Story

If you make it to the end of this, go grab a cookie or something, you deserve it! It’s long and likely also more detailed than you really need but it helped to get it all down!

This wasn’t the first time I’d caught him. Not even the third or the fifth. I’ve lost count. This wasn’t even the first time I’d kick him out of our house. The last time I kicked him out, he “did all the right things.” He went to meetings, he got counseling, he got “sober.” He stayed mostly sober for 2 1/2 years, “only breaking it with the occasional masturbating.” His words.

This time.

I was checking our iTunes account; there was a chat app one we don’t use one I knew he had used a similar one before. I borrowed his phone. I found the chat app, still installed. I steamed all day, so mad that this was happening again. After the kids were in bed, I told him we had to talk. I asked him, “Do you have something to tell me? Anything?”

He’s not stupid, he knew what I meant. He denied having anything to talk about. I showed him the app on his phone. He, of course, denied it. Said he tried it one might when he was supposed to be throwing up. And didn’t find anything interesting so quit.

A few days prior, he had filled his ED prescription. He accidentally took half (thinking it was a daily and not a use as needed). That night he was all over me. Creepy. Actually used the line “Well, I took it and I don’t want to waste it.” He couldn’t (or now I see, wouldn’t) understand when I said “Really? You haven’t paid attention to me in over a month? And suddenly you are all over me and you expect me to
WANT to have sex with you?” it was the first night in months where he came to bed with me, but didn’t stay there.

The next night I took a shower. I don’t know why I checked the bottle. But I did. My gut is smarter than I give it credit for. I need to listen to it more. Sure enough, another pill was missing.

Down the stairs I went. “You stupid son of a … Get out. Get out now.” I threw the bottle at him. And it snowballed from there. Denial. He took it to masturbate. That’s it. He was feeling depressed and wanted to feel good. Typical.

I was exhausted and by 2:30 am, I banished him to the couch and I went to bed to cry. He didn’t go anywhere. We decided that night that from now on, we would sit at night and talk about our feelings, talk about any tough times he was having. I knew he was having them. We hadn’t been connecting at all. He wasn’t coming to bed with me. He was super exhausted all the time. I knew something was up. But I was too tired, to emotionally exhausted to go through it again. Again.

We did sit down. Every night after that. He told me enough truth to be convincing. Oh how gullible I was, listening again to my heart and not my gut.

We left for a visit to his parents. He kept complaining about how tired he was (he often has issues staying awake while driving). I drove most of the way while he napped. And I drove AND entertained the kids. He was absent most of that drive. The visit was fun, at the time. Oh, hindsight.

The return trip home, in a word: nightmare.

About an hour and a half from home, my oldest has my iPhone in the back of the van. The oldest and husband make a potty run. I grab SAH phone to send a message to his mom to let her know we are running late. When I search for Facebook, another app comes up as a top hit. A telephone app. One we don’t use. And so, I go searching for it. And I find it, hidden in his “Books” folder. Weird. My gut is going crazy. Right beside it is Google voice. We use that. But that’s a weird place for it to be. I open it. There’s chats. A lot of chats. Chats that have happened in the last month when he was supposed to be talking to me. Valentine’s Day. The day he did nothing for me because he was so busy at work he didn’t have time. The phrase: “orgasms galore” glares at me from the screen I don’t have time to read more, he’s back from the bathroom break. He lied. Again. Repeatedly.

Begin my least proud moment as a mom. I flipped out…in front of my kids. Told him to get out, I didn’t care how he got back home, but it wasn’t going to be with us. I was mad. I said a lot of things. I even threatened to call the police if he didn’t get out of the van. My oldest, tears streaming down his face begged me not to put his Daddy in jail. The worst moment, my sweet sensitive boy says, “Mommy, Daddy keeps saying sorry, please just can’t you just forgive him!”

Heart breaking.

We drive home together. Me: berating and angry, spewing venom and demanding he get out. And he’ll never see any of us again. I’m done.

He cries, bangs his head. Insists it was only once that I saw. It was just a slip. I call a friend, crying. Ask her to meet us at home. She says of course. And she’s there when we get home.

He packs and leaves. The kids go to bed. I go down to my best friend and cry. And tell her everything. Everything that I’ve been keeping to myself for years. It all comes spilling out.

Later I get access to his deleted accounts. I think I should be a PI, or maybe I was in a past life! I can find anything. I find out not only has he been lying to me with his “enough information” during our talks to sound real. He’s been talking to this girl, a lot. Cybersex. Phone sex. I can see the chats. I can see the calls. Why was he so tired on our drive? Oh, he’d been on the phone with her until 6 am. I got him up at 7:30 to leave. Yah, no idea why he’s so tired, my butt. I read the chats, I scream at him more. He had lied to me again. Told me it was once, Valentine’s day. No. It was almost every day, even while we were visiting his family. In fact, he sent her a kiss emoticon ON our drive home, while I was 1 foot from him.

He’s living in a motel. I’m at home dealing with kids who cry and miss their Daddy. And of course I cry. A lot. And he has asked what I want. I don’t know. I just know we can’t go back to the way we were. But where do we go from here?

He is back at SA meetings, 3 times a week. Going to church again. Praying regularly. Writing. Trying to let me in. He’s told our inner circle of friends, which he’d always been against. He’s working on Recovery Nation. Has looked into inpatient and outpatient care. He seems to be doing all the right things.

But I don’t know what I want. When my children are crying and begging for their Daddy, I want to fold. Bring SAH home so they don’t hurt so much. But if this isn’t a lifelong life change, how do I tear him out of their lives again. Right now I’m “mean Mommy” but they love me. I can’t do this to them again. I can’t bear the thought that my daughter could grow up looking for a man like the addict part of him. Or worse looking for love in all the wrong place. I can’t bear having my boys grow up and think this is a mature, responsible way to deal with emotions and stress.

I don’t know where we go from here. For now I muddle through. And look to others who have gone before me, for support, for advice and for guidance.

Thanks! 🙂