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.