Going Under

It's been a very busy time in our house lately. I hope you will forgive my absence. I want to talk to you about Christmas, and family, and Amos. But not tonight.

Tonight I want to talk about surgery.

Tomorrow I am being scheduled for an outpatient surgery for an umbilical hernia. If you know what this is, you know it's minor surgery. If you don't know what this is, I'll tell you. This happens when your abdominal wall rips and a hole allows some of your fat seep through which causes your belly button to pudge out (this is normally painless as is mine). An umbilical hernia is very common and mostly happens to overweight people or women after pregnancy. Mine happened during my pregnancy with Ruth two and a half years ago. It was a very small hernia at the time so I didn't pay much attention to it. Then I got pregnant again and my hole grew. It now requires operation. I am scheduled to go in at 7:30 am. I've never had an operation before and I'm not sure what to think. As far as operations go, this one is cake. Am I scared of needles? Nope. Not even a little. Am I scared of knowing they will be cutting me open and messing with my guts? Nope. Not even a twinge of nervousness there. Am I scared of the pain involved in recovery? Nope. I delivered a nearly 10 pound baby. I can take it. What makes me nervous is waking up from the general anesthesia. Medicine makes me puke. I HATE to puke. I am also not a fan of not being in control. Did you know that 1 in 200,000 people die due to problems with their anesthesia? (I can't figure out if WebMD is my friend or foe...) I just wanted to give you an update and tell you to stay with me. There will be more updates as soon as time allows. I hope your 2010 was fabulous and your 2011 will be even better.

The Lake Effect

We had our second counseling  session on Monday. I'm still up in the air about what I think of it. I told her my concerns regarding leading questions. I told her that it did nothing for me and she said she'd back away from them for a while. She also said they had a purpose and that they'd eventually stop feeling forced and start inducing emotion. I can't imagine that, but she's the professional so I'll trust her. Most of this session was spent talking about Amos and his addiction. I don't feel like much progress was made. Amos is a talker. He has ALWAYS been a talker. Instead of answering a direct question he'll tell a story that relates or give an analogy. Usually I find this endearing, but when we're paying ninety bucks out of pocket for a fifty minute session I want to keep things moving. I honestly cannot tell you any progress made whatsoever. She talked about his need to be able to have a safe place. She asked him if he would be willing to go to a twelve step program. And I couldn't tell you much else. I said probably twelve whole sentences during that session which is fine as long as we're actually going somewhere with this, but I don't feel like we are. I'm getting discouraged. But then again, this is what she does for a living. She knows what she's doing. We're going back on Jan 3rd.

One interesting question she asked was "How do you feel about the progress you've made so far?"  She was referring to the fact that things are starting to settle down at home. Less crying. More calm. Pseudo peaceful. I picture it as a large lake. The top is glassy, smooth, still. But underneath, in the area that you can't see, there are fish and frogs and bugs and all manner of movement and activity. That's the state our marriage is in. We both have a million thoughts and feelings about it all... but there's nothing new to say so we don't say much. Glassy... smooth....still. Things aren't quite so raw and hurtful this way but it's scary nonetheless. I recognize this stage. I've been here before. This is the stage we are in when Amos ( historically) starts looking at porn again. I can't survive the raw pain anymore, but neither can I go quietly into this cycle yet again. I don't want to constantly wave it under his nose, that's hurtful for both of us, but I'm terrified of this cycle. I find I have a quandary.

On the happier side of things, I have hit my Christmas goal. My starting weight on 11/02 was 250. My goal was to hit 230 by Christmas. I did it. I hit my goal on Monday night. And I've lost another pound to boot. I'm now at 229. I started out as a size 22. I'm now on the verge of shrinking out of an 18. I suspect that when I go shopping after Christmas I will need to get a size 16. Yes this is still big. But geez.. it feels soooo good. My new goal is to lose 30 by Easter.  I can't wait to kiss the 200s goodbye forever.

I will be popping in and out through next week. Have patience with me. I'm still checking in with you all but things have recently gotten very busy. I've had some relatives come in from out of town. The support group I have found here in the blogging realm has become quite important to me. I think of you all and wish all of you the very best.

If I don't get to post again before Christmas...

MERRY CHRISTMAS!  

This and That

Tonight we are having our second counseling session. I am dreading this. It's like getting a pap smear. You know you have to. It's uncomfortable and embarrassing, but it could save your life so you grit your teeth and do it. Counseling is the same way. I don't like crying. I REALLY don't like crying in front of strangers but I'm so raw and broken that I know I will anyway. I'm not sure what I think of our counselor. She's very nice. She pretty much had me nailed right when I walked through the door. She knows what I want/need from Amos. She's doing Christian counseling, which is important to me. Her office is comfortable and discreet. The only real complaint I have is that she was very leading. She would look to Amos and say "Why don't you tell her such and such." And then Amos would. And then she'd look to me and ask how it made me feel. Really? You just forced him to say it? Should I get warm and tinglely at forced communication? I did think that it was interesting that we actually did not talk about the porn addiction nearly as much as I thought we would. We talked alot about disconnection and emotional needs. Ah well. Let's see what round two has to offer.


As I've mentioned before, I'm on a mission to be healthy. This requires dropping some weight. A lot of it. In the past 7 weeks, I've dropped 19 lbs. This was a conversation I had with my father-in-law this weekend...

HIM: So you're down 19 pounds now?
ME: Yep.
HIM: Your goal is 20?
ME: Yes. My goal is 20 before Christmas. After Christmas,  I want to lose another 30 by the end of April.
HIM: (looks me over from top to bottom) You can't do it.
ME: Yes I can. My overall goal is to lose another 100 pounds by December 11 2011.
HIM: (chuckles. Yes he laughed at me. ) You'll never do it. You can't.
ME: I've been 130 before.
HIM. (disbelieving) Really?! When?
ME: The year before I married Amos I was 128.
HIM: (Laugh) No. You can't do it.

Okay. My FIL is a jerk. I love him. He loves my kids and he would do anything for them. But seriously, he's a jerk. He's not all that easy to like. I've learned to let his comments roll off my back but this was just bad timing. Here I am, feeling sexually rejected and emotionally broken and I'm taking healthy measures to heal my body and you're going to tell me "you can't"? You're going to laugh at me? After I left I called my husband and vented my frustration to him. Amos then called his father. He told my father-in-law that he was not to tell me that I "can't" do anything. Amos told him he was not to speak to his wife that way. Can I just say that I love that he did that? Amos is not a fighter. I am. I will not allow anyone I love to be ,what I perceive to be, verbally abused. It's my nature to be protective. It's Amos' nature to be laid back. Amos has taken alot of flack from his father. Certainly far worse than my very minor altercation. But because his father dared to hurt his wife, he took action. This went a long way towards showing me how much he loves me. What woman among us does not enjoy her knight in shining armor? I do. Thank you for that Amos.

Here's a little tidbit for you.

My name is not really Esther. You already knew that though, didn't you? If you know the biblical story of Esther, you probably think you know why I chose her as my namesake.

Esther was chosen by King Xerxes as the most beautiful woman in his kingdom and so he married her. Esther was a bombshell. She was the embodiment of beauty, wisdom, and courage. I am not. I certainly don't feel that way. I feel ugly and naive and cowardly. Of course I would pick Esther for my namesake, she is what I strive to be. Right? Wrong.

When I was twenty or so I was struggling spiritually.  Not my faith. As I have mentioned before, faith is my strong point. No. It was loneliness. I was dating a guy that was ...just....a bad judgement call on my part.  And my friends were wonderful, but they drank alot. Lots of parties. So I drank too. Eventually I tired of it. I wanted Christian fellowship. Someone who would support me in the straight and narrow. How do I find people like that?

I was attending college at the time and  I lived an hour from where I grew up. I started going to a church back home that I had went to often as a child. There were many people my age there and I was hungry for it. This church happened to have recently gotten a new pastor. I'll even tell you his real name. Brother Ron. Brother Ron started having prayer services three or four evenings a week. I went to them. During these prayer services, everyone would gather around the alter and hold hands and sing in worship. Innocent enough, yes? But then it progressed. The lights started being turned off. There were people there who started talking in tongues. There was prophecy. Then people started dropping like flies getting "slain in the spirit." These were people I had known my whole life. People I loved and trusted. I would kneel at the alter and cry out to God because these things were not happening to me. I was not being given the gifts that these other people were. One day, as I was crying, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and there was Brother Ron praying over me. He began talking in tongues and praying. I stood up and waited. After a few minutes, he told me that God had revealed to him that I should have a new name and my new name would be Esther because I would "enter the king's presence with favor." I had other people pray over me during my time there. One girl said this "You will meet a new boy, You will meet him in his car. His name will be Michael. He's the one for you!" Okay, so I met a guy who was super sweet. The first time I ever saw him was in my car. His name was Michael. I told no one. NO ONE. My discernment finally started kicking in about this time. Michael was not Christian. He was sweet. He was cute. But he was NOT who God had chosen for me. There was absolutely no doubt. He was pretty much a drunk, he swore like a sailor, and he didn't believe in God. This guy was NOT the one. At another prayer meeting I heard someone prophesy that He would send "cupid" to unite people. Does that send off any warning bells in anyone else's head? It did for me. God... the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob is going to send pagan gods to do his bidding on earth? That sounds a little more satanic than godly to me.  That was the end for me. I was done. Let me say here that I DO believe that God bestows the gift of prophesy and of tongues but I KNOW that although there was something moving in that church, it wasn't God. And it was nowhere I wanted to be. So I chose the name Esther not because she's my idol, but to remind me to seek God's will first. To be discerning. To listen to that still small voice.

On a side note, Brother Ron was voted out of the church. A prophesy was said over him that God wanted Brother Ron to be with another woman... not his wife. So Brother Ron and this other lady left their spouses (not divorce them, just left them) and ran off to live in sin together. How godly of them.

Finally, I leave you  with this song. It speaks to me. It is a man's cry to God to help him be strong for his family.

Today is a bad day...

My parents had me later in life. My mother was 40 when she had me. My siblings were 19, 20, 21, and 22. I was an accident  surprise. By the time I was born my siblings were all married with kids of their own. I have neices older than I am. It's odd to most but it's my normal. Growing up there were four of us around the same age. H. (female, one year older) G (male, one year younger) and J ( male, three years younger.) H. and G. were actual brother and sister but we all grew up staying and playing together during the days so we all, to this day, call each other brother and sister. All but one.

G is dead. He was driving through the mountains where I grew up and was on his way to work. The roads were wet and slick. I lived next to a large lake and in the early morning hours it was common to have fog pooled around your vehicle. That was the case this morning. This road is curvy and dangerous. There have been countless wrecks on this road, but for those of us that lived on it, we could drive it with our eyes shut. G was over confident.  He had traveled the road a thousand times. He knew when to brake, when to accelorate, when to drive cautiously. I don't know what he was thinking about that morning, but he wasnt thinking about the road. He took a curve too sharply and ended up in the lane of oncoming traffic which happened to be posessed by a large freight truck at the time. G hit head on. He was thrown out the back of his vehicle and his head hit the pavement. The truck he hit rolled off the bank but the driver didnt get a scratch. G was airlifted to a hospital 3 hours away. He was on life support for a while but once the tests came back stating that there was no brain function, they took him off. I was holding his hand at the time they released the test results. I was the only one in the room. The only reason I knew the results were not good was because I hear my mother cry and saw her crumple to the ground through the glass doors of the ICU.  I started tugging at G's hand then. Begging him to squeeze back. I remember telling him that they were going to kill him. They were going to pull the plug. They didn't believe that he was in there anymore. We had to prove them wrong!

G never woke up. He was 20 years old. I was 21. He was supposed to be in my wedding. He would have been a groomsman and stood up with my husband at my alter. But he didn't. I mourn him still. I think of him daily. Almost every day is a good day now. I rarely cry over him anymore. It's been 6 years. I've healed. For the most part.

Today is a bad day. Last night I tossed and turned. Every time I closed my eyes, G was there. He was dead, but it was like he was a ghost or something (I would like to interject here that I personally do not believe in ghosts. I believe when you die you are judged and sent to heaven or hell. There's no lingering and no in between). I felt weird talking to him because I knew he wasn't supposed to be here anymore. I remember looking at my sister (his mother) in this dream and asking "When did G come back?"  "Oh, he's been back a while now. I can't figure out why though."  And on and on we went. Just chatting. Nothing particularly bad during our chat but the dream as a whole was disturbing. I dont like the dreams where he comes back dead. I feel like he's not happy where he's at and he wants to cling to his old life and it makes me sad. Sometimes I have dreams where I know he's going to die and he's telling me that it's okay and that he's ready. I like those dreams. This wasn't one of those dreams. I wake up and I'm sad and drained and I have trouble shaking it off. Logically, I know that he's happy. He was a Christian and he talked about God and publically served Him. I know that if I went to G and told him he could come back and live out the life that he was denied, he'd turn me down flat. He is where we all strive to be. My head knows this, but sometimes I just can't get my heart to shut up. It's going to be a long day.

Dare I Hope?

For the past few days Amos and I have been edging ever closer to our "new normal." Whatever that may be. There are more laughs, more touches, and more flirts. We still talk about pornography and self confidence and romance, but the emotions that follow are not quite so exhausting. The conversations are definitely still draining but they don't leave me wanting to snatch up the kids and run away. Instead they give me hope. I can see that Amos is trying to confront his addiction and recognize cycles and piece himself, and "us", back together again. I can survive anything if I know I'm not doing it alone, and I finally believe that I'm not so alone anymore. Is trust restored? No. Is he still an addict? Yes. Am I still self conscious about my body? Yes. Do I still cry? Yes. Is everything perfect? No. But we've taken that first step and I'm ready to go as long as is necessary. I'm not a perfect wife. I'm overly sensitive. I can be ugly and hateful. I'm not as gracious as I should be. But I'm trying. And so is Amos. And that's a start.

Will this time be different? Are things going to change? Dare I hope?

Today's Happy Thought:

You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done...


Genesis 50:20

 

Musings on Masturbation

I believe that everyone has spiritual gifts. I believe that my gifts are the gifts of faith and of discernment. I have never struggled to believe in Him. I have never blamed Him for the bad things that happen to me (and I've had more than my fair share). I just believed. Discernment is a bit harder. I know what's right and wrong. When I imagine things, I imagine them in black and white, good or bad. No grey. When I am doing or saying something that I know God wants me to say, I can feel the shaking of the Holy Spirit. Down to my core. It's not an emotional thing, it's an actual physical feeling. That's not to say I always do what's right. Sometimes I am very willfully disobedient. And sometimes I hit a moral dilemma. A situation that my discernment fails me on. Something that I think I know the answer to, but I can't swear to it.  My brain can't handle it when that happens. I have to file it in my head as right or wrong or I just feel dirty inside. Does this make sense? It will.

I'm specifically talking about masturbation here. I think I've basically landed on "masturbation is bad." I know that lust is bad. Therefore masturbation, while lusting after other women/men is bad. No brainer.

 Here's where I get a headache... What about masturbation while fantasizing about your spouse? You're not lusting after someone else, so where exactly is the sin? I know that masturbation is a very selfish act and selfishness is not in line with the heart of Christ. Does that make it sinful? This is a point of contention at my house. Right now there is no self pleasure at all because I do not trust Amos to do it with pure thoughts. He contends that this will eventually have to be reevaluated. He has made it very clear that he is not okay with this situation.

Let's suppose that I learn to trust him again. Amos gets his heart in line with God and we're doing good. What do I say when Amos says "I want us to be able to masturbate again. I will only ever think of you." What do I say to that? Is masturbation in and of its self a sin or is it the lusting that makes it sinful? What do you think? Do you have scripture to back it up? I'm open to any thoughts on this. If you feel you need to answer this one anonymously, please feel free to do so. This is a hot topic among the Christian community and I would only ask that you be respectful no matter what your opinion is.

Amos and Esther: The Wonder Years

Carla Sue mentioned recently that she was curious about Amos's childhood. So I'm going to take it a step further. I'm going to tell you about both of us. This is for her.

Amos:

Amos is 34 years old. He has been a Christian since childhood. He was brought up in the church. He wasn't interested in girls. Not for a long long time. He had basically sworn himself to be a lifelong bachelor. I'm not exactly sure when that changed, but it obviously did.

When he was young (around eight) he happened upon a stash of porn at a friend's house. It belonged to the father of his friend. He looked a few minutes a moved on. Later he found a stash of porn out in field. He and a friend would go look at it occasionally but then one day it disappeared and that was that. He was about thirteen at the time. The first time he masturbated, he was fifteen and porn was not involved. He didn't know what he was doing and it eventually turned into a habit and somewhere down the road it became an addiction.

I want to take a quick break from the story to say this...
Parents, TALK to your kids about sex! Please! They should at least have the opportunity to make an informed decision regarding what they are doing with their bodies. Back to the story...

His family took in a Russian refugee. This refugee regularly had a magazine sent to their home that advertised a sex hotline. It was a 1-800 number so Amos, like many other children, thought that this meant it was free. He called the number and promptly stopped calling that number once the phone bill came. He went back to just looking at the porn after that. He felt guilty. He knew it was wrong. He didn't really want to do it, not in his heart, but he did it anyway. And he struggles with it to this day.

No, he was not abused. No, he was not neglected. No, he was not traumatized. He was just a kid who had to struggle through puberty like every other kid and through a series of unwise decisions, he ended up here.

Esther:

I am 28 years old. I was raised a Christian. I vividly remember the moment I gave my heart to God. I was eight years old when I had my first meeting with Him. I desperately wanted to serve Him. There's some psycho-babble out there stating that women who marry broken men marry them because their fathers were broken. Let me say first off that my father was/is wonderful. There was no abuse, physical, emotional, or otherwise. There was no porn stashes. My dad is a great guy. Let's get that out of the way.

Yes, I was sexually abused. By my step-niece. She was four or five years older than I was. She liked to play "house" and she did it for years. I can't remember the first time. Maybe I was five or so. She was still young too. I don't know where she learned it. It was bad. It was real bad. Eventually I got older and it stopped. I never told anyone. What was I supposed to say? It's not like an adult was touching me in my private areas. I had been warned about male adults, but never about female children. So I never told.  But she did it to some other members of the family as well and over time the cat was let out of the bag. After I had gone off to college. My step-niece is now a lesbian drug addict living on welfare and spending random stints of time in and out of jail. I don't talk to her anymore. No, I'm not suffering from PTSD. No I'm not ashamed. No I don't blame myself.  No I don't have any suppressed emotions. I'm not damaged and I don't consider myself a "victim" I consider myself a survivor. Now that we've got that out of the way...

Aside from this, my childhood could have been ripped straight from Leave it to Beaver. So what does that tell us? Why did I waste my time telling you all this if we have such normal lives?  To warn you. This tells us that it could happen to ANYONE. We are not special or different. We are just... us. Prepare you kids. Teach them about their bodies. Don't let them hear about it from friends. When you tell your kids about appropriate and inappropriate touching, be aware that it is not a male/female thing. Not even an adult/child thing. It could be anywhere and anyone. Be diligent.

SUDS

I wasn't planning on making another post today but I happened upon a site that resonated with me.

It breaks down the cycle of  porn addiction .  I am currently trying to recognize the signs. It's much harder to recognize these things in someone else. I don't know Amos's thoughts and feelings as well as I know my own so I find it difficult to pinpoint where we are on the cycle. But I have a guess.

SUDS - Seemingly Unimportant Decisions.  One of the examples given is checking email. It seems unimportant, but it's the first step in getting you to sit in front of the computer. And once your in front of that computer, a whole new set of decisions. Why not avoid having to make those decisions to begin with ?  To me, this is one of those "No sh*t, Sherlock!" moments. To Amos, not so much. I cannot begin to tell you how many conversations we've had about this.

For the past couple of years, his primary porn browsing time has been in the quiet of the morning before work while I was still in bed. He would get online to check his email before work and then afterwards, if the urge struck him, he'd spend some time viewing naked women. If my report was any indication of the past few years, the urge struck him often. A few months ago, when this all came to light, I was devastated. And frantic to make it stop.  As a way to combat this, I put a lock on the computer. I changed the password frequently so that if he did break the code, at least he wouldn't know it for long. And he did try. It hurts me that he tried to get on the computer even after apologizing and promising me that he wouldn't. A couple of weeks ago I took off the password. I did this to indicate to him that I was trying to trust him again. I was trusting him to stay off of the computer (only when alone) without any interference from me. He really hates this. He says he's done with porn forever. In his mind that's the end of that. That's all that I should think about and there's no reason to worry. Of course I still do. Getting caught doesn't cure addiction. He's still an addict. And the past dictates that we tread carefully. We avoid the things that could set the stage for failure. He doesn't see it as an attempt to avoid porn in the future. He sees it as me trying to control the situation.

Which brings me back to SUDS. This morning, while I slept, my husband turned on the computer...sat down... and checked his email. That's all. Just checked his email. I'm hurt. I'm angry too, but mostly hurt. He promised he'd stay off the computer unless I was awake and downstairs with him. To him, it's no big deal. To me, it's SUDS. He said he wouldn't do it again but that's not really good enough, is it? I don't want him to avoid checking his email just because his crazy controlling wife is having security issues. I want him to avoid this situation because he wants to be pure. I feel like I'm dragging him every step of the way. He's not necessarily fighting me on these things, but he's doing it for the wrong reasons. He's doing it to keep me calm. That won't fix anything, he'll just eventually grow to resent me.

Ah. Another jumbled mess of thoughts. I loathe the thought that we might be back in this cycle. And I'm terrified that we are. And it's devestating to be the only one who sees it.

The Contender

I was in church yesterday and a gal from the congregation was giving a little talk. She was telling the church how a series we had just completed had touched her life. In the course of her talk, she mentioned a reference in Isaiah.

For thus says the LORD: Even the captives of the mighty shall be taken,and the prey of the tyrant be rescued, for I will contend with those who contend with you,and I will save your children.
Isaiah 49:25

Whoa. I was just about driven to my knees as she read that passage. He will contend with the one that contends with us? He will save our children? My children?

My marriage is a captive. We are the prey of the tyrant. We are within the very clutches of Lucifer himself right now. I don't doubt this. The battle lines have been drawn and the warriors are circling one another and it will be a fight to the death. He would love to see a war that would destroy my marriage. To tear apart the very moral fabric of one of God's own. He's practically tingling with the anticipation of it.

But God will contend with the one who contends with us. The tyrant will be dealt with. Suddenly this battle is looking much more favorable.

And the part that has me shaking in gratitude?

"And I will save your children."

My children will not be causalities. Thank God.

I will stand and fight alongside my husband for as many battles as it takes to win this war. And I suddenly find that the anticipation of it doesn't completely drain me anymore. I feel revived and alive and ready. We can do this. We will do this.

Nothing but the Facts Ma'am...

I'm too exhausted to be clever tonight this morning. My mind is over worked, over tired, and under fed. I won't be putting the same "umph" in this entry as I normally try to incorporate into my writing. Instead today you get just the facts.

Fact: On Monday December 8th 2010, Amos and I attended our very first marriage counseling session.

I nearly burst into tears upon entering the room. It was pathetic. The therapist (counselor? what are they called?)  asked what we thought about being there then looked to me to answer. And cue the water works. I blubbered something about never thinking in a million years that my marriage would end up here. The tissue box was passed my way and I held on to it for the next hour.

Would you like to hear the most interesting part? Porn and porn addiction was talked about , but it was no where near center stage. As I look back on the session, I'm just astounded by that. We talked about the disconnect that Amos and I have. I want romance and he wants sex. We talked about his unwillingness inability to be romantic towards me. This is a problem we've had for quite some time. I crave it. I want it. I need it. He has expressed willingness to try and come up with something to make me feel pursued and wooed, but he lacks follow through.  We talked about my need to feel like he chose me instead of just settled for me. We talked about his lack of emotion... or at least his lack of showing emotion. This is one of the things that I will readily admit drives me absolutely insane with rage. I hate that I am over flowing with emotion to the point of being unable to contain myself, and he seems utterly untouched and unmoved. It seems so ... unfair that I should carry the load myself (remember this, I'll be coming back to this). Amos did a majority of the talking. He gets a bit wordy sometimes. As weird as it is, I like that.

Another interesting part is this. I , apparently, am the only one unsatisfied. Amos says he would change nothing about me. That he is happy in our marriage. I can't seem to wrap my head around this. I thought we were both struggling. Apparently not. That's... interesting. I'm not sure what it means, but it surprises me that he is, all in all, happy.

Fact: I weigh 235 lbs.

Yeah that one hurts. I'm not sure what happened. I weighed about 165 when I married Amos. It was at the upper end of normal for my height, but healthy nonetheless.  Life happened. I wish I could say something specific caused this, but I can't. It was a culmination of things. A person extremely close to me died. They died young. One of those things you can't prepare for. I still mourn him. I began having anxiety attacks shortly after we were married. My brother-in-law passed away about 6 months after I married. I started a new job that I almost hated. I had no family or friends to speak of here. I was far from home. Whatever the reason... I guess I just got bored and ate. I have no one to blame but myself. I did this to me.  Now I have to undo it.

Things have been said about my weight in my marriage. I've mentioned before the things that hurt me the most. But those things don't matter. Not really. I thought they did. I tried to lose weight. I tried to look pretty for him. At one point I even had it in my brain that I'd lose my weight and make him want me again... and then I wouldn't let him touch me. That thought didn't last long, thank God. The point is that before now, for the past 4 or so years, I've been trying to drop the weight for the wrong reason. It's not about looking good for Amos. Something's wrong with that man's heart, and I could melt myself away into nothing and it still wouldn't fix it. Amos has to be responsible for fixing Amos. Esther has to be responsible for fixing Esther. I want to live a long time. I want to be able to outlast my kids. I want energy. I want to be able to hike and swim and run. And if I may be vain a moment... I want clothes that friggin fit!  And now, for the first time since I've been married, I've finally got this figured out. I'm losing weight. And I'm doing it for my health and for my kids and those are pretty dang good reasons.

On the day I had my son, I weighed in at 286 lbs. At the beginning of November I weighed 250 lbs and I set a goal to lose 20 lbs by Christmas. As of today I weigh 235 lbs.  I can do this. It's good to have a goal. To have a distraction. And I must say, I'm proud of myself for finally fixing my heart in this regard. It's been broken for too long.

Fact: Amos cried last night.

Remember when I said I was carrying this emotional burden alone? Maybe I've been wrong...

One of the things brought up during counseling was divorce. Amos has sworn that he is committed to our marriage and to me. I'm skeptical. He puts up a hard front. He truly shows almost nothing. Last night he cried to me after the counseling. He cried and said he was sorry and said he was scared of losing me. He said he loved me. He let me hold him while he cried. He woke up in the middle of the night clinging to me because he dreamed that I left him and when he awoke, he thought it was real. Maybe he means it. Please God, let him mean it.  He knows I crave tenderness and romance. We'll see if he's found his motivation for follow through.

Fact:

I love my husband. In all other respects, we're gold. He's a wonderful provider. He's incredibly supportive. He tries to serve me. He's a Christian. Make no mistake.. he is a Christian. He is fallen like the rest of us and his sin is an intimate betrayal to me, but the blood of Christ covers him the same as it does everyone else.

I believe we will get through this. Some days are better than others. Some days I feel forgiving, some days I want to claw my way up the walls with my anger and frustration.

Good Night Morning Friends.

The Saint vs The Sinner

I have misrepresented my husband. I have done poorly. I have no one to blame but myself. As you read this blog, keep in mind that this is my venting place. You won't hear all the good stories here. This is where I cowardly  anonomously post all my shameful secrets. You won't here about the pep talk he gave me today bringing us both to joyful tears. You won't hear about what a dedicated and loving father he is. You won't hear about the compliments he pays my cooking or about all the housework that he helps me with or about all his efforts supporting my photography. You'll only hear about the things that make me cry.

Last night we talked about romance. I went to him after I made my blog post and I poured out my heart. Thanking him for a good day and trying to gently point out the parts that hurt me. Afterwards I told him that I was glad that God had chosen him for me. He looked at me like I had grown a second head and said "How could you possibly say that?" And I didn't even have to stop and think about it. I said, "Because I love you more than I'm mad at you."  And it's true. I love him.

I'm not trying to excuse what he did. I'm certainly not justifying it.  I consider lust (porn) adultery .  But I have painted a picture that suggests that it's The Saint vs The Sinner. That's just not accurate. Not by a long shot. Not many men would stick around and let a woman beat them over the heads with their shame and guilt on a nearly daily basis. My husband does. Not many men would expose that shame to members of their family at their wives request. My husband did. Not many men would would buy self help book after self help book after self help book and then sit there and have a humilating conversation about the contents on a weekly basis. My husband did. Not many men would reveal themselves to their pastor. My husband did. Not many men would be will to dump money they didn't have to spare into marriage counseling right smack dab in the Christmas season. My husband is.

On the flip side... I'm no saint.

Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”  Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.
Matt 18:21-22

I am the bride of Christ. How many times have I been unfaithful? Certainly more than seven. More than seventy-seven. I am so lucky that God does not judge with the same ruler that I do.

No. This is not a case of The Saint vs The Sinner but of two sinners wallowing in their own filth.

Make no mistake, I certainly hold him accountable for the damage he's done. I am first and foremost a mother. I will not stay if I think it has come to the point of influencing my children. This must end.  I will follow the guidance of God to decide when/if I leave my husband but if Amos and I will both be open to the heart of God, I do not believe it will come to that. As long as I believe Amos is still fighting the good fight, I will fight along side of him. And Amos is fighting still. And so I fight as well.

Frustrated

No bitter words today. More air. Breathe in... Breathe out...

It's nice. Although I find I am getting frustrated with his actions. This isn't new. It's not that he's being derogatory or anything like that. Not really. He's just not really listening to me. I don't like to be groped. I need romance and sweetness. I'm his wife, not his whore. I'll admit there is certainly a place and a time for that stuff within a marriage. In fact, that's the only place and time that it's appropriate. However... I don't need to know that I inspire him to think about sex. EVERYTHING inspires him to think about sex. I want to know that I inspire romance in him. I have asked him a hundred times to be romantic towards me. He admits that he's falling short here. He's admitted it for years. But he's not fixing it. I cry often about this. I feel like I'm giving and giving and getting not nearly enough. I have explained that while his sex drive is visually stimulated, mine is emotionally stimulated. I want to cuddle into his lap and just have him enjoy the cuddle, but he won't. He sticks his hands down my pants or up my shirt. I tell him I don't like it and he either doesn't stop or he does it again five minutes later. I do not want to be groped. I want a day that he holds me just because he's happy to be married to me. Not because he's got sex on the brain. He considers household chores romance. I consider that life so he thinks he doesn't get credit for the stuff he does that is romantic.

When I feel like he loves me because I'm ME and not because I happen to posess a vagina then we can grope. I need to be wooed. I need to be won and persued. I firmly believe, and have been all but told, that we're married because I was the first one to say yes. I need romance to feel loved. Sex is not special...not to him anyway. He gets turned on by all sorts of things. I want to know I inspire him romantically. All he wants to do is be "dirty". He told me that he thinks part of his desire to look at porn stemmed from it being "dirty". What does he want from a woman with no self confidence left?

This is a jumbled mess of thoughts. I don't have time to proofread. Don't get me wrong. It's been a great day considering everything happening in our lives right now... I just feel... neglected.

And So I Breathe...

The past week has been suffocating. I have felt trapped and alone and ...robbed. I feel as though I've been robbed of my right to make a decision regarding whether I stay or go since I found his betrayal less than a week before I birthed my son. Robbed from my right to be involved in a loving and sexually pure marriage. Robbed of the right to provide my children with a rock solid family. I have felt robbed of the right to speak freely. I have found this last week was  challenging at best. I feel as though I'm pushing my face as high as I can trying to reach air. Trying to find some oxygen in the midst of all this poison. I envision myself clawing at my neck and beating my chest begging my lungs to work.. to just BREATHE. The urge to run to healthy air has been nearly overpowering.

Oddly enough, in the midst of all this chaos and hurt and shadow, I had a very good day yesterday.

Not one bitter word was uttered by either Amos or myself. Not only was there not any bitterness, but there was intimacy, on a new level. Which is....monumental. There were sweet words and smiles and he told me he was sorry. It's amazing what one little "I'm sorry" can do. Even when I've heard it before. 

Today I'm just riding out the wave. I don't know how long my oxygen supply will last. A day? A week? I don't know... but I'm going to enjoy it while I can.

And so I breathe.

The Final Chapter

And so begins the final chapter in this mess.

This is the last time we're going through this. I can't take it anymore. Three rounds is enough to KO even the best of us. One way or another... This will end.

Speaking of ending it... Amos called me yesterday. We will be attending our very first session with a marriage counselor. A Christian marriage counselor. Our first real true solid step toward marital healing. Even the longest journeys begin with only one step I suppose.

Our insurance won't pay for this. It's 100 bucks. Right in the middle of the Christmas season. Right after the very expensive birth of our son.  I didn't think twice about it. Pay it. Charge it. Sell your clothes to pay it.  I don't care how you pay it, just PAY IT. It's the most important 100 bucks we will ever spend. Amos is concerned, but to his credit he didn't whine to loudly about the money and he did all the work finding her. I think he really does want to fix things. That's good. I love him.

Pray for financial help. We're living just tight enough to make it hurt and it sure would be nice not to have to juggle money woes as well as a porn addiction and new baby just now.

Ah, Such is life.

Third time's a charm...Right? Please?

And for the next chapter of our story..

We struggled, greatly, during the months following my husband's betrayal. The porn hurt, but the encounter with Jezebel was even more devastating. We were beginning to move beyond fantasy into the realm of the real. This was the next step in his addiction. His addiction was escalating. Thank God I found the emails. I truely am very thankful for that. It was a blessing. Who knows what could have happened. Cyber sex maybe? Phone calls? There was once a time that Amos also said he didn't know where it would have lead and may have lead to those things. If you ask him now he'll tell you he would never be capable of that. My husband is a very proud man and, like anybody, doesn't like to admit his shortcomings. Especially within our marriage.

During the first couple of  months following my finding his emails, he was very apologetic. He met with our Pastor once per month over fast food and talked about his addiction and that was supposed to be his treatment. I look back on that now and know that this is just... laughable. Did he only struggle with his addiction once a month? Of course not.  We also did study guides aimed towards christian men with porn addictions. When we finished one, we brought out another one. We did this through three or four books. I blame myself as well as him for letting that fall by the wayside. We should have bought a fifth.  And a sixth. I do believe that those books and the constant study and thought was helping him. 

Eventually Amos began to resent me. He resented my constant need to hear him say he's sorry. Fights happened. Many many fights happened. I was dumbfounded that in the midst of all of this he actually had the nerve to be mad at me ?! Was I not the victim here? Was I not the obedient and dutiful wife who stuck by her husband even though she wanted to run? Running would have been hard. Very hard. But staying was even harder. And he dares to get mad at me for asking him questions about his betrayals? That absolutely infuriated me. I wanted him to grovel. I wanted him to come to me every day for the rest of my life and tell me he's sorry for what he turned me into. Yes. I blamed him for the sobbing mess I had become.  I remember these feelings well. Indeed, I have a journal with many pages of these feelings written out in an anger and sadness so fierce that the pages are sometimes ripped and the ink smeared with my tears.  Although I remember these feelings and the rage with clarity, I find I cannot remember how we moved past them. Perhaps we buried them. How we managed to move on I don't know , but we did eventually move on. We became sexually intimate once more, and although I was still not confident in my body, I shyly showed him what I had to offer. As mundane as it may be.

Two years later. Have you noticed the trend? Every two years...

In the fall of 2009 we planned to have another baby. It had been a year since porn or emotional infidelity had been an issue in our marriage. Amos had long since ceased going to his "counseling" sessions with Pastor and we felt confident in our marriage. In January of 2010 we announced the pregnancy of our second child. What we would later learn to be a little boy...whom you may call Peter.  During the summer of 2010, around July or so and in my last trimester, my little Ruth made a mess.

Ruth had got hold of my wallet and proceeded to dump the contents... everywhere. During the process of cleaning up this mess I found a card in my walled. It said only this " http://www.x3watch.com/ ." After studying it a moment I remembered what it was. It was a link that Pastor had given us to download some accountability software. Amos had told me long ago that I was welcome to install the software and had his blessings to do so. And so I did. And once again, you know where this story is headed don't you?

I looked at my first report in late August. On a Friday I believe. I was scheduled to have an induction 5 days later. I saw the report and my heart raced. My stomach tied its self into knots. My hands began to shake. No matter what, I wanted to KNOW. I opened the report and there I had it. A whole two week's worth of porn sites as well as the time stamp to let me know when they had been viewed.

I saw red. My world spun. I wanted to scream, cry, and retch all at the same time. Amos was mowing the lawn. I stood up and walked outside shaking with heartbreak and rage. I yelled at Amos above the roar of the mower... "Amos! Have you looked at porn?" He just looked at me, unable to hear. I  knocked it up a punch "Have you looked at porn?"  Again, he only stared. So I screamed it. "HAVE YOU LOOKED AT PORN!" Keep in mind that I'm standing on our front porch. I never saw any neighbors peek out at us but I'd not be surprised if our "secret" is not so secret. I think he heard me then. He flipped off the mower and walked up to me.

"What did you say?"
"Have you looked at porn?"
"What?" he scoffed. "No! Why would you ask that?"
At this point he tried to side step me and make his way to the computer. It's hard to side step a pregnant woman.
"No. You don't get to look at the proof before you decide if it's enough to make you confess. Have. You. Looked. At. Porn?"
"Yes. But it's been a really long time!"
I'm pretty sure I called him a name at this point. I remember going inside and pulling up the report and showing him. I also showed him the time stamp. From the week prior. For days straight. He had been getting up in the mornings, logging on to the computer and browsing the porn sites while his pregnant wife and child slept upstairs. Then he'd get up, go to the bathroom, finish his dirty business and go about his day. I later learned he had picked this habit only months after I caught him two years prior.

I was as close as I could possibly be to hating the man at this point. My baby boy was due in 5 days. I felt robbed. The decision to stay or go had been cruelly taken from me. With my baby due, I had no choice but to stay. Travelling the 1500 miles to get home was not an option. I was stranded. I was alone. I was livid. I was devastated.

This was three months ago. Three short months. I am still raw from the pain and anger of it all. I am not who God created me to be. I am not merciful. I am not humble. I am not forgiving, although I swear before God that I have tried.

My husband has not seen me nude since that night. We have been intimate. He claims to not have masturbated. I don't believe him of course. I have changed the passwords on the computer. I left town to visit my family and to introduce my son to them. My husband's brother disconnected web browser access while I was away. We have reestablished intimacy. On good days. We do still have good days. We also still have bad days.

These are the things I now know...

I have been married for 6+ years. Amos has been looking at porn for 6+ years. There were two very short 3 or 4 month stints that he remained pure.

By his own confession, he only thinks of me about 50% of the time we have sex. My children only have a 1 in 2 chance of having been conceived during sexually pure intercourse. I grieve the loss of this daily. This has hurt me almost more than I can bear.

He masturbates regularly, even though he has promised not to in an attempt to keep from lusting after other women. I once caught him masturbating in bed beside me as I slept.

Had the porn DVD's cost more than 20 bucks, my husband wouldn't have "wasted" the money on them (again, by his own admission). I am left only to believe that his love of money ( and make no mistake, he DOES love money) means more than his love of wife. If the cost of porn can keep him in line when his own wife fails... I am at a loss.

This is an addiction.  It is not the desire of his heart to look at porn, it is the desire of his flesh. I have to tell myself  this daily to keep from going  insane with the pain and rejection of it all.

He can't be fixed.  I cannot fix him. He must choose to fix himself.

Even if I were a runway model, he would still have the desire to seek solace in porn or the arms of another woman. I tell myself this as well. This does no good. I have felt and writhe in the rejection of his betrayal daily. No matter how I measure myself, I don't measure up. This is something that must be fixed in me.

I have the strength and the ability to leave him if I must. I hope I don't have to.

He has a desire to change. Thank God.

I still love him.

You're all caught up. From here on out you will hear about the ups and downs that are currently happening in our lives. When all is said and done, and the final chapter is written, I hope to have a beautiful story of a marriage restored in God.

We'll see.

Another Detour..

I'm taking another break in the story to do something that is, to me, a huge step.

Amos says I have trouble forgiving him. I say he makes forgiveness difficult when he lies constantly. He says I hold on to things and dwell on them. I say I like to sort out the mess once and for all, which means exploring every last minute detail until I am convinced I understand it.

Of course, I'm not being entirely accurate there. Although that is true, I do have a problem letting go. I don't know why. He says he wants to go forward and not think about the past. I don't have that choice. It's almost as though I think if I have to live with it, then so does he. It haunts me. It's like the big invisible elephant in the room and I'm the only one who can see it. It's with me all the time. Every time I dare to take a bite of food. Every time I pass a mirror. Every time I pass a woman in the mall who seems to think wearing a piece of yarn for a shirt is appropriate. Every time I see my husband look twice at another woman. Every time I turn on the computer. Every time I look at my kids and wonder "Was he thinking of me when we concieved you?".  Every time I go to sleep and wake up angry, scared, and destroyed because I've dreampt of catching him with porn or because I've heard his past hurtful words echoed in my dreams. Every time I change the password on the computer so he won't be able to access it alone.  I can't escape it.  I have no control over this. I've tried. I've tried to ignore it. I've tried to beat it to death. I've tried to forget. I'm currently just co-existing with the past. No quite holding tight to it, but not quite letting go either.

Thus the inspiration for today's post. There is something I can do. In my email I have a folder. In that folder I have every email that Amos ever sent to Jezebel. Every email that she ever sent to him. Every email we sent back and forth to each other during the aftermath of his betrayals. I even have the emails he sent to the eBay seller regarding the porn DVDs he purchased during my trip home. I have it all. I have kept every evil shred I found.

I do have control over that folder. I do have the ability to let go of at least that much.

Today I deleted that folder.

Strike 2

I apologize for the detour in my last post. Hopefully we can get back on track today...

Life was rocky after I discovered Amos's dirty little secret. I felt ugly and naive and more than a little unloved. Slowly, very very slowly, Amos and I began to rebuild that trust. We rarely talked about porn and the aftermath of that first encounter with it. I would occasionally ask him if he had looked at it. The answer was always no and we then changed topics and moved on with our day.

Two years rolled by. Two years of rebuilding our lives on our new foundation. Trust has been restored and my self confidence, although no where near what it had been, was not in completely lost to me.

Finally, after four years of marriage and one miscarriage, we gave birth to our first baby in Spring of 2008. A girl. You may call her Ruth. At four weeks old I bundled up baby Ruth and hopped a plane to introduce her to my family. Amos stayed home. We had a new baby and a new 3000 square foot home. Someone had to pay the bills. I visited my family for about two blissful weeks. Every night I would talk to Amos. He was often busy and we were unable to talk as often as I liked but I wasn't worried. Before I chose to leave home and visit my family for such a long time, I asked Amos how he felt about it. He assured me that it was okay. I asked him if he thought he could handle being apart that long without looking at porn. He promised me that this would not be a problem. You see where this story is headed don't you?

After I came back home from my trip, life settled back to normal. As normal as it can be with a new baby. I soon became bored during the days and decided to order some books to occupy me. I logged onto eBay and picked some out. Amos was aware I was doing it since I was using his account and was fine with it. His only request was that I wouldn't leave feedback. I thought this was an odd request but I assumed it was because he was a former eBay employee and was very particular. 

I chose a handful of books over the course of a few days and thought all was well. I was wrong. Amos came home from work early one day. Around 10 am or so. He told me to get ready and get baby Ruth ready. He wanted to take me out to lunch. This was EXTREMELY odd. My husband is not a romantic. A fact I mourn regularly, but it's true. I thought it was a wonderful surprise indeed! I prepared myself and baby for our outing and off we went.

On the way to the restaurant we dropped off the baby with Grandma and Grandpa (an even bigger surprise!) and we proceeded to go have a nice lunch. After lunch we went back to the house (without baby) and he made his confession. He had been looking at porn. In fact, he read it to me from a letter he had written that morning at work. It said this:

Esther,

I would much rather tell you all this in person, but I am at work and this is on my mind so I'm going to type it here. It's going to be babble, but I hope you will understand.

Please know that you are the most important thing in my life, even when I fail and it appears otherwise. I value you above anything else. I try not to do anything that would bring joy solely to me. Instead I am to do the things that will make you happy.

I fell Esther. Only one time since this issue last came up. I'm sorry. I violated your trust...Again. I tried to hide it from you, I even lied to you about it when you directly asked. I do not want this to be a habit. I only fell once. I am not perfect. I've been doing really good. I justified it in my mind. I have felt guilty, and even worse than that, I am not confessing from the goodness of my own heart. I am confessing because you are about to discover my failing.

It happened when you left for home with Ruth. When I found out how quickly you were leaving, and how I knew we would be checking Internet history together, I knew that the temptation would be too great. At that moment, I fell. I bought a DVD on eBay the day before you left. The DVD arrived and I watched it. The computer was not involved. I justified it by saying it would fill a void. It did temporarily.

The DVD was destroyed and thrown away before you got home. I haven't looked back or thought of it since. When I bought it I did so using my UserID on eBay. I thought nothing of it. Now that you are using my screen name to buy your books, you are moments away from finding the record or the eBay transaction in the feedback forum.

I don't know if I regret my fall more or if I regret the fact that I probably would not have said anything if you did not use Half.com to buy your books.

When I did it I said to myself, "Amos, you know you will likely get caught, you are stupid for doing this." But I did it anyway. I am sorry. I know you are angry at me. I know you feel I failed you. I know you think I don't love you. I know I have introduced doubt in your mind about my every action since you came home.

Please don't feel that way. I love you honestly and intensely. I just fell, like a child on a bike. I am thinking of you and of Ruth. I am thinking how rotten I am and contrasting that with how good I want to be and how I want you to love me and trust me. I know I let you down...again. How can you trust me?

Please don't leave me. Please. I am completely shaken by this thought. Terrified. Please don't leave me. Please let this be between you and me. Please trust me with Ruth and with my family. I sinned. I am asking for your forgiveness. Please forgive me. Please help me move on. Help me become better. Please don't cry. Please trust me. Hug me with love and trust. I fear you won't be able to trust me. Trust me in that I have no lack of love or attraction for you. My vision for us in the future has not changed. I just fell, just a flat tire on the way.

If you think I should go to come sort of counseling or support group, I will. We will find a way to afford it if you think it would add value. Please let me be a husband and a father. Please love me even though I am not perfect. Please love me. Please comfort me. Please don't leave me. I need you desperately. Nothing can take your place.

We will talk more.
Amos

Aside from name changes to preserve anonymity, the bolded text is precisely as it was written to me.

Pretty convincing eh?

We talked. I cried. Alot. He sounded sincere in his desire to change and I was sincere in my desire to believe him. He promised that everything was open to me. I was free to check the history on the computer, I was free to check his email accounts... anything.

A few weeks later I was doing exactly that. My computer savvy husband had screwed up. He had deleted emails from his inbox and from his "deleted" folder. But he didn't delete them in his "sent" folder.

I came across this email :

Jezebel,

You still alive out there?  If so, shoot me an email.  I havn’t heard from you.  I am at xxx@xxx.com.  My email is changing so I want to make sure you still have it.  What’s been going on this summer for you in MA?

Amos

Pretty innocent email, yes? No.  First I had no idea who Jezebel was. Second, the email he gave her was his work email and an email that I had/have no access to. He had just asked a strange person not to email him at home... Why would he do that?

I dug farther. I found a series of emails starting from the day I came home through the current week. Turns out that this was a 17 year old girl he met via web chat.

There are a whole string of emails, but I'll copy and paste the first one here so you can get the feel for the conversations...

Hi Jezebel,

Thought Iʼd email you now.  You are a kind sweet person.  Thank you for listening to me.  We guys need an ear sometimes--I do anyway.  You are enjoyable, fun, very attractive.  And I know there is even more to you than what I have been introduced to so far.  I hope I can continue to keep you entertained and I hope you find in me some spark that holds your interest.

Tell me a story about your summer plans when you reply, so we have something to talk about!

Amos

Before I go further, let me say that this is very difficult to write about. The things and the kindness he was expressing here are things he did not express to me. Please bear with me as I try to sort through the memories.  I would also like to express that this email is as bad as it got. Yes he continued to flirt with her, but he made no propositions and did nothing illegal. Just flirting. But flirting is enough to break your wife's heart.

The time stamps on these emails indicate that he was up at 3 am writing them. During time he did not have to spare for me. During times he told me he was tired and wished to sleep.

I was furious. I was furious at HIM not at her.  But I did email her. I told her that he was a porn addict and married with a new born daughter and she was best off to go her own way. She agreed.

I could go on and on with the things that were said following this revelation, but I'll hit on the things that effected me most.

These following two things have been things that have given me nightmares over the past two years...

I would be more attractive were I thinner.
It would be easier to be romantic towards me if I were more attractive.

Yes. Amos actually said those things to me. I have awoken crying because I was having dreams that wove themselves around these two thoughts. He has apologized many many times for saying these things but the scar runs deep. You can never un-say something.

We called our Pastor and his wife to come over that day. I couldn't breath for the pain of it. Amos had shown no emotion. None. Until the  pastor showed up and he had to confess to him. You see, Amos is the drummer for the worship team. A confession like this could result in being asked to step down. The tears flowed and flowed when he confessed to our pastor. It was all I could do to keep from slapping him. I felt the tears and the remorse was all for show.  Notice that in his letter was the line "Please let this be between you and me." He feared the loss of his reputation. And he still does I believe.

After many tears and much pain, we decided to try and work it out. So I stayed.

It was months before I let him touch me sexually. And even longer before I let him see me nude. I couldn't bear his touch. I had learned that this was not his first slip-up with porn since our last incident. He had been looking at it pretty consistently since I last caught him. It just took me two years to catch him again. I felt that every time he had touched me since we had been married he was thinking of other, better, women. That he chose to marry me from a lack of options. That I was nothing more to him than someone to lie with and lie to. I felt dirty and ashamed when he touched me. Surely a better woman would have kept her man interested? I had just given birth and my confidence in my body was at an all time low. I hated to look at myself in the mirror. I couldn't do it without crying. Why would I let him see me when he had already proved to be judgemental of the only gift I had to offer him.... myself?

This all happened in July of 2008. By Christmas I thought we were on the mend. I had installed net nanny on the computer and we had set limits as to what I was and was not comfortable with. For instance, there was a female friend of his that he had met before we married. Their talks often turned sexual. That had kissed before. I told him that I didn't want him to have any contact with her whatsoever anymore because I did not feel he could restrain their conversations to appropriate topics. He agreed and removed her from his facebook account and (I thought) removed her phone number from his phone. On Christmas Eve I notice he got an email from this girl. She thanked him for his phone call and promised to call him back soon.

Another lie. On Christmas Eve. He swore up and down that he was only calling to wish her a Merry Christmas. Frankly, I don't care why he was calling her. I don't care if he was calling to warn her of an impending burglary. He was asked not to. Said he wouldn't. And lied. I was devastated all over again.

That Christmas was probably the worst Christmas I've ever experienced. And it shouldn't have been. It was my baby girl's very first Christmas but the only thing I remember with clarity is the betrayal.

Make no mistake. I am no saint. I threatened bulimia, I cried constantly, I made no secret that I thought he was a liar and a cad. I questioned him daily. Questions I had asked a hundred times before were asked a hundred more times in an effort to catch him in a lie.

And slowly but surely we learned to be civil to each other. Although I never trusted him again. And still don't.

And yet, there is more to our story still...

Thankful?

I realize that I am in the midst of telling a story and so, by all logical thought , I should probably pick up where I left off. But I find I am distracted.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. Amos and I had been having a rough few days but I thought it had been resolved and I awoke determined to have a happy Thanksgiving. Apparently I was mistaken.

For the first half of the morning all of my attempts to engage Amos in conversation failed. Miserably. After a morning of near hostility I was near my breaking point. And then this conversation happened while I was in the midst of combing my daughter's hair...

Amos: What does Ruth have in her mouth?

(Ruth is our young daughter)

Esther: She's having her very first piece of chewing gum!

(At this point Amos looks at me as if I had just told him I handed our daughter an oozie.)

Amos: That was not a good idea.

Esther: You've been very critical of me lately.

Amos: Yeah.

Esther: You act like you don't even like me anymore...

Amos: I don't know.

Esther: You can't tell me wether or not you even like me anymore?

Amos: Just finish Ruth's hair.

Needless to say... I was devestated. I would not have been more shocked had he slapped me in the face. You can't bring yourself to say you like me? Truely? I'm your wife. The woman who has stayed with you for 6 years and stood by you through an addiction that breaks my heart. The mother of your children. I left my family and friends to marry you, my lover and my best friend and now you don't even know if you LIKE me?

I basically shut down the rest of the day and so did he. We didnt touch. We went out of our way not to. We communicated only to exchange vital pieces of information primarily regarding the children. We slapped on fake smiles and went to Thanksgiving dinner and in the eyes of all we were a happy little family.

This morning I awoke and found this note :

"I don't like the anger and silence either. I still love you."

It's a step I suppose. I was glad to get it. It's nice to hear I am still loved but after yesterday, I can't help but feel a bit jerked around. Just another day in the life of a porn widow I suppose.

Here's hoping that my Black Friday is not quite so black as my Thanksgiving.

Widowed at 21

The title of this post is meant to pique your curiosity. To entice you. To draw you in. The rest of this post , and the blog it's attached to, will hopefully make your visit worth it.

This blog is my journey from young naive woman, to devestated spouse, to bitter porn widow, and hopefully, eventually, to loving wife. Care to take it with me?

I do not pretend to have all the answers. I do not claim that this blog will, in ANY way, help you as you travel your own journey. But I will say this... we've made lots of mistakes in our journey thus far and many more will follow, I'm sure. I'm praying that someone will recgonize and learn from our mistakes.

Feel free to comment without judgement from me. I will not condemn you wether you be the addict or the widow or anywhere in between.

I am 28 years old. I am a Christian. I am female. I am a mother. I am a wife. And I am a porn widow. You may call me Esther.

I married my husband, whom you may call Amos, when I was 21 years old. We were virgins when we married. Within the first six months of my marriage I was a porn widow although I had quite some time ahead of me before I found that out.

To be fair, I knew Amos looked at porn when I married him. He promised that there would be no more of that after we married and I beleived him. And I truely think that Amos also believed it. There was a big production involving his porn stash (a handful of DVD's) and a small sledge hammer. And that was that. Or so I thought.

I was whisked along in marital bliss for the first couple of years of our marriage before my bubble burst. I remember sitting down in front of the computer in our very small 900 square foot townhouse and browsing the history. A strange site was listed there. And then another. And another. So, I opened the first one up only to be accosted by a pair of (greatly enhanced) naked breasts beneath the face of a seductivly smiling woman. Shocked by this, I checked the other sites. All of them trash. All of them filth. 

Amos was in the family room watching television and I called to him. As he came casually and confidently into the office I watched him. I saw it when it happened. I saw the facade of doting husband melt away into a look of horror and panic. I asked him then... "What is this?"  He tried his best to compose himself and to tell me that he had no idea what this was and that his brother must have looked up porn on our computer. I wanted to believe that. I tried to believe that. Unfortunatly, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. He came clean. I broke down into tears feeling betrayed and discarded. I grabbed my wallet and keys and left the house. I had to think. I had to compose myself. I had to decide if I would forgive him.

Perhaps I should interject here that marrying Amos meant leaving my family and my home and moving 1500 miles away to place where I knew no one. I had a choice to make when he proposed to me. I chose Amos. I had a choice to make again. Should I bail ship? After two years in this state I had still not made any close friends and although I thought I was very close to Amos, how close could I actually be with someone hiding a secret this big?

Ultimately I chose to go back home to Amos. It was just a mistake and he didn't realize how much it meant to me that we have a sexually pure marriage and that he not lust after other women. That night in bed he admitted to picking back up his porn habbit about six months after we married and he had been hiding it this long. I learned that nights when he stayed up late doing computer "work" were nights he actually browsed porn sites and ultimately masturbated to them. He apologized and promised that it would never happen again. He loved me.

The last thing I remember asking him that night was this:

"Do you ever think of other women when we have sex?"
"Yes." he said.
"Do I know any of them?"

There was a pause then. No answer. Finally I said:

"Nevermind. I don't want to know."

He laughed when I said that. That's right...  He. Laughed. And then he wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his nose in my neck and went to sleep. I cried myself to sleep that night in his arms.

And thus our house of cards begins to topple.

My next post will tell you what happened when trust and forgiveness is rebuilt and reborn.