Addiction Tore Our Family Apart

Let's talk about that scary word today: Addiction.

Addiction has been a part of my family ever since I can remember. As a little girl, I would hear stories of my late grandfather who was an alcoholic and did some very hurtful things to my grandmother and my mother. I used to view him as the bad guy because I had no idea what addiction meant; I only knew addicts usually did horrible things to other people.

I've heard the stories of aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins who have had severe depression and how it "runs in our family" and when I was ten years old---yes, you read that right? TEN---I was medicated for depression without really knowing what I was taking. No one ever explained to me that my parents thought I was depressed. All I knew is that I played checkers with a funny guy every week (my therapist) and I started taking a medication every night to help me make better choices. I was 13 or 14 years old when I saw a commercial promoting Zoloft and realized that is the same drug I was taking. I was kind of hurt by it all because let me tell you, I was not a severely depressed 10 year old. I know what severe depression feels like and at the age of 10, I was not that. I was a 10 year old who wasn't getting enough love and attention and got accustomed to anger issues to act out and be noticed. Big difference, friends. Big difference.

I struggled with real addictions as a teenager but nobody took them seriously. Nobody. There was no one around to say, "Hey Wendy, you are killing yourself!" There was no one around to tell me all of the hard truths I needed to hear. You are damagaing your kidneys. You could have a heart attack. You could end up in a treatment center. You could end up dead. I wish I hadn't blocked out so much of my childhood because I like to tell the story of how I just stopped throwing up and starving and how it wasn't too much of a struggle but the truth is, I don't remember. I remember pain. I remember struggle. I don't remember what got me through it all.

Before getting married, I knew my 'then boyfriend' had an addiction to pain medication and to me, it wasn't a red flag because he didn't seek out the drugs. He was given them for an injury. He had me believing the "poor me" story he told. He had me believing a hell of a lot of things.

Seven years later and I'm learning more about addiction than ever before. Not only have I learned that addictions are scary and real, I've learned how much they can harm a family.

My family was ripped in two by addiction. My children will forever be affected because of addiction. Pornography addiction, alcoholism, drug addictions, and even my eating disorder; it's all real and it's all hurting them.

My ex-husband chose addictions over his family. Leaving was easier than facing us; the people who used to be his biggest cheerleaders. For years, he chose pornography or alcohol or drugs over us. He chose not to be present. He chose to manipulate me into believing that there was something wrong with me. He chose to treat me like I wasn't good enough for him. He chose to lie and cheat and degrade me. And then he made the ultimate decision to leave---at a time where I knew nothing about his addictions, not a single one of them. And it's taken 8 months for me to find out some truths and I'm sure more truths will surface in time but for 7 years, I had no idea I was living wit an addict.

I thought I was bad. I thought I must not be a good wife because my own husband couldn't see the potential in me.

He left and I chose an eating disorder to cope. I chose addictions. I hate that I chose to be like him in this way. I don't want to be like him. I don't want to ruin our family.

There is a difference for me now versus my eating disorder as a child. Now I have friends who tell me Im ruining my kidneys, who remind me I could die, who tell me heart attacks are real. Today, as I was holding my precious red headed boy and kissing him on the cheek, my friend said, "If you want to leave that boy for 75 days, keep it up." {Hello, fear of God, Meet Wendy!} and my heart started pounding because she is right. I don't want her to be right this time.

Because the reality is that a treatment center is a future step down the hell path I'm taking. A treatment center is an option I don't want to get to. I have one more counselor to try and if I can't get my crap under control, I'll check myself into a center---you know, on the off chance that I can convince myself this is that big of a deal because I fight with myself about whether it is bad or not.

I would sit here and stare you in the face and tell you that my eating disorder did not tear us apart though. I am not denying the issues. I am not trying to hide what is happening to my body and my brain. But I did not leave my family because of addiction.

As I was sitting on the couch across from Peter Pan on Monday and asking about his addictions and telling him he needed to get help, I asked him why he left. Why would addiction cause him to leave? Why wouldn't he try and confide in his WIFE? Why did he think he couldn't trust me? Or why didn't he want to trust me?

After learning of the pornography addiction, I wanted to scream at him, "WHY WASN'T I GOOD ENOUGH? WHAT DOES A PORN STAR HAVE THAT I DON'T HAVE?" but I didn't. I didn't yell or scream or even cry. I still haven't cried. I have been getting anxiety a lot in the past 2 days but no tears have fallen from my face.

His pornography addiction validated my feelings of inadequacy. Everyone tells me it isn't me. They tell me he would've looked at pornography no matter what I look like or how much I weigh but it is SO HARD to believe them. It is just so hard.

Yesterday was my worst day. I told myself all day that I didn't deserve food. I told myself all day that I wasn't good enough for food. The only thing I was good enough for is hunger. So be hungry, Wendy. Suffer these consequences you didn't place on your own head. Show the world that you can be better and prettier. Show Peter that you can be loveable and gorgeous. And at night, I couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle the hunger so I ate. And when I ate, I couldn't handle food in my body and so I threw up. And it was the first time I felt like my body could not take what I was doing. I need to stop explaining right there because it's too much for me to be that real. Even anonymously, I can't be that real. But it was a horrible night.

Have I ever told you when and how I started my eating disorder addiction again after Peter left me? Because it wasn't right away. I'll share that story with you another time. It's a crappy one and you will get angry but that's ok. It's ok to be angry because people say stupid things. Even nice people say stupid things. {That story is now blogged about here.}

All I know today, this very minute, is that addiction is real. Pornography addiction is real. Alcohol addiction is real. They tore my family apart.

My family is now two families because of addiction. My family is forever changed because of addiction.

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.

Peter Pan is Our Story

I always thought so too.

I dreamed of forever with my Peter Pan. I was his Wendy and instead of growing old with me, he returned to Neverland to keep from growing up. This is the significance of me choosing Peter Pan as our story. Peter Pan is our story. I am Wendy and my Peter Pan has left to Neverland.

When I decided to use this story as my background, the word Neverland really stood out to me. This land that Peter Pan is trying to find is a land where his family won't be. It is Neverland; a land full of boys who don't want to grow up, a land where evil and sadness are lurking at every corner, a land of trickery. I used to pray that Peter would wake up from his distorted reality and realize that the happiness he once experienced with me and with our children would be enough.
But it was never enough and he searched for Neverland, trying to find the happiness he was missing.

Divorce brings a lot of mess into a relationship. With children, there will always be a relationship and trying to work together on specific parenting issues can be hard.

Saturday was one of those messy days were Peter was trying really hard to manipulate me. In his addict brain, he was making sense. In his addict brain, I was in the wrong. In his addict brain, he was being held back by me.

Peter had made a commitment to have our kids for the weekend and when his plans suddenly changed and I wasn't available to take the kids back early, he was angry.

You guys, I need to confess something.
On Saturday, I said the F word---out loud---in front of some friends.
Because usually I stand at the edge and wait out the storm but this particular storm caused me to jump off the edge.
Sometimes ex-husbands are idiots. And almost ALL of the time, addict ex-husbands are idiots.
Sometimes addict ex-husbands gaslight the hell out of you and tell you that you are the manipulator, that you aren't a good person, and that you are selfish.
Sometimes it's hard not to believe what addict ex-husbands say, even though you know the words aren't true.
So sometimes you end up walking into a room full of friends and the door is really hard to shut and you yell the F word at the door.

THIS IS NORMAL, PEOPLE!!! It has to be normal. Right? Someone tell me I'm not crazy!

So there I was, trying to concentrate on the things I was doing while receiving manipulative, angry messages from Peter. I was angry and shaking because I have a hard time when someone bashes my character. I'm glad my friends who had witnessed the F word rant were there for advice giving and support because I made it through.

I made it through and the next day, when addict brain was turned off, Peter apologized for his behavior. This is how life with an addict is. Things go from being irrational to apologetic really quickly. Gaslighting is an ever present threat. Rationality is often out the window. Feelings get hurt on purpose so the addict doesn't have to reflect on their own feelings.

I think about my eating disorder and how that is an addiction and I wonder if I do that to other people. Do I gaslight? Am I irrational? Do I deflect on others to avoid my own feelings?
I think because my eating disorder is so inward and reflects the hate I have for my own body, the biggest possibility is that I gaslight and am irrational toward myself.
I'm choosing to do something I don't want to do and have an appointment with an eating disorder therapist on Thursday. I think I'll bring those questions up to her because I don't want to be hurting others. Hell, I don't want to be hurting myself but I certainly don't want to hurt anyone else.

I don't want to end up like the addict in my life who continues to hurt me, even after divorce. I don't want to do that to other people. Boundaries are lost on us because we will always have to talk about the kids and dealing with Peter Pan, even regarding the kids, when he is in addict mode is extremely hard to do.

I want to end up different and break the cycle of addiction. I want to be a better me. I also want to stop saying the F word over and over in my mind and having it slip out once in a while but I have to admit, sometimes the F word makes me feel better.

I want to overcome. I want to step away from the edge of the cliff and walk down the mountain to safety.
I am strong enough for this. Right?

Abort! Abort!

Have you ever experienced that feeling of a train heading right toward you as you stand in the middle of the tracks? Do you stare it down or jump out of the way?

Right now, that train is probably 200 feet from me and I'm still standing in the middle of the tracks, playing metaphorical chicken with an object that could ruin my life.

That is how I felt tonight when my mom called me. I was on my way home from Sunday dinner at her house and when I saw her name pop up on my cell phone screen, I knew why she was calling.
Because I was distant at dinner. I was spending my time on Facebook or texting my friends. I was disconnected from the people I love that were physically all around me.

This disconnection didn't start tonight. It's been happening slowly for months. My insecurities from childhood and marriage seem to be consuming me and I don't know how to make the change.

As a child who needed extra love and attention, I never felt fully loved or care for. I was always a problem and I was often reprimanded for things that didn't make sense to me.

As a teenager, I finally came clean about my eating disorder and the very first thing I remember my dad saying to me was, "You know you'll never have a flat stomach, no matter how much weight you lose. It's just our genetics."

As an almost engaged 19 year old, I was listening through the door when my almost fiance asked my dad if he could marry me. I then got to listen as my very own father warned my fiance about my anger and stubborness and how hard it would be to be married to someone like me.

Then as a newly abandoned wife, I was super privileged to receive phone calls and non-supportive talks from both of my parents about how it was imperative that I try hard to bring my lost husband back to his family.

I think it was around this time that I lost it. I started to wonder if they thought I had been the reason he left. I started to worry about who they really wanted to stay loyal to. I stopped trusting them.

I wasn't as distant in the beginning because I relied on them so much but as I've learned more independence, I've subconciously distanced myself from them. I can see it and so can they. My mom has commented on this before and I've assured her that nothing is wrong because I fear telling her the truth.

Not many times has the truth actually 'set me free' when it comes to my relationship with my parents. I usually feel worse after a truth-telling session with them.

But to be quite honest, as a friend pointed out this weekend, maybe they weren't ready for the truth then and maybe they are now. It's been a while since I've shared deep truths with my parents or other family members. I'm afraid.

The eating disorder is my biggest fear but I also fear sharing the truths of my feelings about divorce and shame and depression and anxiety. I fear the truth because if they react in an unsupportive manner, I can almost guarantee our relationship would be ruined forever---and I'm torn because it's becoming more ruined anyway. The distance is hard and the more I distance myself, the more my mom pressures me and when I feel pressure, my brain sends this, "Abort! Abort!" signal off.

I am staring at the train and I'm still deciding what choice comes next. Will I keep standing here or will I jump out of the way at the last second?

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.

Messy Nights

Tonight was a mess.

A mess full of bravery and heartache.

A mess full of cowardness and sarcasm.

Because messes hardly ever make sense in my world.

Eating disorders are so stupid and sucky and they complicate my freaking brain!
Eating disorders are so scary and I often get symptoms that freak the hell out of me. Because of this, I texted my counselor tonight and told her I can't see her anymore. It wasn't helping. It was way too comfortable. So I'm now in search of a new counselor who can deal with my betrayal trauma and eating disorder.
Awesome.
(The above 'awesome' was sarcasm.)
I hate change.
I hate feeling like I'm not the super awesome woman people seem to think that I am.
I promise I want to be awesome.
I promise I freaking want to be awesome!!!

______Angry Silence______

Counseling was my crutch. I was paying someone to be my friend for an hour once a week. It sounds a lot sadder when I type it out like that. Welcome to Dysfunction Junction!

---I know you don't know this but writing this post is taking hours upon hours. I kinda planned to crank out some words for this crapfest and get to bed early. Oh well.---

I was thinking about my eating disorder now versus my eating disorder in high school. What are the similarities? What are the differences? Although I could go on and on with possible answers to these questions, one of the things I've noticed is that I treat myself harshly when other people treat me harshly. Because I'm an outwardly kind person, the only person I can be mean to is me. I don't see the logic in that when I write it out but my brain has just always reacted that way. Oh, I'm hurting? I better hurt myself more. I better grab the reigns a little tighter and control things as best I can.

When my husband walked out on what could've been a great life, I questioned everything I've ever done in marriage. I questioned my worth and realized men make me feel worth something. I started hanging out with a 20 year old college student in one of my classes later and later into the nights which fueled my desire to be loved even more. His body language was clear---he was interested. But interested in what? Me as a person? Or sex? I'm glad I was in counseling during this time because I would openly speak about "said boy" and one time, my counselor asked me what having sex with him would mean. I stumbled but couldn't find an answer that would be intelligent enough. She explained that sex with him would not mean worth and it definitely wouldn't mean he liked me. I WAS SO OFFENDED. And now, it makes me laugh that I was offended. Of course he didn't love me. Of course he didn't value me. Of freaking course.

A lot of my emotions over my divorce stem from how I've always felt about myself. Always. In marriage and out of marriage. I'm not as confident as I portray myself to be. I often second guess my choices and my actions because they probably aren't up to par with the rest of the world. I'm usually worried about judgment and failure and how everyone sees me.

I'm worried about being good enough for another guy, fitting in with my friends, and being awesome for my kids. Everyone expects me to slap a smile on my face and I do it most of the time---and when I don't do it, I feel guilty and I worry about whether that person will just abandon me to find a newer, happier friend. So I'm constantly obsessing over being happy and funny.

Can you sense my abandonment issues in all of this? Can you sense my need for self worth so badly? If I can't figure out what self worth is to me, I think I might die---quite literally since I'm usually starving or vomitting or exercising my ass off at the gym. And guess what? At this point, however crappy and pathetic my life may seem, I do not want to die. I want to enjoy my life and fight my battles and have confidence and change the world.

Peter Pan is always telling Wendy that he doesn't want to grow up but you know what? It's time. It really is time to be brave and grow up.

I can do this.

My Own Addiction

As a young girl, I didn't deal well with stress. My life outside of my home was so different than my life in my bedroom when I was alone.

Many nights, I would cave from the pressures of teenage life and eat an entire bag of chocolates, only to purge it all minutes later.

On particularly low nights when bulimia just didn't do it's job well enough, I would cut into my thighs to feel a physical pain to mask my emotional pain.

I thought about suicide a few times but it wasn't something I ever really considered because in my optimistic mind, "What if tomorrow is better than today?" and luckily, there were many of those better days ahead.

Outside of my home, I lived a life of happiness where everyone assumed I was free from pain. I secretly purged a lot of meals or starved myself to try and become the girl I wanted to be and my obsession with bulimia grew.

I tell you this to open your eyes to where I'm at now; divorced, hurting, and obsessing over the things I can control.

At least that's what I thought I was doing when I thought this was what control felt like.

After Peter walked out on me with words that cut like daggers, I found myself keeping secrets from the world once again. Everyone assured me how strong and amazing I was but I knew they were wrong because they had no idea.

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No one understood. How could they? Because how could I possibly not be taking care of myself when I need to take care of me in order to care for my kids?

Selfishness. I must be so utterly selfish that I would obsess over my eating to deal with the hurt in my heart. My main focus should be my childrens' pain. I shouldn't be ruining my health for a cause that won't bring me a lasting happiness.

Stupidity. Everyone knows it's stupid to starve yourself or cause yourself to vomit on purpose. It's just stupid. There can't be a good enough reason to do that.

I wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough for him and I'll make sure I'm good enough the next time. I'll be damned if a man will ever leave me again!

I'm in control. I'm controlling what I eat, when I eat, and if I eat too much, I'll just control the hell out of that too. It's all in my control. No one gets to tell me what to do and my eating disorder cannot abandon me like he did.

Let's go ahead and put the focus on that control a little bit.
What am I controlling?

At first, I thought I was completely in control of my weight loss and everything this has entailed. I told my counselor that it wasn't a problem because I wasn't afraid, I was in charge this time.

Our dialogue has stayed open about this for months because I wanted to show her I was right. I mean, look at me! Thirty pounds is kind of a big deal when you're overweight and feeling worthless beyond worthless.

But a few months ago, she gave me a challenge to eat one meal a day---one simple meal. I did it successfully for a few days before getting angry and reverting back. I was losing my control!!! I needed my "choice" to not eat.

Soon after, my obsession grew so much that I feared passing out at the gym one day. But I was still in control!
I came to a point last month where I started fearing the very thing I thought I loved.

Now this is an extremely hard thing to talk about because it isn't a story about back in the day. It isn't something I once struggled with and can now talk about because it's all over.

My eating disorder is a constant companion and I lose almost every day. I can't tell you that I'm always fighting because right now, I'm not. But I'm starting to grasp how NOT in control I am and I don't like being out of control.

That is my start. That is where I focus because focusing on the entire healing process is overwhelming. I can't do this all at once and I can't even do it one step at a time. Right now, I take 1/4 steps or maybe 1/2 steps. I do little things to off set what my brain tells me is the right choice.

Control is lost on me and that puts me in a shame spiral. How stupid that I chose this. How stupid that I can't stop it. How stupid that I'm not strong enough. How stupid that I'm still overweight.

Shame is a nasty thing and it accompanies my eating disorder. It always has.

Today I will try not to shame myself. And someday, I hope to be able to tell you that things are good.

In the meantime, don't worry too much about me. I'm getting help in all the right places and that is a very hopeful thing.

One day at a time, Wendy. One day at a time.