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.