Lindy’s Story–’So…I am still here nine years later!’

Dear Sisters,

I have finally written my story to share, but it has been painful for me as it plunges me back into the dark days. My story isn’t so much different than any of yours, I have tried to summarize and keep it short (my dad used to call me Windy Lindy), but the instances I have shared are the ones that keep re-playing in my head and that I can’t seem to push aside. So, maybe sharing will become healing.

Before life with a sex addict, I was married for twenty-five years when my first husband left our three daughters and me. He was not a sex addict. He simply met and had an affair with a young woman who was only eight years older than our oldest daughter who was then a high school senior. I use the word ‘simply’ only because it now seems so uncomplicated compared to the nightmare of sexual addiction.

I was then…and I thought we were… happily married. I did not know that he was not. When I found out about his affair I immediately told him to get the hell out until he could give it up and honestly come back and commit to our children and me. He could not and we divorced. It was the most painful thing I had ever experienced. Had it not been for three amazing teenage daughters, I would have died. Not taken my life, just simply died of a broken heart.

But, I didn’t die; I moved on and created a new life for my girls and me. We moved to a new city, I bought a new home for us and we started over. Over the next six years I dated a few men, one seriously for four years, but then decided that I really didn’t need to depend upon a man to provide me with health, happiness or security. I was happy and felt safe with the path before me.

Then I met and married my current husband who is a sexual addict. I did not know it at the time, but oh Lord, if I had, I would have turned around and run so fast. He was a sweet man and I saw in him someone who was kind, caring, very sensitive, and vulnerable.

The story of life with a sex addict always begins on the evening I find my husband with a prostitute. He is working late and I drive to work to surprise him. I pull up in front of our building to find another car parked out front; the door to the building locked up tight. Standing in front of the large storefront window, I see my husband naked to his waist, cash in hand. As he turns around and sees me, he deflates like a balloon, panic enveloping him. I am unable to breathe, and feel myself tumbling and falling into a black hole, and everything in the world that I knew and trusted goes with it. I follow the prostitute out to her car and speak to her. She says she is lost and is looking for directions so I tell her next time to get lost somewhere else. Her reply is to ask if I am one of those crazy c***s who cannot take care of her own husband, and she laughs at me as she drives away.

There were warning signs, and I should have heeded them early on, but I did not know them. I should have known what they meant, but I did not. Shortly after our marriage, I discovered a journal that contained hundreds of web site addresses, memberships, and passwords for porn sites, and dating sites. There were pages and pages of women’s names, addresses, phone numbers, along with their physical descriptions. I was appalled, and sickened, and I confronted my new husband with the discovery.

He fell to his knees and begged forgiveness saying that he had hoped I would have never have found out. I did not know then that keeping lists of women was part of his compulsion. I believed him when he said it was something from his past, he was over it, I would never see those things again, and I forgave him. I didn’t know then that forgiveness was the easy part. Recovering from the hurt and pain of his betrayal was just the beginning of what I now know will be a lifetime struggle for me.

My husband joined a 12-step group, and sought out a number of therapists. I became more vigilant. While working a full time job for another company and then putting in time after hours working at the family business, I kept finding more and more pieces of paper with women’s names, phone numbers, and physical descriptions. I would confront him, and he would be sorry…but I kept finding them…daily. Not hidden, just lying around inside files, under stacks of papers, on top of invoices, they were everywhere.

At first, I was embarrassed to check his personal and business e-mails, and phone records. Gradually I began uncovering the whole ongoing sick world of my husband’s addiction that included prostitutes on a regular basis, massage parlors, strip clubs, chat rooms, memberships to dating and pornographic websites, phone sex, compulsive masturbation, and the list goes on. I finally began to know.

I would feel pity for him because of his shame and obvious pain. I would pity myself for being married to such a person. I would worry about STDs. I would rage and cry, and I swore I was going to leave him, but I did not. I did not know then if he was spiraling out of control, or if he was already out of control. I thought I could help him.

Again, a couple years later, another one of SA’s prostitutes stopped into the business one night while I was working late. My husband saw her talking to me, and hid in a bathroom. She said that he owed her money for work she had performed for him around the store. Then she told me what work she had really performed and that he still owed her. I felt rage and hatred for my husband, and I felt rage and hatred for that creature, but I also felt pity for her (such a strange mix of emotions).

She appeared to be living on the street. Dirty, ragged clothing, probably high on drugs; her speech was crude. Then as I studied her more closely, I was not sure if it really was a woman, or a man. SA admitted later that he was not even sure himself. S/He finally left the property only after he came out of hiding and told her to get lost. Of course, we went through the now familiar cycle of him denying and lying, and making up some wild story about how she was crazy and had come in all dressed up in a short skirt and heels and propositioned him.

Days later, she appeared again saying she had left some article of clothing in my office behind the sofa. I told SA to call the police while she waited, so as not to create a scene in front of employees and customers. He agreed it was the best thing to do. While waiting for the police to arrive, she volunteered detailed information about their encounter. I did not want to hear it…it was my husband she was talking about. I shouted at her, I scolded her; and then crazily I thought that perhaps I could make her understand that what she was doing was illegal, that she was a human being who deserved more. Whatever possessed me to try to make her understand anything like that, I still don’t know.

The police never came; of course, SA never called them. I told her to leave, and upon leaving, she hugged me and thanked me for being kind to her and giving her hope. However, just like the first prostitute, as she turned to leave she looked back and said that I should learn how to take care of my man.

The re-telling of this second encounter has left me sickened. It was an experience that I was unable to walk, or run away from. It was like trying to wake up from a nightmare and you just cannot. I do not understand my reaction to this very day, and I wonder if I actually lost my sanity at that moment. I did not know where to turn or who could help me.

I searched the internet for help. I called the local 12-step chapters and could not seem to find any help. I sought the help of a therapist but he did not know about sex addiction. I gave up and felt I was the only one who could help me. I became frozen and was unable to move forward. I was living with and loving an active sex addict.

Not too long ago SA became infatuated with a young woman that he picked up on the street, one that lived just a few blocks away from our business; a prostitute that asked for and was paid money for her services. We have security cameras installed at our place of business and as I was reviewing some of the files that contained an unusual amount of activity, I saw my husband hang a sign on the door and usher in another prostitute. It happened on Christmas Eve while I was at home getting dinner ready for our children and grandchildren.

I came unglued, and once again I heard his lies and his feelings of self-pity. He explained this last one away saying she was a good friend, someone he could talk to about his problems, and she needed money to support her children. He felt sorry for her and said ‘you know what a softie I am’. I was incredulous! Only during the past couple months has he finally admitted that she too, was nothing more than a street whore.

Shortly after that, SA went out of town on a business trip. I was so exhausted emotionally that I just could not spend another day with him and thought a few days on my own would give me some rest. I begged him before he left to promise me he would not act out while staying in the hotel. He took my face in his hands and lovingly looked into my eyes and told me he would not have a problem, and he did not want to hurt me. That evening after he arrived at the hotel, I checked his e-mail and found that within minutes after his arrival he had posted an ‘out of town for the evening’ ad and was conversing with a woman about meeting.

I called him, enraged! When he got home, he was of course acting like a broken man. He decided to write down and sign a promise stating he would stop everything. He appeared to be sober and in recovery for nine months, but I soon found out differently. He was still on porn sites during that time. He had discovered Internet Explorer’s In-Private browsing so there was no trace of his deceit.

SA once said that he felt I was not supporting him because upon every discovery I would lose it. I was astonished that he actually believed that…he just did not get it!!! I did not know then that support to him meant that I would be accepting of his inability to control his addiction. I believe that the 12-steps had only taught him at that point that he was unable to control those impulses, and he used it to manipulate my emotions when he acted out. He did not want to get well, and there was his handy excuse.

I have loved a man, who is kind and gentle, and has cared for me, and I have hated a man that is a sex addict and one that threw all that love back in my face. I do not know that anything in particular happened to him as a child. He says he cannot remember most of his early childhood. He is a man who cries openly during romantic movies. He cries while watching Disney movies and cartoons. He shakes with emotion when the underdog wins in the end. I see someone who becomes emotionally involved in a fictional world. Real life for him is not like that, but it is one he craves; romance, admiration, and the love of a great woman. He feels empathy for make-believe characters, but cannot find it in real life. He has sought out counseling with numerous therapists, none of whom he felt could help him (an excuse heard all too often), and has attended weekly 12-step meetings (even though he has admitted that some of his previous meetings he did not attend because he met with prostitutes).

At this writing, many years have gone by, and it seems nearly every day was a new d-day. So many lies and half-truths…I was slowly but surely losing my mind, my health. I have put my family and friends on hold. The last few years I have partnered with my husband and his business, and we now work together daily. I developed a habit of scheduling every moment of every day thinking that if I were around him he would not have opportunities to act out. It has not worked, of course. He would be chatting on-line when I walked by. He would find ways to get around any history recorded on the computers at work and at home. He would use the work phones instead of his cell phone, knowing that we do not get printed reports of all calls.

The past few months we have not been intimate, not shared our bedroom, and have given ourselves one more year. SA said he is committing himself to serious recovery and will do whatever it takes. He says he will know at the end of that year if we have anything left. I say not if WE have anything left…but if I have anything left. He is angry at times because of the restrictions he now has to live with as he fights the addictive urges to act out. I remind him that this is of his own making and the anger belongs to him alone.

I have been observing his attempt at an honest and real recovery process. He is trying to educate himself more about the addiction; has finally asked one of his members at the SA group to be his sponsor, and whose name and phone number I have. He is working on transparency and the lying that comes so easily. He has found another therapist, one that specializes in sex addiction, and I’m hoping he can recommend someone for me as well.

We have installed web monitoring on every computer and laptop at home and at work. I feel safer in my home and work environment now, and I worry less. I am finally, understanding, and accepting that I cannot control his behavior; cannot make him do or not do the things I ask. I still struggle with the hyper-vigilance issue, but now there is a new voice telling me that simple awareness (in terms of mood, attitude, or pattern changes) is a much healthier approach for me.

So…I am still here nine years later. Why have I stayed you ask? I am asking myself that question too, and I do not know the answer. Maybe it is for financial reasons, but probably not. Maybe it is because I am turning sixty this year and just do not want to be alone, but I am not afraid of that either. Maybe it is because I love him, although I am not sure in what way. Maybe all this is too late, and perhaps this new attempt will not bring about any real changes. I wonder often if I will stay or leave, but with my boundaries firmly in place, I will not have to make that decision, he will do that for me.

I have learned so much from you dear Sisters…those of you who have made the painful and heartbreaking decision to leave, and those of you who have chosen the very difficult path of staying. You provide hope, and strength. I am finding myself again bit by bit, and every now and then I wake up in the morning and instead of dreading what the addiction will bring that day, I can look beyond it and see a day of great possibilities.