Journal Entry: May 1, 2014 It’s a beautiful first of May day, sunny and warm. My birthday is in May and I have always been partial to the month. May and September are my favorites. Although some little blossoms show themselves in March and April, everything blooms in earnest in May. My new therapist’s office is in an old Victorian house not far from our home. It has its own garden and I stopped to admire the blooms, all pink, and orange, and purple, and white. I really do hope this new therapist works out. I decided I want a therapist who will focus on me, the whole me, and how I can be stronger in the face of the trauma and also stronger in the decisions I am going to have to make about my life. Every day seems to be a battle with myself and I don’t want everything to be about the sex addiction, or even my trauma. I want to be able to move away from the trauma and I think working on my own inner strength will be key.
Our first session went well enough, although there is only so much that can be covered in 50 minutes. I really don’t mind diving deep into my childhood because despite a few bumps in the road, I loved my childhood. I’m sure there will be more diving in the next few months. The strange thing about this therapist is, she talks, A LOT. I always thought therapists were supposed to listen and nod and give out little nuggets of wisdom that heal your world and make it all make sense. Not this lady. She talks more than she listens. I am going to keep an open mind, but why can’t I just walk into a therapist’s office and know it’s a good fit? Why is it so difficult?
When I returned to my car, there was a call from the LA trauma specialist. She is available for a two-day intensive on May 15 and 16. I am going to take it.
Despite the obvious reasons for needing a trauma therapist, namely the shocking disclosure less than four months ago that my husband has been cheating on me for 15 years and my inability to get through a day without sobbing and sounding like a wounded animal, I am having extreme anxiety about an upcoming milestone in our lives. Our 22-year old son will be graduating from college on Memorial Day. My in-laws will be there. I have not spoken to my in-laws in about a year. My husband has not had any communication with them since February. My husband’s parents have no idea that their son is a sex addict. They have no idea the things he has done. They have no idea the affect they have had on him (not to mention their other children). They are oblivious and in denial. They continue to treat him like shit. He will never be good enough for them. There was a big family falling out in February and at the time, my father-in-law wrote my husband an email telling him that they were so disappointed in him that they would take his name away from him if they could. Really? My husband has done nothing to them. As a matter of fact, most of my husband’s pain stems from childhood wounds perpetrated by them and yet I am the one he betrayed and lied to. Much of his acting out with women can be traced to destructive arguments and falling out periods with his parents and siblings. I am an innocent victim who ran interference for my husband and children for 30 years. About a week ago, I fell apart. I realized part of my trauma stems from their abuse of me as well, not just my husband’s abuse. They couldn’t destroy my self-esteem or confidence, because I possessed those things before I met them, but they did traumatize me and the trauma had been dormant all these years. I no longer have the strength to face them. If I encounter them at my son’s graduation, I will fall apart. When I spoke to the director of the LA clinic, he suggested I call and tell my in-laws they are not welcome at my son’s graduation. Well this is not a decision I can make. They are my son’s grandparents and I have run interference all these years. I absorbed all the blows so my children would never feel their pain. My son will want them there. The director then recommended I not go to my son’s graduation. I am in tears. I cannot miss this day in my son’s life. I will not miss it. I must be strong enough. My husband has committed to running interference for me now. He has finally admitted that he let me fight his battles for him because he was not strong enough. He knows now that he has to be strong enough because I am broken. My goal for the intensive trauma therapy in two weeks, will be to gain the strength to face my in-laws at my son’s graduation, and not fall apart.