The Siren's Song

I have a confession. Recovery right now is steady because people I love deserve a recovered me not because I want recovery. I long for the sweet arms of addiction. She beckons to me like a siren promising that one night would satisfy my lust. I know it isn't true but the voice sings beautifully and I struggle to resist her pull. I just want the outside pain to match the inside pain.

vulnerable

So I totally overreacted to something stupid.  I made a big deal over what was meant as a joke.  When he looked at me confused, wondering what could have possibly done to warrant my reaction, I started talking.  I talked myself into a corner.  And then I did it.  I blurted out something I didn't even really realize was in my heart until the words tumbled out of my mouth.

I now feel like I overshared.  I shared where my safe spot is.  I told him what I dreamed of when I was a little girl and needed to escape my reality.  I now want to rewind time and leave those words unsaid. I want to keep that spot only in my head.  I want it back.  I want it to be mine again not ours.

 I feel vulnerable. I feel guarded.  And I feel those things with the person in this life who loves me most of all, with the one person that I don't need to feel guarded with.  And feeling those things makes me feel lonely also.

I want to crawl into my head and stay there.  I don't want to be vulnerable.  Even though this vulnerable is safe.  I want to protect my heart but I'm trying to protect it from the wrong thing.

recovery or recovering

Today I feel like I am "doing recovery" rather than recovering.  I think you have to have experienced recovery in some form for that to fully make sense.  I am tired.  But I'm tired because I'm depressed not because I haven't gotten enough sleep.

Yesterday, once again, I begged God to heal me.  I promised Him the world, just make this heaviness go away.  PLEASE!  Instead He filled my ride to work with songs about trusting God even through the pain, songs about how His love doesn't fail us even through the dark times, songs of reassurance but no songs of healing.

So once again, with a heavy heart, I am asked to trust what I cannot feel.  And I do.  And I will.  Even if the heaviness never leaves, He is God and He is good.

I saw this on Facebook last week.  I have to share it because it is true.

Yeah, I really am glad.  I'm glad you're here still.  I'm even glad I'm here still.  Keep pressing on.  Keep hanging on.  Keep doing recovery even when you feel like you are doing recovery not recovering.  Keep putting one foot in front of the other.  Keep doing the next right thing.  And next year we can all gather around each other and be glad that we are still here. 

attack of the voices

not feeling well.  two of three kids are sick, like fevers and wicked cough kind of sick. struggling today.  my voices informed me that Hubby is a better mom than I have ever been.  he cleans and keeps up with the housework that I have never ever been able to.  there is no searching through piles of laundry to find school clothes anymore.  the longest the dishes have been behind was one day and that was due to sickness.  somehow he can do everything that I couldn't when I was the one home all day.  that was the last and most devastating of a string of attacking thoughts.  and now I'm going to go cry to bed and hope tomorrow sounds less painful in my head.

walking throught the muck with my kids

Friday the news broke that the body they found was indeed the body of the missing little girl.  Friday my son spent the night at a friends house.  Friday the friend's mom told my son that the girl had been found.  Friday she told him that the body had been dismembered.  Saturday I had to pick up the pieces of a very broken little boy.

Wouldn't you think that maybe it isn't ok to tell other people's kids big news like that?  Or maybe send me a text if he was asking questions to ask if I minded if she talked to him about it?  Or at minimum, TELL ME that she talked to him so that I know what he knows so I have a starting point when he breaks down in my arms? 

We believe that our kids should hear from us whenever possible the things they need to know.  We tell our kids hard things because we want to be able to help them process their emotions in a safe place.  We would have talked about this with him.   We talked to our kids about the theater shooting.  We talked about the little girl being missing and the reasons we have certain outside rules in place.  We talk about sex and answer uncomfortable questions.  We answer all of their questions when we are asked, even if the answer, like this time, is "I don't know.  I don't understand either." 

Maybe that is why it made me angry that someone else handled it.  I know it will get talked about at school.  My son is in the same age range as the little girl was.  He and his friends have been talking about it.  I just wanted him to hear the big part from me and dad.  I wanted him to be in a safe place that he could completely loose his temper and punch his pillow and scream and cry and do all of the things that he did when he got home to the safety of his room.  I wanted to be there to hold him when he asked through his sobs why someone would do that.

This morning  I asked his little brother what they talk about at school.  He told me at lunch that they talk about the bad guy who broke into the theater.  He told me they talk about the missing girl.  I told him the missing girl was found, that someone had hurt her, that someone had killed her.  He asked me why that person would steal her if they were just going to kill her.  I told him I don't know.  He doesn't have the same details that his big brother has.  He doesn't need the same details that his big brother has.  But he knows that he can ask us questions if he has them.  He knows home is a safe place to feel what you need to feel.  But it isn't affecting him in the same way as it is affecting his brother.

This parenting stuff is hard.  Helping my kids to feel the emotions that they need to feel and to walk alongside of them as they process is important.  It is also hard.  I understand why some parents choose to not talk to their kids about issues.  It is painful.  It hurts to see pieces of your child's innocence taken away.  It is a very helpless kind of feeling to have your son break down into gut wrenching sobs in your arms and know that you can't make it better.  It is very humbling to have no words of comfort and to only be able to pray that the Lord will bring us His comfort.

Please define "real"

I am torn to shreds hearing comments about "real" rape, "legitimate" rape and "forceable" rape.  Is there any other type of rape?  Is there a polite way to violate someone so viciously?  If there is, I am certainly unaware of it. 

How is it possible that once again it is all the woman's fault?  SHE got pregnant (never mind that it was because HE forced his deviant way upon her).  It must be her fault.  Wasn't it her fault that he couldn't control himself in the first place? 

I'm sorry, but this time I call bullshit.  Ask the friend of my friend who recently birthed the baby of her rapist.  Ask her if his assault was welcome.  Ask her if her body could have shut down his sperm.  Ask any victim of unwanted sexual touch if their experience was "legitimate". 

Although I know the controversy is a launching pad for an abortion debate, I can't even get that far right now.  All I can hear is that women are responsible for having bodies that men want.  All I can hear is that women are responsible for getting pregnant when attacked.  All I can hear is that women don't really matter, that their voices aren't heard, that their bodies aren't worth protecting.  All I can hear is a man saying what far too many women have been through isn't significant.

Guess what?  ALL rape, assault, harassment, unwanted touch is evil.  Every last bit of it.  If they didn't say yes, then it was forceable.  Every single time that someone is raped, whether by a stranger with a knife or a "nice guy" on a date who forgets his boundaries, it is a crime against her body and soul and is a legitimate rape.  No matter what, she walks away broken.  Physically, emotionally and spiritually broken. 

surreal, until it is real

Yesterday was about keeping it all together.  People I love needed me.  I didn't have time to fall apart.  And honestly I wasn't ready to fall apart.  I was shaken but I think I was in shock still.  The shock was too great to allow the emotion through.  I chatted online with my friend.  I told her I felt guilty for feeling so shaken because there are so many people who have more right to be shaken up than I do.  She responded with, "When it happens in your backyard, you have the right to be shaken."

My backyard.  Almost.  If I walk to the corner I can see the mall.  The theater is in the mall parking lot.  My Girl called last night (she needs a name, I talk about her far too often to keep calling her my friend.  For now she will be S until I decide on something better).  She asked if my boys were asleep.  When I said yes she asked if she could come over.  She wasn't hysterical anymore but I could hear the tears in her voice.

She walked in and I pulled her into my arms and held her while she sobbed.  And then I heard the words I hoped I'd never hear.  "Micayla is no longer with us."  I didn't know Micayla but S did.  Micayla was part of the group of friends that S was supposed to be with to see the movie.  Seven of her friends went, she was supposed to go.  Only one was physically injured, the one who died. 

When she heard of the shooting, S called her good friend.  He described the horror of a 6 year old girl screaming hysterically and the frantic rush to try to get out.  On the way out the 7 friends were separated.  He thought everyone was fine.  Then later he told her that Micayla was missing.  And then later she was confirmed dead.  My sweet S was supposed to be there.  It could have been her.

As I walked her to her car I was thinking how much I love her.  I introduced her to my dear friend and now neighbor. S tried to shake hands but my friend shook her head and said, "No, Honey.  You get a hug!"  As they embraced the emotion finally came.  I pulled S away and held her tightly.

We both sobbed.  I told her how much I love her.  I told her how relieved I am that she is safe.  I told her that I have never in my life been so glad that she was too tired to hang out with friends.  I told her that I can't imagine a world that doesn't have My S in it and that I'm so glad that I don't have to.  I didn't want to ever let her go.  Suddenly the reality and depth of my emotions hit me full force.

I slept poorly.  Guns and blood and bombs and screams filled my dreams.  I woke this morning to the sound of helicopters.  They have been flying over non-stop providing live aerial news coverage.  Helicopters and sirens and ambulances seeped into my sleep.  I was grateful this afternoon for a reprieve from the sound of helicopters.  The sound is disconcerting.

We had to tell our kids last night.  It was hard.  We had to tell them though.   The mall was closed.  Streets that we travel regularly were closed with police tape.  People in our church have lost loved ones.  They will hear about this, we wanted it to be from us.  Parenting is hard.  Telling your kids about bad people who make evil decisions is hard.  Reminding them that there are far more good people than bad people in this world is hard.  I have squeezed them extra hard today.  I've hugged them every chance I've had.  Tomorrow is not a guarantee.  Do the people you love know how much you love them in case tomorrow never comes for you to tell them?

we're safe

I was awakened by a phone call around 4:30.  My dear sweet friend.  The friend that a few weeks ago I told you was being evacuated from the fire area.  It's 4:30, of course something is wrong.  No one calls at that time when things are ok.  She was hysterical.  I couldn't understand a word she said.  After several minutes I finally was able to gather the story.

Shooting.

Yeah, I said it.  The shooting at the Aurora theater that you are waking up to hearing about, it happened near my house.  She was supposed to be there.  Her friends invited her.  She contemplated it and then decided tonight that she was too tired to make the hour drive tonight to come up to hang out with her friends.  After all, she would have to make the hour drive home as well because she has to work this morning.

My husband and younger boys were at this theater just hours before.  Logically my mind says that my family was fine.  The shooting happened during the premier of the new Batman.  That in a sick and twisted way can make sense.  No one is going to start shooting in Madagascar 3, that doesn't make sense in any way.  But I still feel stunned and shocked.  What if it had been my family?  What if it had been 4 hours earlier when my family was there?

I feel sick.  My oldest son saw the new Spiderman movie a couple of weeks ago at this theater, late at night with a friend and his family.  What if it had happened then?  12 dead.  10 died at the scene.  2 died in hospitals.  50+ wounded.  They are reporting that the youngest patient is 3 months old but people are spread out in hospitals across the city.  That may not be an accurate statement.  But several eye witnesses said they saw a baby get shot.

A baby.  My friend's friend who was there said the worst part was a little girl, maybe 6 years old, screaming and crying hysterically.  What is wrong with people???????  The suspect is in custody. I'm glad he is custody.  I live far too close to feel ok with a roaming suspect.  My family is safe.  My friends are safe.  And I am not ok right now.

I'm praying right now for the families who had to say goodbye far too soon.  I'm praying for the people who were injured.  I'm praying for the people who were there who were in different theaters.  I'm praying for my friend who was supposed to be there.  I'm praying for peace.  I'm praying for the words to say when my kids ask me about this.  I'm praying with a very broken heart.

are they really watching my plate or is it all in my head?

Yesterday was a working lunch.  In other words, my work provides lunch and we eat while we continue our meeting.  I hate working lunches.  I despise them.  Yesterday had me desiring to run away, to cry, to swear.  Thankfully I was at a table of people I'm fairly comfortable with which eased my tension a little.  I always feel like people are watching me eat and it makes me really uncomfortable.  Which really, especially here where no one knows about my past, probably isn't happening.

At least this meal was Panera so it was sandwiches and salad rather than pizza or bbq.  Having healthy options should have made it easier but for some reason yesterday's lunch was still harder than usual.  My friend now works with me.  She sits in the cubicle next to me.  I really like having her there.  I was scared at first to have her there because having her there crosses the line of keeping work and personal separate. 

It means that someone in my office knows that some days I don't eat.  It means that someone in my office not only knows about it but was the one to get the text saying that I was in the hospital under 72 hour watch nearly two years ago.  It means that someone at work knows about things I don't want to share at work about my past. 

It also means yesterday when I was staring at my food contemplating for a few moments running away, that I got a quick touch on the knee and a concerned, "You ok?"  Wow.  That was a life giving moment.  I still excused myself to my cubicle to cry for a minute or two but I came back to my meeting and was able to eat the lunch.  That simple gesture helped me bring my head back in the game.

Maybe I still feel like everyone noticed my plate because I noticed someone else's.  I noticed the woman who ate only half of her sandwich (which they were half sandwiches to begin with) and gave her salad away and never ate dessert.  Maybe I feel it because I couldn't stop my leg from shaking violently once the food time arrived.  That was probably more of a tell than my plate.

I feel vulnerable.  Not necessarily in a bad way but still vulnerable.  I feel like there will come a point that my story is going to be asked about and as I've said before, if you ask, I don't lie. I am a little afraid of that but I'm learning that I trust majority of the people in my office.  I want to be known and at the same time I want to be invisible.  It is a scary spot.

I also yesterday realized that I think God brought me here to prepare me for what is next in my life.  I hope to work with this organization for a very long time.  I love it, I'm passionate about it, I feel called to be where I am.  I also feel like the stretching and growing that will happen here is to prepare me for the next step.  I don't know if that step will be within this organization or outside of it but I feel fairly convinced that this is training ground.  That is exciting and terrifying all in one breath.

And today I can eat lunch alone if I wish, with no one watching me.  Even if I do eat with others, knowing I don't have to eases the anxiety a hundred times over.

Fifty Shades of Heartbreak

It's the hottest book series on the market right now, Fifty Shades of Grey.  I heard it was like the adult version of Twilight, with lots of racy adult scenes.  I read the back cover and didn't seem too intrigued.  The intrigue came when a firestorm of a debate came on Facebook.

My friend was heavily attacked because she had read the book and enjoyed it.  Someone "unfriended" her sending an email criticizing this friends Christianity, her marriage, and her desire to read such wonton hussy books.  That did it.  My friend is one of the sweetest people on the planet.  She is kind and doesn't judge others.  She is an amazing woman, a wonderful wife to her military man and a fabulous mother to her girls.

I was pissed that she was judged so harshly (by someone who had not read the books, no less) and suddenly I wanted to read them.  I wanted to know what the big deal was.  The last things that sparked huge controversy in the Christian community ended up being series that I now love, Harry Potter and Twilight.  This, I expected, would be the same as those.

So here is my thoughts on the book, there is a bit of a spoiler alert but not much more than the review on ABC news and for some, this spoiler alert is needed.  I could have used it. 

The book is racy.  The part where they first have sex made me ravenous for my husband.  It created a physical response in me so unbelievably strong that I wished Hubby wasn't already asleep.  I'm not opposed to racy in a book.  I am opposed to this book though.

Christan Grey asked Ana to sign a contract allowing him to be her dominate and her to be his submissive.  The contract states that if she is not submissive to his every whim that he has authority to "discipline" her.  He has any number of ways that is accomplished, through a belt, a whip, a cat of nine tails, a cane etc.  He was made to be a submissive through his teenage years and that is where his dominating sexual appetite comes from. 

I had to close the book.  My heart was racing and not with desire.  My heart was racing with fear.  Now I have a wild side.  But this was just too much for me.  Memories flooded my mind.  I couldn't sleep and when I did it was not well.

This morning I picked the book up again.  I thought that possibly I had over-reacted.  Maybe I was just tired and that is what sparked those feelings.  Maybe Ana doesn't actually sign the contract.  Maybe it really is a love story like everyone said.  I started reading and felt that same sick pit in my stomach again.

I flipped later in the book.  He was beating her with a belt.  She was in her mind crying and begging him to stop but never saying a word.  (I also read the last few pages but I won't spoil that part for those of you who don't want to hear the end.) I can't do this book.  I pushed it away from me while the tears sprung up.  I understand the sexual appeal of some of the things in the book.  I cannot handle though, the physical aspect of how those sexual moments come to be.

I've been held down, unable to move while someone forces his hands on my body.  It wasn't love, that is for sure.  I've been hurt for not doing as I was told.  It isn't as glamorous as this book portrays.  I guess my thought is this, sometimes I do enjoy doing exactly as my husband says.  It can really be a turn on.  But he would never beat me if I didn't.  That is my issue.

How does loving someone ever mean wanting to beat them?  How does loving someone ever mean wanting them to hurt?  Submitting and hurting are different things.  I personally feel like it crossed the line into abuse.  I'm just not ok with it.  I'm not ok with telling other women that it is ok, good even,  to be beaten for sexual pleasure.

I'm sure that someone out there is going to bring up that Ana willingly signed the contract, that she desired to be hurt and that makes is why it is different from abuse.  I've heard that argument but I still can't go with it.  For me, in my life, coming from my past, this book is too close to the abuse that I suffered and I cannot bring myself to relive it from the perspective of someone who willingly subjects herself to it.  Your opinion may be different, and that is ok.  We can agree to disagree.

Right now I am nursing my fifty shades of broken heart.  Though I am not a spoiler alert kind of gal, I really wish someone has given me a spoiler alert.  I would have never read this book.  It was just too triggering for me.  I'll be ok, but I'm not right this moment.  I'm hurt.

Fight

                     
Fight. I'm hurting.  I'm hurting a lot.  But something has changed,  I'm still fighting.  I don't feel like eating.  It is hot and uncomfortable (try 101* INSIDE my house today) and eating sounds gross when I am this hot.  I don't feel like eating, it is easier not to. 

 Eating means I'm still fighting though.  Eating means I haven't given up, even though it is tempting.  I suppose that eating means (both figuratively and literally) that I will live to fight another day.  I'm glad tomorrow is a new day.  And I hope the fight is easier tomorrow.

even though I walk through the valley

I'm up past bedtime but I can't seem to make myself go to bed.  That should be fun tomorrow for work.

I woke up with part of Psalm 23 going through my head.

even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 

I will fear no evil, for you are with me;

your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

Those words have brought me comfort all day.  I have been really depressed lately.  I want nothing more than to hide under a blanket, curled up in a ball, and never come out.  And it has been a bit scary, to be honest.  I have a new job that I enjoy but I don't want to go to.  I have things that have to be done and all I can think about is when I can be alone and have no responsibility. 

I guess I would say I've been walking through the valley of the shadow of depression.  But I was reminded that He is still with me, even in the valley.  Today was a difficult day.  Mother's Day usually is but today was weird on top of all of the emotions going on inside of me.  I didn't feel like going to church, it meant having to pretend to be social and ok.  I went anyway, my friend was coming to pick me and the kids up for church and I wanted to be there for her. 

At church I was holding her two year old son and was asked by an older lady if I was grandma.  Yes, I did say grandma.  Seriously?????? I do not look that old! This year for Mother's Day the pastor gave the opportunity for people to say a quick word regarding a mom in their lives (their own mom, a mom important to them, their wife, etc).  Person after person stood up and talked about the love and support that their moms gave them.  And finally I started to cry.  My mom has never been the one who I feel will support me no matter what.  She has never been the mom who I can call when I've had a bad day.  She wasn't even someone I could call earlier this year when I was so sick that I could barely move for two full weeks.  Sometimes a girl just needs a mom, but when I need a mom, it isn't MY mom that I need.

Though I love that I get the privilege of celebrating with my own sweet children, Mother's Day is still a difficult day.  It is a day of remembering the years of longing for a child and wondering if my arms would stay empty forever.  It is a day of remembering that I have never had and likely never will have that soft, warm, accepting relationship with my own mother that I have so longed for.  It is often a day of feeling inadequate. 

This afternoon at the grocery store, I ran into an old acquaintance.  I had worked with her husband many years ago and been "friends" with her by default through working with her husband and being friends with him.  She informed me that she was leaving him.  Then she told me that she hasn't told him yet and that he will take it hard.  I didn't want to hear any of it.  Sigh, happy mother's day to me.

I was constantly reminded today that even though I'm walking through a valley, He is with me and He brings me comfort.  Today was a day that I needed comfort.  It was no accident that it was Psalms that was echoing in my brain from the very moment I woke up.  I want nothing more than to isolate and never speak to anyone again.  I want to curl up in a ball and cry for hours on end.  And somehow, someway, God is going to carry me through.  Somehow, someway, He will bring me comfort in the midst of the valley.

***** there was an upside to my day, not to sound like it was a completely horrible, awful, terrible, no good, very bad day.  My oldest son made me a necklace out of beads.  He worked so hard on it and did a great job.  My middle wrote me a book in which he told me that he loves me more than turtles (which if you have ever met this kid you would know that to say he LOVES turtles is a huge understatement) and that he loves me more than McDonald's.  I'm pretty sure that a child cannot possibly love more than that!  And my baby made me a card and a bookmark. I did enjoy my time with my little family, even in the midst of depression.  I'm so blessed that out of all the women God could have given these sweet boys to, He chose me to be their mamma!*****

muse missing

My muse has been hiding from me for a while.  I think she's still hiding.  I've been really introspective lately.  I have had some good insights and some crappy days. When I think "I should blog about that"  I end up not wanting to sit down at my computer or it ends up being something deep and personal between me and God that I haven't been ready to share.

Today was one of those crappy days.  I restricted.  I counted.  I measured.  For the first time, I started picking at my skin and then forced myself to stop when I realized what I was doing.  I don't know why it was hard, it just was.  I really only wanted to run away.  I made it through though. 

I have interviewed for a new job, a position in ministry.  During the interview I was asked why I wanted to work for them.  I realized how much I want this job when I answered.  There are so many broken people in the world, so many broken women.  But that isn't how we need to live.  Jesus said he came that we could have life and have it more abundantly.  He came to heal our brokenness and I want to be a part of that.  I went to bed the next night in tears.  I am so very broken, how can I ever minister to others?  How can I help be a part of that healing with others when I still am broken myself?  I really want this job.  I've never in my life wanted a job because it is dear to my heart and what I would want to do even if money wasn't involved.  This time I do and yet I feel so unqualified when I look at my life.

I'm still married

I mentioned in my last post that staying married has been my greatest accomplishment in my life so far.  I also said I'd explain that comment, so here goes.

Ya'll already know my background so it isn't really a surprise when I say that the only way I really knew how to relate with men was either not at all or sexually.  The day I married Hubby was the day everything was going to be all better for me.  I had the unconditional love of an amazing man and I didn't need anything else.  We escaped to our hotel after the wedding and I locked myself in the bathroom with the guise of needing a bubble bath to help relax me because I was a little nervous.  Though I'd had sex and Hubby had had sex before, we hadn't had sex with each other so I really was a little nervous on my wedding night.

I took a really long bath, trying to avoid the inevitable.  I remember thinking "Oh my God.  I have to have sex with the same person for the rest of my life.  I don't know if I can do this."  I couldn't "relax" enough to do anything that night, I actually just cried.  Romantic night, huh, holding your new bride while she sobs in your arms instead of finally caressing the body you have spent years waiting for.  The next morning the same thoughts hit me.  And then this one, "Well, we haven't had sex yet so I could still get this annulled and then not break his heart by not being able to stay true." 

Rational? No. Legitimately what I thought? Yes. I had no idea how I was ever going to make it.  I was sure I didn't have what it took to be married, especially to such a great guy.  I spent years knowing I couldn't love him as much as he loved me.  I knew early on that if anything happened to me his world would stop but if anything happened to him I'd be sad and then move on.  I really wanted to feel like my world would stop if something happened to him but I couldn't.  I spent years wondering if he was going to get tired of loving more than he was loved and leave me.

In our first few months of marriage, my first test came along.  Hubby's boss.  Something about him sparked my interest.  In retrospect, I think I enjoyed his company and his sense of humor and didn't know how to respond to him in another way besides desire.  He had told us of the girl he had made out with who was someone's fiance.  I knew that if he could make out with his friend's fiance, he could make out with me, his friend's wife.  He didn't have that boundary in his head that would make me off limits.  My mind started concentrating on him a lot.  I desired him and knew that he wouldn't mind crossing that line and figured it could be a secret.

Here is where I realized that I did really love my Hubby not just loved that he loved me.  I would play in my mind having to tell him I had slept with his boss and could see how heartbroken he would have been.  I never wanted to be responsible for breaking his heart.  I held on to that fiercely.  It was my proof that I really loved him.  At least I loved him as much as I was capable of loving him.  I was pretty broken.  I worked in the same building as he did at the time.  I quit my job to avoid seeing and feeling for Hubby's boss on a daily basis.  I walked away from my greatest temptation because I didn't want to hurt Hubby.

I spent the first 3 years of our marriage waiting for the day when he would tire of my broken capacity for loving him and leave for a woman who had a whole heart to love him with.  During our infertility years I even told him if he wanted to leave me for a woman who could have his children that I would understand.  He still refers to that conversation as the only time he has ever been absolutely furious with me.  I knew that I loved him as much as I could, but I wondered if I would ever love him as much as he loved me, as much as he deserved to be loved.

I finally confessed all of this to him a couple of months ago.  Of course, he already knew, but it was nice to finally talk about it.  He wondered when we got married if I loved him or if I loved how he made me feel.  Did I love him or did I love being loved?  Did I love him or feeling safe?  Did I love him or that he would do anything to make me smile?  Did I love him or did I love that I didn't have to answer to my parents anymore?
Did I love him or that I was the center of someone's world finally?  He didn't know.  How could he, I didn't know. 

I would repeatedly find myself avoiding situations because I didn't want to have to tell him I'd been with another man.  Not wanting to hurt him was the proof of loving him that I clung too.  For far too long, it was all I had to assure myself that I loved him as much as I could.  As the years have passed, our friendship has deepened.  Our love has grown.  My love for him is genuine and deep now.  My world would stop if something happened to him.  I no longer need to cling to the fear of hurting him to prove to myself and him that I do love him.  It just flows naturally from every fiber of my being. 

We've known each other since I was 18 and I enjoy his company more than I even realized was possible back then.  Though I've been tempted in the past to step outside of our marriage, I no longer need the fear of telling him to be the thing that keeps me faithful.  I don't want to be with anyone else.  I don't think of other men in sexual terms anymore.  Hubby is my only lover and the only one I want to love for the rest of my life.  And I'm really thankful that he could see into my heart and love me even when I didn't know how to love him in return.