This question is coming from the same place this post came from.
Recently I asked who, if anyone, you fellow WoPA's (wife of porn/sex addicts) have told about your husbands (boyfriend/fiancé/partner/etc.) addiction. I received a lot of great feedback. From what I received, most of you have reached out in one way or another and most of you had pleasant experiences and most of you didn't regret who you told.
So here's my next question... what about the kids?
Have any of you shared with your children? If so, please share your experiences. How old are your children? Did you regret your decision? How did your child/children respond?
OR
Did you decide not to share with your children? If so, what lead you to this decision? Do you ever plan on sharing this with your children?
This is such a sensitive topic for our children. I feel like we can help each other by sharing our experiences.
***Random note. I received most comments from the other post privately (through email or Facebook) so I was privy to a lot of helpful information. However, if you feel comfortable, please leave your comments here - under this post - so others can benefit from your experience. You can always leave your comment anonymously. Of course, if you don't feel comfortable sharing here, I still want to hear from you privately.***
It is so much easier for me to accept the consequences of my own behavior and choices.
This makes sense to me. It's obvious.
If I do something wrong, I should have consequences.
I should have to own up to it and do whatever I can to make it right.
This is logical so my brain accepts it.
It is so much harder for me to accept the consequences of others behaviors and choices.
This makes no sense to me. It's insanity.
If someone I love does something wrong, I shouldn't have consequences.
I shouldn't have to own up to it and do whatever I can to make it right.
This is irrational to me so my brain fights it.
So why? why? why? why? why? WHY? doesn't it work like this?
And yet... in both scenarios I am affected.
I am very affected.
In fact, I am probably MORE affected when someone I love does something that directly impacts me. For better or worse.
I have thought a lot about this concept and the reason why it is harder for me (and for you if you are shaking your head yes and thinking "me too") is because of the complete helplessness we have over others choices and behaviors.
There is something comforting knowing that I can do better, that I can make changes, that I can work on my own weaknesses and shortcomings and character defects but I have ZERO control over the people I love. And that helplessness is TERRIFYING. That helplessness is the reason why it is harder.
I have never seen an episode of "Dancing with the Stars" - I'm not familiar with the show and I'm not very familiar with dance... in general.
After watching this video today, I realize that dance {like music} speaks in a universal language.
This spoke to me today.
This is so accurate.
This is too familiar.
This is intensely beautiful.
It was easy for me to relate to the storyline {Alexa having an eating disorder} but it seems as though everyone, in some way, can see this in their lives.
My eating disorder emerges its ugly head in my life...
EVERY
SINGLE
DAY
I hate it. I hate it so much. I hate everything about it. I want to wrap my hands around its neck and strangle the life out of it.
I remember a time when it had its hands wrapped around my neck and almost strangled the life out of me.
I wish I could permanently get rid of it but it doesn't work like that. Something like an eating disorder and/or an addiction never just "goes away". But there are things to do to get to a place in life where the fight is easier.
Choosing recovery is the first step. But choosing once didn't make it go away. I have to choose recovery...
EVERY
SINGLE
DAY
Sometimes it's easy, lately it has been hard. And it makes me so mad and so sad and so scared.
It makes me scares for a million reasons but one reason is it reminds me how hard Mr. Wonderful {and all addicts} have to work...
EVERY
SINGLE
DAY
I think every WoPA fears the reality of the fight against addiction. Sometimes I feel so defeated by the idea that I will have to fight my eating disorder for the rest of my life and that Mr. Wonderful will have to fight his sex addiction for the rest of his life. It's an exhausting thought isn't it?
I lean into hope. Hope in knowing that, at times, my eating disorder is so tiny that the fight takes nearly no effort. It isn't always consuming. It isn't always exhausting. I know the same goes for Mr. Wonderful. But hell, I know how easy it is for me to slip into places that make the fight hard.
Why is it so easy to go backwards?
I believe in miracles, I believe if God wanted my eating disorder to just disappear it would. If he wanted Mr. Wonderful to wake up and never lust again, it would happen. But what my experience has shown me is that although God can remove my pain, my heartache, my eating disorder, He see's the biggest picture. Most of the time that big picture consists of meus having to suffer with Him by our side.
I don't know about you but my greatest growth has {unfortunately} come from my pain. It has stretched me as a person. I have seen how strong I am and how weak I can be. It pushes me. Even when I don't think I have the energy to be pushed.
I will never be grateful for my trials {I hate when people say they are} but I am very grateful for what I have learned and who I have become through my trials.
I never had to make the decision of whether or not to tell my family about Mr. Wonderful's addiction.
Mr. Wonderful did that all on his own.
All himself.
I never had to make the decision of whether or not to tell Mr. Wonderful's family about Mr. Wonderful's addiction.
Mr. Wonderful did that all on his own.
All himself.
And as lovely as Mr. Wonderful was when he was constantly in his addiction, he actually told my family about his addiction years before he told me. {but that's another story}
My point and question is, for those of you that had to make this decision... who {if anyone} did you tell? And how did you decide who to tell? How did you know? And how did you do it?
They have been asking me "what's wrong?" or "what's going on?" and they tell me "I'm worried about you" because they have noticed my subtle steps backwards. My isolation.
It's not like me.
It's also not like me to share another persons story {especially a loved ones story}. It's not like me to share someone else's secrets or their shame.
But what happens if I am a part of their story? What happens if someone else's story directly affects me and hurts me so deeply that I leave Facebook and Voxer and all my chat groups?
Because I did.
What happens if I don't ever want to leave my bed?
Dear "PHYSICALLY" Beautiful Women {according to Mr. Wonderful},
I specify the "physical" importance because this letter is for you.
I am sorry. I am sorry that I have felt threatened by you. I am sorry that I let myself feel inadequate and worthless while I was standing next to Mr. Wonderful as he was noticing you. I am sorry that I hated you and that I wish you would wear more clothes in order to make ME feel more safe and help HIM with is addiction. I am sorry I objectified you as a way to protect myself from you.
I am so so sorry.
This is not my excuse. This is my explanation.
Mr. Wonderful promised me his heart. He promised me his everything. He promised me that I would never have to worry about "other women". But Mr. Wonderful lied. Mr. Wonderful has a long history of wandering eyes. The hardest thing about this "wandering eyes issue" is that he compares what he sees (you beautiful women) to what he has (me).
Without you even noticing us, you are innocently threatening my marriage. And so I have found myself hating you.
This is not right. I was wrong. I promise over the past 8 years I have done the work and educated myself to see the truth of the situation. It isn't your fault. It was NEVER your fault. Your body, your hair, your smile, your clothing has NOTHING to do with my husbands choices, or mine.
I am sorry.
I'm not perfect. I still fear that Mr. Wonderful may eventually leave me for one of you, I still feel threatened and fearful sometimes when I see you, but I am working on it.
Please forgive me. This trauma changed me.
Before D-Day, I never had these fears or thoughts.
***If this post offends you it's okay. It offends me too.***
I've been traveling non-stop for 2 months for work, weddings, family vacations, the Togetherness Project... it's been so great and I am so grateful but it was too much. Then, when I finally returned home, I prepared my house for company and the celebration of my daughters baptism. It was too much. My life became unmanageable... it still is unmanageable.
To top it all off, my dad had an accident. While helping my husband cut down our trees he fell. He just fell out of a tree from 20 feet up and smacked directly on the cement. I saw the whole thing. The whole damn thing.
TRAUMA - TRAUMA - TRAUMA - TRAUMA
I HATE TRAUMA
This post isn't about my dad falling from a tree, he is alright and very lucky only suffering from 3 broken ribs, cuts, bruises and a shattered wrist injury that resulted in surgery. So he's okay.
This post is about a different kind of fall. One that is MORE traumatic to me than my dad falling.
This post is about a man (not Mr. Wonderful) a different man, let's call him Art. I look up to Art so much. I admire and trust and love him. Art is a man who has taught me so much. Art is a man who stands for truth and righteousness, who loves God and his family. I know that if I was every in trouble I could pick up the phone and Art would help me anyway that he could.
The same week that my dad fell out of the tree injuring his body was the same week Art asked me to look up something on his phone and I stumbled across a history of pornography.
TRAUMA - TRAUMA - TRAUMA - TRAUMA
I HATE TRAUMA
What do I do? How do I process this?
Art is a pornography addict. I knew about this. I also "knew" that he was in recovery. So did his wife and family.
I adore and love Art, just like I adore and love my dad. My heart is broken. My hope seems to be diminishing. This world, this addiction, is taking even the best hearted people. I am overwhelmed and I'm feeling myself slipping down the rabbit hole.
I feel heartbroken.
I feel sad.
I feel confused.
I feel hurt.
I feel betrayed.
I feel angry.
I feel scared.
I am Slipping into darkness.
I would rather have my dad fall out of a tree sustaining the injuries he received than have Art fall back into his addiction.
