Just Lying or Really Trying?

MM posed this question in my comments section, "How do you tell when they switch from just lying to actually trying?"

I haven't always known, and I don't think I will always know in the future, but this time, this is how I knew.

1.  The slips he had were things he wouldn't have called slips a year ago.   I can see that his bottom line has risen.  That indicates what the White Book calls "progressive victory over lust".  Of course, I wish the victory over lust would progress at the speed of light and burn up in a cloud of cosmic dust, but that's sadly not reality.

2.  During the "lying period", if you will, Mr. W behaved exactly like an addict.  He was full of shame, resentment and self-pity.  It bothered him greatly.  He admitted he was struggling, and he didn't pretend all was well and that it was somehow MY problem for being critical or over-reacting.  This made it easier for me to trust my gut and detach emotionally.

3.  During the "lying period", he didn't try to fill up the gaping hole of darkness in himself by seeking intimacy from me, either emotionally or physically.  He knew it was his stuff, and he didn't look to me to soothe his pain.  He has done that before and the betrayal felt worse.

4.  During the "lying period", he went to a previously scheduled counseling appointment and Lifestar and an SA meeting.  I heard him making support calls.  So I was reassured that although something was up, he hadn't become completely apathetic.


After the slips and lies I need see an increased level of committment from him, because we are back on shaky ground.  Lurking around is that old familiar feeling that things will never change, and that lust and lies are going to continue into perpetuity.  I need him to work hard to be honest, humble, accountable and connected.  The burden of rebuilding is on him.

That's it in a nutshell.  I still wish it hadn't happened.  It all involved lust and other women, which is never going to be painless for me as his wife.  Never.

It comprised several conversations that ended in me huffing off or ending the phone call without a good-bye.   Because that is how I was at the moment.  My angrish steamed out of my ears like a cartoon character.  But I survived, and the whole thing did not overwhelm me with despair.  Slog on, sister, slog on!











A word about boundaries:  I'm glad I had them in place, and I'm glad I held them, but what to do about the residue of deep sadness that accompanies times like these?  I haven't been able to find a boundary for grief; it seeps through some of my best efforts at recovery.