Monthly Archives: August 2014

one of the lucky ones

In 1998 when Paul McCartney’s wife Linda died of cancer, I saw an interview with him I still remember. The interviewer asked him something about their marriage and how they made it work. He replied that their marriage really wasn’t work. That she was just his best friend and that they just got along so easily. He remarked that they were just lucky. Even though I had only been married a few years in 1998 I do remember identifying with Sir Paul McCartney. And since then I have only felt that even more.

My husband and I don’t even fight. Not because I am not a fiery woman (I sure am!) but because he is so tender hearted and kind. We so easily get along about the day-to-day chores as well. He picks up the kids from piano lessons, he does the laundry. He does the dishes almost nightly which is no small task considering cooking and baking are my passions.

He always tells me how beautiful I am, how talented I am, how much he loves me. In our 19 years together we have never called each other names and he most certainly has never made a critical comment about my looks, how I should wear my hair, my make-up, or my weight. Ever. I remember when we were dating he made me a cassette tape of mixed songs he loved. One of them was Blue Jean by David Bowie. He wrote some of the lyrics from that song onto a greeting card for me: “She’s got Latin roots, she’s got everything.”

We have always loved to put the kids to bed at night and then watch TV while giving each other foot rubs or back rubs. He eats a bowl of ice cream, I eat a bowl of cereal. Life is predictable with my sweetheart and that’s how I like it. He has supported my taking of piano lessons again, supported me in my very busy church callings and has never uttered a word of complaint all those years I served in church callings away from him and (the then very small) children. I have supported him in his very busy career and he has supported me in my own business venture.  As Marjorie Pay Hinckley once remarked about her husband: “He has always given me wings to fly.” Boy oh boy, did I fly. We were one of the lucky ones for sure.

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wasn’t life busy enough?

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I’ve been married nearly 20 years and have been a mom for 16 of those years. By far this is the busiest I have ever been as a mom. There are countless activities–church meetings for me, activities for the children, a busy calling at church for my husband, track meets, soccer games, parent teacher conferences, back to school nights, helping children with Math every night, signing off homework projects, a part time job for a teenager, a busy career for my husband, my own small business, a house that gets messier as the kids get older, children in braces, piano lessons, and the list goes on.  Most days I just feel like I am treading water–never swimming forward, just avoiding drowning.

Then add to that my husband’s pornography addiction. He needs to get well. I need to get well. And there goes any free time that ever did exist. It’s all swallowed up in recovery. Sundays he goes to church meetings early, I prepare anything for my calling. We go to church for three hours. I make a hot meal for dinner. Mondays are Family Home Evening. We have always had it; I hope we always do. Tuesday nights my hubby attends his Addiction Recovery Meetings, sometimes I go as well to the women’s support meeting.  Wednesday night is YM/YW for the older kids, Thursday night is my presidency meeting. Friday and Saturday are the only nights “free” and even then there is usually an activity with family, his work, etc.

Now add to this list our daily check-ins with each other. Every night after the kids go to bed, usually around 9, my husband and I talk for at least two hours from 9-11pm. Sometimes even more. I talk about my fears and frustrations with his problem. He talks about his recovery, what went well that day, and the lessons he is working on from his Addiction Recovery manual. Usually one of us cries.  I need these two hours each evening. I couldn’t go on nor continue to be married without these nightly check-ins. It’s currently the most essential part of the day but I am always exhausted. And then it all begins again at 6:15 the next morning. Sometimes even earlier, depending on whether I couldn’t sleep and we begin talking again at 4am.

what betrayal feels like

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I’m standing on an area rug in my house. We have beautiful hickory wood floors throughout our first floor and several area rugs are scattered throughout the various rooms. I’m standing on one of those rugs and watching my surroundings–my beautiful children, my adoring husband, my beautiful home. I’m grateful I can stand on that rug–grateful I can walk, grateful I am healthy, grateful for the goodness that surrounds me. Everything good I have is a gift from God. Life is good.

Then my husband walks over to the rug. He grabs the edges of the rug and yanks with all his might. I didn’t see this coming. He pulls the rug out from under me so quickly that I lose my balance. I just wasn’t expecting him to do that. I go flying through the air with the force of the pull. I land alone on the hard floor. I’ve hit my head, I’m bleeding, my head pounds, I’m dazed and confused. And then I begin to cry. I cry so hard like I’ve never cried before. Why would my sweetheart hurt me like this? He knew what would happen when he pulled out that rug yet he did it anyway. I thought he loved me, I thought he was kind. Oh my head hurts so badly. I can feel a lump forming. It hurts so badly. And why can’t I stop crying? Betrayal, you just never see it coming.