Tag Archives: healing

Sharing “Which Direction is Good for You? Head that way. . .” by Elle at Betrayed Wives’ Club

For some time now, I’ve felt all cried-out, perhaps a bit hardened in some ways. I don’t know. But, when I read this from Elle over at Betrayed Wives’ Club, it brought a tear to my eye because it really touched me and I thought it might also touch some of you. TL xx

Which Direction is Good for You? Head that way…

“I did what anyone who’s ever had to rebuild their life has to do – very slowly, one step at a time, find a way to walk back in the direction that’s going to be good for you. That isn’t about your sorrow and your suffering but is about your strength and your light. And it’s about healing your wounds instead of circling around them neverendingly.”
– Cheryl Strayed, Dear Sugar Radio, “The Wounded Child Within”

I ask your forgiveness of me and of what might seem like my relentless insistence that you will heal from this. So often your comments read like my own thoughts in the early days post-betrayal, when I was absolutely certain I would never ever feel anything but agony again. When I might accept that the day would come when I could function but I simply could not accept that this shattered mess where my heart used to be would once again be whole. And so I recognize your agony as my own. I remember as well my inability to recognize my strength, so crippled did I feel by my husband’s infidelity. Your insistence that I’m wrong, that you simply can’t heal from this, sounds so familiar.

And I’m guilty, I know, of sometimes forgetting the sharp edges of that pain. And so I respond, perhaps unfeelingly, offering up platitudes that healing will come, insisting that whether he introduced his OW to his friends is immaterial and that whether they slept together twice or two hundred times hardly matters. He cheated. That’s what matters. It’s, really, all you need to know.

Except this. You need to know this also even if it makes you want to punch me in the face: Your healing is possible. No matter how devastating his betrayal. No matter the depths of his depravity. You can heal from this. It will take a whole lot longer than any of us ever imagined it would. It will be really really hard. But, as the two Sugars on Dear Sugar radio told “Wounded Child Within”, healing is always possible when we shift our gaze from what happened to what we will do about what happened. Or, as Strayed puts it, when we walk back in a direction that’s going to be good for us.

Strayed is talking about her own self-destructive choices in the wake of her mother’s death. Wracked by grief, she numbed herself with sex, with drugs, with aimlessness. Her choices felt like no choice at all. No matter which direction she went, her mother was dead. There was no changing that.

Which is a big part of what trips us up, I think. Our choices don’t include a good one. Instead, we’re given the choice between shitty and shittier. We can stay and keep our children’s world relatively intact and not have to tell our dying mother that her son-in-law is a snake and cross our fingers that our “I’ll-never-do-this-to-you-again” husband is speaking the truth. Or we can leave a marriage that seems irreparable and unhealthy, model resilience and fortitude to our heartbroken children, and cross our fingers that we can survive every second Christmas by volunteering at the food bank. I used to wail to my husband that my only choices were to sacrifice my happiness or my children’s. Shitty. And shittier.

But a funny thing happened when I gave up on happiness. Once I’d resolved that I’d never again ever feel joy but decided that I would at least fight for feeling less horrible, I began to experience slivers of, let’s call them, hope. In my pursuit of less horrible, I stopped focussing on my husband and all the ways in which he’d ruined my life and turned instead to what I could do to rebuild it. I still had no idea whether this rebuilding would incorporate my husband or not. I was leaning heavily toward not but was waiting until I felt less emotionally fragile before springing that news on my blissfully ignorant children. And so I shored up myself.

With long walks alongside my beloved dogs. With meditation. With an intention to notice those slivers of hope and stockpile them. I was, to again borrow Strayed’s metaphor, walking in the direction of what was good for me. I was intentionally shifting my gaze from what my husband had done to what I was going to do with that. I had felt my sorrow and suffering – and I think it’s crucial to feel your sorrow and suffering. You don’t get to skip that step – but I was ready to recast it as strength and light.

I know it’s not easy. It will probably be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But it will save your life. It will ensure that the life you save is full and rich. There are no guarantees that you will be spared further pain. In fact, I can assure you there will be more heartache, in one form or another, to come. But that heartache will happen to a different you. One that is able to walk in the direction of strength and light. One that can feel her sorrow and suffering without letting it define her. And one that is more compassionate and more open-hearted for having suffered. One that savours every drop of joy that life offers, and I promise you, joy will come.
Source: Which Direction is Good for You? Head that way…


Beyond twelve-step programs

I’m not against 12-step programs for addictions or compulsions.  As I’ve said, I wasn’t addicted to sex itself.  I was simply pathologically self-centered and selfish as well as seduced by, even addicted to, self-pity.  I’ve spoken to TL and each of our therapists about 12-step programs.  When I look at it closely, I see that for me at least, there are really more than 12-steps to take toward mental health.

We have reviewed the 12-steps several times. I think it is helpful to evaluate and learn from a variety of sources, incorporating what fits into my program, but also recognizing the elements that may be counter to my overall treatment strategy. For those who have asked about or recommended the 12-step program as the course forward for my situation, I would just like to explain my thinking on the 12-steps and how they fit and don’t fit into my treatment strategy:

One.  We admitted that we were powerless over lust — that our lives had become unmanageable.  Yes, I did that.  I do, however, have some reservations about the word “powerless.”  In my case, I’m working with my wife and my therapist and taking responsibility for the fact that I do have, and did have, power to control my terrible behavior.  I simply chose, selfishly and childishly, to relinquish that power and give myself an excuse to cheat and lie.  I can reform, and I gladly seek and accept help from many sources as I do reform, including from God.

Also, in my case, the word “lust” is not appropriate here.  My view is that all men experience lust to some degree.  Lust was not my problem.  My problem was that I had constructed a sick justification for cheating and lying.  That justification was self-pity and a misplaced sense of injustice about my life.  I blamed God and others for my unhappiness and I gave myself permission to cheat and lie.  Maybe other men have a problem with an addiction to lust.  My problem was deeper than that.

Two.  Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.  Yes, one of the earliest things that I recognized after d-day is that my motivation for doing such terrible things had required a complete neglect of God. In fact, it wasn’t just a neglect of God, it was an abuse of the idea of God. Instead of being grateful to God for my wife, family, and many gifts, I was angry at God for not giving me more. Now, I spend time daily thanking God for my blessings and trying to treat those blessings and God with respect.

Three.  Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.  Yes, since D-day I’ve successfully undertaken a complete religious conversion which required months of study and several religious rituals, as well as an ongoing commitment to continue growing and improving in my religious observations and in my life. Focusing on God is something I needed to do, and I now do, to remember the people I love and the consequences of my actions.

Four.  Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.  Yes, I did that. I also took and passed a polygraph to confirm, for TL, that this inventory included ALL of the physical manifestations of my moral failings.  Still, as TL and I work on this blog and other things, I find I’m doing this again, aiming for a deeper understanding of myself and my motivations.  This ties into work with our therapist.  In my case it includes using psychoanalytical psychotherapy to try to more fully and precisely identify why I did the terrible things I did. 

Five.  Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.  Yes, I do this often, with TL, with therapists, and with other sufferers we reach through social media.

Six.  Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.  Yes.  But, I recall that God helps those who help themselves.  That’s a fact I neglected before D-day, when I was doing wrong, and blaming God for my defects rather than taking responsibility for addressing them.  Now, I am revising my world view to eliminate the original moral and psychological failings that motivated me to sin in the first place.

Seven.  Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings. Yes, but again I’m remembering I also need to help myself.  With all due reverence to God, I’m now working to help God by developing strategies to prevent myself from doing those terrible things again.  The strategies include transparency with my wife and others; accountability for my time, money, location, communications, interactions, and actions; and reducing or eliminating tempting or uncontrolled environments in my life.

Eight.  Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all. Yes, my list started with my wife and kids.

Nine.  Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.  Yes, I’m working on that.  Given the extent of the harm I caused TL and my kids, I may be working on that for quite some time.  It’s work that may never be finished.

Ten.  Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it.  Yes, I work on this every day.

Eleven.  Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.  Yes, this is also work that will take a lifetime.

Twelve.  Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these Steps, we tried to carry this message to sexaholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs. Yes, writing this blog is just one small example of how I’m doing this.  No, I’m not carrying a 12-step message.  My message is that each cheater can find a way to become a good person, if wanting to do so.  There are lots of different ways, and each couple can find the way that works for them.  The hardest part, I think, is for the couple to know that the cheater has truly come clean, is truly trying to reform, and has truly changed their world view.

The thirteenth step seems to be sponsorship and support.  We did have a support group when taking the AffairRecovery class. Due to unique circumstances, I’m looking for that with extreme care.  This blog is one attempt for me to find that support.  TL and I are trying to discover other ways as well.  In the meantime, my wife and my therapist are very supportive, and I am very grateful.