You Can Still Have Fun With Shortened Telomeres

I flew away from home today, by myself.  I am meeting up with some old girlfriends, for the sole purpose of some F.U.N.  In over a year, this is my first attempt at relaxation and recreation for more than a single day.  Just saying that gives me anxiety.

Within seconds of takeoff my eyes filled with tears.  I stared out the window and let the them flow.  What the heck?!  Why am I crying?

Some possibilities:
Am I just grateful to have a break from my daily life?
I know I am thankful that I am NOT where I was emotionally last year.
Is it going to be possible for me to relax?
I feel like I have been wound so tight for so long, I don't even remember how to relax.
Will the creases between my eyebrows go away?
Will I be able to sleep all night?
Will my tight neck and shoulders still feel like granite when I get back?
Can I dump all my sadness and worry in God's hands for a few days and live it up?

A few years ago I read about an interesting study.  The research looked at the effect of chronic stress on our chromosomes.  Apparently, we have parts of our chromosomes called telomeres.  As we age our telomeres naturally shorten.  The researchers measured the telomeres of mothers, whose children had cancer.  They measured these poor mothers' telomeres at the beginning and at the end of the ordeal.

The findings were not surprising.  The mothers' telomeres had shortened significantly more during their children's cancer than the control group of women of similar age.  The chronic trauma, worry and stress had changed the very core of the genetic material in every cell of their body.

I don't know anything about what it feels like to have a child with cancer.  My heart goes out to those who do.

But, I feel changed down to my cellular level by my life's experiences.  I'm guessing that being the wife of a sex addict and the mother of a sex addict can shorten telomeres, too.  I'm guessing a lot of things can.  My thoughts go to one of the friends I am meeting; she is mourning a suicide in her family.

Could that be why I'm crying?  Because I feel ragged and roughed up by life?  Because I have been profoundly hurt and stretched beyond all my previous capacities?  And yet, I am still alive and OK.  I am learning to trust God more with my life.  I have a lot of living left to do.  Maybe even a lot of fun left to have?

A wise recovery friend says, "Don't let your husband's addiction ruin the things YOU love."  Thank you for the advice.  And so, with my shortened telomeres, I am off to have some F.U.N.!

Mama Of All Traumas

It is no exaggeration to say that I was blindsided by my husband's disclosure of his sex addiction in March 2012.

Imagine if someone poked out both of your eyes, blindfolded you, shoved you into the deepest cave on earth, and then threw you into a black hole.  That is how in the dark I was about what my husband had been doing our entire marriage.  I was clueless.  So when a figurative boulder dropped out of that darkness, it flattened me.  I never saw it coming.

That was trauma.  Trauma (via Webster's) is a psychological shock or severe distress from experiencing a disastrous event outside the range of usual experience.  

When the mama of all traumas struck me I had all the symptoms of PTSD.  My sense of safety and trust was shattered.  I felt helpless, disconnected, crazy, numb, obsessive.  I had nightmares and horrible screaming outbursts.  My heart thumped out of my chest for weeks, and I was nauseous.  Pounds melted off without any effort.  I wanted to sleep more than anything, and yet I could not sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time.  My mind was foggy and concentrating was impossible.  I felt so much emotional pain, that I understood, for the first time ever, why one would think about checking out through drugs or suicide.

I do not feel these trauma symptoms on a daily basis anymore.  However, I can feel that my brain is not healed.  The wound isn't fresh, but it's close to the surface.  I don't feel resilient.

Yesterday I was in the city, and I felt the tug of trauma pulling at me.  It was a normal Saturday filled with errands, ball games, some work and some fun.  But, I was fighting my thoughts.

It has to do with me feeling safe when I am in public with my husband.  It has to do with betrayal and infidelity.  I have lots of anxiety about my husband compulsively lusting after other real women.  It doesn't matter that I have good reason to feel this way.  I know this is about my recovery now, not his.

I was repeatedly triggered, and it reminded my brain of all the previous trauma.  I found myself involuntarily scanning for the next boulder to drop out of the darkness.   My shoulders tightened up and my mood took a dive.  I allowed fear to take root.

Help me, God.  Help me replace fear with faith.  Help me see what is and not what was.  You are the only One who can.