it's not fair

Mr. Wonderful is a sex addict.  

I wanted to do everything in my power to give my kids the best chance they had at not being sex addicts.

So I asked.

I asked Mr. Wonderful what he thought would have helped him better as a child and a teenager.  I asked the professionals what the best things were to help my kids navigate their natural hormones, learn about healthy sexuality, and avoid pornography.  I asked the wives and moms of sex addicts what they thought the best avenues were when trying to talk and teach children.  I asked coaches and bishops and teachers and leaders.  I read books and articles and went to seminars and conferences on the topic.

I learned a lot.

And then came the part where I applied the things I learned. 

We took away the shame as we had/have open discussions about pornography and healthy sexuality.  We talk about natural hormones and what that feels like and what looks like.  We talk about respect and consent and accountability.  We read all of the books that were recommended to us with each child individually (Good Pictures Bad Pictures, 30Days of Sex Talks, Growing Up, etc... {all fabulous books by the way}).  We talked as a family and together set up internet and device filters to help prevent exposures.  We lovingly listen without reacting when our kids do come to us with problems and issues regarding pornography and sex {this one is so hard to do because inside I am SCREAMING in fear}.

WE DO EVERYTHING WE WERE TAUGHT TO DO… and it doesn’t seem to be working.

I find myself feeling a little hopeless, maybe even victim-y.
  
One of my children are struggling with pornography.  Some may even say that he is addicted.  I think that he is addicted.  I can’t believe I am having to go through this as a mom after experiencing it as a wife.  

I just need to sit here and feel sorry for myself for a bit. 

It’s not fair.

Entering Wonderland 'Part Two' - and I lost everything.

So, there we were… my bishop – sitting in the corner of our living room in our oversized blue chair, my husband (Mr. Wonderful) – sitting on the couch, and me – sitting directly across from where my husband was sitting, anxiously waiting and curiously wondering what was going on. 

I knew something was “off”.  I didn’t know if it was a "good off" or a "bad off" but it just felt awkward.  There wasn’t much small talk or chit-chat… it was just strange. 

Then, Mr. Wonderful, without any sort of an introduction, pulled out a piece of paper… a letter that he wrote to me, a letter that he started reading to me.

And then… my life changed.

My world shifted.

I wasn’t safe.  I wasn’t safe.  I WASN'T SAFE.

I was scared.

As Mr. Wonderful read the letter, he revealed and confessed his sex addiction to me.  His confession consisted of years of viewing and lying about viewing pornography.  It also covered the general details of other women, strip clubs, lap dances, sexual chit-chat, adult bookstores (what the hell is an adult bookstore again?)… and so on. 

I remember listening in absolute unbelief.  Even as he was sitting there, with my bishop, confessing all the lies and manipulations and deceit and money and girls… I just didn’t couldn’t believe it.  It was like Mr. Wonderful was telling me a story about someone else, some other sad couple and their tragic relationship, not ours. 

Mr. Wonderful sobbed through the entire letter.  I sat there emotionless, across from him, nothing between us but our coffee table.  Occasionally I would glance over to the corner of the room where my bishop sat, silently listening… silently observing.

When Mr. Wonderful finished reading his letter there was silence.  I just sat there.  I sat there trying to wrap my head around this massive tsunami that just destroyed my reality, my reality turning to Wonderland.  I sat there trying to process the destruction.  Then I stood up. 

I stood up and in absolute shock I walked over to Mr. Wonderful and hugged him… (WHAT???  I know, I should have kicked him in his jewels but I didn’t, I hugged him) and I said to him, “Mr. Wonderful, I bet that was really hard for you to share with me, I appreciate you telling me.”  Then I grabbed my cell phone, looked over at the bishop and said to both of the men, “I need some fresh air”.  And just when I was about to escape that room, just as I reached for the doorknob, I heard Mr. Wonderful’s voice.  He said, “Alice, because you grabbed your cell phone, I feel like I should mention to you that”… (and here is where I instantly lost EVERYONE I EVER TRUSTED IN MY LIFE)… “I feel like I should mention that your dad, your mom, your sister and your therapist already know about my issues, and they have known for several years”. 

I listened to this. 

I stepped back from the front door and walked to the closest chair where I quietly and softly set my cell phone down before disappearing out the front door.

I didn’t need my phone anymore.

Who could I call?

Who could I trust?

Everyone, not just Mr. Wonderful, kept this life-altering secret from me for years.  They sided with the secret.  They sided with the addiction.  They sided with the addict.  My parents, my very own parents, chose Mr. Wonderful over me. 

I sat on my driveway holding my knees to my chest.  I sat there all alone in 119 degrees feeling cold and invisible.  So alone. 

I didn’t need my cell phone anymore.