Why Do We Isolate?

[Charly22]

When you remind him that he made vows and promises to you and God, and he says he no longer believes, you remember all the times you stayed at home with kids after being home all day with kids, and he couldn’t come home because he was serving God through His church…..and now he doesn’t believe!! How could I have so little understanding of this man after all these years of marriage.

D,

I find this very interesting that you describe your husb in the same way that I have previously described mine, as far as suddenly doing a 180 and saying he does not believe. My husband told me this, after years of sharing thoughts and feelings about God, after being baptized together at the same time because he never had been baptized as a child, after years of sharing with each other what we ask the other to pray about that night when we lay our head to sleep, after years of observing him truly behave and live as someone who most certainly believes.

When my husband told me that he no longer believed, it hurt me to my very core. I think I have to admit that it hurt me more than the p (and that's a pretty big hurt)....it scared me.....I was scared for him...I was scared for me....I wondered how I was going to continue my life with him, if this is how he truly felt. I was tested BIG TIME.

Talk about isolation.......I withdrew.....it was as if everything I knew, everything about my world had shattered. He spewed these things out of his mouth in the midst of the p struggle. When he fought an internal battle within himself. I literally witnessed my husband be two different people. There I was, dealing with the ramifications of the p addiction, and had to watch him fall apart, and watched him be so angry, and he started becoming depressed, and talked as if he had nothing to live for. He made feeble attempts to appease me regarding the p addiction. He would try for a bit, and then allow himself to slip, and tell himself that it was impossible to stop, so he might as well embrace it. He told me that he prayed for god to take this away from him, and when he continued to struggle with it, he decided there was no god. God did not answer prayers. Go did not talk to him. God was not there. Oh how this shook me, I cannot describe the pain and struggle this caused for me.

I stopped doing the things that I loved. I stopped going out of my way to be outgoing with my friends and co-workers. I became a different person myself. I felt like this p and god struggle was really gonna defeat me. I started standing up against the p addiction, and then watched my husband literally fall apart, and become someone I did not recognize. I can remember a period of time that I felt like there was this battle going on, a battle between p and god. The two sure don't co-exist easily, huh? We were never really religious, or attended church regularly or anything like that. But the two of us always agreed on the subject of god. We believed in a creator. We believed that prayer works. We leaned on the things we learned from the bible. As my husband's p and s addiction grew, it was as though the other weakened. It was a scale.....one grew stronger, the other grew weaker. It is truly a living example of the two wolves story, whichever one you feed is the one that wins.

But it really did test my own faith. I had already started sinking with the p addiciton, and when these things about not believing came out of his mouth, it was like the final blow, I was defeated, I was lost, Who would I share my most inner feelings with now? Who would hold my hand and be thankful to god for all the blessings in our lives? Who would pray with me? How could I continue to be who I was, while he was something totally opposite. I felt like my life was over. My own faith was tested. I was ashamed if anyone knew how he was feeling and believing. I worried about him to the point that my own self was lost. I certainly isolated myself from everyone. I might have been present physically, but emotionally and mentally, I was lost, for quite a long stretch of time, a few years, over this struggle.

I am happy to say that my husband, since he has removed the p addiction and has really sought to have a better existence for himself, he has since told me that he was sorry for all those things he said about god, and it was because he was angry, and bitter. His anger and bitterness is a thing of the past. It was so hard for me to not want to preach at him, and shove religion down his throat, I sure didn't want to do that. I had to lean on my faith, and let god handle him. Hardest thing I've ever had to do. But God did and still is in control, not me.

[TooSensitive]

Charly, if I could, I would give your post multiple "Likes", too, for so deeply, articulately, and beautifully describing your journey, your past pain, and the 180 your h has done back into the light again. So glad things are happening in a positive and growing way for you two.

[Disillusioned]

Charly,
I just saw this post and your response, and I am amazed at the similarities in our experiences. When my h told me he no longer believed, it was as if he had slapped me very hard across the face. I thought now I can never reach him. He feels accountable to no one but himself. He will never love me or value me because most of my gifts in this life are of a spiritual nature. This does not mean I am religious, or church going, or a finger pointer. I believe that God’s image is in each of us, and it is up to us to remember that in our behavior and in how we see others. I think it is why I don’t believe I have ever seen anyone who seems without any goodness at all. I think I used that inner goodness, once I could see it, to work with patients and care for them. It doesn’t matter if they call God by another name or even that they do not believe He exists. He exists for me and I work to see that in others.

When I realized h would never love me or value me because the only gifts I possess are of a spiritual nature, I cried for me and what I would never have, and I cried in absolute terror and loss from what was gone in him. It hurt so much, that the description really defies words. I was lost and felt I could never find my way home. I was angry that God had not made me pretty to my h. I thought had I been pretty, these other women would never have had a hold on him. I felt unlovable by anyone including God, so ugly inside and outside that I just wanted to die to have peace.

I remember walking at the mall, and a well-kept, beautifully dressed woman, or a woman who was really strutting and quite impressed with herself would walk by me. I held my head up knowing I was mousy in comparison, but it didn’t matter, as my husband loved me and I was okay with him. I didn’t want or need the attention or admiration of anyone else. Then I found out about his p use and his strip shows and his magazine use and MB over the many years when he was away from home, and I truly felt I was disgusting. I would walk with shame and my head down. I felt true shame for having carried our children, and worried some of my unattractive genes would show up in our grandchildren and everyone would blame me. I hid. I had to hide. I was ugly. I would tell myself that when I passed a mirror.

My husband pointed out how great I looked when I smile. I’m not beautiful, but people do light up and react to it. They seem attracted to me in a way that I think must feel open, happy to see them, and caring. I suspect more people smile and are comfortable with me than ever dare approach the truly well-dressed, sophisticated ladies that made me feel so awful after my h’s disclosure. I still feel unattractive, but I know what I have now. It is uniquely mine, and has served me well as a nurse and a friend.

Thanks for your response to this post, Charly. I still would be so happy if my h could say to me, “I believe,” again. He has gotten some books, but like so many other things, he doesn’t read.

When my nephew’s wife and my nephew took their pre-marital instructions, the priest told them that a spouse’s first duty was to help make sure her mate spent eternity in heaven. I don’t want to turn this into a religious diatribe that offends anyone, but I have seen her live through infidelity on my dumb nephew’s part, and receive him back in faith, love, and trust because of that duty she felt she assumed when they married. I think it is quite a testament as to her faith. I pray my nephew has forever learned what a beautiful, loving wife he has. I also hope and pray my h reads and believes again
disillusioned

[TooSensitive]

D, even if you are not extraordinarily beautiful otherwise, you are when you smile. B/c you see, everyone is, when they genuinely smile, and you can see their smile truly reflected in their eyes. That is what makes them extraordinarily beautiful. True inner peace and happiness is a large part of what makes us look extraordinarily beautiful on the outside. It shines through and lights up our whole faces. People are naturally drawn to us. S*x and physical beauty have nothing to do with it. The beauty of our souls has everything to do with it.

[TooSensitive]

Girls Night Out Friday night was a mix of moments of being me, coupled with moments of isolating.

I isolated when an acquaintance kept trying to push my buttons for no good reason. She didn’t take me needing to carry an Epipen in my purse seriously; she implied I was being difficult and dramatic when I asked the waiter if any of the dishes had zucchini in them (she finally backed off when I told her to talk to my h, b/c he had already seen me suffer enough times due to eating certain vegetables); and she rolled her eyes up into her head and threw her hands up in mockery, while exclaiming, “I’m a writer!”, after hearing me tell someone else that I wanted to publish my own book one day, b/c she asked about my new career path since I was leaving real estate. I felt uncomfortable, offended, attacked, and hurt by the end of the night, as far as how she treated me was concerned. I actually questioned myself at one point. Was I being “too sensitive”? Was I overreacting? The conclusion I came to was “no”. I didn’t understand her behavior, b/c she had never acted like this before.

I isolated when the belly dancer came out. I felt so alone, as I looked away and stared into space, while the belly dancer and my g/f, the guest of honor, thrust their bodies in front of the room together, and everyone in the group but me wildly cheered and egged both of them on. I felt offended by this, too. I was reminded of a time when my h was with me and a belly dancer tried to get me up to dance with her. I couldn’t find the courage, post d-day. Friday night, I only briefly found the courage to turn and look to see what was going on. I wanted to crawl under the table, and I wanted to get out of there and get home. Everyone was snapping pictures and taking video. Everyone except me. The button-pushing acquaintance challenged me as to why I was not doing the same. I said, “I don’t need any pictures of any belly dancers”. And that was the end of that.

Part of me wishes I could return to simpler times, when all was right with the world (or so I thought), and when I would have jumped on the bandwagon too, when the belly dancer showed up. Part of me is glad I have grown beyond that. But I wish I could have fun too and not feel so offended by the objectification aspect that my h has introduced into my life. What was innocent, b/c it was cultural, does not feel so innocent now.

My h asked me how my night out was. All I could say to him was that though the food was great, I never wanted to go back to that restaurant again. He asked me last night if anything happened while I was out Friday night. I could not give him an answer. I just haven’t been able to share all of this with him.

Despite the downs of Friday night, overall, it was a good night. Despite the difficult moments, and despite some of the triggers, the belly dancer not being the only one, there were enough moments of laughter, reminiscing, enjoying great food and a fun atmosphere, and drinking good wine together, to make up for the bad moments. I enjoyed most of the rest of the weekend, even though I would feel the emotional turmoil of Friday night return each subsequent night. I know I haven’t yet dealt with what happened Friday night, and I’m not even sure how I will.

I know I should tell my h what happened and how that made me feel. I would also like to talk to my g/f who was the guest of honor, except I don’t want her to feel badly for how I was feeling at times, and I don’t want to burst her bubble, b/c she is about to get married. Sometimes, you have to pick and choose what you tell someone, as well as when you tell them.

I isolated at times while out Friday night with a group of 15 other women, and I have been emotionally isolating with my h since last Tuesday night. We had a bad experience between us while we were being physically intimate, and I haven’t been able to bring myself to talk to him about it. B/c I already know he is going to deny what went on. And I won’t believe him. I have good reason not to believe him.

Anyway, I am doing fairly well today, for whatever reason. Perhaps b/c there was enough good times over the weekend to make up for any bad moments. The good times this past weekend continue to carry me today. Teenage son being away for a few days with his older brother isn’t hurting anything, either!