tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62100898997723416692024-03-14T07:33:27.669-07:00eat my scabsSex Addiction: not as fun as it soundsScabshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13738638161899826056noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6210089899772341669.post-8306999280125698692016-11-21T20:03:00.001-08:002023-10-19T22:17:45.899-07:00the anniversary of everything<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGjivoEbWCUW3hXHh8QBQI6Z3r9_1ZGmX_16hBFuiiDPOMS6JQVJ2GgJSCYCXGkeuOur48PX4hFwI2z5osxAyXfLUcwaqNF-ohqg4LHeAAOxTd1SyS6ADoRKn8WPirs17RPRyVUm-iC5s/s1600/69.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGjivoEbWCUW3hXHh8QBQI6Z3r9_1ZGmX_16hBFuiiDPOMS6JQVJ2GgJSCYCXGkeuOur48PX4hFwI2z5osxAyXfLUcwaqNF-ohqg4LHeAAOxTd1SyS6ADoRKn8WPirs17RPRyVUm-iC5s/s640/69.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo by: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Jill-Candland-Photographer-401125686564125/?hc_location=ufi" target="_blank">Jill Candland Photography</a></td></tr>
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This week is the anniversary of everything: the marriage, the nightmares, the d-day, the weird paralysis, and the divorce. Yes, the divorce. The end of an era.<br />
<br />
When I look back, it's a no-brainer, I needed to leave. But, I also see the maze of bridges I wanted to cross, all the spaces in my heart I wanted to explore, all the waking up I wanted to do.<br />
<br />
I remember the {POW} moment when my therapist said, "You know what to do." She said it with a certainty I couldn't grasp.<br />
<br />
Deciding to leave a marriage feels like the most impossible decision. Kids, lives, mortgages...leaving means reshaping all of that. Staying felt like a betrayal of me and leaving felt like a betrayal of them.<br />
<br />
So, I stayed. Uncertain. I became comfortable with limbo; the space between the space. I told myself that <i>maybe </i>I could live my whole life in limbo, neither being or not being, feeling more like an android and less like a woman. But, at least I'd be holding back the damage from my children. It felt like my back was up against the Hoover Dam, and if I moved, even an inch, the whole thing would come flooding out, drowning everything.<br />
<br />
Six months later, I was having lunch with friends, some married and some divorced. As the conversation and banter grew between marrieds and divorced I heard my heart say, "if there's any light in your marriage, find it."<br />
<br />
As soon as I was alone, I called Mr. Scabs and explained that I finally felt an answer. After what felt like eons of limbo, I had a direction. I was going to put both feet in my marriage. I was going to toss everything in and surrender to the great {whatever}. I was going to jump over the waterfall and see who catches me. I knew God was somewhere in that equation but I was hoping Mr. Scabs was too.<br />
<br />
For so long, I felt like I was backpedaling a canoe, avoiding the raging Niagara waterfall in front of me. It was time to pull in the oars and let the white-water carry me forward.<br />
<br />
The edge was near. I took a deep breath and flew over the edge of the falls, with full trust.<br />
<br />
We spent the summer together, almost like a summer fling. We held hands, planned futures, visited family, laughed, road tripped and even slept in the same bed. I breathed and trusted that the waterfall and God would tell me the truth. And It did.<br />
<br />
Because one day I had that feeling. That familiar feeling that I was going blind to the lies around me. So, I woke up, and I asked him, and I observed and used all my new tools.<br />
<br />
This time, the blow of discovering sex with random women barely brushed my shoulder. I didn't cry. I didn't feel gut-punched. I didn't feel sad. I wasn't even surprised. I just knew what I had to do. I had drawn a line in the sand and I had to honor myself.<br />
<br />
I looked at Mr. Scabs and this is what came out of my mouth,<br />
<br />
"When I said, 'no more women,' did you think I was joking? Because I wasn't."<br />
<br />
It was this moment, that my back loosened its grip on the Hoover Dam, I stepped forward with intention and the stones of the dam began to crumble and the water began to heave. I didn't want to protect my kids from this any longer. I had made a decision. So, I reached out with the tightest grip on their little hands and I hugged and kissed them and told them they were conceived and born in love and that although this isn't what I wanted for them when their dad and I made a family, this is what we have. And even though it hurts, I'm solid and I am here with you. And with that, the water rushed around my legs and swept us away.<br />
<br />
What I didn't know is that all those years of limbo, of maze bridges, and exploring the spaces in my heart grounded me. I had been prepared to 'be' with my children as the floods washed over them. I couldn't protect them, and I no longer wanted to. Instead, I wanted to breathe with them as their little bodies grieved, and cried, and yelled, "IT ISN'T FAIR!"<br />
<br />
This post is a hard one, and I'm sorry it's so raw. These words have been sitting in me for over a year and it finally feels right to share them.<br />
<br />
xo<br />
Scabs<br />
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<br />Scabshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13738638161899826056noreply@blogger.com28