Monthly Archives: October 2014

the dark place

I have been in that dark place the last few days. I finally came out of it yesterday. When I am in the dark place I feel all over again, how can this be my life? I never did anything wrong. I feel nothing but sadness when he is away and sometimes anger when he is near. When I am in that dark place I feel like he needs to be punished but know that will never happen. When I am in the dark place I don’t exercise, don’t eat right, sleep a lot and lay around watching TV and spend loads of time feeling very sorry for myself. The house is usually messy too. Who cares about a messy house when your heart is broken? But last night I started to come out of it. I don’t even know why. I just kinda get tired of that dark place and want to leave it. So I’m out of it today but for who knows how long, I just don’t know.

One thing that contributes to that dark place is knowing that the Savior hasn’t healed me yet. I used to think the atonement was a gift in that it was something handed to me, no effort required on my part. Now I realize that is not the case. I suffer daily and really want that suffering to end. I pray, I plead, I beg. I have small teaching moments that come from the Spirit but is this as good as healing will get?  Isn’t there more I am missing out on? Shouldn’t the Atonement take away all my suffering due to my husband’s choices? Is that even possible? I want it so badly. The last four months have taught me that that dark place is always there, always waiting for my visit. But I have faith that those dark days will end eventually. I have to.

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that’s a swimsuit?

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Last week I went into one of those dark places I described before. I can’t remember why, but I asked my husband if he liked going to that stupid famous website that features swimsuit models once a year. He said he did. I don’t know why but this threw me into that dark place. Early on, when this whole filthy Mc-Nasty story was unfolding, M made sure he told me that it wasn’t about beautiful women, it was about sex. He specifically avoided any type of porn where the women looked all fakey and perfect. He was interested in real women. This made sense to me only because he has never once told me how I should look or could look. I’ve always felt secure in my looks not because I am gorgeous but because I know it really doesn’t matter and because he has always told me I am beautiful. Always.

But this new revelation about him visiting that stupid swimsuit webpage told me something else. He does desire perfection. He does desire beautiful women. I am not beautiful compared to those women. Sure, I am 5’10” but that’s where our similarities end. Completely end. I felt heart broken all over again. I felt like in addition to knowing my husband likes to watch naughty videos, now I need to mourn the fact that he lusts after amazingly beautiful women.

So the next day I went to that filthy website. I have never once opened any pornographic website my husband has viewed (the web titles tell enough!), but since I knew this wasn’t full nudity porn, I went to it just to see what it was he liked. Wow. And did you know Heidi Klum was a swimsuit model? I sure didn’t. I gave up watching Project Runway this last season because I didn’t think M could handle seeing all those half-naked (half starved) models, but now I know I will never watch that show again (at least with M in the room) because he has seen Miss Heidi pretty much naked in very provocative ways. I hate all the layers to my trauma. Sometimes it seems as if there will be no end to the traumatic things I will have to learn and then cope with. The swimsuit thing is just more evidence of that.

P.S. Ironically, in the olden days when I first caught M with porn 17 years ago I asked him if he looked at porn as a teenager. He said no (more lies), just the swimsuit edition of that magazine that has nothing to do with sports. And, since I had never seen that magazine, I had no idea just how bad that piece of garbage magazine really is. Then again, he admitted to seeing it in the 1980s so who knows how bad it was then. I should google those images and see for myself. Nah.  

i want to be special

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I want to feel special. I want to feel like M considers me a priority by doing something out of the ordinary. I have told him this many times over the last four months. Please, please do just something, anything, to show me that you took time out of your busy schedule to think of me. To date, he’s done nothing. Not one damn thing. I’ve even given him ideas: Flowers would be nice–and not the ugly yellow weedy flowers from Costco that he conveniently picked up as he was there anyway getting milk and eggs. Reservations at a nice restaurant or a planned outing to a special restaurant in would be nice.

Last Friday he asked if I would go out to dinner with him that night. I said, “Yes, if you will plan it.” I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. When he got home he said “I was thinking of taking you to a bbq joint or to a Thai restaurant.” Gee, way to plan. What about an invitation to lunch? Why do I always have to be the one to call him and say, “Let’s go to to lunch!” I know his time at work is beyond precious and beyond stressful and for him to do this would be an acknowledgement that I am more important that getting work done. What about tickets to a play or to a movie? An invitation to go hike in the mountains? A declaration that he would cook dinner? A card with a nice sentiment? A piece of jewelry? My favorite cake from a bakery? A surprise by coming home half a day early?

I try to just be grateful for things he does do–the laundry, the dishes, the math tutoring. You know, the boring mundane tasks that still have to get done. But when I doubt every single thing about the marriage I thought I had, I need just a tiny bit of assurance that I am special, that I am worth a few minutes of sacrifice out of his busy day to say, “Thanks for sticking with me despite me being a liar/manipulator/objectifier/lustful man who has seen thousands of naked women, yet all the while telling you that you are beautiful, and who had plans to take this horrible secret to his grave.”  It would be nice, but I’m tired of holding my breath to feel special. I need to make myself feel special because no one else–not my husband, nor my teenage children–will ever do that for me.

why i stay

October is here. My maple tree is glowing red and everything around the yard is changing. I am changing too. I wanted to reflect on all the goodness in my life. Part of that goodness is my husband. Not just part of it, a very big part of it. So here’s why I stay despite the mess.

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I could leave this marriage if I want, I would be perfectly justified. But to leave all that would be to leave all this:

I stay because he is my best friend.

I stay because he gets me Tylenol and rubs my legs when they hurt. This is almost daily.

I stay because when we were newlyweds we made a pact–I would cook and he would do the nightly dishes. All these years later and this is still the case.

I stay because I told him when we were dating I hated to be tickled so he has never once tried again to tickle me.

I stay because he has never once told me how to run my business. He knows I am smart enough to make my own business decisions.

I stay because he helps me mail all those dang packages to customers. I never asked him to–he just saw that need and started doing it.

I stay because he fed our babies in the middle of the night even though he still had to get up early for work.

I stay because he learned how to install granite tile countertops in our old house when I couldn’t take the blue countertops anymore.

I stay because he has always given me wings to fly.

I stay because he has never once complained when I have been gone hours and days for church callings. From 3-hr meetings to 5-days at YW camp.

I stay because he makes the best crepes I’ve ever had.

I stay because he’s always had such a spirit of gratitude when paying our tithing. I’ll catch him saying things like “why have we been blessed so much?”

I stay because he’s the first to volunteer to set up chairs, clean the church, lock up the church, or chop wood for YW Camp.

I stay because he’s a doer, not a talker. Anyone can talk and make themselves look good. Not everyone is willing to serve humbly with no thought for recognition.

I stay because he helps me make school lunches and breakfasts every morning.

I stay because he’s always willing to be my sous chef in the kitchen.

I stay because he appreciates art and has taught me to appreciate fine art like etchings from Rembrandt.

I stay because he says women make better songwriters. He says women feel emotions more deeply.

I stay because he does 95% of the laundry–washing and folding.

I stay because he works hard for our family. He works as long as he has to and never a minute more. He’d rather be home with us.

I stay because he has never once told me I should change my hair, change my make up or clothes. He always thinks I’m beautiful.

I stay because when I make fun of my curly hair he never chimes in.

I stay because he is financially responsible–he’s a saver but also lets me buy nice furniture even though he’s perfectly happy with that ‘college dorm look’.

I stay because he doesn’t make fun of my silly exercise videos.

I stay because he listens to me always and has never ever once told me what to do. Ever.

I stay because he thinks I’m virtuous and trustworthy and he values my goodness.

I stay because he loves to read to the children.

I stay because he’s always been happy to say family prayer, read the Book of Mormon 10 verses at a time with the little children, and hold FHE.

I stay because he’s never said a negative word about the church.

I stay because even when I have said negative things about the church, he just listens and has never said I’m dumb for thinking that way.

I stay for a thousand more reasons.