Death and Insincerity

October, 2014

I boarded the plane with relief. The last 24 hours had been trying. 

J's reaction in therapy had been an angry, "Wrap up the divorce papers and give them to me for Christmas for all I care. Obviously, I can't stop you." I had felt hurt by the contempt in his tone. After all that we'd been through and seeing how visibly difficult it was for me to come to this decision, I'd thought there'd be a moment of sorrow or mourning. But he simply sat through the session with his jaw locked in anger then stormed out without another word. 

Then, when the kids learned that I'd be out of town for the weekend, they'd begged to remain in the house-- with J-- rather than stay with him at his parent's place.  After praying about it, I'd finally relented, though I drew J aside and told him through furious tears that this was MY house, MY sacred place, and I was sick and tired of him violating it. "You've promised not to act out here, but your word is worth nothing. I want to make it clear that I'm doing this for the kids and not because I have even a fraction of trust in you." Even though I felt confident of my choice, the mere thought of his presence in my home made me nauseous. 

Finally, I'd had to endure the drive to the airport with J, who took the opportunity to tell me how selfish and entitled I was for going on the trip to Europe. "It was a work trip!" He complained bitterly, "there was no real reason for you to go!" 

"I know," I replied. "That's why I told you for weeks that we should cancel. You're the one who kept saying I should go."

"Now I have to edit all the footage," he ignored me, "and get reminded of how you were off having fun while I was miserable and alone! I'm stuck paying for your trip and I didn't get any benefit out of it!" 

'Benefit' meaning sex? So that's the only reason he could imagine I'd 'deserve' to go on vacation? He didn't have even an ounce of desire to give me the gift of travel simply because I was the woman he'd promised to cherish-- unless it involved 'benefits' for him? And he was calling ME selfish and entitled? 

As he pulled up to the drop-off curb, I rolled my eyes, grabbed my slim carry-on and slammed the door without a goodbye. 

Now, sitting on the tiny plane, I couldn't believe that I was feeling relief when I was on my way to my grandpa's deathbed. Lately, I felt relief whenever I was anywhere that J wasn't. 

As it turned out, my visit stretched from a few days to a whole week.

While so many aspects of watching a loved one slowly die and being in a household of people who handle stress and grief differently proved emotionally harrowing, overarching all of it was the weight of J's discontent and resentment.  It was subtle-- on one hand, he organized his extended family to help take care of the kids and had each of the children write notes of comfort to my grandma, mom and I-- but on the other, his self-righteousness and disdain was barely contained. He didn't want me to be there. He felt I was being arrogant and selfish for going against his wishes. The strength of his censure cast a pall over everything, and yet I was all too aware that to an outsider, his argument could seem valid. He'd been telling me for years that I was bad with money and that I had no respect for him. This could be seen as proof of that.

He wrote me daily, supposedly to check-in about his sobriety and practice empathy (therapist's orders) but I dreaded those emails. I've since come to call them J Propaganda, but at the time, I couldn't put a finger on why I found them so disturbing. All I knew was that when I read them, I felt sick. My teeth would chatter uncontrollably and my hands would go numb. I was intolerably weary of him inserting himself into my life and the sacred time I was spending with the people I loved. But I also felt crazy for feeling that way. On paper, he was doing everything right, wasn't he? I couldn't make sense of my own feelings.

The days felt like weeks.We were litterally watching Grandpa waste away. When he'd stopped eating, we thought he couldn't possibly live long-- he was already so frail-- so with each passing day as he continued to linger with labored breath, we stood vigil. Mealtimes were simultaneously a source of comfort and guilt. With every bite, we were vividly aware of him in the next room, starving to death. Periodically, Grandma would cradle his head in her hands and plead with him to let go, whispering and kissing him in a way that broke my heart. Everyone was trying their utmost to be strong, but there were fractures everywhere. It was beautiful in a way, to watch so many different personalities come together and put aside their differences and fear in order to support each other as best they could. It wasn't perfect, but it was tender and I felt honored to be part of it.

And yet for me, there it was-- inescapable. Hanging over everything like a noxious cloud was the fact that despite his facade of support, I knew that J did not want me to be there. He refused to assist financially. I was staying in my parent's hotel, eating their food, forbidden to spend any money because J did not think I had a right to be there unless it was for a funeral. I found it debilitating.

The night before I was scheduled to return home also turned out to be the night before Grandpa died. I spent my last hours with him thinking not about his life and legacy, but instead worrying over whether I should reschedule my flight and then feeling ill over how I was going to tell J that I would be staying longer. I hated J for hijacking those last precious moments; for being an added source of pain when what I needed was understanding. Concurrently, I wondered what was so wrong with me that I was unable to function under his dissaproval. 

That's when I began to see what it was that bothered me about his emails. He had a tone that communicated very clearly that he was in the right, that he was going above and beyond to placate my unreasonableness, and that I should be abundantly grateful to him for it. When he used that tone, I knew that his show of humility and change was just that: a show. And that if I didn't play along, I would be made to pay for it eventually. I'd often told him that I felt like he had a scorecard in his head, keeping track of all the times he did something 'nice' for me or used my 'love language'. Somehow, I was always in his debt according to that scorecard, feeling pressured into sex for not doing 'my part'. This felt like an extension of that. He was making a show of being a supportive, perfect husband and father, yet I was ill with fear and dread over what I'd really go home to. It made it plain to me that he was as far from recovery as he could get, regardless of his assertion that he was sober. There was an absence of genuine empathy, remorse and love that I didn't know how to articulate to anyone else without sounding like a paranoid, bitter woman. Feeling alone in it made it all worse. 

Then, as if to solidify his unimpeachablility, he sent out a mass email to both my family and his. {It's long, but I'm including it here --spelling/grammar mistakes and all-- for reasons that will become clear.}

Hello family! 

I have a testimony in prayer and fasting. I know it works! The scriptures have many wonderful experiences of praying and the miracle that comes from the faith of those who pray. One of my favorite stories from the scriptures is Mosiah chapter 27 (please read this chapter) about Alma the younger and the sons of Mosiah who had righteous fathers. Mosiah was the king and the Alma was the leader of the church. These were powerful yet righteous men and they had the most slothful and rebellious sons. So much that these sons where on a mission to destroy the people who belong to the Church. So they are secretly destroying people and causing chaos and then an angel spoke to them as a voice of thunder. The angel then tells him that his father Alma has prayed with much faith that he would be brought to the truth and for this purpose the angel had come that the prayers of his servants might be answered according to their faith. So Alma the younger is struck dumb and is brought before his father Alma and Alma is rejoiced for he knows it is an answer to his prayer. He then gathers all the priest and people so they can participate in the further miracle and they all fast and pray for 2 days and 2 nights. Alma the younger then recovers and we read of the greatest mercy of God that this rebellious man who had sinned so much was forgiven and redeemed. "My soul was racked with eternal torment; but I am snatched, and my soul is pained no more." Alma the younger is changed and becomes a mighty leader and great missionary. The sons of Mosiah go a serve life missions to their enemies the Lamanites. 

Why I share this lengthy "Papa Dad" message is because like Alma the younger I have been snatched up by God. I am being healed. I am feeling the prayers and fasting on my behalf. I am far from recovered but I am working the steps with a sponsor who is 23 years sober. I have the best example of an addict to lead me and I am doing everything he says to find sobriety. I have hope and as I recover I too will have a mission to help addicts like me. I will be working as a sponsor the rest of my life so that I can help my brother AND that I too can be sober. I am so grateful for this miracle. Thank you for your help, support, prayers, and fasting. I am not done and I have a long strenuous work ahead of me so please keep your prayers coming!

I ask for your prayers and fasting on *******'s behalf. I have been an addict in my 15 years married to this sweet woman and I put her through things that no wife should ever have to face. I have destroyed her trust in me. I have added chaos and craziness with my addiction. I have caused a betrayal to her that is so painful and deep. I have destroyed my marriage to her. I am the one responsible in our marriage if we get divorced. I pray for peace and healing to be with her. I want her to be happy. I want her to heal. I want your help to join me in a prayer and fasting on behalf of her need to overcome her pain in betrayal. ******* is faithful and doing all she can to heal. She is going to meetings for woman with husbands who are addicts. She is attending conferences and she is seeking counseling. She attends the Temple. She is doing her part to heal. She is supported by her family and you. As things are currently feeling she is feeling peace about divorce. She cannot stand being in the same room alone with me and how could she be married like that? But wait J is recovering or maybe one day is in true recovery? This does not change her pain, her hurt, her loss, her betrayal. This is not her fault and if I never brought addiction to our marriage we would not be here. It is my fault. ****** is also open to following God in whatever he wants her to do. She is open for the miracle. I want to cling to that particle of hope. I pray that *******  will receive this miracle if it is to be God's will. 

Two years ago we had the sweetest miracle in our marriage that I want to share. This was the first time we were separated and I was working the 12 steps for my first time. In step 4 you make an inventory of your life. This takes around 6 weeks or more to build and it is every thought, action, deed, and sin I have ever had in my life. It is a process of getting all the crap out on paper or excel in my case. In step 5 is confession. I then read and share this with my sponsor and bishop and then I shared it with *******. It was hell. It was terrible. It was horrifying. There is was all out on the floor. She heard everything. She took a few days to process and then she wanted to share back her feelings. She yelled and cried and yelled and cried speaking very articulate in ******** style. For over 3 hours we sat in my car and I listened to her pain to everything I had ever done and how it all hurt her. How it all felt to her. As she cried I cried. We cried so much that we both were getting dehydrated. As she felt the pain so did I. It was the strongest witness of the spirit of God that we both ever felt. The Atonement of Jesus Christ come over us and it wiped out her pain. It wiped out my pain. It healed us. We embraced at this miracle and agreed "never again." This miracle gave ******** the strength to give our marriage another chance for the 1000th time. He gave her the healing she needing to continue on. It gave her the strength to trust me again. 

I wish this was where the story ended. But It is not done. This is why no one can truly understand exactly how ******** feels when her addict husband relapses after such an experience like that. How her husband can look her right in the eye in the most intimate moment in bed and lie to her as she is vulnerable knowingly that he viewed porn just the day before. This is why she is devastated to all I do as an addict. It is the worst. Porn has killed our marriage. It has destroyed all that was good. It is the most tragic thing I have ever done or felt. 

In all this pain and hopelessness is still the miracle. I believe with all my heart that the event above can happen again in our lives. It could heal our marriage. I would like that to happen while we are still married but I also see that is what I want. If I divorce I still want that healing in my life and especially for ********. She deserves to be happy and safe. She deserves a husband who can treat her with respect and honor. She is a daughter of God and never deserved an addict husband. 

Here are two video by the Church that I hope can illustrate the pain and healing of husband and wife in addiction. 

Troy's Story

https://www.lds.org/media-library/video/2013-03-0020-meet-troy?lang=eng

Kerri's Story

https://www.lds.org/media-library/video/2013-03-0010-meet-kerri?lang=eng

There are plans to file for divorce after Christmas. Please join me in prayer and fasting that whatever happens we are doing God's will and what will bring healing and peace to our family. I know its early but this is what I want for Christmas. 

Love,

J  

Reading that letter sent me into a tailspin. On the surface, it seemed like he was saying things that I'd been wanting him to say for years. He was acknowledging my pain! He was taking responsibility! Wasn't he? And yet, I got the same sick feeling when I read it that I always seemed to get. His words were correct, but... something wasn't quite right. 

As realization slowly dawned on me, it was like getting a physical blow to the gut. "Of course he's pleading for prayers on my behalf", I thought sarcastically, "because clearly HE has done everything he can! HE is in full recovery! HE is cured! Obviously, I am the real problem!" It reminded me of thirteen years ago when he'd told me that if we were ever to divorce, it wouldn't be due to his betrayals and duplicity, but would be entirely my fault for not forgiving and letting go. Evidently, he hadn't changed his stance. And now, he was making sure that everyone we knew would share his sentiment. 

It made me feel absolutely crazy. I agonized and second guessed myself, going through my endless washer-machine cycle of thought, only to come to the same conclusion. I'd stayed when I felt prompted to stay and now I was leaving when I felt prompted to leave. I hadn't a clue about the rest of it, and it shouldn't matter anyway. 

I'd only just settled on this when my brother replied to the letter. 

J,

I wasn’t going to write anything back. Normally, I think what happens in a marriage is between the husband and wife in that marriage, and is none of my business. But since you sent this letter to us all, you’ve made it all of our business. So I’m not going to keep quiet.

I think that it’s great that you can at least type these words in an email. Honestly, I don’t know how sincere any of it is, and frankly, I don’t really care. It’s not my place to judge. But your words do seem completely out of touch with the reality of your actions and the situation, and in many ways is just plain insensitive to the myriad feelings involved for my sister.

I too have a testimony of fasting. And prayer. And miracles. And many, many other things. I especially have a testimony of agency, choice, and accountability.

If you want to talk Book of Mormon stories, I think looking at Alma and the Sons of Mosiah is looking in the wrong spot. Try Jacob 2:31-35. I don’t need to tell any of you the story, I’m sure you’re all familiar with it if you’ve ever cracked the spine of the Book of Mormon.

I also don't think you need to worry about your Christmas wish for my sister being fulfilled. It's already in the works. We have all been praying and fasting and supporting her in any way we can to make up for where you’ve neglected your duty. If you want me to fast and pray for someone this Christmas, I think it should be for you. My Christmas wish is that you’ll have the experience that Alma the younger had and be “racked with the pains of hell” to truly understand the extent of damage that has and is being done, and would rather die than ever want to return to it again. The letter you wrote to us all doesn't seem like it's from someone who really understands this.

However, If I were you, I wouldn’t replace my ability to make and keep sacred covenants with wishing for a miracle. An eternal marriage is not a sprint. It's a marathon. And your recovery will be a life-long pursuit. If you take anything from the Sons of Mosiah, forget the miracle moment. Focus on the fact that you have the rest of your life to make better choices to repair the damage you’ve done to your wife and children and the generations that will follow after them. If you’re still on that path in fifteen years (whether married, divorced, or remarried) then I’d consider that the true miracle.

Merry Christmas

-C

I read it, mouth agape. For the first time in my life, someone had seen through J. It had never even entered my mind as a possibility that someone-- anyone-- could see the betrayal, the broken covenants, the insincerity and actually call him out on it. I was shocked. As I read my brother's reply, I flashed back to several years earlier when I'd been in a confrontation with someone who was yelling and swearing at me. My brother stood up from across the room, shoulders thrown back and eyes ablaze as he ordered, "You don't talk to my sister that way!" This felt exactly like that.

I'd never felt anything so powerful as that moment of empathy and validation. 

{image from Into The Woods}