Well, keep in mind that's what she told me while in survival mode, not necessarily what it was. A part of having an A is lying to one-self. Now she has admitted her brokenness a lot more, and admitted to many other pressures than the M (kid with A, elderly parent who is sick and lived with us, losing two parental figures within a year, CSA).
I'm not in denial about my issues. I'm very keenly aware of much of what has happened in my world, and I know about how it's affected me along the way. My coping techniques tend to involve a great deal of detachment--almost a clinical observation of myself. I have hope this time because I am feeling my way through this process. Going back & revisiting old wounds, owning my current self, all of that.
If you want the list, you can have it, but it doesn't change anything about the fact that I had an A. I generally dislike itemizing it, because it gets into some "oh, poor me" vibe, & it's like I said--control. I don't want those things to be what define me. I want to own my behaviors as my own, even if they're vile.
Add in some FOO issues (both childhood-divorce & sick mom- & adulthood-father's suicide, mom's young death-versions of it), CSA, rape (in college--suitemate's friend entered my room & raped me when I was passed out), abortion as a teen (paired with an abusive SO), alcoholic (which I managed to discover in my 30s after a decade+ of voluntary abstinence without even the slightest clue I was an alcoholic), PPD/long-term depression & anxiety, and now my A. Shake. And viola. My life.
I'm aware of a lot of my f*ed up thinking that all of that triggers in me. For instance, I had to retrain my brain to not go straight to "He's dead" if BH was 15 min late coming home from work & didn't call. I had to teach myself logical, rational responses to real life situations because my brain was not reacting to everyday situations in logical ways.
And depression is a horribly toxic downward spiral. PPD started it (mine are 12 & 9 now), and I never shook it, never fully understood I was in that space until, finally, I read something with a "you might be depressed if" checklist & I said, "oh, shit, that's my life." Having alcoholism surface in the midst of that depression was just a recipe for everything that could possibly go wrong going wrong. But once I read that list, I sought help, and it's been a long road back out.
And see? It sounds like an attempt to justify, to excuse. It's not. It's just part of the mix that is me.
But now that I've managed to break so epically, I have hit the point where I want to fix this. For real this time, no patchwork, no compartmentalizing, no walling off of feelings. All my old version of fixing things did was delay my break. SSRIs got my brain back to a healthy space, and for the first time in over a decade, I feel like I have a shot at this.
Today's a good example. I've sat with a sick feeling most of the day, pangs of guilt. But I haven't run from it, or hidden it, or tried to erase it with a drink or a conversation with AP (yay, me, for keeping NC instead of getting the fix). I'm learning to understand my feelings, to figure out why they're surfacing, allowing them to surface, & processing those feelings as a feelings.
I do want to talk to a priest. My understanding from others who have talked to priests is that they're in the "stop the affair, recommit to your marriage, but don't tell your partner" camp. I'll find out when I take that step. I don't believe in going to confession until I know, with certainty, that I'm done with the behavior, so I haven't yet found out that info firsthand. And while I believe that I'm done with the A, I'm still proving that to myself. So, I wait. SI was my confession before the priest confession. The priest will likely be my guide re: spousal confession.
But regardless, I never want to throw BH under the bus re: my A. He had nothing to do with it. Our relationship has nothing to do with it. I chose a husband who will enable my negative behaviors. When I withdraw into myself, he will allow it, turn a blind eye, hope one day it'll get better. I dunno...I do know we have lots of times we laugh & love & talk & listen. But he's not my place for working my way out of my head. He doesn't understand. When I told him I was depressed & starting SSRIs, he was very resistant (he's anti-meds...very boot-straps oriented in his belief system about all mental health issues), but he went along with it because I explained to him that I needed it, at least for a while. Anyway, he saw that they worked, likes this version of me better, even noted I was closer to how I acted years back. So I'm getting there. Slowly. Diligently. Finding my way back to me.
Rambling again...I do that a lot.