He was 7 1/2 months sober when he fell again.
I was prideful, I admit; I thought we were bulletproof. His perspective had shifted and he made me feel safe. For the first time in our marriage I had grown comfortable in my own skin, confident in the presence of my husband.
The first time was rough. I shook with anger as he confessed.
The second was when I was out of town for the weekend. About 5 days ago.
The third was last night.
F.
The last thing I want to do is go back to square one and I feel as though we’re inches away. I’m afraid of him again. His face is a source of pain and I tear up and look away anytime our eyes meet.
My spiritual director reminded me that my husband never confessed when he fell in our first 7 years of marriage; he never told me the whole truth; he never had good, healthy people to call if he felt tempted or relapsed.
And true, he didn’t have to tell me and I’m glad he did because snooping only fed my need for control, starved my trust in Jesus, and became a means of me to betray my husband.
My spiritual director also reminded me that my husband never sat and listened to me pour out my shattered heart in our first 7 years of marriage. He told me to take it to my counselor, but DH has open ears now.
So I have blessings to count. And the pain of knowing from the source is better than the pain of suspicion, digging around, confirmation, and a PTSD attack.
I want to make sure I keep track of those blessings, confident that as my husband and I are being made new after years and years of individual and shared brokenness, we have to stumble through walking before we run.
Hmmm…yeah. Still pissed.
I’m not deluding myself. His addiction to porn is still here. He still wants to give in to lust. It still hisses seductive lies in his ears. Next to those lies I feel so ugly. Here I am in early pregnancy with our fifth baby – awkward bump, extra weight, super tired, barfing, and useless around the house – and I learn that he’s ogling naked women in such incredible, photoshopped shape that I could never dream of competing with them.
Freaking fantastic.
I feel rejected. I feel like the real lie is the idea that my husband could want me at all or ever consider me attractive or beautiful. How could he?
The only hope I have is Jesus.
Son of David, have mercy on us. Save us.
Maris Stella, ora pro nobis.
given up for you 