For the past two years, Marianne's and my marriage has been a part of the public purview, as a shining example of what success in marriage looks like. Overcoming infidelity! Choosing into unconditional! Recognizing that the person with the problem, has the problem! Choosing love as our foundation, no matter the trials!
Coming together and building our marriage entity was an amazing journey, and it was a great story. We taught seminars, we posted videos and Facebook posts about our breakthroughs and our successes, crediting our mentors and friends who helped us get there, using our success to help build our own and others business. The success we had was real - we felt more connected and in love than we ever had before.
Until our marriage began to fall apart. Once we began to struggle, Marianne asked me not to post anything about it. She wanted us to work it out between ourselves, and then talk about it after we had figure things out.
Well, we did figure things out.
I realized that for all of the people who watched our amazing growth and healing over the past two years, have no idea what happened. They were told and taught that we were this power couple, who were living a 10/10 marriage, who could weather any adversity.
Then, suddenly, we are divorced, and they see my posts of hurting and loneliness, and wonder what the heck happened.
I have always done my best to post as I have seen things, from my own perspective, and recognizing that I have only a narrow view of the whole truth. Below is what I was feeling, and dealing with last night. If it comes across as accusatory or in any way defaming, I apologize. I am speaking what I experienced, what I saw in my life as our life together came to an end.
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It has been a week since our divorce was finalized, and today it really hit me hard.
All of the mistakes I made - the pornography, the lies, the infidelity. All of the pain I brought into Marianne’s life because of the baggage I brought into our marriage.
Four years ago, after cheating on Marianne, we both chose back into our marriage. We decided to start our marriage over. I completely cut ties to the other women, and to this day have never made contact again. I struggled to overcome the temptations and urges. I slipped, I made poor choices, I made mistakes, but overall it was an upward climb.
I got better. I became more patient, more loving, more service oriented. I listened to counselors, mentors, friends, bishops - I took their advice and I grew into a better man, a better husband. I listened to what Marianne wanted, and I did my best to provide for it. I sent her on trips with her girlfriends, with her tribe, by herself. Hawaii, Disneyland, Kenya - wherever she wanted to go, whatever she wanted to do, I said yes, because I wanted her to be happy, and I wanted to help provide that happiness, after all I had done to take it away.
I worked hard towards rebaptism, after being excommunicated for three years. It was painful, tortuous at times, and while Marianne supported me for much of it, there were times I had to endure a lot of her doubt and chastisement when I did not seem to be making progress. She had her own journey of healing she was on, so I endured it quietly, believing I deserved every bit, and more. I came to firmly believe that every problem in our marriage stemmed from me, and my infidelity. I had to prove to Marianne that I loved her, and needed to do it how she wanted me to, so she would recognize it as progress.
A year ago, I was rebaptized, and Marianne stood in front of the council and declared she had seen a mighty change in me, and that I was a different man. She was proud of who I was now, she loved me more than ever, and she looked forward to being my eternal companion.
That’s when life became busier - Marianne took on more responsibilities with her work, more opportunities, and so became increasingly more engrossed in her mentoring, and jewelry, and YouTube. She would spend more and more hours every week with her mentor, planning and creating together. When she was emotional, or we were struggling, she would rely on him for help and support before coming home to tell me all about it. They became so close that she was referred to as his “second wife”, and visitors at events often assumed they were married.
When she was worn out from work, she would go out for “Bro Nights”, where she and a group of guys would play video games until late into the night, while I stayed home with the kids. (It gets expensive to get babysitters, you know) She often told me that she felt more comfortable going out with guys to do "guy" stuff, like Spikeball or video games or shooting, and I would watch as she went and had a great time. I would join her on occasion, just to be able to have the time with her and see her happy.
She found a dance mentor, and would leave early in the morning, and spend hours every week, one on one with him, practicing, dreaming, dancing and sharing each other’s passion. I remember the light in her eyes, and the excitement in her demeanor as she described the new moves they were trying, the meditations they did, the intense, impromptu mentoring moments they would share.
I would support her. I would send her on her way with a hug and a kiss, because I wanted to let her find her happiness, even if it took her away from me. I wanted her to know that I supported her, and loved her enough to let her do what she needed to find happiness.
No matter how early she left, I would be up and have breakfast ready for her, even lunch if she was going to be gone all day. No matter how late she got home, I would be up, with her favorite hot Pero-mocha-ccino ready, and listen to her tell me about her day before she fell asleep and I closed up the house.
I would text her during the day, waiting anxiously, hoping she wasn’t doing anything too important and I would be able to hear from her.
This is how much of the year went. For a time, I was excited - I was newly rebaptized, our family was making more money, Marianne and I were still making a difference with our marriage mentoring. I was looking forward to regaining my temple blessings and the priesthood, and baptizing my daughter.We had some amazing moments, exciting trips together, some fun and intense moments of passion and connection.
And then, she would be off to her own world again.
And I started to realize how much I missed Marianne, even when she was home. I didn’t feel like I could express it, because how dare I feel lonely, after what I had done to her. She was my queen, and had stuck by me after I cheated on her. She had endured pain and suffering at my hand, and it was my job to do everything necessary to make her feel loved and appreciated again.
But I watched as she continued to have her emotional needs met by others. By other men. And she would come home, emotionally satiated, and rung out from a day of giving of herself, and I would be there to catch her. Intimacy between us began to consist of me holding her while she fell asleep - or me snuggling up to her sleeping body after laying with one of the kids until they fell asleep. Sexual intimacy became nearly non-existent, which seemed OK to me. I had long before convinced myself it was unnecessary, mostly because Marianne had told me so often I wanted it too much.
The problem was, I wanted some of her, too. I wanted intimacy, and not just sex. I wanted to connect with her, as my wife and friend - and she often had already given so much to others, I got the leftovers, if there were any.
She started commenting that I was more distant, less diligent in my studies, less willing to take the lead in family prayer and scriptures - so I tried to change even more, so she would be happy. I knew why those things were happening, and I knew why SHE thought those things were happening. I felt I couldn't tell her the truth, that we weren't connecting anymore. I also didn't want her thinking that I was relapsing, so I gave more than I thought I had to be more of the man she wanted.
In the fall, I made a choice that I forever regret. I turned back to pornography to numb the pain I felt. From there, I sought out women online, looking for someone to be interested in me. Someone to talk to. Someone to listen, and validate me as a man. Unfortunately, things became sexual very quickly - though it was by no means exclusively sexual, we never actually met in person. We would email back and forth for most of the day, weaving our conversation through daily chores, schoolwork, kids, sex, the sex we could imagine having with each other, and back to schoolwork and chores. It was all equally exciting for me, for the simple fact that she wanted to be talking to me. She was interested, and engaged in me, and would reach out to talk. She wanted to connect with me, she wanted to be with me, and I felt a portion of me being filled and satisfied by the relationship in a way that was far more than just sex.
Eventually, I felt guilty, and confessed to Marianne. For the first time in our 18 years of knowing each other, I took the first step and told her, before she had the opportunity to find out.
She was convinced it was simply my sexual addiction acting up again, and would hear nothing else, no matter how I tried to explain.She said I was no different than I was before, that I hadn't changed at all. I was still the same sex addict, and she was tired of me not doing anything to change it. I was hurt and confused - hadn't we made the progress together? Hadn't she professed how much I had changed, and how happy she was with me?
But no, she had to be right. I was screwed up, and hadn't changed like I thought I had. I believed her when she said I was the same man I had always been. I believed that all the "progress" we had made was just a lie.
We spent four months in separation, when Marianne decided to end it. It was too much for her to take anymore, and she decided to walk away from me.
I told her I wanted to continue getting better. I wanted to get help, for both of us, for our marriage. I was willing to keep trying.
She said no. She was done. She wanted a man who would treat her like a queen, and take care of her, and not make her cry. She was finished trying to manage my emotions and my behavior, and wanted to set me free to do what she thought would make me happy.
We filed the paperwork ourselves, and I moved out, with no place to stay, no job, $100 cash, and a credit card with $200 on it. I slept in my car, a friend bought a hotel room for me one night, and then a kind family let me have a room in their home until I could find another place.
During this time, Marianne still relied on me to watch the kids while she ran her business activities, so I was back at the house often.
Now, I have found a job, a suitable place to live for a time, and have made new friends.
I don’t see my children often, because Marianne has expressed that I am not welcome at the house, unless she specifically asks for childcare, or otherwise invites me. She also has expressed distrust in the suitability of my new home, and doesn’t want the children visiting me here.
For a time, I was handling it well, but today it all came to a head.
I have held all of this inside, sharing it all with only one other person. I was ready to get it out.
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