Today is her first day of therapy. I’m very excited for her. For years she has said that she has nobody to talk to about my porn/sex addiction. When I started therapy, she said “you have a support system now, I have no one.”
It’s true. At least I’ve had a therapist. She can’t talk to her family about this. She certainly can’t talk about it with her friends at work. That leaves me, and she is less than forthcoming on disclosing her emotions/feelings to me.
She is protecting herself.
Think about that for a minute.
I’m the one person on earth that she should be able to go to and discuss her deepest fears, emotions and any problems she may encounter.
I betrayed her trust many years ago.
She cannot trust me to be a husband that can protect her and keep her safe.
I betrayed her.
She cannot tell me things. She is protecting herself from me. ME!
It was my actions, my lies and deception that has destroyed our intimacy.
She shouldn’t need a fucking therapist to talk to. SHE HAS ME!!!
She can’t trust me with my dick. Why the hell would she think she could trust me with the inner sanctum of her emotions, feelings and thoughts?
That would be fucking insane!
So she’s off to therapy. Like I said, I’m excited for her. I truly am. But I’m also insanely jealous of her therapist. SHE is hearing the things my wife is supposed to tell me.
I’m out in the loop.
I don’t know what’s going on in her mind. I don’t truly know what she thinks. I don’t truly know what she wants. I have no idea what her deepest desire is. I have no idea what her biggest dream is.
I took myself out of the loop.
The pain I have heaped upon her has brought us to this point. That pain has earned me this place.
I have no information.
I so deeply want to be back inside that inner sanctum of her heart and mind.
I’m desperately lonely.
I miss being with HER.
Sure, we see each other every day. We talk, sometimes deep stuff. But it’s almost always about me or our relationship. It is NEVER about her. That’s what I mean by missing being with her.
I’m not truly with her. We pretty much just exist together. 2 roommates with children and a financial agreement.
We aren’t really married.
Yes, we have the paper that says we are. But we don’t do ANYTHING married people do.
And it’s my fault.
My pursuing the god of lust has brought us here. I’ve been torturing myself over this since I admitted it. I’ve put myself on the rack and every thought cranks the wheel one more time.
She goes in that room in 4 minutes.
I’m nervous because someone else is going to hear my dirty laundry. I don’t get to control the way it’s told either.
I’m nervous because someone else is having, what I consider, the deepest intimacy a person can have. And I shut myself out of the process.
Sharing your deepest thoughts and emotions etc… is one of the final stages of intimacy.
I’m not there.
I’m not the first person to hear these things. I’m almost certain that I will NEVER hear these things.
Maybe you should have thought of that before you went off sucking dude’s cocks and putting your dick where it didn’t belong.
So there is that.
Everything I just vented about can be said, a hundred fold, by her. She didn’t get to share those intimate moments with me. I gave them away. To random people. RANDOM people!
She’s in the room now.
My heart is racing.
I’m incredibly jealous.
Yet I’m incredibly proud.
I’m proud of her for taking this step. It’s a huge step for her. She hates counseling. I’m proud of her for having the courage to walk into that room, sit down, take a deep breath and let all of the shit she has been carrying for all of these years off of her back. I’m proud that she’s going to listen to that therapist and let herself be guided through this process.
I’m just crushed that it isn’t me hearing these things.
I hate myself for this.