Survivors Blog: 

Elizabeth

Prodigals.... In the Bible, one of the most beloved, well known, and controversial stories is one that Jesus told of the Prodigal son. Prodigal actually means "wasteful, reckless, irresponsible and selfish." Sounds a lot like me when I was unfaithful. I didn't want to cheat. I never planned on it. For most of my marriage, I had an inner vow to stay faithful because it was what I had promised to do. I don't think any of us walk down the aisle ever thinking we will become someone who would cheat. Nor do I think anyone on their wedding day can fathom what it must feel like to be betrayed either. I remember acutely, the day it happened. A man who was friendly with me at our local tennis club told me he thought I was beautiful. It caught me off guard. I remember thinking to myself at the time he said it, "surely he didn't just say that to me?" That wasn't something married men were "supposed" to say to married women. It felt personal. It felt like a violation of some code. It felt intimate and wrong. It's hard to describe, but he was also strangely familiar to me. I grew up with so many mixed messages and lack of boundaries, that it also stirred something in me. Looking back now, at the time I had no idea how vulnerable I was. Instead of talking about it with my husband, which is what we would do now, I hid that information. I absorbed what happened that day and coveted the feeling and high it gave me. Just like a secret binge of a bulimic, I swallowed the compliment and rid what happened in my mind. The truth was, I let those words sink in and allowed them to make me feel special. Like a drug, I began to want more. Each week I would run into him, would he say something again? I gave them power and allowed them to fuel a fantasy that took me further and further from my vows, my husband and our marriage. This guy started to drip feed compliments like battery acid into my abyss of unworthiness, and I was hooked. How did someone who had everything end up in a ditch eating with swine? Looking back, I had terrible boundaries. I had heard of people who were married and did things like never riding in a car or having lunch with someone of the opposite sex, but I guess I was too dumb or proud to ever think those rules applied to me. I also still struggle with a deep sense of unworthiness. There are so many reasons for affairs, and I am sure I will never fully understand them all. I know I was painfully unaware of the deception within my own heart. Silence, Secrets and Selfishness are three deadly factors that any wayward spouse uses to feed the affair. And some of the ways out of this mess? Talking, radical honesty, and serving. A sober-ness really. The acceptance that my heart can be a dark and dangerous place if I don't open the shutters and let light in. The road to repentance in my marriage is a joy that will probably take the rest of our lives. Why joy? Because I think serving brings out the best in us. I mess up a lot, but I really want to restore honor to my husband. But do you know what hasn't taken a lifetime to receive? God's forgiveness. It's instant. No matter what we have done, how bad, how far and how ugly....we have a loving Father who hikes his pants up so He can sprint towards us to scoop us up in His arms. He is so happy to have us repent and come back home, that He throws us a party! That is hard for me to wrap my head and heart around. Getting the opportunity to serve and walk alongside others at AR, feels to me like that party sometimes. A party that none of us ever wanted to be invited to. A testament to God's goodness is how many people in the AR community that are waiting to partner with you as you sojourn recovery. Who comes to mind for you? I thank the many women I walk with daily, that I would have never known without repentance, grace and failure. Can you hear it? I hear God's calling for any of us that have returned home. The call to let God have the last word in our sin. To help others. And by all means rid our lives of every last secret we've ever held onto. No matter what side infidelity you find yourself on, please don't believe that you are unworthy because of what you've done or what's been done to you. Take the next step. Join a group. There is a loving Father waiting for you there. And an entire community of fellow prodigals to cheer you on. Elizabeth

Early on in recovery, I was so angry at my husband for suggesting I have a love addiction. I am so ashamed to think of how prideful I can be. In my mind, a woman with a so-called love addiction had serious issues. I had a stereotype in my head that this would be a woman constantly on dating sites, wearing clothing from Victoria's Secret, or someone completely out of control. This was not me. I was a mom for crying out loud. I drive a minivan. I carpool. I go to church. I was married. I dress conservatively and I have never once been on an internet site that had anything to do with dating or sex. I insistently denied any possibility that this could be me. Insert God, growth, time, and humility into the picture. I think this is me. I have found something in common between me and the other women I have walked with who have had more than one affair; we have a pretty low self-esteem underneath our façade. We can be very warm, energetic even, but also very impulsive. We easily confused care and concern for genuine love or intimacy. The saying "boys use love to get sex and girls use sex to get love" has a grain of truth for us. Stereotypical and generalizing for sure, but let me explain. I know for me, since I was very young, boys offered me something I never learned how to give myself. Attention, approval, and acceptance. If a boy liked me, it must have meant I mattered and I was beautiful. It was exciting to discover this power that seemed to erase my doubt and insecurity. So began the craving. . . And what to do when a boy stopped liking me or I them? Move onto the next one. Keep the excitement going. I lived with a distracted heart that was always searching for the next thing to fill it. If you think you may have a love addiction, don't despair. After all, it is only a term. It is not who God created us to be. Now that you're starting to identify it, be curious and start to look at what it means. I can no longer afford to be disillusioned by my own depravity and choices I've made in the past. I think I have a love addiction. I have a very compulsive and addictive personality. Thank goodness no one ever offered me cocaine. But food? Yep. I battled anorexia and then bulimia for years. Alcohol? Another yes. I was always too prideful to ever consider myself an alcoholic but it definitely was a substance I used in both of my affairs to escape pain and justify my behavior. (The two nights I was physical with my AP's were nights I drank heavily). Rick Reynold's has written several articles if you want to read more about love addiction: www.affairrecovery.com/newsletter/founder/affair-why-did-they-cheat-part-three-do-they-have-an-addiction? Could this be you? If so, I encourage you not to shy away from the diagnosis like I did. (My repulsion to the idea should have been a warning sign to me that it had everything to do with me). I have found individual counseling to be immensely helpful. Seeing the lack of proper attachment growing up in my family has shown me why I have always been on a search for intimacy in all of the wrong places. I know I have a very addictive personality. Instead of denying that part of me, I am coming to terms with it. I once read that an addict needs shame like a thirsty man needs salt water. Looking at the roots of my shame allows me to focus more on the why's behind my tendencies and behaviors. Group work has also been beyond helpful. Hope for Healing women's groups are full of some pretty broken yet amazing women trying to figure this out. When you get to meet other folks who struggle in the same ways, quite a bit of healing can happen through comradery and compassion. If you are the betrayed and you don't even know who your spouse has become, first off, I'm really sorry. This may be their issue. In the scope of God's big story, I see how broken I have been by misusing my sexuality. I have used the divine beauty God gave me as a woman and used that for attention to fill a void by men that only God could fill. It breaks my heart to think of me giving my sexuality away so early in my life. Part of it may have been taken from you too soon as well, and I hope you find the courage to talk about that in a safe place. I didn't, for years. In my silence, shame told me that I was nothing more than damaged goods, so I might as well offer those broken leftovers to whoever wants it. That deeply grieves and saddens me to not see, live or love from a place of being worth so much more.

Have you ever driven in really thick fog? We live near the Mississippi river, where a lot of tributaries feed into the waterway. I didn't grow up in this region (I'm a native Texan), but what I find is that certain mornings of the year, the hills and valleys surrounding our home become blanketed in a thick fog. It becomes so heavy over the roadways that in order to drive, you have to put your headlights on the low beam and drive very slow. You can't see anything. All of the curves and turns seem to sneak up on you. What were once familiar roads become scary and unknown. It can be suffocating because you have no point of reference. I also get very impatient when I drive in fog. I don't like not being able to see so I find myself turning on my high beams, thinking I can see further ahead but instead I am just blinded even more. The early months after disclosure from infidelity are not for the faint of heart, no matter which side of it you find yourself. As the unfaithful party, there were many times I wrestled with the lie that it might just be best for my family if I left. Driving off of a cliff, overdosing, or disappearing seemed like much better options than facing the devastation I created. I had caused enough damage. In my shame and despair, all I could see was that I was someone who could destroy people. My deceit caused mass destruction and my betrayed husband couldn't stand to look at me at times. What does early recovery have to do with fog? Nothing of which I am about to say is profound. In fact, it is so bread and butter basic that it might border on being insulting. I have learned that when you drive in fog, all you can do is stay in your lane, keep your beams on low, and go very, very slow. If you are reading this and find yourself in the first six months following disclosure, buckle up. You may be desperate for any sign of hope. Often, there won't be any. If they are there, you might not be able to see them through the pain and chaos surrounding you. You have no perspective. You will drink coffee out of the same coffee pot as you did before discovery, but everything seems so vastly different and out of place. Your entire life can seem to be a horrible episode of the movie Groundhog day; only difference is there is no rewind button and certainly not a control+alt+delete option. Most of the time all you can do is stay in the mess. Face the mess. Expect to drive in fog for a while. The days will seem to crawl and never end. It will feel oppressive and you will be convinced the sun will never shine again. I know in our story, it would often seem to get more awful as time went on. The deeper we looked behind my behavior, the uglier the story got. The more pain my husband faced, the more he would find ways to protect himself from the pain. But like a deep, ravaging infection, a lot of the toxins must be removed before healing can take place. We would try to go to a movie or dinner to escape the pain only to be knocked back down to a place of hopelessness and despair. I saw a side of my husband I had never seen before. I heard him say things I had no idea he would be capable of saying. I saw a rage and anger (rightfully so…pain will do that to a person) that I had no idea how to respond to. I saw him withdraw from me, the kids, his hobbies and friends. Nothing I said seemed to matter. Everything I did or said seemed like the wrong thing. I often felt like I was damned if I did, and damned if I didn't. I know you might hear things like: your spouse wishes you were dead, they hate you, or that you should just leave. Pain can create a lot of confusion and I couldn't see that at the time. Here's the irony. Just as I did and said things in my affairs that now make me shudder in disbelief, I have to bestow the same grace to my husband. I needed to give him time to sort out what he felt about the bombshells that seemed to be coming at him from every direction. Feelings are a funny thing. They aren't always true. Some feelings are fleeting. Some are deeper. Some are just completely irrational because sometimes our beliefs about ourselves are based on lies. Looking back, I am so grateful we both found a way to simply stay in our lane. To keep driving. To know that the pain is horrible but if you stay the course, it will end. It might not be as quickly as you hope, but will not be as long as you fear. If you are in the early months and any of this rings true, there is a community at AR that can't change the choices that have been made, but we can help you walk through the pain. Until the fog lifts, Elizabeth

Today I am journaling about codependency because I truly hate the word. I wish someone decades ago could have come up with a nicer sounding word to fit the definition. When I began some honest soul searching of my character flaws that led me to cheat on my husband, I began to realize that I am a poster child for codependency. Looking back on my life and choices, I have spent years outrunning being identified as “codependent” to any degree. Part of my personality (that I am still coming to terms with) is that I have mostly been the type of person who has to learn through failure and mistakes. So many times I have run so far from something only to find myself smacked in the face into the very thing I was running from to begin with. (Insert eye roll and deep sigh emoji here) It felt like admitting that I was codependent meant I was weak, a doormat, and dependent or needy. And worst of all, because codependents can’t validate their own feelings very well, I had no idea what to do with all of these feelings of insecurity without anyone there to validate them. I never wanted to be codependent. I know now this was how my own mother was labeled. She chose to stay married to my dad for 30 years. He had multiple and chronic addictions and infidelities. He finally chose to leave her after her multiple attempts at healing and reconciliation. Their baggage became my baggage. Because I rarely have known where I end and someone else begins, I became a sponge that just absorbed everything. I absorbed and buried my anger towards both of my parents. That buried anger ultimately came out in my own marriage. I hated my dad for never choosing integrity, yet pretending he did. I really resented my mom for not taking us kids and leaving him the first time. Growing up, there was a lot of Lucy and Charlie Brown going on. Lucy would put the football out there. And like Charlie Brown, we all hoped and swore this time would be different. Only to get up to kick the ball and have it pulled away. I have started to grieve many losses, most of which had to do with understanding and accepting the pain instead of feeling responsible for it. Growing up as the youngest child in a large family, I often joke that all of the roles were taken so I took what was left. (I also joke to hide my pain...which I am learning is...you guessed it....a screaming neon sign that I am codependent). I learned early on to be whatever anyone needed me to be. I internalized every fight, argument and conflict. Sometimes, if I could just be cute or funny enough, I discovered I had the power to distract or bring about peace. What does codependency have to do with infidelity? A lot more than I would have liked. And to be honest, a lot more than I still like to admit. I often wonder how many of us come into marriage with completely unrealistic expectations. I know I did. Because of the unhealed pain in my family of origin, I see how I internally expected my husband to be my savior. I expected him to pick up the pieces, be perfect, and somehow rescue me from all of my pain and emptiness. It didn’t take me long to feel disappointment. I remember a few weeks into our marriage he announced he was leaving for the weekend to go deer hunting and we had a newborn at the time. I was in total disbelief and felt so angry. How could he leave me like this? Looking back I can actually smile on this. One of my husband’s greatest qualities is his strong sense of self and his boundaries. I did not define him and he would not compromise his passion or connection with God through spending time in the woods for anyone. As a codependent, I always confused self-care for selfishness. I was resentful towards my husband for actually being healthy. I have been so selfish to expect him to be anything more than human. As a codependent, I also looked to others for my happiness and sense of belonging. When my husband could not provide that for me, I sought it out wherever I could find it. I was completely unsafe for our marriage and didn’t even realize it. My need for connection was off the charts. Instead of allowing him to not meet all my needs all of the time, I fell for the instant gratification of two separate affairs. I justified each one by telling myself that my husband really didn’t care for me. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Understanding my tendency towards codependent behavior has been one of the biggest areas of focus in my recovery from my infidelity. This has required developing a sense of self. I was so angry at my therapist for telling me I had no sense of self over and over the first few months. This made me feel angry and ashamed. I was so embarrassed to hear that I was a 43 year old woman with no sense of self. I even came home from my therapist’s office one day and googled it. It sounds silly and elementary, but now I view my sense of self as not being afraid to give my opinion. If I like something, I can make my needs be known. If I don’t like something, I can say that too. Laugh if you must, but to those of us on the codependent spectrum, it is a really difficult thing to simply ask for what we need sometimes. My hatred for the word codependency is slowly changing into a mild dislike. It is not something I need to loathe, hate or rid myself of. I am becoming more okay and accepting of it. Kindness is what leads us to repentance. Not self-hatred. I am trying to maintain compassion for my strong desire to fix, manage and control. Mostly because when I want to fix or control, I realize I’m usually just really afraid. Most days I think we all want some kind of sense that it’s going to be okay. While Jesus promises that to us if we choose Him in eternity, He tells me plainly that in this world there is gonna be trouble. I just don’t have to go at it alone. At its core, I think codependency is just a desire to nurture others - which isn’t a bad thing. But like fertilizer in the garden, a little nurturing helps things grow. Too much of it will kill and destroy. Only God can change people. Not me. He is in control. Not me. He defines what is good and bad. Not me. Healing will happen on His time table, not mine. (Spoiler alert, God doesn’t seem to do anything quickly.) He’s gonna do all of the healing in our hearts. Again... not me. His love is the only thing big enough to do that. If you are a Bible reader, the book of Exodus tells a great story where God clearly defines to Moses who He was. God seems pretty big on the simple words “I am”. When I am acting codependently, I am ultimately trying to be God. And that is not who I want to be. One of my favorite Anne Lamont quotes is “the biggest difference between us and God is that He doesn’t pretend to be us”. Whether unfaithful or betrayed, codependency creeps into all of our relationships. Mine has crippled ours. This is a subject that is difficult and confusing and downright messy. My hope is that we continue to wrestle as a community with what it means to love well and help one another in this area. As always, thank you for reading. If you want to dive deeper into the subject of codependency, Hope for Healing and Harboring Hope are two classes with much content in this area. If you haven’t taken one of them, it could be the very best step in your healing journey.

Is Infidelity Hereditary? I ask myself this question a lot. I guess it's more of a fear of mine than a question. In a rational state of mind I can answer this easily: of course not. Infidelity is a choice. No one put a gun to my head and made me cross the line. No one forced me to be unfaithful. And like the source for eye color or skin tone, I don't think there is a "ruin your spouse's life by having an affair" gene. If you've done much reading or work in the Affair Recovery courses, you have likely heard us wayward spouses refer to being in states of limerence – something similar to being in a fog. "We were out of our minds during our affairs", we say. And while all of that may be true, I greatly fear someday that my own children could be unfaithful because I was. I realize this might sound ridiculous to some and maybe it is. But maybe it's not such a crazy thought. When I was a little girl, I envisioned that my parents would be together forever. In my idealized world, they were supposed to grow old together. I was supposed to be able to go to my childhood home and take my spouse there one day. We were supposed to have holidays together and my parents were supposed to sit hand in hand at my wedding someday. I found out about my dad's first affair when I was in middle school. I remember hiding behind their bathroom door while my parents were yelling. I heard my mom go crazy. I heard my dad tell her he no longer loved her and he was moving out. My dad ended up staying five more years after that night, but he eventually left my mom for a different woman. He continually married or was engaged to several more women throughout his lifetime and was unable to be faithful to any of them until he died. How did that affect me? I swore I would never be unfaithful. Ever. I even promised my husband that I knew the pain infidelity caused, so I would be safe. I could never imagine hurting anyone in that way or breaking up a family. I witnessed the shame, pain and rage that his actions caused firsthand. I saw my mom break into a billion pieces. I wondered why she never left him. For years I hated my dad for his selfishness. I hated the other women. I knew my mom wasn't perfect and was pretty codependent, but no one deserved to be abandoned and cheated on like that. So why do I tell you this? Because I became the woman I hated. I became what I swore I would never be. All of my pride, my anger, and my insistence that I was better than that got me nowhere. Eleven years into my own marriage, I got entangled in an emotional affair. Three years after that I had another physical affair. Both, ironically, were with men old enough to be my father. Quite possibly the single greatest lesson I have and continue to learn in my own recovery as an unfaithful wife is humility. How arrogant I was to judge, pretend and never allow my own pain to be transformed. I thought I was safe. I thought I didn't have to do the work to put boundaries in place with other men. I chose to not fully forgive my dad and sadly, he is now gone from this earth. And by choosing to have two affairs of my own, I transferred every ounce of that shameful legacy onto my husband. Is infidelity passed down from generations? Has there been divorce and infidelity in your family tree? I don't know the answer to this. But I know without a shadow of a doubt that nothing can make me safe except radical humility, ruthless honesty, and a ton of hard work. There are some days I don't like accepting the reality that I am a lot like my dad. But then I allow Jesus into the picture. I am reminded that my dad was a broken man, and I too, am extremely broken and need saving. My pride and sufficiency will get me nowhere. I really hope the legacy of unfaithfulness ends with me. I have come to accept that there are no shortcuts to healing. I am accepting that I will fight this battle the rest of my life. Complacency and "never again" aren't good enough. I choose to believe that while each of us is unable to change our family trees, we can change our story. To taking the next step, Elizabeth

Today my words come from a very insecure and needy place. Insecure because I'm trying hard to use words instead of behaviors to show how I feel and what I need. This "voice" seems childlike and continues to grow because it is still somewhat unfamiliar to me. My words might sound crazy but I promise I'm not a lunatic! My psychologist refers to me in "parts" like this, so I am going to do the same here today. The needy part of this voice is the one I am most uncomfortable with. I have always hated and detested the needy part of me so I constantly reduced its expression. One of the silver linings of coming out of infidelity is that you literally, and I mean literally, have nothing to lose. I have hit rock bottom. I have done what I said I would never do. I have shamed my family, destroyed my vows, and been absolutely and completely selfish. One of the saving graces in this experience is that I can start to freely accept and admit that I don't know anything and instead have a lot to learn. So let's go back to the needy part. I have always felt that needing stuff from people was a weakness. I'm a pay up front kind of girl. Better go over and above to make sure I didn't owe anybody anything. Neediness seemed synonymous with foolish, out of control and weak. On harsher days I felt it was closer to desperate or pathetic. (I think I may have a few shame and pride issues to work out...) I would pay bills ahead of time. I made sure I was never the friend who owed anyone money or child care. Self-sufficiency and independence were badges I wore with honor, straight into my decimation. In our marriage, I was even worse. I couldn't simply ask for what I needed. I would over do, out-perform, and run circles around anyone. My husband never got to be the "hero" because I never let myself need a thing from him. I basically became a martyr in my own prideful shell. Through meeting with my therapist, I have come to understand that this "needy" part of me is actually healthy. WHAT?!? Throughout this counseling journey I have become quite good at expressing this voice of need. My therapist encourages me to "simply ask for what you need" and so I do. Our marriage remains a difficult area for me to need. Why is that? Is it just a woman thing? Is it an unfaithful thing? Why is it so difficult to ask for what we need? And why is it such a scary place to be? One of the problems we have encountered in recovery is recognizing that each of us have limited capacity. My husband is battling his own demons, shame, and fight for recovery. Sometimes we have needs but we don't have the ability to meet them. Early on it seemed as though both of us were lying in the ICU, strapped to a gurney bleeding to death but asking each other for a cup of water. We have become stronger and pulled ourselves off those gurneys. We are learning to put a voice to our needs. Thankfully our capacity to see and hear each other is continually increasing. Below is a journal entry of mine from a few months ago where I expressed one of my needs: Dear Luke (my husband), I need you to learn to share your pain in a way that doesn't demonize or make me feel less than human. I know what I did to you makes you feel discarded, inadequate, and unimportant. It has never helped me to hear the phrases, "I would never" or "how could you?" I live with my sin and the regret of my infidelity and see daily how much it has hurt you. Trust me when I say that I celebrate your strength and convictions. Selfishly, I do wish I could be more like you and I admire your innocence, your ability to stand firm on that promise and I envy your integrity. It is beautiful. But when you look or speak to me with an attitude that I am less than because of the hurt I created, I only feel shame. Instead of feeling closeness, I feel cut off from you because of the self-righteous attitude. Again, I trust and want very much to learn from you and appreciate the precious ways you have kept your vows and promises to me. Please realize that it is hard for me to ask for this because of an underlying message that tells me I don't deserve to ask for anything in light of the pain I have caused. But I know this is a lie. God forgives, cleanses, renews and restores. While I was a sinner, He died for me. I don't deserve anything and never will. But the only path to intimacy is to need and be needed. I will be bold and stop pretending I can be self-reliant. In the midst of feeling pain and remorse, I still have needs. I need you to be honest about your own short-comings and failures and the ugliness in your own heart. I know, in light of my infidelity, your sin likely pales in comparison. It is grossly unfair and the consequences of your actions will never hurt or betray me in the same way mine have you. But it is important for me to know and hear these things from you. I know I don't deserve this but it really does help me. It makes me to want to share my failures with you and to be radically honest about my faults. I desire to hear that you're proud of me. I fear you may never feel that way again. Even though I am working really hard at recovery, I know those words don't come easily. At any time I could betray again. Our eyes are now wide open to the possibilities of what one person can do to another. But just know, deep in my heart, I am working to one day maybe hear that from you again. Where ever you find yourself in recovery, I hope you will take steps to be a person who needs. Take a class at Affair Recovery. Hope for Healing was full of people just like me who were trying to figure this out.

We are more than a year out from discovery. Some of the days have been very slow making me wonder if progress has been made. And although we now have more good days than bad, a small internal voice still occasionally asks, am I really changing? While you, the betrayed, are trying to heal from what we, the unfaithful, have done to you, I also know you are ultimately waiting for redemption. There are days my husband's anxiety seems to come out of nowhere. Of course I understand the root of the anxiety; it is a fear that I will betray again. But from my perspective, the unpredictability of this anxiety is hard to wrap my head around. I know I don't handle his anxiety well when I spiral out of control and go on the defensive. It is an ugly place where I doubt my own decisions and capacity to change and wind up questioning everything. This causes my anxiety to triple in an instant. There are other times when I think we do get it right; when I simply hear him out rather than defaulting to shame which makes it all about me. I've found that most of the time he just needs comfort and reassurance of my commitment to change. I can give him handles on my thoughts, actions and behaviors - anchors, so to speak. These anchors are practical things he can grab and hold onto to remind him of what was then and what is now. Then: I was deceptive, delusional and in my affair. Now: I am trying my hardest to be honest and humble about my past and present. Sometimes simply pointing out the differences between then and now help get us back on track. If you are struggling or questioning your unfaithful spouse's intent and motivation for change, here are some tangible anchors we've used in our recovery: Then: I was crazy secretive about my phone. I would rarely leave it sitting out in the open. I knew if I changed my password it might raise a flag, so I never did that. But my anxiety was always sky high concerning my phone. If my kids wanted to play with it, I would get protective and defensive of it. I was careful to have my phone with me at all times because I never knew if or when a text might come in from my AP. And even more dishonest was how accustomed I became at deleting texts which was something I never did before the infidelity. Now: I couldn't care less about my phone. I leave it where ever and whenever. It can run out of battery and not faze me in the slightest. It is open to anyone in my family and my husband can have access to it at any time. We used the Life 360 app as well as Safe Kids app for him in case he gets triggered. He admitted the other day he rarely uses that anymore. Then: I isolated myself from most of my really amazing, long-time, faithful girlfriends. I did not engage in phone calls, lunch dates or intimate gatherings with them. Not only did I not make time for them (the immaturity affairs bring out in us is quite shameful, selfish and reckless) but I didn't want anyone who really "knew" me to be around me. I avoided them because it was difficult to be intimate and honest when I was lying and being deceitful. Life was indeed lonely and shallow. Now: My girlfriends have all graciously re-entered my life and I spend ample amounts of time with them. The restoration and joy of reengaging in life with them has been rich and full. It has taken some time but I find some of my deepest connections with GIRL friends. I still talk to the ladies in my Hope for Healing small group daily! If you haven't taken it, I'm gonna put in a shameless plug that it could be the single best thing you do as an unfaithful spouse! Nothing that comes with or from an affair compares to the empathy, kindness and connections of girlfriends. Then: I tried to hide from God. If the radio station played a Christian song, I would change it immediately. Christian books (if you don't know where to start I recommend Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning) were something I did not want to read. I did not want any reminders as to what God would want to say about my behavior. I knew what I was doing was wrong. I knew He would want me to stop. I was too cowardly and selfish to get out of the immoral entanglement on my own, yet I refused to be open and honest with God to help me out of it because I was terrified that people would find out. It was easier to pretend that God was someone "I could deal with later". Now: Christ's love anchors my days. Messages, teachings, books, music and hymns are often all that get me through. I'm not naive about my ability to hide and deny, but I want His truth and His ways -- not my own way. If I pull away from God I am doomed. If my husband sees me pulling away from God he has right to be concerned. My iPod, radio station, bedside table reading, and audible are full of continual messages and reminders of who God is and His unfathomable love for us. Then: Ugh. Typing this one feels excruciatingly shallow and painful but here goes. In my affair, I was obsessed with my appearance. I wanted to look presentable at all times. I was restless, anxious and rarely present. I watched my weight meticulously. I worked out more than any sane person should. I was consumed with me, me, me. I was ridiculous with my need to look better, fitter, younger and prettier. I am so sad to reflect on how little I thought of my true self then. I was always on the go, always chasing something. I drank to calm my anxiety. I rarely made eye contact. Now: I feel comfortable in my own skin. I like to exercise still, but naps on the couch are sometimes just as rewarding. I can go out in public without doing my makeup or brushing my hair. Now when I get dressed up it is for my husband. I have started to find my voice and ask my husband for affirmation when I need it. Guys, women like compliments and long to know you find us beautiful. We could hear that you find us beautiful as many times a week as you need sex. I'm thankful I can now have fat days, ugly days, lazy days, and sweatshirt days. Rest assured, there is a lot more quiet and a lot more peace. This is by no means an exhaustive list. But I hope it's a tangible reminder of how to realistically look at your unfaithful spouse to see how hard they are trying to change to be a person worthy of your trust and a second chance.

Today I was reminded of a story by Portia Nelson I heard long ago: Autobiography in Five Chapters by Portia Nelson Chapter One: I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk I fall in. I am lost... I am hopeless. It isn't my fault. It takes forever to find a way out. Chapter Two: I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don't see it. I fall in again. I can't believe I'm in the same place. But it isn't my fault. It still takes a long time to get out. Chapter Three: I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it is there. I still fall in... it's a habit My eyes are open; I know where I am; It is my fault. I get out immediately. Chapter Four: I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it. Chapter Five: I walk down another street. I still have so far to go but I am desperately searching for the different street. And while I'm not suggesting this is the "end all be all" of how change occurs, it reminds me of how difficult and painstakingly slow change can be. I'd like to thank my husband and every betrayed spouse who is graciously giving us time to sort through the personal pain we have transmitted onto you. Thank you for giving us the time to "get it". I will probably never fully grasp the grace you bestow on us this side of heaven. I don't know where you find yourself in this journey of recovery but my desire is that this provides hope today to continue forward. Thankfully, Affair Recovery is full of options to help us navigate our way to a new street without holes.

Shame. I hate the word. I hate the feeling. I am guessing for most of you reading this, you have more than a vague idea of what this word does to a human being and how it can be one of the most destructive forces on the planet. I am so tired of shame. Sure, I can sit here and look back on my life and the things that happened before I had a choice in the matter. Reflect on the things that helped shape my heart into a giant bucket of shame. But the reality is I took shame, let it have authority over me, and ran with it most of my life. Shame can have many definitions and I'm certain it can have different faces for different people. For me, it has mostly felt like a pit in the deepest parts of my heart (and more tangibly my stomach and my throat) that something is very wrong with me and I am deeply inadequate. As early as I can remember, I have had this feeling. To compensate for shame, I would try harder. I would find a way to outperform it, outrun it, or at least cover it up so no one would see it. In an attempt to outrun shame I became the smartest, nicest, most entertaining, funniest, best, most outgoing, and winningest shell of a person that ever existed. I was determined to be successful at everything. I would become everyone's friend. I would never disappoint anyone if I could help it. I would seek approval everywhere. Just take a look at my high school year book. It screams of a girl who sought affirmation everywhere. Unfortunately my mentality also impacted my spouse. My husband could never be enough. I mirrored in him my unattainable quest for perfection. I had no idea what intimacy was and destroyed our marriage by not only making it all about me, but seeking all the wrong things in all the wrong places. A truth that continues to open my eyes is how self-absorbing shame can be. Rick teaches how shame and pride are both a far cry from the place of humility and confidence that God longs for us to find. Shame is always there, always waiting to devour and pounce. Just today, as I looked on the Affair Recovery website for encouragement, shame crept in. It whispered rather loudly, "You are an unfaithful woman. You are the minority. Stay silent. Don't speak out or say anything. It won't be enough and you won't be understood. Stay in the shadows because nothing you say will be believed. You have no right to say anything because of what you've done." I remember reading a study on how authorities recognize counterfeit dollar bills. It does not happen by studying all of the counterfeits. Instead, they study the real thing. Day after day, they continue to study an authentic dollar bill. They become so familiar with the real thing, it helps them recognize when it's fake. The same applies to shame. Focusing on the truth helps counteract shame. I am not smart enough to find truth on my own, which is why I find God's word and truth so helpful. I have found it to be the best place to start unraveling the many lies shame speaks. And by studying the real thing, I am slowly learning to see what counterfeits sound and look like. If you are struggling with shame today, please know you aren't alone. In the darkest days of recovery, I desperately wanted to curl up in a ball and cry out that I deserve nothing more than a life of misery and self-hatred from the choices I made. Not only does that not offer help to anyone but just hear the overwhelming selfishness of that statement! Only when I can look up, reach out, and come outside of that dark place can I begin to see my husband. Consider his feelings. Be curious about what this has been like for him. Possibly offer him some much needed hope or encouragement, even if it is as small as: "I see you." "I am not giving up." "I am sorry that my own shame has caused such abandonment for you." I am fighting shame. One of the best ways I have found to combat shame is to enter into one of the Affair Recovery online small groups. For me, it was Hope for Healing. I discovered I wasn't alone in any of these feelings but I desperately need help learning how to fight them and not act out of destructive feelings. And tangibly, when others can know every dark and ugly thing about me and still find me worthy, I strangely start to see myself differently. Furthermore, they help provide accountability for helping identify when I want to spiral into shame and negativity. I hate shame. And rightfully so. God hates it too.

Today in counseling I was stunned by a concept I’ve heard most my life. Similar to the old quilt that covers our bed, I became so familiar with it I no longer saw the depth of beauty in it. My counselor asked me how I felt I was doing at “feeling my husband’s pain”. He has a way of asking a simple question and patiently waits for me to take as long as I need to respond. Having been a counselor for over 40 years, he sees right through me and my crap most days. How am I doing with handling my husband’s pain? You mean the pain I created with MY infidelity? In the silence of that moment I found myself wanting. I wanted to say that I’ve tried to feel it. I wanted to justify all of the ways I’ve tried to be sensitive and aware of him. I wanted to defend the times I’ve spent the past year trying to be safe for him in his pain. But none of those words came out. Instead I sat and squirmed. More silence. An awkward, heavy, deep-in-my-chest feeling came over me. The former me would have avoided the question all together and hung my head in shame. But as I sat there, the most honest answer I could muster was “probably not well at all.” The reality in that overwhelming and empty moment was a painful and sad truth; I had not felt my husband’s pain at all. I mean how could I really know my husband’s pain? Although I try to imagine what it would be like to be him, to realize the person you were married to was nothing more than a stranger who kept secrets, I still can’t truly understand. I can try to feel it. I can practice listening really well. I can reflect back to him when he shares. I can be safe. I can give him passwords and whereabouts. On our better days I can even offer some perspective and insight. But the reality is I will never feel the depth of how much I hurt him. As my therapist and I sat in uncomfortable, tender silence, he graciously allowed me to feel the unfairness of my infidelity. Have you heard Jesus’ parable of the talents? If you’re familiar with this story, I think you’d agree that it is one of gross unfairness. This parable is about one guy who works really hard to earn his day’s wage. He works ALL day, outside in a vineyard. Then for the last hour of the day some lazy, irresponsible loser comes in and puts the finishing touches on the work. At the end of the day, the owner pays both of them the exact same amount. Huh? How is it that God can offer both of us the same grace, the same forgiveness and the same chance at life when I was the one who chose to break our vows? Why is it that my husband has to bear so much of the pain when he didn’t do anything to deserve it? Today was a difficult day. I think I finally realized how deep our need for grace really is. And while I certainly hope my husband can heal from all of the pain I caused him, I cannot earn his mercy. If there was a way I could earn grace or mercy, I would. I think any repentant unfaithful spouse would tell you it would almost be easier if there was a way we could earn, work, buy or barter some kind of mercy. But there’s not. We have to live in the great but painful space of humility. Not much farther, the Bible tells us what deeply moves Jesus: people who want to see. Jesus doesn’t need anything from me. He just loves me. He always has. He always will – even when I am unlovable. He just wants me to be willing. My hope is that we all become willing to find something more. That we never be unwilling to learn nor be afraid of humility the way I was and sometimes still am. If you haven’t been to an EMS weekend, go! Or if you haven’t taken one of the Affair Recovery online classes, believe me when I say they are life changing. Start for free with the 7 Day Bootcamp. At the very least, get your butt into counseling. While it can’t change the unfairness of the past or the pain, it may be able to help your spouse heal.

"Learn how to be okay when things are not okay." When I first heard this statement I thought it was dumb and much too simple. It was almost insulting – like trying to treat an intensive care wound with a band aid. However, ten long months into recovery, this statement has been a foundational thought in getting through many hard days. Like many unfaithful spouses, my tendency and need to control situations have been off the charts. When you are hiding behind your affair, there is an illusion of control (and complete self-absorption) you live under because you never think about the harsh reality that you might lose your spouse because of your decisions. Much like the character in the Wizard of Oz, an insecure shell of a man hiding behind an image, walking in the truth of my actions has revealed my insecurity, shame and fear like no other. It has been terrifying to face both the pain my actions have caused as well as the waiting while my spouse chooses whether to stay or go. But I’m learning, albeit slowly, how to become okay even when everything else isn’t. If you also navigate dark days of uncertainty where you feel anything but okay, I want to share some of the ways I have found solace in the storm: Focus your eyes on something constant and bigger than yourself. For me that has been Christ. I must keep my eyes focused on Him. If you do not subscribe to faith I recommend putting your belief in something bigger than your humanity or your spouse’s choice to stay or go. Take a break from all social media. Not only am I too vulnerable and fragile to carry or care about the on-goings of the world, but it’s also too much of a trigger for me as I do not want to associate in any way with my past life. The temptation is too great. Pay attention to what you listen to. When I’m not listening to a hymn that speaks truth, or a podcast that helps me heal, then I usually find that I simply need quiet. This means slowing down, less radio, less TV, less overall noise and junk. Feel the feelings. Like my husband and most of you, I don’t like uncomfortable feelings. Particularly when I feel ashamed, alone, discouraged, angry, hurt or afraid. But the only way out of feelings is through them. Choosing to not feel is what got me into this mess initially. When I choose to feel I can remind myself it will be okay and it will eventually pass. Find a group or community of people that share your pain. Hope for Healing and Harboring Hope are life lines to fellow people who share our hurt. Through their stories we begin to see how far we’ve come and how far we still have to go. It is so incredibly comforting to know we are not the only ones who have felt this way or have been through this. Some days in recovery can feel like an eternity. The pain can be so intense that it feels like anything but normal or okay. But there’s something I’m beginning to realize. On the days I’m not okay, I notice details and moments I’ve missed during all my years of hiding and making it about me. I am now acutely aware of my new found clarity and gratitude. Just the other day I couldn’t stop looking at the color of my husband’s eyes. Perhaps the road we have traveled thus far has made me see them in a shade of blue I had never noticed in all of our years together. In the midst of the stillness, quiet, and sadness, I can find appreciation for things I would have previously overlooked. And... I’m still breathing. Although my heart is breaking, it is still beating. The sun continues to rise in the morning and its beauty is indescribable. Even though my marriage remains uncertain, I know God is still at work. Knowing this helps me be okay without it being okay. I hope and pray the same for you.

Why is hiding so tempting and where does the desire come from? Hide and seek. This is a game my kids play for hours, even now as teenagers. There is such terror and anxiety in the moments you are waiting but the best part of the whole game is the feeling you get when you are found. I remember when my girls were little and would find great hiding spots. They were so excited they would often yell out, “I’m in here, come find me!” I often wonder why the game was so delightful for them. I’m guessing it had something to do with the smile and embrace they received upon discovery. If that was the case for everyone hiding, who wouldn’t want to be found? Oh, how saddened I am to think of how we, the unfaithful spouses, have sorely misapplied and manipulated the rules to this game. D day (discovery day) was the most painful day in my husband’s life. And if you were anything like me, too cowardly and afraid to expose all of the deception the first time, you gave your spouse two d days. I can only imagine the horror the betrayed spouse experiences when they find us in our hiding place with all of our dark secrets. I know for me, there were moments in my affair I wanted to be found. But selfishly I wanted to avoid any pain or consequences that would come with telling the truth. I now know God has much to say about that. He calls us fools, as only fools despise discipline. (Proverbs 1:7). The truth is - other than being an utter fool - I was terrified of judgement and losing this reputation I had built for myself. I admire people who are willing to admit their mistakes and shortcomings. However, I had believed the lie that my transgressions were too many. I was terrified my husband would surely leave me if he found me in my hiding. So I continued to hide. And lie. And manipulate my image to portray nice and perfect while I was frozen and dark inside. I have often thought about how unfair d day was for us. This was the second time my husband had to hear “well, there’s more.” He had to experience even more excruciating pain as he discovered the wretchedness and selfishness of all of my lies. I would have preferred to have been struck by lightning. For years I had believed the lie that I would die before letting my darkness come to light. How selfish of me. How sad of a thought. As he was receiving the weight of my shame, the amount of freedom that came from sharing every last detail of my secret was unfathomable and enormously unfair. I transferred all of my darkness onto my husband. The only currency I have to spend in our relationship are my actions. I wish I could change everything. Take it back. Spare him even an ounce of the pain he has endured. But I can’t. So I have to continue the work of figuring out how I got here. So what makes us hide? I can’t answer for anyone but me, but hiding, lying and shame have been the norm beginning in my family of origin. Did your family keep secrets? Were there things you found out about years later or did either of your parents have a secret addiction? Did anyone hide spending? Drinking? Family shame? I can put a check mark next to all of those. It’s not an excuse for my actions, but I have realized I have come from a history of hiding. I have recently talked with my therapist about this. He seemed shocked when I told him that as a little girl I believed you took bad things and buried them so deeply you just never brought them up again. Sadly, that little girl grew up and still lived this out as a wife and mom. This is a pattern I have lived all of my life. From something that happened to me in 5th grade, to an abortion I had in college, the pattern was there. Bury it. Never speak of it again. Smile and pretend it didn’t happen. Little did I know I had been hardwired for dishonesty. Admitting that is terrifying and freeing. But being found is something God has always longed for. He has something so much better for me and rewards my courage to bring every single thing to Him in the light. I know the damage in my own marriage and family has already been done. We haven’t told our kids yet, but plan to one day. With His help, I have to change the legacy of secret keeping. Are you still hiding anything? And if so, what are you afraid is going to happen to you if found? I pray today you trust that God is delighted in you and you find the courage to come out of hiding.