Monday, May 7, 2012

One Unshaven Armpit

distress and one shaven armpit
Follow the story. 
Read the previous entry here.

August 2011

My 5th grade swim teacher was a hairy woman from Germany.  She was tall and thin with the widest arm span I've ever seen.  A long chestnut braid fell to her hips and that same hair was visible from every opening of her black Speedo.  She was hairy.  I was fascinated.  I spent so much time gawking at her overflowing hair that I didn't learn much about swimming that summer.

A sure sign of a woman in distress is one unshaven armpit.  How is it that I managed to carve out some time for a peaceful, steamy shower and go through all the body care rituals of a woman but forget to remove the hair from my right armpit?  Not just once.  I've forgotten to shave my right armpit many times!

Do I get so lost during that quick 10 minutes devoted to washing my hair that instead of lathering my mind is clammering for some kind of explanation, something that would connect the dots?  My new reality is so permiating that my right armpit is left.  Forgotten.  Neglected and hairy like my swim teacher.

I'm trapped at the bottom of a dark,empty well.   My eyes adjusting to the darkness, my fingers frantic, scrambling the walls for a way out.  This can't be real!  It's an alter universe and I don't know how to get back.  The awful realization sinks in, I can never get back.  He's a sex addict.  MY HUSBAND!  What the hell's a sex addict!?

Zac Brown's words are playing repeat in my mind,
"Fell to my knees with a knife in my back, 
Never thought you'd be the kind to do something like that, 
but you did. 
Cold hearted."
Paterns repeat.  Some truth.  Some hope.  Big lies.  Lost hope. Some truth, enough to string me along.   Less hope.  More lies.  Lost hope.  Some truth, again.  Arguing and fighting.  I kick him in the balls. Hard!  More fighting.  Sobbing, yelling, screaming out of control!  More lies, lies,lies. His lies have become his truth.

With uncanny authority I call him out on each lie.  I'm no longer fooled.

He doesn't live at home and I've taken my kids out of town for most of the summer but somehow he's around everyday. "Hooker" has become a regular word in our conversation. His anger escalates and so does mine.  I hate him.  I hate everything about him.  I'm mental, like a drunk Mel Gibson!   Screaming every possible configuration of the worst cuss words at him.  There is no diffenence in my mind between him and the basest of men.  The sight of him is offensive.

Doesn't he know, his lies are destroying any chance we might have had?  I'm always begging,
 "Just be real."  
Hope for healing between us is squeezed like the last squawk of a chicken hanging from my grandmothers tree.  There's next to nothing left.  And, nothing left to do but sever the head and pluck the feathers.   I close my heart.  I detach completely...almost.  There is a non-detectable glow of hope.  I've put it away in the deepest pocket.  Saving it.  Preserving it.  If I reveal my hope I'm afraid it will be sucked away by his dark gooey lies.

Strange how detaching lights a brighter fire of hope for myself.  My 12-step sponsor holds my hand.  Her hands are warm and in her heart she carries her own pain.  She cries with me and teaches me to detach with love.  I'm too angry and hurt.  I'm detaching like a pissed off alley cat!

It's my daughter I fear for most.  I can't stand the thought of her broken heart.  Broken from her beloved Daddy who used women and abandoned her.  He was there physically but had really left us years ago.

August 2008

Sitting on the bleachers, watching my daughters swim lesson a sudden seizing in my chest.  Maybe the sun's too hot.  I drink some water. The sharp pains stabbing my lungs wont go away.  My chest is squeezing, collapsing on itself.   I stand.  Trying to breath deeply. Only shallow gasps reach my paralyzed lungs.  I'm terrified!


The puffy toes of my swollen feet wobble.  The boy growing inside my belly is 7 months along.  A perfect and healthy pregnancy.  What could be wrong?  Why can't I breathe?  Unstrapping my bra, maybe it's too tight.  Still, only sips of oxygen reach my lungs.  I sit again

Struggling against the tightness that threatens me.  Battling for a full breath.  I stand again, rocking my body.  Slowly the compression loosens and I can breathe.

I've never experienced a panic attack before.  I have no reason to panic, I have no stress.  Life is sweet and I'm pregnant with our second child. We're so excited!

 I chalked it up as a fluke.

Four years later it seems my body new the truth before I was aware of the lies around me.  I will never again underestimate my power to see the truth.

Follow the story.
Read the next entry here.


  1. I so identified with you post!

    We always know don't we :-(before the truth becomes tangible. I remember crying in Musica (Music shop) 4 months before our wedding day, because some love song was playing and I was just filled with such immense sadness...

    And damn it, the lies and the cuss words - it turns us into people we don't recognise. But at least we know now - we are'nt crazy or fanciful:-(

    p.s I am glad you kicked him in the balls (terrible of me, I know - but sometimes the situation calls for it LOL)

    1. truth is really at the crux of alll this isn't it. And being yanked around by someones lack of honesty is awful.

  2. I remember a moment, just before I found out, where I had the clearest spiritual impression about something that pertained exactly to our situation that I didn't know of at the time. It is amazing how we can sense things that we don't know. The power of the body, spirit, and mind are incredible and so intertwined.

  3. It is so incredible isn't it. If we are in tune I believe we can feel the truth around us and know what is real and what isn't.

  4. Yes our mind always knows the truth much before oyr heart accepts it.when i stumbled onto his cache of chartroom pickups ,profiles on adult friend finder, webcam chats and asked for explanations the stories I gotnwould shame a 5 year old.I let him think I believed every word because I knew I would never get the truth out of him unless I had the facts with me..I spent 6 months on digging out facts and finally confronted him..he still wouldn't admit..then someday he would admit to something and a couple of weeks later would deny the very same thing..I am just unable to comprehend how their minds work..over the next 18 months there were honeymoon periods and short separations but I couldn't let go.I also believed that I could continue by detaching myself..but it didn't work..the lies continued and that pushed me down deeper coz all the new lies kept reminding me of the old lies...the wound never got a chance to heal coz the moment a semblance of healing occurred the wound was ripped open by a fresh set of fine day I realized that the only way the old lies can stop hurting me is if no new lies are expect him not to lie was foolish on my I parted ways and now just hope that the lies and their power to hurt will fade with time.

  5. And ohh yes I forgot to mention pornography prostitution and cybersex chats with couples...I don't know if there's were encounters with couples..I though did find that he had listed on his profile withAFF that he was interested in couples and he did make a short tripmtomthe city in which the couple with whom he had sex chats lived...and in one of his unguarded moments he did share a dream he had that we had checked into a hotel had 2 bedrooms and a couple was living there and when he saw them he just ran from at some level in their sub conscious minds they do know they are sick.

    1. Lies are the worst. I think the lies are worse than the addiction. I bet that you're not together now the lies don't hurt you. But, I feel that too, when he lies it brings you back to square one. If you can lie about something small than you can lie about something big!

      So sick!! Hearing your story and all the lies he dragged you through are terrible. I'm sorry about it. I'm sorry about the pain but I'm glad to see that you are going through the healing process on your own. You're so worth it!

  6. Thank you so much for your warmth April.Its just been a week that i left after a massive showdown.I just hold onto one belief..he couldnt differentiate betwwen me and the hordes of other women, prostitutes how am i any special?

    Though it took me awhile i reached a point where the thought of touching him nauseated me but i yet craved for his companionship and the conversations and the shared laughter.

    I had to do a lot of work on myself to learn to respect myself and raise the bar of what to expect of a man.

    I have been thru all the emotions felt by everyone here ..wanting to save his soul..believing in his recovery and wanting to be the one he is with when he recovers..wanting to believe every tear of remorse shed by him..the works.

    But it doesnt last..once the shock of discovery dies down and once you start relenting bit by bit in terms of time spent with terms of expression of your pain yur anguish your sorrow your anger they slowly but surely go back to their old ways.

    I did discover some sort of reaching out to a prostitute he had been with 2 years ago. I have no proof as to how far he carried it but a man has no business communicating with a prostitute least of all a recovering sex addict.

    So i bid him goodbye.Its hell ..the withdrawal symptoms are painful but I am determined to value myself much more than what he valued me.

    1. It takes a lot of courage to decide to say good-bye. From what I hear, you will know without a doubt when it's time to leave. When it's time to sever the ties. So, I'm happy for you. There is something really great about breaking out and having a new chance at life. I can't wait to see what you do with it.

      It seems like the cycle of it all is what ends up killing it. When you fall in love and get married, I'm sure neither of you thought your relationship would reach all those toxic highs and lows. I know I never did. I didn't see it, but it was always lurking in the wings waiting for a chance to pounce.

      Maybe it's time I write a post about my parachute pack and it's rip cord. It's my way out. Honestly, no matter what happens. We work it out or we don't I will be ok, my kids will be ok. There are no guarantees when it comes to other people. And that's just something I've had to learn and accept.



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