A Pool of Muck

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I wake up in a pool of muck. 

I'm up to my waist in it. 

I try to come to my senses, and I feel bombarded. It smells putrid, it feels slimy, it covers my arms, my hair, it's slathered on my face. Once I take in my surroundings, I remember how I got here. 

My husband brought me to the muck, and asked me to help him wade through it. 

I look around, where is he? I remember that we had been digging through the muck together, looking for something precious that we lost. I can't remember what it is, but it is something I miss. I want it back. I think I NEED it. But I realize I'm looking alone. 

Wait. Why am I looking alone? I realize my husband was the one who lost it. On a day with a heartbreaking new beginning one year ago, I found out he had thrown it in the muck. "Why did you throw it in there?!?!?!". -enter addiction- He asked if I would help him find it. "Stay with me, please. Join me in the muck. We'll find it together."

I reluctantly agreed. 

Pretty soon though, I noticed something that bothered me. I had been expecting him to jump in the muck first, to lead the way. He lost it after all, shouldn't he be the one responsible for finding it?

But that isn't how it all went down. Somehow I ended up jumping in the muck, convincing him to jump in too, and help me look for the precious(gollum reference, sorry, hope it's not ruining the mood here). 

I was the one doing the heavy lifting. I didn't really like it, and found myself wondering why I was doing it in the first place. Maybe finding this precious thing wasn't worth all of this. It certainly didn't feel like it was worth it if he wasn't even willing to look with me. 

Sometimes I'd be wading through and he'd be right there with me, digging and digging. Sometimes he'd stand in it, but pretend he wasn't surrounded in filth, and couldn't understand why I was so upset about it. Other times he wouldn't even be in the pit, he'd be off doing something else and leave me in it, all alone. 

Then one day I decided I didn't have to stay in the pit. If he wasn't going to look, I wasn't going to look either. I had other needs to take care of. I had children to feed, a house to clean, happiness to find. I still really really wanted to have the precious back. I knew it meant so much to me. But I needed to know he was willing to find the precious himself. I couldn't look with him until I felt secure in his commitment to finding it. 

So I left the pit. I got out, wiped off the muck, and did my best to wash it off. Bits of it still stick to me, but I'm okay with that for now. I know it will take time to rid myself of the muck. 

He didn't react well to me leaving the pit. 

"Where did you go? Why aren't you helping me? I've been working so hard to wade through the muck and find the precious but it's never good enough for you. You are giving up on me even though I've been trying so hard."

It was hard not to go back and wade through the muck(it still is). It is hard not to feel guilty for leaving him there by himself. But I didn't throw the precious in there, And I can still choose to help him find it if I want to. But I can also choose not to help him. I am not a bad person for wanting to stay out of the muck. 

So for now I am letting him look by himself. Hopefully he will look hard. But that is his choice and I can't choose it for him. 

So I'm staying out of the muck for now, and maybe I'll want to help him tomorrow, or maybe I never will. 

But I know one thing for sure, if I ever want to help him look in the muck, I'll use a fishing pole first instead of jumping right in. 

Stand for the right

The hubs came home today seeking empathy. Empathy I was unable to give. 

He's been looking for a new job lately. One that doesn't require him to be states away working for months out of the year(the next scheduled trip is 3 months long!). He doesn't like his job anymore. I don't like his job. 

It doesn't help that when he would stay away on those work trips he would sit in the hotel room at night and watch porn on cable(which we've never had). 

It doesn't help that on those trips he works with filthy men who drink, go to strip clubs, and many have wives and girlfriends at home. And these same men talk about all the local "massage" parlors they will visit when they get home. 

And it doesn't help that they talk about it at work and tell obscene jokes on a regular basis. 

But what is really bothering me right now, what I really can't be empathetic about, is my husbands lack of action when he is surrounded by the filth. Even if that action was praying for help, asking others what they would do, something! Just not acceptance.

On his last trip away, we would check in and he'd tell me about another day of trying to avoid overhearing about their "escapades". He would try and leave if it was a conversation he was overhearing, or put on headphones, and every once in a while change the subject. But he has never made his beliefs known. Or complained to HR. And if they specifically tell a joke to him, he has always stayed and listened, or even laughed(which he feels guilty about later) because he is afraid of what they'll think of him. 

So when he came home today talking about how his boss was the one telling a joke about homosexuality, he wanted empathy for having to deal with that. 

I know it is hard to stand up to others. I know in the moment you panic and say or do things you aren't proud of. But my trauma? She doesn't really care. 

She only knows the searing pain of having a husband with a porn addiction who lied to her for years. 

She knows that her husband will sit and listen to verbal porn and expects her to just accept it because it would be too hard to say something, do something. 

And she knows that she feels unsafe. That he isn't safe. Because if he doesn't have the strength to say "hey man, I'm not into that stuff', then will he really resist the pressure to join those men on their hooker binges? (A little strong, I know, but valid.)

Last time we went through this I fell apart. I needed him to see why this hurt. Needed him to do something to spare me this pain. 

Today I feel strength. Today, I journal it all out like crazy, I reach out to my WoPA friends. I briefly let him know that it isn't okay with me, and I will detach for my own safety and sanity. Then I (do my best) to surrender it, and start making plans for how to handle the next trip(babysitters, housecleaner once in a while) he is on instead of insisting to myself that I can do it all alone. 

So I am "standing for the right" for me. Regardless of whether he can. 

And I may or may not have left the lyrics to this primary song up on the computer before he used it today. 

Our prophet has some words for you,

And these are the words:

"Be true, be true."

At work or at play,

In darkness or light,

Be true, be true,

And stand for the right.