Lies, Lies, Lies

My last post was pretty brutal-- deep hidden feelings, fears, things I have hidden away for years.  Some days I want to blame Edmond for those insecurities.  You did this to me.  But the truth of the matter is that I saw in Edmond's actions the confirmation of the lies I already believed in myself.

Yup.  LIES I ALREADY BELIEVED ABOUT MYSELF!  I don't matter; I don't count; I don't have any right to have needs; I am not loveable; I can only rely on me; I am not safe; I can not trust;  LIES! LIES! LIES!  Lies that, if I am honest, exited in my heart long before I even knew Edmond.

There are lots of ways to destroy a soul.  Sin, selfishness, vice.  Yup they will eat away at you.  Lies about your worth, value and importance can destroy you from within--  Lies that seem so appealing because they explain away another's poor behavior.   Lies that comfort and seem to empower you when you feel helpless.  Lies that I carried around like a warm blanket in the frigid hours of despair-- Only the blanket was really tattered, ratty and full of holes.  Oh, how I believed that they would keep me warm.

Basing my life on those lies I became a control freak; I could only feel safe if I accounted for all the details of my life and the lives of my family; I knew and planned ahead for all eventualities, including preparing myself for the negativity I was sure to receive.  If you are prepared for people not liking you, complaining about something, and generally behaving poorly, it doesn't hurt as much when that happens, right?

I became extremely competent-- I am a talented person by nature, but I became exceptional.  Perfection or don't even try.  Exceed expectations daily, moment by moment.  Any minor critique reinforced that even though I gave my all, I was not enough.  Must try harder and do more next time.  And live second by second seeing all the things that were not done perfectly.  Accommodate everyone's demands, wishes and requests.  Do all that I can do to make others happy so they won't see my failings- or at least pray they won't comment about them today.

And when I was too exhausted from running at 90mph to please and beg acceptance from those around me, I would numb out-- distract, avoid, disengage.  Facebook, food, business, pinterest, tv. Anything to avoid feelings and the confirmation that I really am a horrible person.

You see, Edmond didn't do this to me.  I chose to believe and live a lie.  Satan is so smart.  He knows my weakness; he knows Edmond's.  Satan exploited Edmond's weaknesses and turned him to addiction.  Me?  He turned me from the truth.

I found this scripture yesterday that was exactly what happened to me:

Satan seeketh to turn their hearts away from the truth, that they become blinded and understand not he things which are prepared for them. (D&C 78:11)

Brutally honest moment:  I have always known and believed that God loves his children-- yep, you, and you over there and Edmond and my kids, and EVERYONE BUT ME.  I have felt His enormous, awe inspiring love for his children.  But love me, no.  How could I ever believe and trust in a God that I didn't really think loved me like he loves everyone else.  I can honestly say I don't understand the purposes of the Lord.  I don't get what marvelous blessings he has for me.  These verses gave me some comfort.

...ye are as little children and ye have not as yet understood how great blessings the Father hath in his own hands and prepared for you; And ye cannot bear all things now; nevertheless, be of good cheer, for I will lead you along. (D&C 78 17-18)

 It is ok that I don't get it.  It is ok that I feel like I am not there yet.  It is ok that I don't feel God's love fully.  I can't bear it now, but the Lord will lead me to his Love.

Effects of Abuse

I finally had the balls to say it.  That word. The A word.  Abuse. That is what I am dealing with.  The after effects of abuse.  Edmond's behavior during addiction was at times abusive.  There I said it. 

Edmond's addiction created trauma in my life, and the healing process just keeps going on.  Being honest about what our relationship was like during Edmond's addiction cycles has opened me up to a whole new, fun adventure.  New because I have never experienced anything like being honest about my feelings.  Fun because I am finally clearing out some of the trash that keeps spewing in my face, without me understanding why.  This is why:  I experienced trauma and the trauma was, well, traumatizing.  And while Edmond is in a healthy great place, that doesn't mean the abuse never happened.

I knew it hurt me.  Duh, but what did the addiction cycles do to me?  What could it do, I didn't even know what was going on.  I used to feel lucky I didn't know about the addiction until Edmond was really serious about coming clean.  You know, fewer disappointments, fewer broken boundaries, fewer lies.  No, no and no.  Fifteen years of lies; years of tearing myself inside out and back right again trying to make things ok when they weren't and not having a clue why- just wishing that if only I (fill in the blank) things will get better.  Years of being at odds with a monster in the room I never could see.

It took me a while to be willing to admit that I was traumatized.  But I see the same behaviors in the kids I work with-- kids who have endured trauma as infants/children and are trying to figure out how to survive in regular families.  I think some of these effects are par for the course.  Doesn't make it any easier though.

I learned:
1. I don't matter.  I don't count; my needs, my wishes, my opinions aren't important.  I am a tool used to care for and meet the needs of other people.  Never my needs/wants.  What do I want?  I have no clue what my preferences are; I am a reflection of what you want.  I am the ultimate object.  (Interesting that with a sex addiction, the objectification goes so much further than just sexual objectification, although that is/can be part of it)

2. I am not enough/ok/lovable. No matter what I do, there is always something I missed, something to improve upon, something I need to be better at.  I must always work harder/do more/be more to receive positive attention.  All this trying and doing more reinforces the concept that I am just an object- a tool.

3. I can only rely on me.  The mental and emotional withdrawals during Edmond's addiction cycles meant that I carried everything.  I owned it all- home, yard, finances, worries, relationships, parenting.  I learned that I could not trust anyone to be there to help me when I needed it most.  Even faith promoting phrases enforced that feeling: pray like it all depends on God and work like it all depends on you.  YUP it does all depend on me. Nobody is there to help me.

4. I am not safe-- I am not safe enough to say what I think, do what I want, parent as I see fit or even feel what I feel.  The consequences of being at odds with Edmond by saying/doing/being/thinking/feeling something that didn't fall into his narrative of the situation was emotional withdrawal, mean looks and criticism.  I only felt safe with my emotions/thoughts/preferences hidden, stuffed down deep where the real me was safe.  Emotions became something to fear, something to avoid, something to hide.  Besides I didn't really matter; I'm just an object, a tool.

Hard. painful feelings:  I am not safe; I can only rely on me; I am not lovable; but all those don't really matter because, I don't matter anyway.

And none of that is really true in the grand scheme of things.  But trauma, abuse, neglect, disregard SHOUT those messages loud and clear.  They scream and chant relentlessly until you give in to their siren song.  You hide, you change, you fear, you cope.  You survive.  Do what it takes to get through each day unscathed.  Pray for strength to do it again, because this is your life, and aren't you supposed to be happy and bloom where you are planted?  Of course.  Pretend to be happy or at least learn to be content.  This is your life.


*I hate ending posts on a sad note, hopeless-- but the trauma part of my life was like this and I want it to be an accurate reflection of that part of me.

Finally Coming Out

Edmond and I have talked about how "funny" it is that 2 years after he confessed and began his healing process, I finally feel "safe" enough to bring out all my baggage and really begin to process-- not that I have been doing nothing for the past couple years... it is just coming to a head and I am seeing what has been going on inside.  The infection is finally coming to the surface and is ready to come out.  It has been ugly and uncomfortable to say the least; but so instructive at the same time.

So back up with me, as I give you a little bit of my history. (This is so much longer than usual) I am the adult child of adult children of addicts.  YUP.  Both of my grandpas abused/used alcohol/sex/adrenaline to escape problems.  Their behavior was controlling and probably abusive at times.  My parents learned first hand to

• comply and do it quickly
• be/act/fake "ok" when things weren't
• do whatever it took to make things ok

My parents did their best to raise me to have a brain, to think, to act, to be my own person.  But I knew some issues were burried deep.  Women look a certain way and are only ok if they are thin-- very thin.  I knew that I must always look and behave perfectly.

As a child I learned that a good person anticipated another's want and fulfilled it.  Play their game and we keep the status quo (safety).  Be cheerful, perky and happy (because that is what a girl should be).  Be intelligent and get perfect grades (you must rely on your self to get anywhere).  Be always aware and ready to jump into action and help at the slightest hint of a request, spoken or unspoken, (because that is the hallmark of human decency even if you have no time, no resources, and no capacity).  And be happy with whatever you get.  Never make a fuss; you must endure until you can no longer stand up. Then you may softly complain, only to get back up and keep going on. Because that is your reality.  That is what life is really.  Play the game, pretend to be happy; do whatever it takes to make the authority happy and you are safe.

I was amazed when I went to university how slow everyone was at picking up clues about what the professor wants.  Play the game. Give the professor what he wants (the answer he is looking for.) Get the A and walk away.  Getting my degree was an exercise in a skill I was highly proficient at.  I could play the grade game all day long!  Besides, I was finally free to be what I wanted with no "controller" present to remind me that I needed to be different.  Life was a joy.

And this is the baggage I took into my marriage.  Buried deep inside me were lies that I told myself.  If I am [fill in the blank] then there won't be a problem.  If I can just figure out what he wants and needs I can do that and there won't be a problem.  If I could anticipate his unspoken wishes and provide for them there won't be a problem.  If I keep my complaint in long enough it won't really exist.. or maybe I'll whisper it to a friend, then get back up and keep going.  That's what all women, competent, happy women really do.

All during Edmonds' addiction cycles, I played the contortionist; desperately trying to make myself into whatever he wanted me to be.  No matter how I bent, how I twisted, how I tried.  It never was enough. It couldn't be.  I was living a lie, with a man who was living a lie.  And that cycle of comply quickly with whatever is requested, be/act ok even when things aren't, and do whatever it takes to make things ok continued.

I could never make things ok.  I could never be enough.  I couldn't even pretend all the time that I was ok.  I shoved it deeper and deeper.  It must not come out-- I feared the days my real feelings would erupt out and spew over whomever was closest.

Today my feelings are not erupting with violence.  I have worn down the surface, creating an avenue the ick can come out without destroying me in the process.  As the lava that flows over me it is beginning to reshape my surface.  It burns, it scars-- but the scars I carried keeping it in are being resurfaced, renewed, I am being reclaimed-- I hope.  What will my new shape be without all the lies telling me who I must be and what I must be.  That may be scariest of all-- there is a void where I can make a new me.  What will I fill it with?  This has been my life- who I am for 30+ years.  Who will I be tomorrow?

Like Drift Wood

I grew up near the water front and as a child loved to play on the beaches of the Pacific Northwest.  The water was always frigid even on the warmest July days.  But the warmth of the sun balanced the cool wetness of the rocky beach.  I spent hours exploring the woods near the water, jumping, running, laughing.  My brothers and I would pick up drift wood sticks, washed white and smooth by the pounding of the waves and sand alternating with the baking heat of the sun.  These sticks were pirate knives and we were ready to fight to protect our beach head from invaders from the sea.  At day's end as the sky was darkening and night cast shadows, we would leave our booty behind, retreating to the light and warmth of our home.


I keep thinking of that smooth wood.  The beating it took over the years that turned it from a rough bark encrusted piece of wood into a smooth almost polished beauty.  I am sure the sand, and the wind, and the rain and the sun were not comfortable to that humble piece of wood.  Soaking and wet then baking dryness; lashing winds and salt eroding away at its surface.  But a work of beauty and calm lies underneath waiting to be exposed.

Today I feel like that beat up piece of wood- not so patiently waiting for the sun and sand and wind to let up.  Crawling knee deep in the muck, the seaweed and stink.  Wanting it all to go away, but knowing that all this is necessary for me to be what I want -- that smooth and beautiful piece of driftwood--

Remembering today that healing takes time.

Wise Words

I have been reading C.S. Lewis' book, Mere Christianity recently and came across a beautiful passage I wanted to share.  I felt inspired by Lewis' words penned more than 60 years ago.  Hoping this brings you or a loved one peace today.

We may, indeed, be sure that perfect chastity- like perfect charity- will not be attained by merely human efforts.  You must ask for God's help.  Even when you have done so, it may seem to you for a long time that no help, or less help than you need is being given.  Never mind,  After each failure, ask forgiveness, pick yourself up, and try again.  Every often what God first helps us towards is not the virtue itself but just this power of always trying again.  For however important chastity (or courage, or truthfulness or any other virtue) may be, this process trains us in habits of the soul, which are more important still.  It cures our illusions about ourselves and teaches us to depend on God.  We learn, on the one hand, that we cannot trust ourselves even in our best moments, and on the other, that we need not despair even in our worst, for our failures are forgiven.  The only fatal thing is to sit down content with anything less than perfection.

Mere Christianity, Chapter 5

Sharing the Journey

Journey to Elizabeth's, by Rose Datoc Dall, portrays the virgin Mary journeying with determination to visit her cousin Elizabeth.  These women were drawn together and shared a unique burden.  Both would mother men destined for greatness; both births were miraculous; both mothers would mourn the loss of their sons.  Both women were chosen vessels of the lord.  Beautiful wonderful women-- with intense, heavy burdens to carry.  Each needed the strength of the other to be able to fulfill their tasks.

I love the peaceful determination depicted on Mary's face.  She is walking confidently despite the uncertainty in her life-- would Joseph still marry me?  What will my life be like now?  No doubt Mary's burden was a substantial one to carry.  Yet she walked forward, seeking solace and comfort from one who could understand.  She faced her journey and shared it with a friend.

A dear friend gifted me this beautiful piece of artwork for Christmas.  She has been a friend and confidant as I have journeyed toward healing.  A journey and a friendship that began long before Edmond confided his addiction. This dear friend has loved me and listened to me for years.

She carries a burden too.  Hurt and pain that penetrate the soul.  That's what I am learning.  We all carry unimaginable hurt and grief and process it in our own ways.  But the beauty of life is in the journey we share with each other.  A journey where we move toward peace, together.

A Work in Progress

My sister has a quilting blog and on Wednesdays she posts her WIPs- work in progress projects.  I love the idea of it.  Put it out in the open that even a highly accomplished tradeswoman has a pile of personal projects that are still in progress.  Still working on them-- slowly but surely.  Some stay at the bottom of the pile longer than others (she revealed one week a project that she has been working on for several years)  There are days that she is just not interested in delving into that mess or something else is urgent.  Projects get re-prioritized every day.

The longer I've been at this "recovery" business the more I realize that I have a list of  "WIP"s that get a little attention here and there as I have time.  Sometimes urgent matters take me away from the deep healing and mess at the bottom of the pile.  Sometimes I have plenty of time, but no emotional energy.  So I plug away at what I can and recognize that I may just always have a WIP pile and that is ok.  Some days I know it is time to process and then I work on it.  Healing and hope always come.

Are you dying to know my WIPs.  Some of them I hope to address in the New Year-- thus keeping me accountable for actually getting work done!  Some of them are just daily keeping me healthy things.

Dealing with Doubt- how to react when those icky, nagging, doubts rush into my mind.
Actively Working on Relationships vs just being in a passive, habitual roommate relationship
Remembering Who I am and Whose I am- the key motivator in my day (at least I want it to be)
Seeing the Beauty of Life
Learning to Love

I'll keep working on these things and frankly, just keeping up with life.  I am a work in progress- and that's ok.