Doing It Wrong

I've been doing It wrong.

Not that It. Though I've done that It wrong in the past too...

I realized a few weeks ago how simply I'd been getting my own space. Freak out, have a meltdown, be mad and POOF! Space.

I could grab my keys, storm off in a fit of rage and have all the time I needed. Nobody asks a crazy lady questions so I take the car or not. I could walk it off, go out to eat alone, or do any other thing I wanted. But I came home mad. Mad that the only way I get to be alone is after throwing a fit or getting mad. I was mad that nothing got better while I was gone. I was mad that being in my house made me crazy. Mad mad mad.

So decided to start getting space in a new way.

It wasn't easy - new patterns never are - but after the first few times I got better at it and so did Husband. The Littles are still trying to catch on - but they will.

I say "I need a minute" and I take a minute. No argument. No discussion. No whining.

If anybody asks any questions, I simply leave. Before throwing my biting comment back in response. Well I don't know WHAT the hell you're supposed to do, but you're a grown man, so I'm sure you can figure it out for at least 2 minutes without me...I do it every damn day. All day every damn day.

That was a big deal, but the bigger deal was when I realized I was doing my Space Time wrong too.

I'd worry and feel guilty and be mad reviewing our last mean words to each other over and over again storing them for evidence of what a Jerk I married. I'd cry and be sad that this was my life. I could feel the anger and the hurt bubbling out of my throat burning all the way.

But yesterday when Husband and kids were buckled in the car and ready to go to a family event, I simply bowed out. "I just need some time." I said and watched them pull away with a smile on my face.

And since I had time I did exactly what I wanted. I vegged, watched a show, ate and peed in peace.

And then, when that little voice inside me said "OK. You're good now." I got up. I did dishes, I cooked for my family and planned some upcoming events and Lady Productivity was happy to be let loose.

It's so easy when I'm mid-meltdown to stay melted. To smash down that little voice. Because an object in motion stays in motion. And changing the direction of that motion takes a decent amount of force.

Sometimes my little voice is just too little and my wallow-motion wins. But if I've entered the wallowing peacefully, it's much easier to hear. It takes far less force to change direction and at then end of my Space Time, I feel better. I've had a rejuvenating mud bath rather than having wallowed with swine.

Here's my sign. If at the end of my Space Time it's not better, I was doing it wrong.

Husband's tiny (HUGE!!!) victory.

After a few days of hell. I mean it. HELL. Husband had an amazing victory on Tuesday night. Saturday he got all crazy turned on and I felt like I’d be feeding the addiction if I “hooked a brother up” (i.e. had sex with him) So I didn’t. And for him it got harder. And harder. And harder.

This is the cycle. He's horny. I decline a sexual invitation (for any number of reasons, sunburn, period, it's 11:30 and our kids are reading stories with us....whatever). Then he acts out, confesses, feels bad, apologizes, swears it will never happen again, rededicates himself and tries harder for a while. Until he gets turned on again.

But on Tuesday night when I got home after him being home alone with the boys for 8 hours he looked like hell. He hadn’t shaved or showered since Sunday. He had been getting up at the crack of dawn and spending the days out in the yard. He was filthy and tired and looked......horrible. As I walked in the door he all but collapsed on the kitchen floor and told me he thought it was over. The horniness had finally eased up and he felt like he was going to live.

This was the first time in his life that a sexual craving – that feeling of “do or die” had left his body without him acting on it. He honestly didn’t believe that could happen. To be honest I have no idea why he let it ride this time. No clue why he worked so hard. But he did and I swear to you I’ve never been so proud of him. Ever. Suddenly we both know it is possible. And that. Is. Huge.

It has now been 48 hours since the big success and he’s back in the throes of it. 

He’s mad because I pushed his hand away when he groped me this morning. 

He’s hurt that I let him go through all of that earlier this week. 

He’s discouraged because the high didn’t last long enough. 

And he’s struggling.  

As I started getting ready for work he told me he really wished I could stay home and be with the family so we could go do something fun (and distracting). He didn’t ask me to call in sick and certainly didn’t expect it, but I know he would have been over the moon if I had. 

A few years ago I made a conscious decision to take the stance that his addiction would never ever impact my schedule; but after spending a night a week at recovery meetings, a fortune on therapy and far too many moments worrying, thinking, and planning I can't really pretend it doesn’t affect my schedule anymore.

Which has me wondering (again) where is that line? I’m not his babysitter, I don’t call in sick to my job because he can’t keep it in his pants and I don’t think I need to fix it for him. But I truly do want to SUPPORT any recovery behavior.

How do I clarify (for me and for him) what is an appropriate request and what is not?

pondering raisins and tasting carrots

Mindfulness has been a common thing in my therapy efforts lately. It keeps popping up.

During the Addo Recovery lecture this week Kevin swore he looks at raisins and stands barefoot on the grass and studies trees. While I fully believed him, I equally believed that it simply isn’t possible in my life.  If I zoned out to fully examine and be present with a raisin…..

That’s where my belief that it wasn’t possible ended.

Because the truth is that if I zone out to stare at a raisin for 3 straight minutes nothing would happen. My kids would likely make a mess. They might make noise. It’s possible they’ll break something. But in real life, if the key to not feeling this way is staring at a raisin for 3 minutes, bring it on. Because anything they can do in 3 minutes, I can undo in 5. Which means I’m out exactly 8 minutes of my day.

And if I replaced just one 25 minute show with raisin-staring or tree-watching or grass-feeling (and repairing the damage my zoning might have allowed) I’m in.

So today I didn’t really have time to sit and eat lunch before running out the door to work. So I threw some carrots and an apple in a bowl and planned to eat on my way.

My commute is roughly 10 minutes long. And 10 minutes is significantly more time than it would ordinarily take me to eat carrots and an apple. So I decided to be present with my meal. I chewed the baby carrots like 9,000 times before swallowing. I tasted the difference between the peel and the meat of the apple. I breathed between bites. And it was delicious.

And while I was being all aware (instead of enthralled with the news story on the radio or the people in cars around me) I watched the trees lining the streets. They are beautifully varying shades of green. Some have blossoms. Some have leaves. Some are still waiting for both. I noticed the clouds in the sky….yadda yadda yadda.

The point is this. I was amazed by how easily I could fit this “mindfulness” into my life. I didn’t have to buy a special chair or find my own room. I didn’t have to wake up an hour earlier or find a babysitter. My children weren’t neglected, I arrived at work safely (and on time). I didn’t do anything I wouldn’t normally do anyway. I simply chose to be mentally aware of what I was doing instead of thinking about all of my problems.

And whattya know – it was a nice break from focusing on my problems.

MIA

There have been some major life changes in our world since I last wrote, Husband got a job, we moved (in with my parents!) and life as I know it has been dumped on its head. I currently have 100 of your posts to read and heaven only knows how many thoughts I've failed to write.

But last night I walked in on something that had me all smiles and I can only share it here.

Husband's new job came with a long commute, one that was simply outside of reasonable for us. So we moved. Only we had nowhere to go and had to be out of our home. Because my parents live closest (by far) to the new job, we asked if we could occupy a couple of their unused basement bedrooms and found ourselves a storage unit.

My parents know about "The Problem" and my dad has been a source of comfort and counsel and love and support that was completely unexpected. Husband and Daddy have grown close in a way I never would have dreamed. The openness and honesty in their relationship and remaining mutual love and respect is admirable.

I stepped out for the evening and when I came home my children were asleep in bed and Husband and Daddy were sitting in the kitchen talking. I sortof crashed their party and silently (at least attempted silence) observed the way they spoke. They talked about the atonement, grace, addiciton in all its forms. They talked openly about sin and judgement. They frankly discussed the why and possible solutions.

The family I grew up in does not discuss problems. We talk about happy things and pretend the less-happy things don't exist. Especially if the less-happy things are caused by sin or error. And MOST ESPECIALLY if the sin and error are still happening. We typically like to slap a smile on our face and move on with life. And maybe in 10 years when it isn't a problem anymore we can bring it up in a "remember when" kind of way.

So to see this exchange between the two men I love and admire more than any others was a very big deal. Husband has been hiding the addiction for so long, and although I've heard him talk about it to Therapist I've never heard him discuss it with any other living soul. I was floored to listen to him.

He was using the words of someone in recovery. He was logical and detached. He sounded sober. (Which he is, 6 weeks now and he's a temple recommend holder.)

Sometimes I find it exceptionally easy to love him and feel confident in his abilities. This was one of those times.