In early December 2001, after having been single for over 6 months, I sat down and made a list of the qualities I wanted in a man. Incredibly on the 17th I met him and we have been together since. I am 32 and have a 10 year old son, he is 45 and has no kids; with or without kids was not an issue for me as my having a son was not an issue for him. My son had never had someone in his life to take the part of a father and because of the relationship (or lack thereof) between he and his dad, had a wall up protecting himself. Relatively early in the relationship, it was evident to me that my son and this man I had fallen in love with had formed a bond. For the first time as a parent, I think it's safe to say all three of us felt a "family circle". Their bond is so 'natural'...he was great with my son, which just intensified the love I had for him. He was great with me, which in turn I feel is a large reason my son was allowing him 'in'. The feeling was one that I certainly had never experienced. More powerful than bliss; extremely surreal.
As the first year passed, I'd pinch myself to make sure that it was all real. I had loved and been loved before, but never like this. There were typical issues and arguments or disagreements. He had expressed a sincere interest in adopting my son. I remember asking myself where this man came from ... he was wonderful ... I've actually allowed him to share the special place in my heart that for so long only belonged to my son and my late daddy (who was to me the greatest). Unbeknownst to my love, that was an achievement that still bewilders me; as that place in my heart was sacred. I had dealt with some pretty vicious relationships before and the steel wall around my heart was very solid with only room for the two; so I thought. Whoa! This man deserved to be in that special place just as much as my son and daddy. The way he was with my son, the way my son would look at him, the happiness, security and contentment that he gave my son meant the world to me, and still does.
Approaching the second year, my world was shattered with the telephone ringing. Not necessarily because of the content of the call, but more so because what I learned didn't come from my love. A friend, who knew that in previous relationships I had been hurt deeply and she was afraid to see that happen again. Soon after learning of the news, I confronted him. I asked him what he was doing in an adult bookstore, in a "viewing theatre" where apparently people, often times, not alone, can relax, view a little porn, and masturbate. I remember trembling when I asked him, trying to fight back sudden despair, scared to death, not knowing what to think, feel, or even say. The pain in my heart-wow. His response was very casual and I had already been told that there was no one else in there with him, which was comforting considering the situation. I believe that I inquired more as to what the place was like, etc...in the back of my head and front of my heart, I remember wondering why he was there, what's wrong with me? Our sex life, like our relationship was incredible. Time went on and even though I knew deep down that he was still going to these places, I threw some sort of justification to it. I began to pay more attention to his whereabouts, time frames, moods, sex drive, and this "attitude" that he would have that had developed. I would ask if he had gone again, and each time I asked, which sadly became extremely frequent, an argument would follow. It was becoming clear to me that perhaps there was an addiction to sex, or porn, or something. Our relationship began to change, and often was on unsteady ground. One thing that never changed, was how he treated my son...it amazed me. The power that came to be created by the bond they had was actually able to 'wash' the hurt, anger, despair, sadness, and many other emotions that the adult bookstore situations had created. As the problem intensified, we sought counseling. He swore off going to the bookstores, and seemed committed to our 'therapy'. It's now been three years and four months that we have been together. Somewhere in that time, he gave me a ring and proposed to me, I accepted-without hestiation. Although what he had been doing ripped every part of my being, the love that had grown for him continued to override our problem. I felt myself starting to resent him for what he was doing...I couldn't change the love I had for him. I still can't. I haven't tried. I think that deep inside I was afraid that if i altered that love, it would alter the bond between he and my son, and come hell or high water, that wasn't happening. The visits to his bookstores have consumed him, his time, his interests, and his mind. After confrontations about his having 'gone again', he professes his desire to quit going, that my son and I are more important than his desire to go. Not being able to cope with the emotions that encompass me amidst the confusion of his promises being smeared by him going back, I've threatened to end our relationship. Then I am drawn back to my son's happiness and security. I know that my love does not have control over the addiction that has become my dreaded demon. He has sought help from 12 step programs, but the addiction always wins out. 4 1/2 days ago, after having been gone for nearly 3 1/2 hours, he pulled into the dark garage, where I was sitting in a blanket...crying. Hurt, betrayed, and again, confused. We both went in the house, I confronted again, discussion progressed...I couldn't stop crying--the hurt wouldn't stop, I could actually feel a piece of my heart crumble. He swore that he hadn't gone and though I wanted to believe him and again, was willing to justify his having gone, some how, some way, it wasn't happening. I cried for over an hour. He announced that he needed to run to the 24 hour drug store for an ace bandage as he was nursing an ankle injury.
I haven't seen him since. I'm still crying. The next day, I received a call from his brother stating that he wasn't coming back as he was done argueing about it. My son and I needed to be moved out of the house we had become a family in by the end of this month. My world has absolutely been turned upside down. I have no idea where he is staying, he hasn't called. My son is devastated. While trying to talk between sobs, he professes that he had plans of asking if he could have my loves last name. Prior to that, I didn't think that it could get any worse. Both my son and I have attempted to contact him. He has not done the same. It's very hard to explain but my love for him is so strong (and my son's) that I'm still willing to, wanting to, work thru it. It surprises me, and I truly cannot explain it all. I know deep down, that this addiction can be broken. What I don't know is how. Reality snuck in earlier and with it came the fear of this being it. I'm by far a desperate person, and if desired, could find happiness or love perhaps by another at some point if this relationship is over. I can be self-sufficient and for all intents and purposes, do not "need" to have this man to continue life. He has become such a part of my son and I, however that my son and I alone, would not be complete. If he were not in our lives, my son, I know will return to his previous persona depicting insecurity, shame, angered, and rigid state, which terrifies me. He has brought my son so far...he has taught me and my son so many things about each one of us, evidenced, and still not surfaced yet, but all positive, which we were no where close to before he entered our lives. I know that addiction isn't healthy, especially one of this nature. I'm no stranger to 12 step programs as I'm the product of a 30 year alcoholic mother. My son is not exposed to any facet of his addiction and there's no doubt in the world that my son is safe in his presense. Please don't judge me for wanting this relationship to work. I have my reasons; an ex-husband whose mission was not only to break me down but to eternally ensure lack of self-confidence and believed that the bruises I wore showed how much he "loved" me. Not to mention attempts to take my and my son's lives were simply just another day's work. On that note, having been given back self-confidence, and the fact that after years of enduring fear from a touch, this man, my love, allowed me and my son to not only know and understand the word safety again, but embraced us with the security of it, which to me rides shot-gun with my and my son's lives; both of which are priceless.
Now, exactly how do my son and I hold onto the one that gave us our lives back?
Sorry for the length of this, to me, I felt as though people would misunderstand the problem and ask why I wouldn't want to move on.
