Survivors' Blog

I stink at being alone. I have never been alone; not even my time in my mother's womb was in solitude—I am a twin. I have always shared birthdays, rooms, busses, spotlights, cookies, bathrooms, etc. When I first arrived at college, I remember sitting in my new dorm room by myself. My soon-to-be roommate would never show. Apparently she got cold feet and withdrew from the university. I remember for the first time in my life having a very primal panicky feeling of "aloneness." This was the first of many times in my life when realized I did not like that feeling and felt the desperation to rid myself of it. Without a clue of how to deal with that desperate feeling within, I started to fill the emptiness with people. I was already an extrovert, so it wasn't too much of a stretch for me to start filling my time with boyfriends, bars, parties, friends, classmates, and people. In a college full of students, my fix was never far away. When I was with "people," I could be whoever they needed me to be. Fast-forward to the discovery of my affairs. I began to feel that similar, primal sense of fear of abandonment. Which sounds ludicrous because I was the one who "left." In what seemed like an instant, I realized that it was a very real possibility that I could be alone. My affair partner was not going to leave his wife; my husband didn't want to even look at me. I had no idea that there was a difference between being alone and being abandoned. As I started pretty intensive and necessary therapy, I began to unravel my lifelong battle with my relationship to other people. I still struggle with this. My natural and instinctive response to others is to placate and avoid conflict. I'm lousy at setting boundaries sometimes; at times, it still requires an act of God for me to simply utter the word, "No." Today I share with you something written by an Indian Jesuit priest and therapist. When I find myself discouraged and not doing well, I have to read this and remind myself where to find my strength. People are not my god, but boy how easy it is for me to idolize them. "Look at your life and see how you have filled its emptiness with people. As a result, they have a stranglehold on you. See how they control your behavior by their approval or disapproval. They hold the power to ease your loneliness with their company, to send your spirits soaring with their praise, to bring you down to the depths with their criticism and rejection. Take a look at yourself spending almost every waking moment of your day placating and pleasing people, whether they are living or dead. You live by their norms, conform to their standards, seek their company, desire their love, dread their ridicule, long for their applause, meekly submit to the guilt they lay upon you; you dare not go against the fashion in the way you dress or speak or act or even think. And observe how even when you control them you depend on them and are enslaved by them. People have become so much a part of your being that you cannot imagine living a life that is unaffected or controlled by them." -Anthony Demello Here's to letting go and filling ourselves with something–or Someone–bigger and better. Your fellow traveler in recovery, Elizabeth

This quote flashed on the screen behind the minister in church today. He'd already said he was not going to comment on any of the quotes behind him as he had his own schtick to say. When I read this, he lost me for a few moments as I took in the wisdom within the printed words. And then it occurred to me—I have attempted to pour out the effect my husband's betrayals have had on me in hope that you, the reader, might relate and feel validated. Perhaps the most poignant are the posts that offer the proverbial ray of light in the darkness. It certainly is what I need in order to maintain a positive perspective from the pit; grieving the loss of the marriage I thought I had. Step Twelve of Alcoholics Anonymous states, "Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs." So maybe the power of blogging is not so much in the sharing of devastation in hopes of building a community. Instead, maybe what we need is to look for what we have inside to help ourselves—and eventually, we can help others. So, my friends, how do you feel about journaling? It is recommended by therapists as a tool for healing all sorts of hurt and trauma. It is the release of emotion onto paper, with the goal to purge it from the life you never signed up for nor imagined. It is the hydrogen peroxide of emotional cleansing. I think the difference in blogging is that readers expect a thread of thought that can be followed, is comprehensible, and helpful. For the blog writer, it is our responsibility to compelling story that might actually provide solace—inspiration for a brighter future. Therein lies the rub—the original premise upon which this piece is based. Overall, is it not more helpful to focus on the positives, appreciations, and the rainbow that surely follows the storm? Truth be known, I think journaling and blogging each has its place and usefulness. We must get the infection out before the healing can commence. We must walk through the darkness before the dawn. So, dear readers, placate me, tolerate me, forgive me, maybe even support me in my efforts to heal myself; through your tolerance in these ramblings, "If I can help you in your healing, therein lies my own."

When we entered into recovery from infidelity, there was a long season of disbelief—even though I was telling the truth. Granted, after what I had done to my marriage, I didn't deserve to be believed; nevertheless, it is a very disheartening and discouraging time. After discovery, I knew I had hit what many would call "rock bottom." I was so tired of my lies, my life, and myself—so I came clean. I told the entire truth about what I had done. For the first time in my life, it felt good to be rid of every secret and every "bad and shameful thing," and have it all out on the table. However, my husband did not believe me for many months; perhaps a more true statement was that he could not believe me. He would ask if there was more. He would ask if that was everything. There were times he would even come up with new information that would make me feel absolutely crazy. He would ask me if I had an inappropriate relationship with what seemed like any man we had known during our entire marital history. It was CRAZY-making. If I was already crazy, I certainly was convinced I was even more so by this point, because I started to question myself. I started to question everything. This wasn't necessarily a bad place now that I look back. Had I told him everything? What if I forgot something? Was I so good at lying and pretending that I didn't even know what the truth was anymore? His "believer" ability had been broken. And my trustworthiness was even more broken. If you find yourself struggling with this, I hope to share anything along the path of our journey to encourage you or to help you to see things from a different perspective. We all need each other in this. Fast-forward two years for us. Speaking of, I know there are days you wish there was a fast-forward button. The work of recovery is grueling and long and painstakingly slow. There were times when we really struggled so much that I wanted a fast-forward button so badly. There were times my husband was in such agony, I am certain that he wanted a rewind button to erase what I had done. But I digress, and back to the question. Why won't my spouse believe me? There is an element of "the boy who cried wolf" for us unfaithful. We are a wishy-washy bunch. We said we would do one thing, but we went and did another. Just because I had gotten to a place where I was open and honest, I failed to see a pretty big message of humility. Coming clean doesn't mean you're healthy Just because I told the truth–while it was a relief and a huge step of growth for me–really meant nothing to my betrayed spouse in light of all I had done. In his eyes, that truth must have paled in comparison to the pain and injustice I had caused. Just because an alcoholic takes his last sip doesn't exactly make him healthy. Disclosure was simply the jumping-off point. Yes, I had told the truth, but I still had–and still have–a LONG way to go in maturing the areas of trustworthiness and obedience. Don't take it personally. It's not about you. What I also needed to see was that my husband's unbelief wasn't about me. Part of his process had to be not believing me. He had to ask over-and-over to know the truth. In some weird way, I think he needed to hear me say the same things over-and-over to believe me. It is much the same with my own journey with my Savior. How many times have I had to hear that I am loved and forgiven before I actually believed it and lived it out? If your spouse still won't believe you, trust me when I say it is probably not about you. When my husband would not believe me it also set forth a primal sense of panic within me. A desperate feeling would wash over me that led to the fear that I would be abandoned or left alone. This thought was absolutely devastating to me. I, without a doubt, had absolutely no sense of maturity, obedience, or solidarity. Most people engaged in affairs usually do not. So it put me in a place of panic for a good while. Don't write stories in your head or make it harder than it needs to be After a while, the unfaithful spouse can easily start to go down a road of wrong-thinking. For me, this often looked like a black-or-white place: "He will never believe me. Why should I even bother telling the truth if it doesn't seem to matter?" Or, it can set up an even more dangerous proposition in the mind of an unfaithful spouse that might lead to the type of thinking that says something like, "This is too hard. They will never see that I am someone who can change or tell the truth, so I will just give up." It was so difficult to see any of this while we were in the middle of recovery. So many times, when I look back, I wish that I could have made it more about my betrayed spouse's journey and his process. Just because I had come to a place where I decided to get my act together and be honest didn't automatically mean that my spouse would be able to digest that. Instead of trying to control the outcome, I want to always remember what a mess I can be. I am a girl who would avoid pain at all costs, and it was very painful for me to feel the rejection of not being believed. Again, now I know it's not about me. So, what if your betrayed spouse still won't believe you? I think I have had to learn that ultimately it doesn't matter. As much as I wanted him to believe me, I needed to change ultimately for me. Focusing on his belief or disbelief derailed me from what I needed to do to become safe and responsible. Your spouse not believing you has nothing to do with what is necessary for you to grow. I had to change and mature for my own sake. And doing that has definitely benefited my marriage. As always, thanks for reading and letting me grow alongside you. To healing, Elizabeth

Remember Inside Out – the Disney Pixar movie where each character represents different parts of a little girl's emotions? Each emotion – or character in the film – vies for attention and control inside her mind. It's a cute idea, and one steeped in reality. Riley Anderson is born in a small town in Minnesota. Within her mind's Headquarters, five personifications of her basic emotions — Joy, Sadness, Fear, Disgust, and Anger — come to life and influence her ways of doing things via a control console – the executive. 'Joy' acts as a de facto leader. We all have different segments of our personality – different emotions – that jump up and down at times, telling us what they want us to do. Because Riley had joyous memories dominate her short life, Joy, the emotion, was in control. This too is often the case in real life. Our past, particularly our family of origin, has taught us how to filter the world, which is often dangerous. For my husband, fear and abandonment ruled his dysfunctional alcoholic family and his isolating boarding school youth. In my case, my parents were overwhelmed by the rebelliousness of my only sibling. I couldn't help but tune into their dynamic and thus became the 'good child' – the one who never made waves or caused problems. I kept my side of the street squeaky clean and tidy, all while trying to placate the underlying anxious tone by being cheerful and giving. This created the perfect storm for a marriage – I gave; he took. I felt it was my job to keep the family running smoothly. He felt relief and entitlement after all that lonely abandonment. A highly empathic giver meets a severely broken 'good guy' poser. For my husband, addiction was almost inevitable – in fact, he had multiple addictions. As we know, addictions are a symptom, not the root of a problem. And boy did he have a lot of 'roots' in his mind. All of this added to his anger, fear, and disgust gaining control over his joy. Joy and fear were my major persuaders through a good solid upbringing – void of abandonment, financial want, or addiction dynamics. It led me to view everyone as basically good with good intentions – to be approached out of curiosity and love. Variations of our dynamic are sadly played out time and time again with all sorts of couples. We live in a broken world that creates broken people who transmit their pain until they heal their pain. Which brings me to grief. We need to grieve the losses caused by other's transgressions upon us. It is crucial that each and every one of us take responsibility for our actions and heal the residual losses we feel. Pain that is not transformed will be transmitted. It is also my responsibility to remain in reality and not allow myself to justify cruelty in any form as a result of hurts inflicted upon me. We are all responsible to use our 'headquarters executive' – our cognitive brain function – to mitigate all those emotional characters that are screaming in our ear to act out. It is what transforms immature, childish responses to mature, thought-out, controlled responses. We are all responsible to grow up, face realities, and act in mature ways that neither hurts us or others. Yes – even those who came from dysfunctional families. Our 'executive' is ultimately able to control our choices and shape our behavior. That is the hallmark of responsible adulthood. That is the true manifestation of healing from childhood wounds. To healing. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. - 1 Corinthians 13:11

Dear Betrayed Wife, I am the other woman. By admitting that, I know I am the one person that truly and most easily deserves your hatred and your spite. I know I am a source of your anger and contempt. I am a huge source of your pain. Essentially, I am the person that is largely responsible for the ache in your heart that seems like it will never go away. I am quite certain you must periodically wish that I had never existed. Of course, I am making a huge presumption; I can hardly even begin to understand what things must look like on your side of the equation. However, when I start to put myself in your shoes, I can begin to imagine. When I put myself in your shoes, I have a tenderness that starts to enfold around my heart and chest. Often, I have thought that your life would be so much better if I were dead. If that were the case, you wouldn't have had to endure the nightmare of knowing what I stole from you. I have taken so much from you. By having an affair with your husband, a knife was stuck in your back. And I have to confess – I was the one holding the knife. All the while, I never thought of you. I only thought of myself. While you were making meals, taking your kids to school, ironing your husband's clothes, and running yourself ragged like any good wife and mother does to keep your family and household running, it was me who was stealing from you – behind your back and right under your nose. I flat-out lied to your face. I pretended I was your friend. I pretended I cared. I did this for months. I was the one enticing your husband away. Only a hypocrite would do something so callous, and that hypocrite was me. I wore the mask of "just friends" with your husband for many months. I'm certain I was so good at this charade that even you believed it. Surely, no one could betray you in the ways that I have. While you were at work, I was flirting with your husband. Many afternoons in his office, his phone calls were to me; they should have been to you. I soaked up the attention like a sponge. But the attention wasn't mine for the taking. You were the one that deserved it – that needed it. Add that to the long list of things I have taken from you. When you were spending weekends visiting your dying dad, I was doing the unthinkable. I was seducing your husband. I am that woman. And thinking of that brings such shame. As women, there is a code of honor and integrity that says that we are comrades, sisters, and friends. We are both wives and mothers, doing the very best we can to keep marriage, jobs, and families running. Even if I didn't know you very well, in theory, I was supposed to be your friend. I was supposed to be the one looking out for you. I was supposed to have your back. I did none of those things. Instead of supporting you, I betrayed you. If the tables were turned, I'm sure you would have never done to me what I have done to you. I had no right to cross those lines and take what wasn't mine. In doing what I did for the months leading up to discovery, I not only abandoned my own marriage, but I walked straight into the sacredness of your marriage and shattered it. In one fell swoop, I jumped off the cliff of abandoned emotions and took so many people down with me – including you. It has taken me a long time to want to confess any of this to you, or to even face my feelings about you. To be honest, it is taking me a long time to become healthy enough to put into words what I know I need to say to you. It would be far easier in my mind if I could just pretend you didn't exist. However, I did what I did, and now I must own up to my transgressions. You do exist. You are a human being that deserves far more than my betrayal. You are now a part of my healing journey, and I have to face you and confess. Every night in my mind and in my heart, there you are. I will never deserve your forgiveness for what I took from you. I won't even ask for that. Having an affair with your husband was so very wrong. As much as it hurts to speak of it, I at least owe you this because no one deserves what I did to you. I have given you shame and disgrace in exchange for a few months of fantasy with someone that was yours. Not mine. He was your husband. I even wounded your kids. Kids who only wanted a dad who could be devoted to their mom. I stole that from them with my incessant need for attention. I know my words, my name, and any image of me, likely stirs up a lot of emotion and pain for you. I know I can never take back what I did to you, nor can I undo the damage. As I work to rebuild and restore my own marriage, I do want you to know how much I think of you. You merit so much more than a meek apology from me. I deserve everything you bestow upon me, but the remarkable thing is that you probably won't hold onto that anger or hurt. You will heal. You will go on to live a remarkable life because that's who you are. All I can offer you is evidence of my sadness, my regret, and my commitment to my own healing. In my own brokenness, I broke you. Like chards of glass all over the floor, my own brokenness cut you and injured you. You suffer because of me. As I offer you my confession and repentance, I no longer will wallow in shame, as that would mean I stay selfish and stuck – susceptible to hurting others. Instead, I offer a release from what happened. I hope you can be free of me, and all my sins against you. I hate what I did, and I hate what it did to you. In time, please take what you can from me, and I hope and trust God is big enough to set us both free. In kindness, Elizabeth

I'm not the one who cheated,why do I feel so ashamed? Am I going crazy? Why is this so hard for me? Is healing actually possible? Is forgiveness what I think it is? What's normal when it comes to sex? As I began to wrap my head around the betrayal in my marriage, I was bombarded with questions like these. Recovery was long and hard—the hardest work I've ever done in my life. But one of the things I'm most grateful for is that we didn't waste any time or energy trying to get help from people who really don't understand betrayal. The team at Affair Recovery was compassionate and caring because they'd been in our shoes. They knew how to help us because they'd helped thousands of couples and individuals walking this recovery road. When I found out about my partner's secret life, his secret became my secret. He didn't want anyone to know about that part of his life and I didn't want anyone to know about it either. It felt like his betrayal reflected poorly on me. Surely something must be wrong with me if my husband had to go outside our marriage to meet his sexual needs. I wasn't enough for him - I wasn't enough period. Shame loves a secret and I carried that secret for many years. Back in the day of dial up internet and 900 numbers, I confronted my husband about some charges on our phone bill. He totally denied having made those calls. He was indignant and I felt stupid. I called the phone company and told them no one in our house made those calls. I felt even more stupid. I wondered what was true and what was a lie. I wondered if I was going crazy. When we started what has become the EMS Online program, it seemed like everyone else was getting better faster than me. I was certain I was the biggest basket case in the bunch. One day I shouted, "Why is this so hard for me?!" I've learned since then that my childhood played a part in how I processed what was happening in my life. Who knew that previous traumas could be triggered by the present? Or that such a thing as complex, compound trauma existed. Our brains are strange and amazing and everything's connected. I had a breakthrough one day in group when a woman who was unfaithful talked about her struggle in recovery. My heart ached for her even though she was the unfaithful one. I felt empathy for her and somehow, some way, empathy for her translated into empathy for my husband. For the first time, I saw the pain and difficulty of the work my husband was doing as the unfaithful spouse. Later, he wept as I shared my losses with the group. Empathy was a gift to us both. Forgiveness felt risky. It felt like if I chose to forgive I was saying I was okay with what happened and I was not okay. I believed forgiveness was the same as reconciliation – it's not. I thought forgiveness meant going back to the way things there. When I heard Rick say that forgiveness was letting go of having a better past, I moved one step closer to being willing to forgive. There wasn't a lot of affection in our home during recovery. It's hard enough for a sex addict and a traumatized spouse to co-exist in the same small space. Sex was scary. I wasn't sure I'd ever feel safe enough to be that vulnerable again. If you've struggled with any of these thoughts or questions, I encourage you to attend Hope Rising 2019. This year's conference will address new and challenging topics like: Forgiveness Shame and Worthiness Sexuality after Betrayal Empathy The Impact of Cumulative Trauma in Recovery Gaslighting Reclaiming our Identity If you attended last year's conference, know that this year is a completely different program. If you are a betrayed spouse, we can't wait to meet you and encourage you. If you are an unfaithful spouse, please encourage your partner to attend whether in-person or by live stream. Your questions are not too much. You CAN heal. We can help. Register TODAY for Hope Rising 2019 in Austin. Or Tune in to the confidential live stream.