The Rundown, Part 1

If you've been directed here from my first blog, you probably have a general idea of the history between J and I. You may even have a good picture of what we've been struggling with. Still, here's a rundown of our story up to this point:

We were married 15 years ago. I was young {barely 19}, but had an overwhelming, spiritual confirmation when I prayed about marrying J. I was giddy and optimistic, feeling like I could 'finally start my life'. Obviously, I went in to the situation with unrealistic expectations of what I would get out of our relationship. I'd always been a little less than confidant, and mistakenly thought that having someone love me would make me feel whole and accepted and sure of myself.

The first two years were confusingly difficult. We barely saw each other. I worked full time while he tried to get his own business going. I'd wake up at 5am to go running, then leave for work while he was still asleep. J, ever the night owl, often didn't go to his office until noon. He'd return long after I'd gone to bed. He seemed distant and uninterested in me, which was hurtful and baffling. I sunk into depression. It was horrible. I felt like all our friends were blissful newlyweds, and couldn't figure out why we were doing so badly.

I was terrified of starting a family, but after the first year, felt strongly prompted that I needed to get pregnant now. J didn't seem to care one way or the other, so I took a giant leap of faith and threw away the birth control pills. Then waited and waited and waited.

It took us about a year to get pregnant, and pregnancy was difficult for me. I still hadn't been diagnosed with depression, and frankly, felt like I just needed to cope better. When I was 7 months along, J turned to me in bed one night and told me that he had been looking at pornography. He reassured me that it wasn't anything to be concerned about, that he was only telling me because our Bishop refused to give him a temple recommend. His brother was about to be married in just a few weeks, and J was in the awkward position of having to break the news that he wouldn't be able to attend the sealing ceremony. But it's under control, he kept reiterating. I'm repenting, it won't happen again, and our Bishop is obviously overreacting. 

Complete and utter devastation.

I remember crying. I remember him drifting off immediatley, and me laying in bed looking at the ceiling, so angry that he could sleep while my world had just imploded. I couldn't help but go over every inch of our past and re-write the memories, look for warning signs, and blame myself.

I felt so ugly, so rejected, and so tricked. Had he married me just to fulfill a cultural expectation? Had he even been worthy to marry me in the temple? What else hadn't he told me? And WHY had God asked me to bring a child into all of this? Was there something fundamentally wrong with me that I could be so easily deceived? Had I known on some level and just ignored it? Did I just attract addiction? Wasn't I worthy of a faithful husband?

I couldn't sleep or eat. J swore me to secrecy and became angry when I pried details out of him. I gradually discovered that he'd been involved with pornography and masterbation since he was a teenager, but that it'd gotten exponentially worse when he came home from his mission and had access to the internet. His parents caught him once, and gave him a half-hearted lecture that only managed to teach him how to delete his browser history. When his younger brother went through the temple to get his endowments, J was unworthy to attend and waited outside.

Hearing all this, my gut was screaming addiction. I took the advice of a friend who could see I was in pain, and flew home to my parents, where I spilled everything. They were comforting and understanding, and advised me to learn everything I could and take things slowly.

I did not believe in divorce, and I could not deny that I'd had Heavenly Father's approval when we married. As a result, I began to have a very conflicted relationship with God, often saying that He was "such a man". Why else would he have allowed me to be trapped in something so painful?

On the other hand, I continued to pray for guidance. J combated the idea that he was an addict, saying that I was being unforgiving and dramatic. His resistance scared me. I began to pray that I would catch him in the act. "Just let me have proof", I'd pray. Either he'd be forced to see that he was wrong and get help, or I would have justification for leaving him.

Be careful what you pray for.