I Said No

My husband's "mammary fixation" is one stubborn beast. A longstanding, pointless, conflict between us has been his request that I get breast implants. The very idea nauseates me. But I was going to do it. Before he decided to expedite matters and get his "needs" met elsewhere. Even after that, two months ago, I said I was willing. It soon became clear to me that I was not. But I couldn't say anything. His definition of hope for the future was me getting breast implants. I couldn't take away his hope.

Now, he's done a tremendous amount of work to change how he thinks and behaves. He's shot ahead in therapy faster than I dreamed possible.

He became healthy enough for me to drop the bomb.

So I said, "I cannot do this." If this is really what he wants, he must drum up the courage to leave me.

He's devastated. I'm relieved.

Time and Healing

I am happy to say that over the past four months, my husband and I have managed to work our way back to where we left off in our relationship. We're even moving into a better place than we were in before. A new start: the passion of our dating days enacted by the more mature people we both are now.

But it is bittersweet, especially as our physical relationship intensifies (slowly!). When I hear his sincere "I love you," and respond with my own; when I see real desire in his face and feel it in his touch, the pain of betrayal pierces me to the heart again. It's not the all-encompassing greif of the early days of shock or the deep hopelessness of the time afterwards in which he still hated me. It's a poignant sadness intertwined with dual joys: the renewed passion we are enjoying in the present and the beauty of the future to which I look forward.

But for now I still grieve. And finally, I have someone to hold me while I weep--for the pain he himself caused.

Twisted Reality

He still hates me. He still actually thinks I did something to drive him away. The family "values" he picked up say that parents will fight with each other and love their children. So he created conflict where it did not exist.

Once he fights his own demons, he'll have a chance to find out who I really am.

In the meantime, I will be very lonely.

Now I know why people get divorced. I have chosen the more difficult path.

Mommy Issues

"When we got married, I wanted a partnership where we could work together, but you have been constantly fighting to be in control. You use all kinds of weapons to control me."

That's kind of how I feel. Except he was the one who said it. In counseling. To me.

"I don't think I really do that."

"Yes you f***ing do!"

These words still sting, even though I now I am firmly convinced it is not me he is angry with.

It's his mother.

And not the real, kind, strong, wise woman I know, but a frightening amplification of her. The version that a two-year-old might see. I saw it today when she was determined that my two-year-old would give her a hug, and wouldn't let him go play til he did. There wasn't anything inherently wrong with the interaction, but it is easy to imagine how, when repeated over and over, that might erode a child's sense of autonomy. Especially an exquisitely sensitive child. Like my husband.

I was drawn to that sensitive child in him. I longed to give him the unconditional love I thought he needed to help him be the impressive man that I also saw. But the child has taken over. He cannot receive love from me because he sees a controlling gesture when I move a can he placed in the garbage to the recycling bin. He hears a domineering woman when I tell him which dishes need to be hand washed.

He must discover and put to rest the monster-mother in his brain. I fear for his actual mother, when he turns his wrath from me to her as this begins to dawn on him. But she is a strong adult capable of handling it. And eventually, he will learn to separate her too from his demons.

Boundaries

Why didn't anyone tell me that I can say things like this?:
"If you talk to me that way I will go spend the night at my friend's house."
"If you look at porn you will not be sleeping with me."

In my case, following my parents' excellent example of a healthy marriage went terribly wrong. My parents were loving and giving to each other, putting each other's needs first. But it takes two to have a relationship like that. One person doing it becomes a slave!

My father made it a point to teach my brothers to treat women with respect. Both parents taught me and my sister to only date men who would respect our physical and emotional boundaries. But no one told me I was responsible to see that I was treated with respect after marriage. My husband seemed like the kind of man who would. He was raised to respect women too.

Maybe pornography warped his view of women.

Or maybe I did, by letting him control me.

Either way, it ends here.

Mournful Celebration

We had our anniversary this week. It was the saddest yet, but also the first time in a long while he's given me presents. An expensive piece of jewelry, not something I had been interested in until recently, made a big impression. He's showing me he values me. He was sweet, kind, and continually resolute in wanting to change for me.

And yet being with him wears me out. I'm still caught in a swirl of anger, greif, and hope, and don't really want him to see any of it.

New Beginning?

"I am sorry I didn't realize that the reason I thought the last year was going so well was because you were shielding me," my husband said before leaving tonight.

I could have kissed him right there, but my boundaries are up now. They have to be.

He's starting to get it. And I'm starting to get it.

He was literally insane for the past year.

"I thought the only thing wrong was the sex." Ummm, what?! We bought a house, I had a baby, he got promoted to a more difficult job, and (this alone should be enough) we were trying to raise a two-year-old. I did much of the work, and took all the blame, and he was blind. That sounds so selfish and whiny, but it was true.

He had a complete break with reality. He deflected it in all kinds of clever ways, with his brain and his tongue. This is all typical of addiction, I guess. I finally got a glimpse into the insanity, and him into the real world...I think.

7

Not one time. Seven times. Only one technically. That was bad enough, but this adds a whole new dimension of pain.

First, because I'm stuck in the land of If Only: He told his "friend," who I'd encouraged him to talk to about his issues, exactly what happened the first time, and his friend TOLD HIM NOT TO TELL ME. My husband has always been honest with me about his sexual struggles, often to the point of hurting me. I urged him to save his discontentment with me for talking about with other men, but the actual involvement of another human being in this infidelity is COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. Ultimately I think he just used his friend's advice as an excuse to begin dishonesty where it had never been before.

But if only he'd not listened, we could have had this crisis weeks ago.

Before he dealt the final blow of going all the way.

Before I had sex with him for the first time(s) after having the baby.

I wish his damn wedding ring had cracked then. (See page: The Ring.)

Freedom?

Just took my first shower since The Confession. Got dressed in comfy sweatpants my husband's never liked. I realized I can't remember when I last got dressed specifically with comfort in mind. It's all been about what he'll find attractive.

With him out of the house I can wear whatever I want. I can eat the things I like that gross him out. I'm free. It's a good feeling. Could I get used to this? He's afraid I will if we stay "separated." It's a risk, but I certainly don't love this freedom more than I love him. Despite all the anger, hurt, revulsion, and despair I feel, that would be a pretty lame trade-off.

The freedom will serve a purpose, though, in helping me find some of myself again, the self he fell in love with in the first place. That's why I decided to wear something special under my sweats. I recently bought this $60 "hot milk" nursing bra to impress him. I thought I'd put it away for a while because he certainly won't be seeing it for a loooooong time, but then was struck with a thought: I can wear it for me. I can wear it to feel beautiful, to remember I am worth the grovelling he's going to have to do to win me back. Because of my bent to self-hatred, it would be easy to think I'm not worth it, that I should just "forgive" him immediately. But I'll keep wearing my sexy underwear as a symbol of my own worth.

Is This Going to Save Our Marriage?

Yes and no. We're both committed to making it work, so our marriage will be saved. Does that mean his adultery was necessary? I wrestled with this question while reading this yesterday.

My husband claims experiencing this has helped him to value me more. We were both virgins (technically) when we got married, so he always had to wonder what he was missing. Now he's learned it wasn't much. (I wondered too, but I valued monogamy too much to let that get beyond vague fantasy.) I've no doubt he does value me more now. And yet, there is no way it was worth destroying the rare, valuable, beautiful thing we had just to find out how rare, valuable, and beautiful it was.

This will be the catalyst that saves our marriage. It is forcing us to deal with things we didn't before. Even simple actions I failed to take, like sending our two-year-old to spend some time with his grandparents so we could talk uninhibited, or shopping for music to fend off depression, have now been coerced.

But we could have done those things before. This is just the end of the road we were speeding down. We could have gotten out of the car and walked a side trail before we ran smack into the mountain we'll now have to climb. He could have gotten help with his sexual addiction before this. I could have given him an ultimatum before this.

To anyone reading this who hasn't hit the mountain yet, pull over now. There is another way! And either of you can choose it, if you have the courage.