Saturday, July 28, 2012

The Games

london olympics

I don't know about your house, but at our house, we love the Olympics!

Enjoy your weekend!

Friday, July 27, 2012

It's Not About Sex


Debbie Harry
Debbie Harry (my fav)

After reading some information another blogger came across, I asked myself the age old question,

"How can this not be about sex?"

This concept can't ever seem to reconcile itself in my heart.  I've read the research, heard the heartfelt sorrow and listened to my therapists say the same thing, "it isn't about sex.  it isn't about sex. it isn't about sex."

Sure, emotional distance was apparent in our relationship.  But what was the reason for the lack of emotional intimacy?  Like the research says, I felt a craggy gap in our communication, empathy, depth and connectedness as a couple.

But, I don' t think it was really that, that killed our marriage.  Every relationship experiences these issues.  In our relationship, the core seems to be more about interpersonal skills and the vulnerability that leads to good change.  When you feel disconnected what do you do?  When there is a lack of emotional/physical intimacy, how do you rebuild?  When communication is less than stellar, how do you repair it?  When you don't want to be committed in a marriage anymore, how do you end a relationship?  When feelings are hurt, how do you express and respond?  How do you deeply love someone?

He choose instead of recognizing hard things and making hard choices or hard changes to escape.  I think escape is the opposite of unity. Escape seemed the path of least resistance and so he choose to risk not only his marriage and family but also our lives.  He choose Russian Roulette.

Sex may not have been the number one factor that lead him onto his empty path of infidelity but I can't help but think...

"If it's not about sex, then why in that hidden moment when two bodies meet is it undeniably the act of sex?"

Sunday, July 22, 2012

I can use a chopsaw!

Credit: me


No, the title doesn't mean I gave into my anti godmother's vivid and violent imagination.  
In fact, I don't think I heard her raspy voice all weekend!  
Nice.

I decided to make a coffee table, and thus learned how to use the loud and scary chopsaw.  
This wasn't just any chopsaw.  A few years ago my brother gave it to Mr. Scabs.  He'd found it in a dumpster and gifted it to us for Christmas.  Seriously, he'd find the raddest stuff in the garbage.  
We are a family of dumpster-diving recyclers.

It works perfectly but doesn't have the all important blade guard.  
So, just take extra care not to accidentally chop your fingers! 
And, as our grandpa always says, "wear your safety glasses."  He's blind in one eye!

These 6x6 beams were salvaged by Mr. Scabs last year from a neighbors renovation project.  He'd  promised to make the table. Other projects seem to take priority.  This weekend, I decided to do it myself.

I chopped them at about 35 inches each, making 6 beams.  Then screwed a few 2x4 salvaged beams horizontally across the bottom of the table, connecting the beams and attaching them in place.  
Next, I screwed on some Harbor Freight casters.  
Using a power sander, all the splinters were smoothed away. 
Finished.

Waaaa Laaaa!  Beautiful, no?

It feels empowering to use a chopsaw.
Try it.
But, watch the fingers cause it's not empowering to end up in urgent care.
---------------

p.s. becoming more independent helps me pack my parachute and detach.  Also, if your relationship is ready, knowing when to ask for help (like when it came to the assembly) creates opportunities for trust, bonding and vulnerability.

Look at these lovely even chops!

Another lovely view

linked to Feature Friday
Somewhat Simple

Friday, July 20, 2012

Part 3: Accountability & Trust

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Did I say that I'd be back Monday with a post about accountability? 
It's Friday. I'm sorry. 
And, you know, there are a few really great unanswered questions in the 
Ask Mr. Scabs file that have been ignored for weeks.  
It's summertime!  
And the truth is I often can't find the extra time to spend on my computer. 


Now, onto our discussion on accountability. 

---------

I know what it's like to want to believe him.  To try and trust him.  


I know how it feels to be so lost and confused.  Betrayed.  Grieving the death of someone you believed existed.  Who you believed was your accomplice in life.  Someone who you believed would hold your hand everyday.  And who would wrap his fingers around your gray hairs while holding each other at the end of life.  


A love unbreakable.


I found myself hanging onto threads of trust.  Maybe we'd had a genuine conversation, he cried and showed emotion.  Maybe we spent some quality time laughing and being friends.  Maybe he'd told some kind of truth.  Tiny tokens of trust.  Easily broken threads.  


Sanity tells me not to trust him.  Insanity tells me to try and trust him.


I've learned to trust Sanity.  Sanity is my fairy god-mother.  She wears mint green skinny jeans and has the raddest jewelry collection.  She resides in my heart and in my belly.  I will always listen to her.  


Insanity is my anti-god mother.  She smokes unfiltered Camel Reds and her hair's a thin, ragged color of blonde.  Frizzy from poor nutrition and over-coloring.  We have a rusty relationship.  


Sanity told me to let go of trying to trust him.  And so I did.


As an unexpected residual, I was also able to let go of fear.  Fear held me so tightly.


I began to steer my own ship.  I disturbed the unbalance of power and control.  You see, he was sinking his ship.  Sure, it might occasionally come up and bobble for air but, no mistake, it was fading.  Soon to capsize and plunge into the frigid dark bottom of Hell.  Surely, the Devil had taken over the captains quarters on Mr. Scabs pimped out yacht.  I had to abandon his ship or my children and I would follow.  


This whole process began a natural progression into accountability.


It's a new discovery for me and I don't know a lot about accountability.  I have a feeling it's going to be one of my greatest discoveries.


Shame and embarrassment no longer disabled me.  I wasn't hiding, cushioning or taking blame for his messed up life, lies and unhappiness.  He became accountable for himself.  Setting my boundaries and limits, letting go of trust and fear, and steering my own ship left the responsibility to his shoulders.  Surprise, Mr. Scabs!  I dumped that burden on the deck of his yacht then paddled to a safe distance.  


Kinda like the day he ate too many chili flakes.  It's not my job to make sure his chili flake intake is the right balance and he's not sent into self-induced red-faced, fiery sweat convulsions.  Literally!  I wish you could have seen the pile of flakes he dumped on his chicken/mango wrap.  It was comical.


Do you think he'll ever over-do the chili flakes again?   The pain made him accountable for his overdose.

Sometimes it seems like sex or porn addicts get away with everything.  How is it that a man can travel the world on the hunt for sex and come home intact?  This is when Insanity speaks louder than Sanity or maybe they just both agree.  Through her ragged puffs of cigarette smoke she builds dark fantasies in my mind...


"Don't worry Scabs, fate's  got your back.  Right this moment, Mr. Scabs is entering a lair of hungry, Asian zombie hookers.  They only eat penis and balls with ketchup.  He will walk in a man and come out aphallic.  A few Band-Aids will be the only reminder of the man he once was."  (enter wheezy smoke-filled laugh)


I can't take any credit for that hallucination, that's Insanity talking (do you find it ironic that I'm not taking accountability for that tangent?).   It's terrible, isn't it?   But really, why do they seem to get away with lies, cheating, risky-behavior and all sorts of ridiculous sneakiness?


This is where accountability can take another form.  Instead of naturally occurring it can be impelled.  This happened when I had Tourettes, or when we'd attend therapy, or when he'd work the 12-steps and employ a sponsor.  


When Mr. Scabs decided to involve other people in his recovery this became more effective.  He became accountable to them.  He even feels accountable to all of you.  Secrecy feeds this addiction.


I've also needed accountability.  Especially, support in helping me follow through with my boundaries.  Accountability to help me moderate Sanity and Insanity.  Becoming accountable for my own actions and feelings.  Knowing when to ask for help.


The more accountable I am, the more accountable Mr. Scabs becomes for himself.  We have an evenly burdened teeter-totter.  My struggle to trust and believe his is gone. 


The responsibility to prove trustworthiness becomes his.



Friday, July 13, 2012

Monsoon Season

monsoon

I ran out of time.

Boundaries Week will continue on Monday and I'll post Part 3: Accountability.
Until then, enjoy your weekend.

 I'm wishing for some monsoon weather!

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Measuring Success

image description
credit

Nineteen months have passed since the series of nightmares that exposed Mr. Scab's sex addiction. I thought I'd die and never find my pulse.  

I took this survey June 2011 and forgot about it until I was recently reintroduced and remembered I'd saved the results.  For kicks, I took it again tonight and I couldn't resist posting the results.  Go ahead, analyze me.  I've made some improvements.  Wow!  

I can see what I've been working on and what I can work on next.  I like this!


It's more proof that we can heal.  We can be happy.  We can find peace.  The terrible hell and bottomless pit in your gut can rejuvenate.  



June 2011 Survey Results

Researchers recognize 10 categories, or subscales, of affect that someone's sex addiction can have on his/her partner. The chart below represents your responses in each category:



CategoryLittle/No ImpactMinor ImpactModerate ImpactStrong ImpactVery Strong Impact
Feelings of VictimizationX
Intimacy ImpairmentX
ShameX
Sexual Anorexia/AversionX
Sexual DysfunctionX
Body Image IssuesX
Obligatory SexX
Compulsive SexX
FearX
Anger/RevengeX

July 2012 Survey Results 

CategoryLittle/No ImpactMinor ImpactModerate ImpactStrong ImpactVery Strong Impact
Feelings of VictimizationX
Intimacy ImpairmentX
ShameX
Sexual Anorexia/AversionX
Sexual DysfunctionX
Body Image IssuesX
Obligatory SexX
Compulsive SexX
FearX
Anger/RevengeX

Try it.  
Take the survey now, save your results and take it again in a few months.

Measure your success.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Part 2: Really Set Boundaries

Machine Workby ~Hopie-chan. I don't know why, but this makes me think of a Steampunk Kaylee from Firefly <3.
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My ideas aren't concrete and my actions aren't always consistent.  

I'm not a well oiled machine. I'm more like the machine that breaks down sometimes, needs extra parts added on, with a few last minute adjustments and jimmy-rigging, maybe a few missing bolts...I'm forever evolving and devolving with my different gears, pinions and shifters. 

Those of you who know me have probably seen my little orange notebook.  Between it's leather bound cove,r all my secrets are held, it's my journal.  I lost it once!  Gulp.  Luckily a friend found it.  I feel a little like Margret in Judy Blume's "Are You There God?  It's Me, Margaret"


Dear God,
Can this be real?  Did my husband really cheat on me?  Is this my new reality?  Please wake me from this nightmare, please. What the hell's a sex addict?  How can you let this happen?  What did I do wrong?  How will I ever survive?

Are you there God?  
It's me, Scabs.

I read my little orange notebook today.  Cover to cover.  I saw the progression of my boundaries.  They've been stapled, removed, adjusted, bolted a little tighter and sometimes the whole machine breaks down and needs an oil change.  It's a journey.  We learn and make mistakes and that's ok.  

Thank you to all who participated in yesterday's Q&A about boundaries.  If you haven't already, go ahead.  Our answers were all so different and yet, the same.  Which proves one thing, there is no perfect way place boundaries.  Sharing our journey helps us learn.  

If you haven't already, meet Elsie, from Mock Turtle's Musings. Elsie's my mentor.  She's always a few steps ahead ahead of me in healing.  This makes my path a little easier (thanks Elsie). She's a New Yorker and eats hamburgers without mustard!  Say Whaaa?  The reason I mention her is for her Boundaries Agreement.  I'm thankful she shared this intimate part of her marriage.  Use it to get some ideas cookin' about your own boundaries and the consequences.

Elsie's boundaries and neat, organized and clear while mine are a little more haphazard and messy.  But they still work.  Boundaries will catapult you into a new phase of healing and changing.  Like a boxers bolo punch, boundaries rearrange the face of addiction.

Looking into the past I've also been able to see that I set boundaries for Mr. Scabs but surprisingly, I also set boundaries for myself.  Decision I made about how I will act. Here are the erratic pieces of my little orange notebook about boundaries:

Nov 2010-July 2012

It takes courage to set boundaries.  I don't have courage.

Today I've decided to put our marriage aside and focus on me.  I'm going to invest in myself.  And I won't settle for resentment and bitterness.

Our relationship can't heal with honesty.  

No other women.  Is that a period?  Yes. NO OTHER WOMEN (PERIOD) Signed Dissolution of Marriage documents are in my desk and will be brought to the court house without a second thought.

I will wake from this numbness.  I will stop begging him.  I will stop feeling pathetic.

Mr. Scabs agrees to account for where he is, who he is with and when he will be home.  If he doesn't he will lose my faith in his whereabouts and I will no believe he is in recovery.  I will detach.

I will let go of a future with him.  My goals need to be separate from him because he isn't in recovery.  What I want is important too.

I will spend time for me each day.

Mr. Scabs will choose to be cooperative in our healing with communication and honesty.  If not I will believe he is an apathetic liar and will detach from him.

I will believe Mr. Scabs when he is actively engaging all his "safety nets".  For example, working 12-step with his sponsor, putting blocks on his computer, not engaging in idle internet surfing, daily communication with me and when his actions match his words.

We will have no sexual intimacy without physical and emotional safety.  He will get STD tested regularly and he must connect emotionally with me. 

I can understand a relapse (pornography) when he is involved in a life of recovery, self-examination, honesty and communication.  He can expect my support in recovery, not addiction.  If pornography or inappropriate sexual material becomes an addiction I will detach and prepare for divorce.

Since we are not currently sexual, masturbation is acceptable without pornography.  Open communication is important here to avoid masturbation becoming an extension of addiction. We will learn to empathize and understand each other.  When we do this our relationship can grow.

Fidelity and honesty are full bodied commitments, not ala cart or cafeteria style, picking and choosing what he will be honest about.  I do not need to ask the right questions.  Without honesty and fidelity I will detach and file divorce.

Since he has moved out, I will determine the time he spends at our home.  When I need space he will oblige or I will leave.

Money.  He will account for any extra cash and all monies. Cash will be deposited into the checking account and there will be no more that $50 in his wallet or truck.  If money is missing or lied about I will detach and assume he is spending it on old habits.  He will experience a loss in trust.

I will not discuss my parachute stash of cash.  

I can't tolerate lies and have no tolerance for lying.  When Mr. Scabs tells lies we will talk and work it out or I will detach.  Uncovering new lies only causes pain and distrust.  It is like reliving the pain all over again.  And will destroy any progress.

When he tells the truth he will build respect and self-love.  We will move toward a closer relationship and reconciliation.  We will spend quality time as a couple and family building affection, empathy and genuine effort repairing our marriage.

If I feel a decline in his honesty I will believe my intuition until he earns and proves he is trustworthy.

I will say sorry for mistreating or yelling at him.

I will not put myself in harms way physically or emotionally.  When he resorts to lies and selfishness I will detach.  

-----------------------

The end





Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Step 2: Set Your Boundaries Q&A

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Let's do a little boundary Q & A
There is so much to learn from each other

To play, just cut and paste these unfinished sentences in your comment and add your own info.  Have fun! 

Introduce yourself, your current obsession and one word to describe your mood today.
The craziest reaction I got from setting boundaries was...
My favorite boundary and consequence is...
My biggest boundary failure was when...
I got in the biggest trouble when I broke this boundary...
The most successful boundary/consequence I've worked on is...
If I could break any social boundary it would be...
My favorite quality in a man is...
My favorite quality in a woman is...
If I could go back one decade and change anything is would be...
I'm terrified that enforcing boundaries will...
I'm excited that that enforcing boundaries will...
My most elusive boundary questions is...
...gives me the confidence to stand strong in my boundaries.

I'll go first. 

Introduce yourself, your current obsession and one word to describe your mood today. Hi, I'm Scabs.  My obsessions change daily, today I had a mini-obsession with a little Great Gatsby style...hello 1920!   And my mood is borderline sour, Mr. Scabs and I had a brawl tonight.



The craziest reaction I got from setting boundaries was...when Mr. Scabs actually packed his truck with crap, squealed his tires and sped out of the driveway furious!  I couldn't believe he did it and that he pouted about it!  That was the day he got kicked out of the house.  Biggest boundary I ever pushed.


My favorite boundary/consequence is...honest communication with the consequence of distance between us.  It's just a natural effect of dishonesty.   I also love when we have moments of depth in our communication and I can open up and give Mr. Scabs bits of the closeness we are both seeking.  Honesty give me safety to touch him and love him.


My biggest boundary failure was when...I tried to control how Mr. Scabs worked the 12-steps with his sponsor.  Crash, burn. Classic mistake.


I got in the biggest trouble when I broke this boundary...obeying my Father.  One day I snapped and threw my Mom's mauve-painted garage sale wicker chair at him.  oops!


The most successful boundary/consequence I've worked on is...honesty.  Mr. Scabs has really responded to sharing the gory details and talking about the addiction is all it's aspects.  The consequence for his positive reaction to this boundary has been emotional intimacy. 


If I could break any social boundary it would be...that people are people no matter where they come from or what they believe in.  If I was contending for Miss America I would say, "World Peace"


My favorite quality in a man is...depth and a good smell.


My favorite quality in a woman is... genuine kindness


If I could go back one decade and change anything it would be...the number of children I have.  I always wanted a bigger family.  Although, I adore the children I have and feel blessed they are mine and healthy.  Always wanted to be swarmed by dirty feet and messy blonde haired kids begging for one more cheese quesadilla.


I'm terrified that enforcing boundaries will...turn me into a tyrant.


I'm excited that that enforcing boundaries will...give me respect and freedom.


My most elusive boundary questions is...consequences, how, when, why, what?


My renewed self love and recognition that I am a RAD woman...gives me the confidence to stand strong in my boundaries.


Your turn!

Monday, July 9, 2012

For you Purplegal!

Parachute
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Pack your parachute.  So, what's on the check list?

Step 1: Recognize

This lady broke all the boundaries when it came to skateboarding


Our kids are asleep and the house is quiet.  I'm sitting here in front of this blank screen wondering what I should say to kick off Boundaries Week.  I am no expert, I'm just the experience of one woman and I feel  inadequate.  Hoping you chime in and this becomes one awesome, demystifying boundary discussion.


There are so many bits and pieces of conversations and emails about boundaries bouncing around my brain.


                 "Boundaries piss me off!"


   "He says I shouldn't have boundaries."


                               "What are your boundaries 
                                                            and consequences?"


      "How do I enforce a boundary he doesn't agree too?"


       "When's enough, enough?"

    "Why do we need boundaries?"




Buster is the male counterpart of our doggy-duo, Buster and Lady.  The sun went down hours ago and in the desert during summer, that's prime time.  Temps cool enough to enjoy the evening.  So Buster and Lady bolt across the yard, tails wagging and noses sniffing.  In the Southwest corner of my front yard a mysterious vine grows.  It blooms are a sweet pinkish white and it hardly ever needs to be watered.  A miraculous adaption to the desert.  This is Busters' vine.  Sticking his nose in it and sniffing for the scent of an intruder...sure enough, a boundary has been crossed and he takes a nice long wizz remarking his territory.


If a big-old White German Shepard needs to make his boundaries clear then why don't I?


Boundaries used to piss me off in a teenage angst kind of way.  I was really put out that I'd have to set a boundary.  Wasn't our marriage based on mutual respect?  Promises? Fidelity and love?  Wasn't the boundary that we had committed our lives together, as one?  Aren't we both adults?  Wasn't there some kind of courtesy or Golden Rule?


This is where I was so wrong.  Just because you are kind, compassionate, empathetic and aware of others doesn't mean that everyone has that outlook.  I was under the impression that if I sacrificed something for him, he would do the same for me.  Soon, I found myself trapped in the grips of his control.  In a place where my feelings, ideas and thoughts were secondary.  He wore the pants, so to speak. I didn't dare buy the wrong kind of eggs at the grocery store much less put boundaries down about pornography in our home.


It became a joke between us, I never did anything wrong.  I was the perfect, obedient wife.  When I look in the mirror, I don't feel like a push-over or that I can't stand up for myself or have no self-confidence but when it came to Mr. Scabs, I let him.  Maybe, I thought that was love.  He was never cruel or spiteful, he just exerted control simply because I let him.


 Bill says it has something to do with the way I watched my Father treat my Mother.  


Sure, I'd rock the boat about hurt feelings or mistreatment but ultimately he'd tell me some gibberish about "trying harder to be better".  I'd believe him and that began our terrible marital cycle.  Round and round we went for years.  I gave up more and more control and he got more and more out of control.


One day, years before I learned about his infidelity, I disobeyed him!  *GASP*  My daughter wanted a pet, she wanted a kitten.  I wanted one too.  He said, "no."  When we resisted, he said, "NO!" more vehemently.  


I pouted for a few days and then the thought struck me, "I can do what I want.  I'm a grown woman."


So, I pulled up my big girl panties and packed my daughter in the car.  We drove to the shelter and adopted two cats.  Eddie-Jumper Cat and Twyla Girl-Cat.  Of course, Mr. Scabs fell in love with them.  He has an affection for all things furry---hmmm that didn't sound right did it?  Sorry Mr. Scabs.  (but it was funny, right?)


This whole scenario began my flight into independence.  I started living life for me and then I went to the grocery store and bought the eggs I wanted and didn't apologize.  


Setting Boundaries
Step 1: Recognize!


Tell yourself your a grown woman and put your big girl panties on.  Yep!  Your feelings, opinions and wants matter.  If you don't voice them and act on it, who will? Recognize that someone is stepping on your toes and you want it to stop.


Pick one thing you want to set boundaries with and work through this boundary setting self-talk.  Fill in the blanks with your own answers.


Mr. Scabs can't determine which eggs I buy.
I have the right to buy whatever eggs I want.
If he gives you backlash just say, "I'm sorry you feel so upset about the eggs.  Next time you I hope you go grocery shopping.


Some may say this feels selfish.  I get that.  But, really, are you the type of person that goes overboard and feels selfishly entitled to whatever you want when you want it?  I doubt it.  You're a good person and deserve good things in life.  Recognize.


Now go scramble your omelet!  
  




Friday, July 6, 2012

Boundaries Week

fishing...
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The Scabs family went camping with friends deep in the Arizona woods this last week.  With lots of river lounging, loads of crawdad catching, plates of fried trout for eating and hunting for the mysterious "witches shack", it was a rough-neck fantastic time!  

I'm thankful for pre-written blog posts. 

Driving down the mountain, I read your comments and emails about limbo and parachutes, my daughter, Mr Scabs, STDs and about your lives.  

 You are a powerful group of women.


In fact, today I felt the weepy tears of happiness and humility in awe that you reach out to me and invite me to be part of your lives.

If I haven't already, I'll your answer emails and respond to comments soon.  Promise. 

-----

There's been a lot of cyber-chatter about boundaries.  So, I've officially declared next week 

"Boundaries Week"  

All posts will be designed to create conversations around the 
how, why, what and when of boundaries. 

Sound good?

As for this weekend, I hope you find a few minutes to relax and read something inspiring.


Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Freedom!



4th
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Find your freedom!  
Because this life truly is just a glimpse in time.  


Freedom from addiction, fear, anxiety, abuse and everything 
that holds you captive. 

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

STD's

1950s.
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Follow the story.
Read the previous post.

February 2001

My Human Sexuality professor is a little cerebral.  He's a shorter, salt-n-pepper haired man with glasses and eyeballs that roll back in his head when lecturing about anatomy, sexual response and atypical sexual variations.  He takes the strangest stance during his lectures, hiking his pant leg halfway up his almost hairless white calf and planting his foot, housed in an orthopedic black shoe, on the table next to him.  One foot on the table and the other firmly on the floor.  Then, he leans into his knee pronouncing the stretch and strain of his grey poly-blend slacks which emphasizes the obvious smashing and separation of his testes.  The lecture hall is silent.  

Chapter 16, the chapter on STD's, is 44 pages long.  Fourty-four pages detailing, outlining and photo cataloging shots of human genitalia stricken with herpes, warts and gonorrheal discharge.  It was 44 pages too many.

October 2011

I had an itch, down there and without thinking I scratched it.

A piercing white hot burn tore through my vagina and a sudden flush of livid blood raced to my temples! I was in that ragged place between hystarical crying and furious anger... DAMN HIM!!

Mr. Scabs had been STD tested more than once.  Foolishly, I assumed I was in the clear.  Now, I'd regretted my confidence and trust in his test.  Stupid me!  STUPID ME!  It seems so ridiculous now, but I had avoided getting tested on the mere grounds of self-humiliation.  

Grabbing a mirror and assuming my old professors lecturing stance; one foot on the bathroom counter and one of the ground.  I tried a self examination; my results were inconclusive.   

Sliding down the bathroom wall, I crumple into a heap.  Crying out in rage, 
"Will this never end?  I hate him!"

Although he isn't living at home, his presence is everywhere, even in my pants!

Horrified by the tangibility and sweeping repercussions of his actions, HIS actions, not mine, I scream!  I could live the rest of my life fighting herpes outbreaks!  Those stinking commercials with happy girls holding the hands of nice looking young men while touting the awesomeness of the latest drugs for this incurable disease.  Incurable!  Or worse, I'd be losing my life to the ultimate killer, AIDS!

Grabbing a fist of my hair in each hand I pull so hard I hear the hairs begin to break.   In this moment a dam broke spewing out emotions I had only begun to see.  This man, this husband who made promises, risked everything.  His apathy for me as a wife and lover could be rationalized but his apathy for human life was inexcusable.  I realized my very life and the life of my son, who we conceived during his treacherous hunt for sex, meant nothing to him.  He's willing to risk our lives!

Is he a psychopath?  A sociopath, with no compassion for human life?  My heart stops as it begins to tear, ripping through my guts and forcing a flood of searing tears from my eyes.  This cry is different from my other cries.  My body turns marble hard, lifeless and cold.  My face is emotionless and flat as the chill of bitter hatred replaces my warmth.  Hot tears burn my icy cheeks and like venom it poisons me.

Seething and dripping with nausea, I call Mr. Scabs.  He answers timidly. Since moving out, I rarely initiate contact.  My phone call was out of the ordinary.    

"I have an STD!  @#4&%!!!  I'm getting tested tomorrow and your footing the bill!  Bastard!"

If you want to hurt Mr, Scabs you need to punch him the the pocketbook.

Naked and humiliated, I wrap the worn cotton medical gown closer to my body.  I feel tainted.  Janice walks into the exam room and I can't help but smile.  She is the woman that delivered my son and got her feet wet in the overflow of the birthing pool.  She passed my baby into the arms of my husband as he cut the umbilical cord.  I love her!  

She had shared the most sacred moment of my life.  Birth.  

Here I am, two years later, sharing the most degrading moment of my life.  Betrayal.

My eyes swollen and red meet her's.  They're a warm sapphire blue with the same highs and lows of a cut gem.  Her mess of short, curly brown hair mirrors her spirited personality.  I watch as her perma-smiles fades.  I've never seen her without a smile.  Bursting into tears she rushes to my side, holding me as I sob.  I love this woman!  I feel such a refuge in her arms.  

My tears subside enough to explain I've discovered my spouses philandering and fears I've contracted his parting gift.  A bonus from his compassionless and abusive decisions.

Holding my hand and touching my cheek Janice asks all the right questions.  Her eyes water as she shares concern for my safety making sure I am getting the emotional, mental and physical support I need.  Shouldering my burden.  We have shared only a few short moments in life but I can't help feeling she is my sister.  

All test results come back negative, a simple ingrown hair!  I am safe but my awakening remains.  I will never forget he choose to gamble our lives.  

Reckless.      

Of course, I prolonged telling Mr. Scabs the results were negative.  I admit I liked watching him squirm.


p.s.  GET TESTED

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