I recently had a conversation with a friend of mine who's husband is also a porn addict. She said to me "It seems like you are dealing with this better than I am." My first thought was, no freaking way am I dealing with this better than anyone else. But, even if that is the case, I have learned that I can't compare my reactions to anyone else's. They don't have my trials or my circumstances and I don't have theirs. All I can do is reach out and give what support I have to give. I want to let you see how I feel, how I've reacted and see into my eyes behind the mask I wear every.single.day.
The mask I wear makes me smile and laugh with acquaintances and coworkers. The mask forces me to be polite to others I encounter. The mask makes it look like I'm whole, like part of me isn't broken. Today I'm going to peel back a corner of the mask and peek out for you. I'm not ready to take it all the way off, I'm not ready to be that vulnerable. I'm not ready to go back to the beginning yet. Part of me doesn't remember it all that well and the other part of me is afraid that some of the numbness will wear off if I go back that far. I'll let you see the most recent part of me, the part I am trying to work through right now.
It's not pretty and I'm not proud. I'm angry. Not like a little bit angry and I'll get over it right away, but boiling, raging, throw things at the wall MAD! The other day I got so angry about something so completely unrelated and was stomping around and slamming things down, it was so bad I scared my son. I scared my own child because I was mad about something completely unrelated to him. I didn't touch him, I didn't threaten him, I was just making so much noise to vent my anger that it scared him. That's not fair, nor is is the way I want my kiddos to see me. I don't want them to remember me as the angry mom that was scary to be around. I'm a work in progress and slowly but surely I am gaining control of that anger by sheer faith and prayer.
Here's another corner I'll peek out of, it's the corner that's gray and dented and it's called hopelessness. I have almost completely given up hope of recovery. I have had faith so many times, I have hoped so many times, I have believed so many times that he was truly trying to change…only to be disappointed and that much more devastated than the last time. It is so much easier for me not to hope. I want to hope. I want to heal. I want to trust again. I want to love my husband wholly and freely again without constantly feeling like the rug is going to be pulled out from under me at any moment, but right now I am too scared. I'm too afraid, of being completely crushed, to hope.
That's enough of the ugliness that is behind the mask for now. I know the only way I am going to peel off the mask and leave it off is to begin to heal, begin to hope and let go of my fears. I'm not there yet. I hope that I will be someday soon.
T.
P.S. I read B's post today and it made me cry. It touched me. Nothing he has done or said in a really long time has touched me, because I haven't let it. Maybe the hope is finding a pin prick to squeeze through my mask after all.
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