don't.  Not the way I do.

I'm not going to say that I'm planning on being sober for 30 days or 90 days or a week even. But I'm going to say that I'm not going to drink just for today. And if I need a drink really badly, I'm going to try to write about it here.

Husband is not the only addict in the family. And I don't want babykins to grow up with parents who drink in the home. I don't want him to have a problem with alcohol. The only way to help that is to be a good example. I can't control him and what he does or doesn't do as he becomes an adult in years to come, but I can control myself, and I can be a better person, and if he grows up with two loving, centered, grounded parents, that might be a better way for him to grow up, he might have a better shot at life.

I want to be balanced. I want to sleep without drugs. I want to be grounded. I want to meditate daily. I want my body to be filled with healthy food and fruit and vegetables and not wine and ice cream and beer and hotdogs. (I don't eat hot dogs).

I want to be free from the fucking grip that alcohol has on me.

Fuck you wine.

Fuck you TV shows that have women sitting around with wine glasses all the time. Fuck articles in the NY times touting that 2-3 glasses of red wine each night is the secret elixer to a long life. Fuck anything that helps me to justify my habit.

My Heart Hurts

Husband, Babykins and I raced across the country to see family. Husband is on his way back home now and Babykins and me are staying here for the week. I am so, so, so very sad. I lost my mother ten years ago. Now it looks like I'm soon going to be losing my stepmother. I love her so very much. She means the world to me. Husband is being great. Dealing with my pain. Taking care of the baby, taking care of me, of us. Still doing his program. I'm happy I stuck it out with him. Babykins is still a blessing.

I hate cancer.

So my stepmother is sick with cancer and I'm scared to death that she's going to die. She's been with the ovarian cancer for the past 6 years, and now, after treatments, remission, etc, it's been spreading and aggressively growing. I fucking hate cancer. My mother dying when I was in my 20's was traumatic. My stepmother, who is my best friend in the world, if I lose her, I don't know what I'll do with myself. I'm a fucking wreck right now. I'm such a wreck. I feel so lonely. Husband has me living 3000 miles away from my family because of his job. His job is something that he cares about very much. But doesn't make him very much money. For that I am resentful. I missed out on my Mom and I don't want to miss out again. I'm miserable. I hate being so far away. Locked up with Husband and no where near my family.

Anxiety

Here are things I like about being a Mommy: The Baby
Here are things I don't like about being a Mommy: Everything except the baby.

Oh the baby is more than I could have ever asked for. He's beautiful and sweet, he laughs at everything, and lights up when he sees me, lights up even more when he sees Daddy.

But Mommy is a wreck. My body is tored up. Not just from my C-section and pregnancy (it's been 7 months already). But by lack of sleep. I keep getting sick. Like really sick. My anxiety is through the roof, so even if the baby can sleep, I can't. We moved him into his own room last week and it's been horrible for me. I keep watching him on the baby monitor and I can't see his little body moving, so I can't detect breath, so I have to get up and walk into his room to see if he's breathing. I do that many, many times a night. I am getting migraines, I am getting sore throats and bad colds constantly. And did I mention my hernia from carrying him? And my inability to digest gluten? My stomach is wrecked. And I've become agorophobic. I'm afraid of being outside without him. Afraid that someone will kill me and leave him without me. I'm afraid that because I'm not sleeping and my immune system is compromised, I'm going to get cancer and die. I'm afraid (really afraid) that someone is going to break into our apartment in the middle of the night and kill us.

To make matters worse, husband has been working late for the past 2 weeks. Last Friday night he didn't even get home till close to 11. I was by myself watching Forrest Gump. I watched it once before, 18 years ago with my boyfriend at the time. I was high. I laughed at all  inappropriate moments. That wasn't good.  I got one of my friends to give me a prescription for Ativan (I'm a psychologist so I have lots of friends who can do things like that). She made me promise that I wouldn't take it and breastfeed for 6 hours. I've been taking 1/2 of the lowest dose possible it each night before I go to sleep, after the baby is down. But there's no way it's 6 hours until I breastfeed again. So then I sit there and ruminate about how I'm totally fucking up the baby's brain.  I finally made an appointment with a therapist. But I'm a horrible therapy client. I really am. I would never want me as a client. I'm what my kinds calls "resistant."  I also made an appointment with an acupuncturist and a meditation lady because I need a little self care that has nothing to do with the baby.

I'm also in the process of publishing a book on something psychology related. I like this blog because I can put my fucking a mess parts up here and no one will know it's me. Because I'm a fucking mess inside right now. But outside, you should see me. I present like I've got all my shit together. HAHAHA! If anyone knew. If my clients knew how anxious I am. How I use and abuse alcohol, pills, food.  Not excessively. But still, I do. I'm so far from perfect. Which is fine. I don't expect to be, nor do I need to be. But this time of life is so, so very hard.

I miss my Mommy like crazy. She's dead. She's been dead for 10 years. I watched her die of a disgusting disease. She was 54. When I'm 54 my baby will be 17 years old. I hope he doesn't have to watch me die.   I cry for my mom all the time. I feel so alone here on the other side of the country from the rest of my family.  I hate husband for keeping me on this stupid coast that's full of *annoying ass fuckers. I hate him for keeping me here because he loves his less than 70,000 per year job. I used to be the breadwinner, but now I have to take care of baby. And I'm so fucking tired. Goddamnit I'm tired. And I'm sick. I'm so fucking sick with whatever cough/cold/sore throat. And my body hurts. My neck and shoulders hurt. Like hell. I popped a vicodin yesterday leftover from my C-section. It made me feel worse. I suffered all day long with a goddamned migraine.

And I feel like a single parent because husband is always fucking working. Stupid fucking workaholic just for the sake of having to do everything to the extreme. I know he's working and not acting out, before you ask.

My body and mind are on hyper alert and all I want to do is sleep. I need sleep. I'm depressed, I'm anxious, I'm a wreck.

Thanks for listening.


*this should read "annoying-ass fuckers" not "annoying ass-fuckers," this is not meant to be homophobic or critical of anal love making. 

I still exist

Hi There blog. I love you. I really do. You are the one thing that has helped me process through  Husband's recovery. You have always been there for me and never let me down, and still continue to be here for me after months of not posting. And yet I neglect you. It's not you. It's me. And the new man in my life. He takes up all my time. I have to tell you that he's much, much younger than you, and has been keeping me up all hours of the night. Not only am I the center of his universe, not only does he love me more than he loves anyone one else in the world, but he's totally obsessed with my boobs. He also loves to cuddle and when he looks into my eyes, I feel like everything is right with the world. I never thought that I could love anyone as much as I love him.  Don't feel bad. I'm still here and I still care about you as much as ever... But I'm just not as into you anymore. You don't consume my life and my thoughts like you once did.  There's someone who is more important in my world. Oh I'll check in when I can. I really will. You stick around and wait for me, because I still NEED you. I do. And when the man in my life becomes less enchanted with me (in 13 years or so) I will really need you. But for now, please be satisfied with my periodic check-ins and know that I am here and I still love you.

kisses,

Laney.

Oh the baby!

Sorry it's been so long since I've written, and of course my time is very limited while my little one is in his swing, quiet. But I had a baby in early November. I was induced and was in labor for 4 days before they finally gave me a C-section.
I love being a Mommy and love my baby. I do, however have lots of reservations about being a new mom at 37 years old, almost 38. I never felt old until my baby came out, so young. But of course had he come earlier I'd have to deal with a new baby and either finding out about SA or a disengaged spouse. Husband is keeping up with his meetings and groups and therapy. Which I like, but sometimes I'm resentful that he gets support and time out while I'm our son's primary caretaker. Other than that, I'm happy. I can't get enough of the baby. He's so sweet and cuddly and beautiful and brilliant. He's the most fascinating person I know.  I don't think that he's going to be a Sex Addict.
Husband comes from a family of insanity and repression. My mother in law was screaming that we had to get the baby Baptised. And my husband was so happy that she was showing any interest in him (because she now has a grandson) that he told me that we were going to get him Baptised. Well I'm Jewish and we agreed many many years ago, before we ever got married, that we would raise our children Jewish. It's so telling that all he wants is attention and accolades from his mother. But she's a fucking nutcase. She's a hoarder and she smokes 2-3 packs of cigarettes a day, and compulsively shops at goodwill, target, etc. They have a $100,000 mortgage on a house that they purchased 40 years ago for $18,000 because of her compulsive shopping/hoarding. Oh and she burned the house down 5 years ago and they have been renting and are continuously getting evicted because of her insanity and they can't pay rent. And she is sure that they insurance company is screwing them so their house remains boarded up. It's so, so, so sad. It's a crappy situation. And  Husband wants us to bring the baby to visit them. No fucking thank you. I don't want to get on a plane to see them. We'd have to stay at a hotel, and pay for that, and also, we can't go to their house because of the dust and smoke. Most people can't take it for more than 5 minutes. My sister and law and her husband won't even set foot inside, becuause they both wind up coughing and sneezing immediately. My sister in law once fell on the floor and started vomiting when we were there and my mother in law stepped over her and said, "what the hell is wrong with you?" I had to put damp rags on her head and hold her hair while she puked while her own mother just ignored her and blew smoke in her face. Well obviously I'm not bringing my baby to that insanity-- but my husband will want to keep the peace and just go. And if we go and stay in a hotel and ask her to come, it's going to set up all kinds of shit. So... I don't want to go there. She's disgusting and it's disgusting. I seriously hate my inlaws. Crazy ass people. Both Ivy League graduates with no money, pounds of debt and living like people on the show Hoarders.
But besides that, Mommy-hood.
I just love the baby. I just stare at him and cuddle him and play with him all day long. I've never been so content.

I wonder what it is exactly that I want. I ponder that a lot.

If you don't know me

Don't tell me how uncomfortable I look. I'm not. I'm fine.
Don't tell me that I'm really fucking pregnant. Unless you're my OB.
Don't tell me that I've dropped. Because I haven't.
Don't tell me that it looks like I have twins in there.
Don't tell me that it's obvious that this is my last kid and I won't let my husband near me ever again. This is my first kid and we tried for him for years and I can't wait to screw my husband again. In fact, I think about fucking him constantly.
Don't tell me that I don't look pregnant from behind. Wait, you can tell me that, it's okay.
Don't tell me that I'm having a boy, you can tell. lucky guess.
Don't tell me that I'm walking too slow. Fuck you. I'm 9 months pregnant.
Don't tell me that I look like I'm ready to pop. You look like you're ready to pop.
Don't tell me that I look exhausted. I haven't worked for almost 3 weeks. I'm a gay lady of leisure.
Don't tell me that you bet I can't wait for that baby to be out. I have too much shit to do around my house, he can stay put.

You don't know me! You're just walking down the street next to me, or my waiter, or online behind me at Whole Foods. Screw you. Leave me alone!

Lady of Leisure.

I'm very into being a lady of leisure these days. In fact, I think I like stressing about money and not working than not stressing about money and worrying about work. I was really ready for a break when I stopped working. I was tired, and my sense of compassion was waning. When I first finished grad school and started seeing clients, I LOVED what I did. Now... not so much. I think it's just a job that you need to do not that much of. It's really easy to burn out and I tend to be a workaholic. I was seeing too many clients. And I was seeing a lot of low fee or no fee people because I believe in accessible mental health for all... But working for free puts a lot of pressure on one. Especially when you still have to pay for your office and such. And the irony is that low and no fee clients are always more intense and more difficult cases than those who can pay. So, I was burning out big time. If we can afford it, I won't work that much after baby boy comes. Husband is trying to work on the nursery, trying to work hard at work and trying to take care of me. My due date is in 11 days. But who knows how soon he'll be here. I'm pretty uncomfortable. Husband has been lovely about rubbing my feet and legs and being an overall great guy. I am lucky and I do love him. The sex addict part, well that totally fucking sucks. But we're surviving as we do.

Things That I Love About My Husband and Things that I Hate About My Husband

Barring the sex addiction, I married one of the greatest men in the world. And I'm absolutely fruity about him. Really. It's true. Finding out about his sex addiction has been one of the hardest things I've ever had to deal with. Mostly because I was so fucking in love with him and thought that he was the kind of guy who could never, ever, ever do something like this.  So it's painful. And it has turned me into a very jealous and very suspicious person. It's also turned me into a woman who feels very unattractive and fears getting older.  I never feared getting older until I found out that Husband was trying to have sex with 18-22 year olds. Gross!  Now I understand that it's just fantasy, and something about pornography has told men that 30 year-old-women are actually 18 year old women so they have an unrealistic idea of what teenage girls look like. But still, ick!

I watched my very beautiful mother die young (she was 54) and for that reason, I've always believed that getting older was a blessing. Now that my Mommy is dead, and my husband is a sex addict, I have these awful fears about growing into an undesirable older woman as my husband continues to become more and more handsome. He really is. Whereas I used to get a lot of attention from men, he is now getting a lot of attention from women. I don't get as much attention from men these days. It could be the 9 months pregnant belly. I've had a lot of anxiety about my looks during this pregnancy. The worst part about it is that I'm a Psychologist who has written a book on body image. I know. It's paradoxical. It's an internal conflict that I've been dealing with for a long time. I've probably been dealing with it my whole life, but it was triggered heavily a year and a half ago. 
Believe me, I know everything I need to know intellectually about looks. Jesus Christ I counsel women on this issue every day. Yet I am riddled with self-disdain. It's so, so very painful. I try not to get angry at myself for it. I understand this psychologically, but it's like a doctor who gets angry at himself for getting sick. We're just not immune. To fucking anything.

But I digress. This isn't even where I meant to go with this post. I meant to discuss our money situation.  I love my husband because he's kind, compassionate, insightful, nurturing, loving, sexy, sweet, a genius, and he is doing so much self work. He still goes to two 12 step meetings each week, plus he goes to therapy twice a month, plus he goes to a feedback group which he shows up for each and every week no matter what. His recovery, our relationship, me and our growing family are very important to him. So that's fantastic. But... Husband does not make very much money. And we are struggling. I didn't think that at 37 years old (he 39) and with two graduate degrees between us, that we'd be having to eat pasta at night and figure out how to afford groceries, and now diapers, and all sorts of other things. It depresses me. It makes me mad. And it spills over into other parts of our lives.
This non-aggressive quiet, gentle man, who hid behind the safety of a computer, being all sorts of violent and abusive to people via cyber sex.
I don't want to complain. But we're struggling. And that's just hard.

Sex with a sex addict

Husband doesn't want to have sex with me. I mean, I know I'm 37 weeks pregnant. But I want to have sex constantly and Husband, he's uncomfortable doing it with me. He says it's not because he's not attracted to me but because he's uncomfortable with the whole thing and it's awkward. Granted, it's awkward. But still, it makes me sad. I wish he was all over me the way other pregnant ladies feel their husbands are. I feel not good enough.

We Bought iPhones

Like I said in the title, we bought iphones. This might not be such a big deal for the average couple, but for a couple that is 1/2 sex addict, well then iphones are a huge deal. Especially considering  Husband's acting out all happened on his computer.  He never had sex with a real live woman, but he had loads of cyber-sex and was on loads of dating sites and would meet people and talk back and forth with them and try to get women to meet him out. It never happened, but I wonder if it would have had I never caught him. He was also hugely into online porn. In fact, if I'd go away for a weekend to my parents or whatever, he'd stay home citing that he needed to study and instead he'd be in front of his computer for 20 hours straight (he later told me). He wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, would just put a curtain up and stand at his computer looking for "women" or whoever was on the other end to talk to. He would every once in a while swap photos with them. He'd get naked pictures, or close ups of their privates and store them somewhere.  Husband has never been super smooth with the ladies, but he was a goddamned Lothario on the computer.   Which is why the idea of iphones freaked me out so much.

But we have a baby coming. And he should be here in 1-3 weeks. And we have these crappy old phones that don't work so well.  And my parents, who live 3000 miles from us, would like to see the baby as much as possible. They pleaded with us to get iphones. And to be fair, husband wanted one too. It was kind of awful because we plunked down so much money to buy them. I was up till 4am almost having a panic attack because of not just the initial investment but the crazy monthly fee. And now that I'm a lady of leisure, we only have one income until baby is 4 months old and I go back to work part time. And his income is crap. I'm kind of the breadwinner.  But like Kenny Loggins says:
Even though we ain't got money, I'm so in love with ya honey, and everything will bring a chain of love. And in the morning when I rise, you bring a tear of joy to my eyes, And tell me everything is gonna be alright. Which I heard on the radio this morning on my way to my OBGYN and it made me cry hysterically for like 2 hours.

So, because of Husband's problems with the Internet, we have an open phone policy. We're allowed to stalk each others' phones.  I miss the days when I didn't doubt him and trusted him 100%.

I wonder if we'll ever be back there.

Don't get mad at me...

I put ads on this blog. I'm sorry.  Me and the husband had a little pow wow this evening about how we were going to make ends meet with me on maternity leave (I'm the main breadwinner) and his parsimonious salary. So, I put ads on my blog. Not that I think that it will make up for my lack of work, but I thought I'd give it a try and see what happens.  I hope it doesn't offend anyone.

I dream that my husband is cheating on me

All the time lately as I sit in the final weeks of my pregnancy. In all the dreams, I end by beating my husband (with a lightbulb in the groin) and I wake up crying at 4am.  He wakes up with me and assures me over and over that he would never ever cheat on me. That he loves me. I tell him that he said that the whole time he was acting out and I'd have these dreams (I used to dream he was cheating on me before I knew about his SA). He says that it's different now, because he has a program, he has a sponsor, he has support. I tell him I don't believe him. That he lied to me before and he can lie to me again. He tells me he knows and holds me and tells me that he loves me and that he's sorry, and he doesn't know how to make this better for me. I don't either.

The Problem with Sex Addiction

The big fucking problem with sex addiction is that you don't trust it.  Husband has been "clean" for 13 months now. But I'm still nervous. We talk about how I still don't trust him. He says he doesn't expect me to. It's hard, being almost 6 months pregnant. I am feeling fat and unattractive and my husband has not been initiating sex. It makes me lonely and it makes me sad. I want to feel attractive despite my expanding ass and swollen belly.  But husband has never been voraciously attacking of me. I wish he were. I feel very unwanted. He is not the type to initiate sex. And right now I feel neglected. It's interesting. He's so pathologically self-sufficient that when he gets horny I'm not the first thing he goes to. He turns to masturbation. It didn't used to be like that, long ago when we were first together. But it became like that and became compulsive.  He is going to meetings and talking to his sponsor daily. But I still feel afraid that he's going to turn to his computer or someone else for fulfillment. Being pregnant is amazing, and I love it. But I hate feeling so fucking unattractive.

Some Hard Stuff

So, pregnancy is not as smooth as I had imagined it would be. The husband is saying his serenity prayer over and over and I'm doing it once in a while. I've been bleeding and spotting since week five and I've had a few big bleeds that have landed me in the hospital. Turns out I have a subchorionic hematoma.


God I'm fucking pissed. I mean, I would really, really, really like to have some gratitude here. And I mostly do, but this is my fucking secret ass blog where I fucking vent all of my secret ass feelings. So fucking sue me if I fucking whine for a few minutes.

It's unfucking fair that I  suffered through years of infertility because of my husband's lack of sperm.
It's unfucking fair that he spent all of his time on the internet prowling for 18 year old slutty girls to fuck for years and I didn't know it. I'm a mother fucking psychologist for crying the fuck out loud. You would think I had some goddamned insight into my isolator/codependent husband. Now, it's fucking unfair that when some good shit starts to happen, it's tinged with this scary shit. What the fuck God? What the fuck?

Okay I'm done now. And though part of me is fucking pissed, I'm mostly grateful. And my heart is breaking for those who are suffering in Japan, and they are in my prayers.

The husband is busy working on his first step. It's unnerving because he's spending a lot of time up late working on it and I try to get to bed early because of said pregnancy and the fact that I'm on first trimester bed rest.  I'm also on pelvic rest, so no sex for my sex addict husband. Nor for me. I can't go running, I can't have sex. I have very little to calm me down. I'm overeating junk and I'm putting on weight. Not pregnant weight. Fat weight. Oh well. Again, it's okay.
I chatted with the husband the other night about how much I hate him being awake and in the other room while I am in bed. I reminds me of when he was acting out and I was told that he was up late "studying."
Oh well. That's me for now. I'll keep updating.

xo,

L

Update

Hello Everyone. I apologize for being inactive in this blog. It (and you all who supported me) was so helpful in my healing process in the first few months after discovery.

Things are going well with me and my husband. He is very active in his SA group and working on his first step and doing well career wise, finally. I just found out two days ago that I am pregnant! Which is super exciting. We've been trying for so very long. But it's like the universe had a different idea for us. I needed to discover what he was doing and heal from it and he needed to stop doing that stuff and get active in a program.

I still get angry, I still get suspicious at times. But we talk about it all the time and he is working with his sponsor closely, especially now with a high risk pregnancy. Thanks for checking in and thanks for your support. I will continue to update.

Love to you all, Laney

Compassion, finally.

Last night, Husband and I were cuddling in bed and he looked at me and said, "I love you," and I looked at him and sighed and said, "it's so sad that I just don't look at you the way I used to. I hate that. I used to look at you so adoringly. But now, it's wrought with so much anger, so much distrust, and so much confusion. You're just not the person I thought you were and I hate that. I used to look at you adoringly, but now, even though I still love you, I just don't have what I used to have for you. Is that hard for you? Did you like the way I used to look at you? Do you miss that?" He nodded and started crying and said, "I broke. I used to be good. And then I broke." And that's really the truth. I married this really good, sweet man. And I felt safe. I trusted that he'd always be faithful. But he somehow broke. Cracked. Couldn't live up to what he was supposed to be. He'd always been a sex addict, that I know. He had a giant porn collection that he was very possessive of when we moved in together. But doing what he did was something that no one in the world would ever have pegged my husband of doing. It's the first time I've felt any compassion for him. I've been waiting for that.