Failure

I told her in a pretty rude way.

She asked about my eating disorder and I sarcastically gestured to my body. Because if you look at me, it looks like I have not been skipping meals at all.

That was just a short 30 seconds of how my first therapy session in 18 months went.

And it was mostly truthful. Because just considering purging every time I eat doesn't count, right? And sometimes having a day where I don't eat or a day where I do throw up doesn't count, right?

But when I left, I started to actually assess the past few months and how often I have snuck to a bathroom after eating a meal.

I don't like lying to people, mostly because I don't like liars. So when I left that session thinking I might've lied, I was pretty angry at myself.

I'm usually pretty hard on myself after therapy. It's always been that way. Because if I could just be completely real and comfortable and open and serious, maybe I'd leave feeling a weight lifted off my chest.

I've had a few sessions like that in my life.

But they're not often. Because most of the time, I leave therapy the same way I leave MOST situations in my life---thinking of all the things I should've said or could've done, reminding myself how I've once again failed and acted like an idiot.

Is there a point in my life where I'll stop being so hard on myself?

The Catch-22 of all of this is that I'm capable of believing I'm a failure no matter which choice I make.

For example, if I eat a meal and don't purge it, I am a failure for letting myself eat and letting those calories turn into fat, which will inevitably cause me to gain weight and make me less desirable to a possible future spouse.
And if I DO purge after eating, I am a failure for giving in to my eating disorder and being weak and not fighting hard enough to be the best mom for my kids.

So no matter what, I'm a failure here.

And that just plain sucks.

The Haters

The very first time I came across this Brene Brown quote, I fell in love with it. I remember thinking it applied to Peter and his family and the way I was being portrayed in our divorce---as the cold, unloving wife who left her husband because he had lost his belief in God. They had no idea what he had put me through or what life was like in our home. And more importantly than that, for a while they didn't know HE was the one to leave ME.

He conveniently left out that detail and they didn't find out until right before our divorce was final and I told his dad during our divorce settlement meeting. {Fun times...}

I digress...

A lot of people have hurt me in my life and unfortunately, I've come to fear it and expect it. That doesn't make it hurt any less and the problem with that is that it takes a lot out of me to keep my relationships genuine. It is so freaking exhausting sometimes.

Tonight I was reading through the first few months of writing in this blog {I started it a year ago this month!} and I came across some words that I wrote that have fit perfectly with where I'm at right now.

"Today my writing taught me something I hope to never forget---I cannot rely on the actions of other people to determine my life. I am fighting against the urge to hate Peter. I am fighting against the urge to swear at him and post nasty things about him all over the internet. I am fighting the urge to lay in bed all night and cry. I am not a hater. And I am not going to become something that I'm not just because someone hurt my heart."

That last sentenced pierced my heart tonight because it is exactly what I've been trying to remind myself of all week. When she turned on me, I didn't gossip about her. In fact, I was still worried about her.

I still am.

And when she came at me a week later with more hurtful words, I stood up to her but I didn't gossip about her. I didn't run to our mutual friends and tell them how horrible she is. I didn't try to get people on "my side".

Sadly, she did. Her support system was most of our mutual friends and as she started believing and saying horrible things about me, she was saying those things to them and almost all of them stopped contacting me.

This hurt me a lot to realize.

I wish our mutual friends would displace their shock with questioning. I wish any one of them would've come and asked me for my side of the story. But they didn't. She's told them too many things about the type of person that I am for them to hear me out.

I've lost so many friends in the past few weeks.

But I have not hated on her. I have not written nasty things about her or tried to build up my own gang to counteract her allies. That isn't who I am. And I refuse to become someone that I am not just because someone hurt my heart.

It's as simple as that.

So many times, I've wish I could yell at her and our other friends who have believed her. I wish I could tell them how hurt I am but I don't think it would make a difference.

This is genuinely me. I am trying to trust that tonight. I am trying to believe that I am a good person and counteract the voice in my head that tells me I am innately selfish and horrible.

Pushover

When I take breaks from writing here, it usually means I'm doing better. It usually means I don't have the need for my anonymous self to write freely and safely.
But partly it has just had to do with how busy I am with school and work and being a single mom.

I've been trying to work on my healing and I think I'm doing quite well---but I'm hesitating to let it all happen, to let go of the past and try to build the future. It's scary to let go because that pain I have is a mask. It is a shield that seems to protect me from my future pain. I already know what this pain feels like so I'd rather just continue feeling it instead of being hurt all over again.

I want to let go of the lies. I want to let them roll off my back. I should expect them by now but for some reason, I don't. For some damn reason, I still find myself wanting so badly to trust that the words coming out of Peter's mouth are truthful.

I think one of the things that pisses me off the most is that Peter used to always tell me I was a pushover when it came to other people. He always told me I forgave way too easily. His sister and I had a hard relationship because she was often jealous of us---I never understood why---so she would spread rumors about us to the rest of the family. Every time our family relationships would blow up in our face, I would fight and yell and write her letters of disappointment and a few days later, I would forgive and forget. I just wanted our families to be connected and I knew I couldn't let my pride get in the way or we would end up estranged from everyone.

So I always forgave...and Peter didn't. He has not gotten along with his sister at all in their adult lives because of some of the things she has done. He always hated when I would forgive her but I couldn't NOT---she was my family.

Now that I realize how many times Peter had/has lied to me in the past eight years, I just want to smack him. Because although he labelled me a pushover for forgiving others, he expects me to let go of the past shit he has put me through. And I want to do it...I want to trust that he tells me the truth. Sadly, most of the time I DO trust that he is telling me the truth---and many times, I find out later the words coming out of his mouth were lies.

Like the smoking. I really, truly hate the smell of cigarettes and myself and our two children have asthma---but when Peter left me, he started smoking but last August, he promised me he had stopped.

I wanted to believe him...and so I did.
Until today.

Today when we were both at an activity for one of our kids, I could tell he had been smoking. I wanted to say something, to start a fight that I would later regret, but I didn't. I pushed my pride aside {once again} because I wanted our children to have a good day.

So maybe I am a pushover. Maybe I seem weak when I trust over and over again. But I don't look at it that way. I think my ability to forgive makes me strong and brave. I haven't yet forgiven Peter but Peter's lies have been far worse than anything his sister or any other person in my life has done. I figure he lied for 7 years so I get the next 7 years to heal and forgive. I honestly don't think it'll take me that long but if it does, that's ok.

This is my process. I get to decide how it goes. Peter doesn't get to dictate my side of our divorced relationship. If I want to push him away and cut off any relationship with him, I have the freedom to do that.

I am in charge of how I act.

And no matter my choices, Peter doesn't get to negate my bravery.

End. Of. Freaking. Story. 

Neverending

Trust him, they said. It will be different this time, they said. You need to give him the benefit of the doubt, they said.

But they were wrong.

Because I trusted him when I shouldn't have and he hurt me. I learned to love him through my pain and he stuck a knife in my heart.

I don't agree with advice. I don't agree with telling people how they should or shouldn't feel because everyone is different. Finding out about my ex husband's pornography addiction could be equal to a person losing their job or a person losing their spouse. Because we are unique individuals, the way we deal with trials is different. If I tell you I am hurting and that I'm not healed yet, you need to take my word for it instead of comparing me to someone else with a similiar trial.

I am my own person.

Yes, I was divorced when I found out about the pornography addiction. Yes, I don't have to see the man that hurt me so badly every day. I don't even have to interact with him daily. But he hurt me. I still have a brain that has a damn memory in it and when I replay old memories, I hurt. I ache. I don't like to think about what might have been fake.

I used to think people shouldn't be angry after a while. I used to think they should learn to get over their problems on my time frame---because my time frame must be bible. But I've seen real pain. I've seen real anger. I've also felt these emotions in my own life. And not a single person gets to tell me how or when I should get over these things.

Life really sucks sometimes.

I feel my eating disorder like a constant rain cloud. Although I've done better at fighting him, Ed isn't much smaller than he was a few weeks ago. He is still just as loud. I still question him daily. And I feel like I have no one who I trust enough to be an available support in my life. I wonder if that's because I actually don't have someone or if I just often feel alone because my spouse is gone.

My freaking spouse is gone.
Damn divorce.

I trusted someone that screwed me over. For years, he screwed me over. For years, he lied and made me feel like an effing crazy person. And as soon as I had started to heal and accept this as my life forever, he left.

He left at the worst possible time. He left when it would hurt me the most. I cannot think of any other time in our marriage where it woud've hurt more than it did when he chose to leave. I was happy. I was truly happy. I had accepted all of this. I had learned so much about myself. And then he left.

I hate manipulation. When I hear about husbands manipulating their wives, I want to scream and then punch their husbands in the junk. Seriously. Because manipulation is the worst. Manipulation is the perfect way to make a person feel bat-shit crazy when the manipulator is the real monster of the situation. As the manipulatee, you start to feel like you are the one who is wrong and you question yourself.

I used to question myself daily. I used to wonder why the guy who "loved" me so freaking much was the same guy who hated so many things about me. I used to wonder why I couldn't live up to his expectations.

And my eating disorder tells me I should keep questioning myself. My eating disorder tells me that I should settle for another douche husband because douches are the only ones who will take me "as is". But oh my gosh, I am not going to settle!

Because damnit, I deserve better than a porn addict, lying, ass face of a husband. I deserve someone who can look at me and see the good and accept the bad. I deserve someone who supports instead of manipulates.

We all deserve that.

And some of us don't get it. Some of us have to live with manipulation and lies and unsettling amounts of fear. Some of us have to wonder what life will feel like at the end of the day when our husbands walk through that front door.

And it isn't fair.

But life isn't fair, right?

Tonight I pray for you. I pray for my friends who are stuck in situations that seem hell bent and neverending. I pray for those of you who feel weak and unloved. I pray for those of you who question why you stay.
I love you and I am rooting for you.

Screwed Over

So maybe it wasn't truly planned. Maybe Peter didn't intentionally take my heart and expect he'd end up punching it time and time again.

But surely I can tell you I was screwed over.
Screwed over by pornography.
Screwed over by addictions.
Screwed over by lies.
Screwed over by Peter.

I understand addiction. I get that he was scared. What I don't get is why leaving me was better than telling me. Peter can tell me ALL he wants how this wasn't about me but he left me. He didn't leave pornography. He left me.

Peter has a way of making me feel all better again---it's called manipulation. He can go from being an ass to being a gentlemen and back to an ass again. And every time I believe him, I hate myself. I hate that I am stupid enough to believe the lies. What the hell, Wendy? Get a backbone!

On Wednesday night, Peter looked our little girl straight in the face and promised he would be at her kindergarten graduation the next day and then he no-showed. No explanations. No apologies. Not even a lie of an excuse. Nothing. He just didn't show up.
I told everyone I would not be the mom crying at her graduation. I mean, it's kindergarten---big whoop. We kinda knew she was gonna make it through kindergarten. But as I saw her eyes anxiously searching the room for the one person she hoped to find, I got a little teared up and then I got angry.
Why does our little girl have to feel disappointment at this young age? Why does she have to experience the broken promises that I've experienced for six years?

Because not only was he my husband, he is her dad. And yesterday at kindergarten graduation, he screwed her over. He broke a promise that was really important to her.

Pornography screws everyone involved over. From the addict to the spouse to the children to the family to the friends---pornography harms people.

When Peter's addiction wasn't as bad, he was a wonderful dad. He wasn't as angry and he showed up. He was present for his kids. Even now, he tries to be there for them. He loves them. I can see it. But his addiction seems to come first. He can't always tell when he's screwing us all over. He didn't understand today when I told him his daughter was upset about him missing her graduation. He didn't get that his broken promise to her was more than just him being there to watch her sing a few songs. He had promised.

Have I mentioned Peter is moving to Utah...tomorrow? Yes, he's allowed to do this. He would only not be allowed if he had full custody of the kids. I'm still on the fence about this decision. A part of me wants him gone because he causes a lot of heartache for our family right now but a part of me wants him here because our kids want their dad.

He's running away and I hope it ends up doing some good instead of harm. He is missing his daughter's birthday party. He is giving up weekends that he fought for when we first filed for divorce. He is giving up time with the two people who look up to him so much right now. They want him and he is leaving.

But maybe it'll be good? I really am on the fence about this change.

In the meantime, I'm trying so hard to say "Screw you" right back to addiction. And to Peter. And to pornography.

I think I'll just focus on the fact that today is my daughter's birthday so the rest of our problems can suck it. We are going to celebrate today and we'll deal with this crap some other time.

Disclosure

I'm gonna go ahead and laugh about all of the posts before this one, especially posts talking about betrayal trauma.
TRAUMA.
Because that was nothing like this. That didn't make my chest tighten and make me feel like I legitimately could be having a heart attack. I am serious. If I hadn't heard what I had just heard and know what I know about anxiety attacks, I would call 911 for a possible heart attack.

Today is what will now be considered Disclosure Day for so many shitty reasons.

I am a part of a women's group who call themselves WoPA's (Wives of Pornography Addicts). I was added because the betrayal trauma I had experienced from my husband's other addictions and abandonment made me "fit in" to their community. I've been a part of that group for maybe 6 weeks now.

Tonight I learned that I am actually a WoPA. My ex-husband's addictions are not just alcohol and drugs, they involve pornography and they have for a long time. A long time. Like most of our marriage.

I had suspected it for a long time but I never knew the truth and I didn't know how I'd find out anyway.

And when he told me, I told him I had suspected it and he started to BLAME me and tell me I should've confronted him and tried to help him if I had suspected it. Umm, gaslighting much? As if feeling like I wasn't a good enough sex partner wasn't enough hurt, apparently I should've figured out a way to HELP him when he was so busy lying about everything damn thing in his life.

And now that we are divorced, I didn't think the truth would make a difference. I didn't expect it to hurt this much. I didn't expect to feel gross and unworthy and worthless.

I WAS ALREADY DEALING WITH FEELINGS OF WORTHLESSNESS!

I can't seem to process this right now. I'm so thankful I'm already a part of support groups and have so many loving people in my life---I just wish I didn't feel like this.

Along with alcohol and drugs, my husband chose pornography over me. I should have known. I should have asked. I should have done something. Anything! But I had no way of knowing. I had no idea what to ask about. I had no idea what to do.

Seven years of my life are seven years that make me feel STUPID tonight.

I need a bath and a hug. And since I'm all alone in this damn house, I guess a bubble bath will have to suffice. I'll get the hug later.

What Is More Important?

This is one of the hardest parts of my divorce.

It's been extremely hard to accept that the man I committed my life to just walked out on me, full of pride and arrogance and leaving me to pick up the shattered pieces of my broken heart.

Some days, I replay the conversation from when he left and all I can think is, "What the hell?"
Really? You left because I don't cook enough?
Really? You left because I don't clean enough?
Really? You're going to complain about never having sex when you refused it most of the time?
Yes, I really did just mention my sex life on my blog. You're welcome, readers. You are so freaking welcome.
The reasons Peter Pan gave me for leaving just weren't good enough. That's one of the main reasons I searched out to find the lies, to find the holes in his stories.
Because that's all they really were...stories. Most of it wasn't real and most of it was based on some prideful, vicious lie cycle that Peter would ultimately decide to be more important than our marriage.

His lies were more important than our marriage.

And when I think about that, it hurts really bad. I cannot fathom having a lie that was more important to try and hide so I gave up my forever family. I can't think of anything worth giving up my family for.
But he did. He found something worth giving me up for. He found alcohol. He found drugs. He found his closet so full of lies that he decided it would be easier to just leave me, rather than coming clean and deciding to try harder.
He gave up on things I dream of giving to my children. He gave up on things I used to think I was good enough for.
I used to have such a strong belief in myself. I used to believe I was worthy not just of love but of devotion from my spouse.
Now I find myself lost and confused as to where my worth lies and where I go from here. What am I supposed to do? How do I forge on like all of the strong women that have gone before me? Where do I start? How do I believe that I am worth another man's love? How can I believe that I am worth self-love?

I have so many questions and zero answers.

Deceiving is Lying

November 18th, 2013: The day I filed for divorce.

That night, it was eating at me that I had no real definition for why this was happening. Were there really just a bunch of little lies? Or were things worse than they seemed?

I was going through a bunch of Peter's and my stuff in our closet because I was angry and wanted some evidence---evidence of what? I didn't know.

I went out to the garage to throw away a bag of aluminum cans Peter had been saving to turn in for cash. I dumped them into the recycle bin and my eye caught what looked like a beer bottle. I began to rummage through the trash I had just thrown away and I found cans upon cans of alcoholic beverages, all hidden in my own damn garage!

I was furious. Mr. I-Would-Never-Drink was drinking in my garage, while I was home, with my children close by.

For some of you, that doesn't seem like a big deal. Let me explain my tangent just a teensy bit for you. I have a strong testimony of the Word of Wisdom. I don't believe in consuming alcohol, coffee, certain types of tea, among many other things. If you'd like to learn more, click on the link above.

Furthermore, the biggest problem was the LIE. Peter Pan had promised when he left our church that his standards hadn't changed. For a year, he lied. For a year, he promised he wasn't drinking and that his irrational escapades were due to lack of sleep or problems at work. You know that emotional abuse and manipulation I'd been experiencing? There was NO WAY it was due to anything other than sleep or work problems...he promised lied to me about that.

The truth is, these were signs of an addiction. You can call it an alcohol addiction or you can call it an addiction to lying. But the manipulation made me feel like I was wrong for not trusting him. Anytime a problem would arise, he would turn it into my fault and most of the time, I ended up believing him and second guessing myself. The anxiety I had been experiencing didn't make sense until after D-day because I had nothing to base it off of, other than "bad feelings". I think deep down, my intuition was gearing me up for D-day. I think I knew things were so much worse than I had proof of. Anxiety is a funny thing. Well, actually, it isn't funny at all. But anxiety was my inner feelings trying so hard to yell at me and tell me things were WRONG and had been wrong for a long time---a lot longer than I would've guessed.

That night, I dug deeper and found more. I found things from 2010 (three years into our marriage...you know, when things were "good") of him drinking and lying to me. I found a letter from a few months before he left, during the months I thought were good in our marriage, where he told a friend he wasn't happy and wanted to leave.

What I wondered is why the HELL he didn't just come clean?

Why lie? What was in it for him? Did he really think he could live his entire married life that way without me ever finding out?

December 14th, 2013, I wrote this in my blog:
I have a love/hate relationship with old blog posts. I'm grateful that I can be reminded of the ups and downs but it angers me to read and remember those times where I was really trying. A year ago, we were in marriage counseling. What in the hell happened? I read an old blog post about "Peter's" birthday and how he'd been working hard on a Saturday and the emotions surfaced. Was he really at work that Saturday? How many other days did I think he'd been working when he wasn't? Why? Why does he have to be a liar?!! Why did I marry a liar? I'm angry at him tonight but I blame both of us. It was my decision to marry him but the lying? The heartache? The emotional abuse? That was all him. I hate him tonight.

The addictive lying has made it so I don't trust very much. The addictive lying has made it so I question everyone, including myself. The past seven years have taught me so much---some of it good, some of it crap. You know those rose-colored glasses that most people have when they're getting married or watching love stories? Yeah, those don't exist in my world.

Love requires a lot of trust and that is scary. Worth it but scary.

My heart is healing from the "learning experiences" I've had. And in the mean time, if there is one thing I have learned, it's that deceiving is lying---it's the same damn thing.

D-Day 2013

I've heard it referred to as D-day many times since my own personal D-day. This can mean a myriad of things: disclosure day, discovery day, etc. To me, it stands for Damn Day.

My D-day was August 24th, 2013. I've already told you the story.

The days after D-day are foggy. I spent most of the time crying and trying to figure out how in the hell I was going to be single again---this time with two kids in tow.

Xanax was my friend a few of those nights because I couldn't stop my mind from thinking of the horrible situation I was in. I was alone. I had no one. No one understood.

I was being given advice left and right. Don't rush into a divorce. Give him boundaries. Give him deadlines. Give him space. Tell him how much you love him. Beg for him to come back. Kick him to the curb. It was all so confusing.

The night Peter Pan moved out, he was unreachable. I had family members calling me to see if I'd heard from him for the next 3 days but I couldn't get a hold of him either. No one knew where he was staying or what he was doing.

During this time, I cried all of the tears I possibly could. I layed around the house and tried to be a mom as best I could but I was scared. I had a hard time being around people because I wanted nothing more than to just stop crying and seeing people made me cry harder.

I've always been fearful of showing emotions in front of other people. If anything, the past 8 months have made this worse.

Three days after my D-day, I had no tears left. My brain still couldn't fathom how I was going to continue living so I made 3 simple goals for the day. Cook dinner, do a load of laundry, and do an act of service for one person. I knew if I could try and focus on helping someone else that my problems would seem less daunting.

I finished all of my goals that day. All I could muster for an act of service was baking cookies for a neighbor but it was good enough for that day.

My first counseling session post-separation was 5 days after D-day. By this time, my emotions were shut off and I sat and talked very non-chalantly about what a jackass Peter was. I talked about my plans to give him 30 days to himself before having a serious discussion with him. I talked about the child support he had agreed to pay, you know, to get me on my feet again before I'd have to get a job---his words, not mine.

I had just started full time school and I had no intentions of getting a job. Our daughter was struggling with the separation and I have no intentions of getting a job. I was already working two side jobs from home and I have no intentions of getting another job. Did I mention how much I DON'T plan on getting a job?
But Peter like to remind me that I would need one when all of this was over---as if his mind about the divorce was already made up.

On and off, we would fight. On and off, we would get along. Separation was difficult.

Days after Peter had left us, I had been praying and had received an answer that this was going to end in a divorce but I fought that answer and had no intentions of telling him or pushing him to make the decision right away.
His 30 days were up but I didn't remind him. I was so scared of the outcome.
I prayed daily. We went camping twice and I went out into the middle of the woods by myself to pray and try and find peace.
Peace was what I was searching for because I had already been prepared for the outcome---I just wanted peace so when the outcome was decided, it would be ok.

On November 17th, 2013, as I was picking my kids up from a late night at their dad's, I decided to ask him about his decision. Note that we are now way past the 30 day mark I had originally given him. I wish I could give you the exact conversation but here it is the best I could remember it.
Wendy: So have you made any decisions yet?
Peter: No.
Wendy: Are you planning on figuring it out soon?
Peter: I don't know.
Wendy: Do you want to move home?
Peter: No.
Wendy: Do you want to work on our marriage?
Peter: No.
Wendy: So that pretty much leaves one option. Are you going to file for divorce?
Peter: No, you can do it.

If you're wondering, the next day I filed for divorce. That conversation was the answer I needed. He didn't understand why it wasn't ok to keep living with no responsibility, he had started holding child support over my head and hadn't paid me in a month, and it was time.

Yes, I am the one that filed for divorce. According to that statement, you might think I wanted to get a divorce.
I didn't.
What I wanted was my husband to realize how much he was hurting his family and soften his heart.
I was willing to try harder and he wasn't and because of this, we were divorced on February 20th, 2014.

I claim no perfection in this matter. I don't write this to show you how bad he is and how good I am. I write this to show you that it takes two willing people to keep a marriage going. You can push and push and try as hard as you want to succeed but without your partner doing the same, it just won't work out. And in the end, you will be exhausted.

I pray for those of you in Limbo right now. I pray that you find the answers you need and that you don't give up too much of yourself fighting for something only you are fighting for. I also pray that if you're the one not willing to fight, that you make your decision with a clear mind and do what feels best for you.

There is no one right answer.

We all live with the choices we make so make sure you are making choices you can live with.

You are not bad, no matter what your final decision is.

Our Flawed Love Story: Part 3

To read from the beginning, click here.

I was feisty. I knew I was quick to anger but I was also quick to forgive. Peter Pan was an addictive liar and would often tell me little white lies about where he was and what he was doing. I would check his phone often because I knew of his ability to lie on a whim. I think it would be safe to say that 75% of the time I'd check his phone, there was some lie that I'd find out from that day or week. And another 10% of the time, all of his messages would be erased when I'd check.

Every time I'd confront him, he would become irate and yell at me about how I shouldn't be going through his stuff. He would tell me that everyone lies and that he's sure I lied to him too. I handed him my phone during one of those arguments and told him I had nothing to hide.

All of the lies were little. None of them were lies about anything that would be extremely detrimental to our marriage. But they were still lies.

For the first 5 years of our marriage, I never assumed there was anything worse that my pathological lying husband wasn't telling me. That may make me sound pretty stupid but I never had a reason to believe he was doing anything big that he shouldn't be doing.

I'd go back in time and give myself this look if I could.

I should've been more in tune with what was going on in my marriage but because we fought so much, I had learned not to rock the boat as much---because when I did rock the boat, there was fire and fury on both sides.

We were both hurting and I had learned not to trust anything Peter did or said...or so I thought. Let's come back to that later...

There was one morning that Peter was still in bed when we were getting ready for church. I kept asking him to get up and get ready and I was getting impatient. This had been happening more frequently and I wasn't "dealing" well with taking the kids to church on my own while he made up new excuses. I got angry with him. I yelled. He got angry right back. He told me he didn't believe in God and that he wouldn't be attending church with us ever again.

I wished I could go back in time to 30 minutes prior and ignore him staying in bed. I blamed myself for getting mad and pushing him over the edge.

But the hurt we were going through was too much. I told him I was done. I told him that him being the spiritual leader in our home was the last thing I had held onto and that I was leaving.

That day, I met with our bishop and surprisingly, Peter joined me. Our bishop was not helpful that day. I felt like it was 2 men against 1 woman. I felt like I was being blamed because of my emotions over our inability to conceive a third child. I felt like I was being told that was the reason my husband was struggling. It was all my fault. We agreed to meet with the bishop the next week to see how things were going.

What a long week. We hardly talked because I still wasn't sure I wanted to stay in this emotionally abusive and exhausting marriage.

Sunday came again and after skipping out on church, Peter showed up for our meeting with the bishop, only this time, he was closed off. His arms were folded, his eyebrows were furrowed, and his answers consisted of short yes's, no's, and ok's. Our bishop realized that he wasn't getting through to Peter and told us there was nothing else he could do for us except refer us to a marriage counselor.

We agreed.

To continue on to Part 4, click here.