Holding My Anger Like A Baby

Thich Naht Hanh says that our anger is a part of us -- just like our kindness is a part of us.  Because our anger is a part of us, we need to be gentle with it.  This means we don't ignore it, and we certainly don't pretend it isn't there.  Underneath our anger is our suffering.  

He says we should hold our anger like a mother holds a baby.  When the baby starts to cry, and the mother picks him up and holds him tenderly, the baby feels the tenderness and begins to calm down.  When we are tender with ourselves and our anger, we allow ourselves to feel it for as long as we need to.  When we are ready, we will let it go. 

This really resonates with me.  I haven't been very gentle with my anger.  I sometimes scold myself.

I say things like, "Wildflower, how can you still be so angry, when Mr W just did the dishes and went to 12 step?"

Or I minimize my anger like this, "Wildflower, you are probably overreacting again, and you should just get over it."

But, when I push my angrish back down, it always resurfaces.  I acknowledge that despite my dreams on my wedding day, my marriage has brought me a lot of trauma and betrayal.

I am choosing to stay in my marriage, because my husband is choosing recovery.  I am also choosing recovery for myself.  Part of my recovery is working through my grief, and part of that grief is my anger.   



The way I happened upon this concept by Thich Naht Hanh was definitely an answer to my prayers.  This feels true, like this is God's method.  He cradles me in tenderness and love when I am angry, sad or both.  This tenderness enables my negative emotions to dissipate.  I feel loved just as I am.  This helps me become ready to surrender the dark feelings to Him.  The atonement of Christ enables me to let go of anger and resentment and to work toward forgiveness.


So for now, when my anger appears, I will pick it up and rock it gently.  I will sit with it.  And like all babies, it will eventually move on.

Some things I found out about Thich Naht Hanh

Thich Naht Hanh is a Vietnamese Buddhist monk, writer, teacher, and peace activist, born in 1926.  In the 1960's, he organized a grassroots relief organization in Vietnam that rebuilt bombed villages, set up schools and medical centers, resettled homeless families, and organized agricultural cooperatives.  He had over 10,000 student volunteers in this organization, and they followed the principles of non-violence and compassionate action.   Although the government denounced his activities, Hanh founded a university, a publishing house and a peace activist magazine.

After visiting Europe and the U.S. on a peace mission in 1966, he was banned from returning to Vietnam.  He met with Martin Luther King in 1966, and he was influential in King coming out publicly against the war, which strengthened the peace movement.  In 1967 MLK nominated him for the Nobel Peace Prize.

He has spent his life teaching peace and mindfulness.  He now lives in France.

He has some great videos on youtube.  Oprah interviewed him a while ago, and that interview is really interesting.  (This link is to only part of that interview). He has written over 100 books, 40 of them are in English.

ANGRISH 101

Last weekend I was in an emotionally fragile state, when my husband abruptly changed our much-anticipated (at least for me) Saturday plans.  It was five minutes before we were supposed to leave, and he decided to do something that he felt obligated to do, for people that are minimally connected to our lives.  The timing was such that we couldn't do both.

If I were a normal person in a normal marriage, I suppose I could have "rolled with it."  But, I ain't in no normal marriage.  It brought back memories of the flakey and checked-out husband I lived with for years, who did what felt good to him, regardless of how it affected our family.  I cannot live like that now.  I need security and constancy.  This is part of building trust in our marriage.

I was indignant, far beyond what I knew was reasonable for the situation.  Since the major trauma 13 months ago, my brain has a very short fuse.  From what I've read, this is part of the trauma response.  I seem to go from 0 to 300 amu's (anger management units) in a matter of seconds.   My emotions are on a hair trigger.

Not only does my anger flare more quickly now, it also reaches far deeper.  The anger spans out to that deep place where it meets the pain.  It's like the trauma gouged out a canyon of pain inside me, and the anger crashes in like a river to fill it up.

This anger and anguish blend together into one suffering concoction that I call Angrish.   I know  anger is a secondary emotion, and I use it like a salve to medicate my anguish.  I wish it were a more effective medicine.

On Saturday, after I had soaked in my anger for several hours, I surrendered it to God, another person and a sticky note in my surrender bag.  That surrender process is a living, breathing thing, and it works.  With the anger out of the way, I broke down and cried like a baby for hours.  It felt sort of good to let go and be sad.  I know I am still grieving.

I am working my recovery every day, and I am learning to accept my feelings as they come.  My angrish cannot be glossed over or forced away or ignored.  These are my honest feelings, and they need my attention before I can be done with them, and they can ride off into the sunset.







Next post I will share an idea about handling tough emotions from a Vietnamese Buddhist monk.  He treats his anger like a baby, and it's brilliant.  Stay tuned.

How Living With A Sex Addict Dad Has Affected My Kids (Part 2)

The inconsistency of addiction has depleted my kids' self-esteem.

Sometimes my husband was Super Dad.  He was involved and attentive.  He was fun and validating.  These were the times that kept me going.  Ok, so he is difficult for me to live with, but look what a great dad he is!

But the addict always showed up, sometimes the very next day, and he was wholly disinterested in the kids.  Work stress was always to blame, but kids don't care why.  All they know is what they feel:  I am a burden not a priority to my dad.  Add to this my own emotional exhaustion and inconsistency as a mom, and this was a confusing and uncertain environment for our kids.  I think it caused them to question their value, and to feel more insecure and anxious about life in general.


When my kids are insecure, they fight a lot more. 

It is normal for children to compete for their parents' attention.  Because our parenting was so affected by the addiction cycle and the pressure it put on me, our attention to our kids was unpredictable and often emotionally distant.  On a regular basis, our kids needed more than we were giving them.  They competed voraciously for attention, and that included lots of problem behavior.


Lust addiction and lies brought a lot of darkness into our home.

"When eternal covenants have been destroyed by a transgressor's choices, dark spirits, or emissaries of Satan, are allowed into a home. The darkness and venom brought in by those evil spirits literally poison the atmosphere of the home, leaving in their wake bitter destruction -- for example, oppressive darkness, overwhelming discouragement, prolonged depression, intense despair, feelings of worthlessness, restless anxiety, confusion, sometimes even temporal or physical afflictions."  Ruth Davidson,  Out of The Ashes.


Resentment is contagious.  Our kids caught it from us.

I resented my husband's selfishness.  I resented that he frequently did whatever he wanted, without a thought as to how it might affect someone else.  I resented that he resisted family dinners, and that he blew off the kids when he wasn't in the mood to be a dad.  I still resent that he resented me. :)

He used loads of resentment against me and others to fuel his addiction.


Addiction caused our lives to be out of control; therefore, we tried to control our kids.

I recognize now how I tried to force them in many things.  For example, if my son's eczema flared up,  and he refused to apply cream, instead of allowing the natural consequences of itching, pain and cracking skin to set in, I would force-apply cream before bedtime.  Sad.

We didn't practice self-acceptance and self-love.  We expected perfection from ourselves and them.

We used manipulation and shame to motivate our kids.

I'm sorry to admit that, Brene Brown, but we did.  Our communication was the Drama Triangle.  We persecuted, rescued and played the victim, over and over again.  Our kids learned this pattern of communication.






I have painted a pretty bad picture here.  Of course, addiction ebbed and flowed, and our parenting likewise ebbed and flowed.   It wasn't terrible every minute of every day; there were still many joyful moments.  But, my husband's sex addiction profoundly affected every person in our family.  Writing this is helps me see that reality.  This wasn't what I wanted for my kids.

"The lotus flower grows out of mud.  The lotus cannot grow on marble.  Suffering is the mud that we use in order to grow the flower of understanding and love."  Thich Nhat Hahn


I have hope that recovery for both my husband and me can infuse our family with love and patience and understanding and vulnerability and humility and more love.   Maybe we will try growing a lotus out of the mud puddle in our front yard.




If you started with this post, you may want to read Part 1 of "How Living With A Sex Addict Dad Has Affected My Kids".
http://bloomwhereplanted.blogspot.com/2013/04/how-living-with-sex-addict-dad-has.html

How Living With A Sex Addict Dad Has Affected My Kids (Part 1)

"At least his addiction is coming out now, and not ten years from now, when we have four kids."


I said that sentence over and over to myself.  It was all I had: my ONLY consolation in 1998, when my husband first disclosed to me. I know the date, the day of the week and the exact time of day of his first disclosure.  How sad.

Cute, but not my real kids.

After a few months of counseling and a few bishop's interviews, he pronounced himself "good", and like a fool, I believed him.  It took some years to build back trust, but looking back now, it didn't take much for me to fully recommit to the marriage.   I believed his depression to be the reason for all his lows.  He lied whenever I brought up the topic of porn.

Life was up and down, based on his mood.  There were good times, but there were also times when I felt alone and abandoned. Sometimes he looked at me with love, and sometimes he looked at me with blank indifference, as if he didn't know who I was.

As the years went on, his depression seemed to worsen, even though he had started medication in 2006.  Of course, I had no idea it was his addiction escalating.  His episodes of emotional withdrawl, irritability, impatience, and utter selfishness were lasting longer, sometimes for months.

I remember crying to him on several occasions,  "Your depression is affecting our kids.  It is affecting them."  But, I couldn't put my finger on how.

Now we have four kids, and it hasn't been ten years, but over fifteen.   Our kids are growing up, and I am starting to see more clearly how badly they have been affected.  It is with great personal pain that I say: there is no way my kids can grow up in an addict home and come out unscathed.  

Some things that have affected my kids:

I was over-functioning in our home and family.

Because my husband was inconsistent and couldn't be relied on to follow through, I took on the burden of everything, except his job at work.  I mowed the lawn with the baby (wearing baby earplugs) in a backpack, for hell's sake.  I rescued him in his church callings and community obligations, by making excuses and covering for him.   I felt I had to hold it all together.  This depleted my energy and my emotional reserves.

What was left for my children?  A mom that burned out early in the evening.  A mom with less patience and understanding.   A mom that had difficulty being silly and laughing.  A mom that was exhausted and beaten down.


To be continued in Part 2.

I Guess I Was A Thief

In the next few days, a manager of a grocery store, in the town where I went to college my freshman yr, more than twenty years ago, will receive a letter from me.  Enclosed is a $5 bill and an apology.

I spent some time that year browsing the bulk food aisles with my roommates.  It was my first introduction to bulk food, and I loved it.  I still love it, actually.  There is something fun about scooping any amount of anything into plastic bags.

My friends and I sampled A LOT of bulk candy back in the day.  And, like I told my kids when I related the story to them the other night, no, I did not pay for it!   My kids were shocked.

It was kind of a game that we called "bulking."  For example, when it was late, and we were looking for excitement, one of us might suggest, "You know, we could always go bulking."  I didn't feel great about it then, but I didn't feel that badly about it, either.

This 12-step soul-scouring is really getting to me.  Things are coming to my mind that I haven't thought about for a long time.  Things I did years ago.  I feel like I am figuratively deep cleaning my past with an old toothbrush.   I wonder what will surface next?

What Do I Have To Show For All This?

A wind of discontent and anger blew in yesterday morning.  I allowed it to swirl around and infect me.  I felt neg.a.tive.  And resentful.  And mean.  I felt the rattlesnake getting ready to strike :).

Without conscious thought, I turned to a coping mechanism I've used my entire marriage to deal with tension and disappointment.  I don't slow down and deal with my emotions.  Rather, I shift into high gear, and I bustle around cleaning, organizing and accomplishing.  Today, this included washing all the shower curtains, which hadn't even been bothering me! 

If I had made a list of what I had accomplished before 9 am this morning, the producers of Extreme Home Makeover may have called and offered me a job for my efficiency.  This work ethic I learned as a kid came in handy in my marriage.  It helped me deal with the instability of living with an addict.

When I work, I feel productive, and that helps me feel more worthwhile.  I grew up with the mistaken notion that I AM WHAT I DO.  When negative feelings surface, I self-soothe with work and accomplishment. 

I come from a great family.  I also come from a very driven, hard-working, achievement-oriented family.  We were expected to do a lot, and we all did.  This pressure was applied with love and the best intentions; however, it was still pressure, and it has caused some cracks in my soul.  I've noticed the cracks in some of my sisters as well.

My accomplishment fallacy has contributed to frustration and discontent in my years as a mom.  There's not much to "show" for an exhausting day taking care of kids.  Sometimes I can let it go, but I often let it overshadow my joy in the small moments.

Currently there is not a lot to "show" for the time I spend working my recovery from the trauma of sexual addiction.  Both mothering and recovering are essential for my salvation.  They are my double-headed focus right now, and they both require loads of work, without any tangible physical evidence of progress.

I am practicing changing my perspective.  I accept that God's love for me is unchanged, regardless of what I accomplish.  But, it's my own love for myself that needs some tweaking.

I tweak by reminding myself of a few things.  I am not what I do.  I am not what I do.  I am valuable as I am.  I am OK to slow down.  I accept and love myself, even if I DO nothing.



I don't want to be a hard-working, self-criticizing shell of a person, with ignored emotions simmering beneath the surface.  I want to be still and know that I am OK being me.











"Many of us create to do lists to remind us of things we want to accomplish. But people rarely have to be lists. Why? To do’s are activities or events that can be checked off the list when done. To be, however, is never done. You can’t earn checkmarks with to be’s. I can take my wife out for a lovely evening this Friday, which is a to do. But being a good husband is not an event; it needs to be part of my nature—my character, or who I am."  Elder Lynn Robbins

Does Every Guy Relapse At Some Point?

I called a recovery friend a few weeks ago, and we got talking about relapse.  These were my questions for her:


Does every guy relapse at some point?

Do I need to work on accepting the inevitability of relapse?

Relapse is always in the back of my mind.  I wish it weren't, but, oh baby, am I ever afraid of it!   Hopefully someday I will have more faith and trust in God, and I won't fear it so much.


I remember my first 12-step meeting.  I called and asked a close friend (non-recovery) if she would come with me.  We met in a parking lot, and I got in her car, so she could drive the rest of the way.  She handed me a warm mug of something called "Calm" and a brown bag of holistic remedies for nerves, depression, and general trauma.  She drove, listened to me sob, and handed me Kleenex, all at the same time.  This friend loved me, and oh, how I needed that love.

The women at the meeting were welcoming.  They nodded lovingly as I blubbered through my disbelief that I was sitting in a sex addiction support group.  The thing I was most interested to know: How long had it been since their husbands looked at porn?  How were the men actually doing?  Do porn addicts get better?  If so, how long does it take?

I was so naive.  I didn't know that some women work their recoveries for years, regardless of their husband's sobriety.  I had NO idea that my recovery would turn out to be about me.

One woman in particular said she was back at meetings for the second time around, because her husband had relapsed.  Other women nodded compassionately.  This paralyzed me, and I stopped listening.  Do you mean to tell me that I might be in this same Hell a few years from now?  This was already my second gigantic disclosure, and I felt close to death.  I could never survive another one, I thought.

In the past year, as I have worked my recovery, I have heard much about relapse.  Prepare for it.  Of course there will be relapses.  Make your plan.  Set your boundary for when relapse happens.  I supported another friend as she planned her relapse escape. If/when her husband relapses, she will leave town for a few days.  She has forewarned her kids: sometime in the future, mom will be taking
a trip to get away.  They don't know what she is getting away from.

My recovery friend has been in recovery for several years, and so has her husband.  "Does everyone relapse??"  I asked her, scared for the answer.

She told me that.....lean in close....."No, real recovery does not include relapses.  Now, lust slips and slips in honesty are part of the progressive victory over lust, so there will be those.   But, if my husband is relapsing, then he is not recovery."


I am still trying to process this answer.  I have a lot to learn.  I was glad to see Rhyll Croshaw address this question on her website here.  This is her post titled, "Is Relapse An Expected Part of Recovery?"  I learned what a slip, lapse and relapse actually are.  Thank you, Rhyll!

This gives me a lot of hope.  I don't want a future full of painful relapses and lying and disclosures.  If that is "recovery", then I don't want it.  I am also buoyed up by my husband's experience in SA.  He knows real live men who have years and years of sobriety!  People are doing this.  Sex addicts are staying sober and staying in recovery.






P.S.  I know that I cannot control whether or not my husband relapses.  I am trying to let go and let God have this one.

My Son And The Gaping Jaws Of Hell

Today I am testing the waters.  I know this is anonymous, but can I handle writing about my addicted son?  I have deliberately shied away from the topic, because it is so gut-wrenching for me.  By the way, I am already crying.  That didn't take long.

I have a darling son who is addicted to this crap, too.  This kid loved trucks and knew the names of all the dinosaurs when he was tiny.  He has a tender heart, and he has written me love notes on cut-out hearts when I've been sad.

Now his brain is sick and craves smut and lust.  He's been in "treatment" for more than a year, ie I have been driving him at least weekly to and fro seeking help.  I feel like a mother bird who is frantically flapping and making a ruckus while a predator is stealing a baby from her nest.

This addiction is a stickler, and I underestimated its power.   Satan will do anything to ensnare these young men.  Our media at home is pretty well locked down; however, a teenage lust addict can get a drink almost anywhere these days.  Right now, he's getting it from women in real life, American Idol, billboards, a random novel he found on the shelf at the back of his Spanish class.  It doesn't take much.

I have never been one to talk about hell or Satan or evil spirits.  But, I swear the jaws of hell are  gnashing to get this kid.  This good kid, that now lies and hides and minimizes and acts out.  Sometimes he wants more than anything to leave it behind and sometimes he doesn't.  It breaks my heart.

Last summer I memorized D & C 122:5,7-part of 9.  It was an attempt to fill my mind with hope.

If thou art called to pass through tribulation; if thou art in perils among false brethren; if thou art in perils among robbers; if thou art in perils by land or by sea.....And if thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers, and the sentence of death passed upon thee; if thou be cast into the deep and the billowing surge conspire against thee, if fierce winds become thine enemy; if the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up thy way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my daughter, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.  

The Son of Man hath descended below them all.  Art thou greater than he?  Therefore, hold on thy way."

This addiction is like the very jaws of hell.  Somehow even this is to give him/me experience and to be for his/my good?  

I love this kid, and I plan to keep on loving him.   I also plan to "hold on my way", to work my own recovery, and to rely on God to show me what my way is.  






Note:  Does anyone know anyone out there that is blogging about mothering sex addicts?  I haven't found anyone telling their stories about this.  I would love any info anyone has about it.

I Missed Him More When He Was A Jerk

My husband is out of town for a few days.  It has taken me a while to pinpoint how I feel about that and why.  Here it is:

I don't miss him.

I don't have negative feelings toward him right now, which is huge.  I have mostly indifference, with a slight positive lean.  I feel peace and relief that he is several states away.  And I do not miss him.  I missed him more when he was a jerk active addict.  (I did not know about sex addiction until his disclosure.  He allowed me to blame it all on depression.)

I recognize some buried expectations inside me:  that I should feel warmer and more loving toward him than I do.   Recovery is changing him into a really nice guy, who seems to genuinely appreciate who I am.  I am grateful he is different, and that he has been consistently different for some time now.  (I feel like if I come out and say exactly how long, it will invoke some sort of curse and kill the whole thing.)

I can also hear the voices of invisible people, including my own mom, saying, "Look how well he is doing, Wildflower!  It's been a while, and you need to get over it."  I will point out that my mom has NOT actually said that, but I feel her general opinions embedded in my psyche.  I know it's not fair to script her like that.

So he is doing well, and it has been a while, and I am grateful to God for making it happen.  When I think about it, I really am so grateful.  But, living with a recovering addict is like learning to live in a foreign country.  It takes time and patience and tolerance.  There is still pain, both old and new.

I am taking my own sweet time in recovery.  I have decided not to shame myself for that.  God doesn't  expect me to run faster than I have strength, in this, as well as in other aspects of my life.

My counselor talks about the analogy of the World Trade Center.  It's like I was in the bombing on 9/11.  Now my office is rebuilt, and I am being asked to go back to work.  But, I can't seem to cross the threshold.  I am looking through the window, and the new decor looks like it could be my style.  I like the colors and the plants are thriving, but I turn around decide to work from home a little longer.

It takes as long as it takes.  Did that come from Rhyll's book?  It takes as long as it takes.

In the book, Out of The Ashes - An LDS Guide To Helping A Betrayed Spouse Heal In The Aftermath Of Sexual Sin, Ruth Davidson says this, "The damage done to innocent parties is far-reaching and is often passed down intergenerationally.  It is a sin difficult to overcome, encompassing a life-changing process that takes years.  Mark Butler [a counselor and author] feels that, in his experience, it takes an average of ten years to heal relationships marred by sexual sin."

There is no fast track to healing from this.  There are no shortcuts.  I am where I am.  I is what I is. :)

If I Love Life, Will Life Love Me Back?

The other day I walked into Old Navy and saw a t-shirt that said, "Love Life and Life Will Love You Back."

I did a little laugh-scoff under my breath.  Pffffff.  I squinted my eyes and thought, "So, if I just love life, it will love me back?  So....that's what I need to do?  Thank you, O wise Old Navy."  I considered buying it to wear as a joke.

If only it were that simple.

The truth is: I could love life with all my heart and life may not love me back.  By this I mean that I could embrace life with love and positive energy and hugs, and life may still bring me cancer, addiction, premature death, depression, chronically ill children, sexual abuse, herpes, bankruptcy, malaria, chronic fatigue syndrome, you name it.  


Loving life sounds like a great idea.  I'm on board with that in theory.  What troubles me, however, is loving my own life.

Before I can love my life, I have to accept it.  This includes accepting some radical new ideas.  These are a few examples:

**I do not trust my husband, but I can still live with him if he is working recovery.
**My relatively straight path and my prayerful choices in life's big decisions have not spared me from excruciating heartache.
**Sex addiction, in some form, will be a part of my life forever.
**My job is to be in charge of myself and let others run their own lives.

Last fall I heard a woman, I'll call her Angelica :), a wife of an addict, who had been in recovery for years, share her story.  She said a turning point in her recovery came when she knew that she was exactly where God wanted her to be.  Now that sounds like acceptance.  She accepted that God was in charge, and there was meaning to her suffering.

Months ago, when I heard her say this, I thought to myself, "There is NO way God wants me to be where I am.  I am so miserable.  I don't deserve this.  My husband has screwed up my life."

But as time passes, and my faith grows, I find myself inching closer to that view.  Am I exactly where God wants me to be?  I don't feel that for certain.

I CAN say this though, "What I got is what I got, and I know God knows about it."

I'd like to see Old Navy print that on a t-shirt.