The wives, spouses and girlfriends who share their personal stories on
Not the Life I Chose speak about the bone deep pain of
Betrayal. Some of us whose children were molested struggle with the silent and not so silent accusations of others. They say, we are the "actual" betrayers of our own children. "She knew. Of course she knew! How could she not have known?" As their wives, as their mothers, we failed to prevent "it."
And we too,
even while knowing we did not "know" still wonder how could we
not have known? Why didn't we stop the insanity? Were we that stupidly "in Love?" Did we put our faith in the "sanctity of marriage" to such an extent that we pushed all else aside? By and large
why do women fail to realize, fail to Know that they and their children are being betrayed? Why not? Especially if we ourselves were molested as children?
We find ourselves forced to engage in the blame-game, the back and forth, the "Did so!" / "Did not!" with "professionals" with police, with our children and with our consciences while we feel increasingly guilty, helpless and hopeless,. And many of us struggle with depression, anger at being so betrayed, so fooled by the very people with whom we once hoped to share the rest of our lives. People we thought we knew and loved. Before all this happened.
Many of us believe the myth of motherhood, the all powerful myth-of-love in relationship. We believe in the "sanctity of marriage," and we believe the power of our love could redeem. When things go wrong we have been taught to blame ourselves. So we believe we are at fault. Seduced by the myth of the elusive power of our love, we agree to believe that our "love" should have, could have prevented, can now cure, might still redeem "our"
sex offender. Make everything like it was
"before."
When they are found out, arrested, they weep on our shoulders and get mad when we fail to perfectly understand
them. We can't make it all better, can't make what they actually did do all go away just because they suddenly "need" us. Appealed to, we try damage control, as though we did indeed have special powers to "make it all go away." We are supposed to make reality go away for someone we love,(even if that magical power doesn't "work" for us) This belief in "love" is all too obviously, all too, too "actually" NOT true.
But we do try. Perhaps we can re-brand, call "it" by another name. But perhaps we can re-classify what "our" offender did, maybe shift the words and shift some of the censure, tell ourselves there are "worse crimes." Hope others will play the "relativity" game. Maybe we can classify the crime as "Victim less." WE hope he will agree to therapy. But then he might be required to list
all the actual crimes he has committed. He resists. But all "this" is getting to us. Where will we find or afford a therapist for ourselves? And what about the children? It was
just pornography, even if he was "getting caught up" in child pornography, should watching "it" really even be classified as a sex crime? Is "trolling" chat-rooms so bad? Who says things escalate? What do they know? He is special. He wouldn't do anything like that. Or has he already?
After all if "nothing actually happened" (no actual sex with a 14 year old met in a chat-room) how could "it" be so bad? Shouldn't the husband, boyfriend, brother, father, son just be ordered into therapy. He only committed a "virtual" crime. But what if he used your lap-top to surf pornographic websites? We don't even want to know whether that means that he hoped we, not he, would be arrested if and when the cops showed up. It certainly led to a whole lot of uncomfortable police questions. Doesn't that mean he thought he might need to shift the blame, somehow? But onto us? We were all set to champion him. And when will we ever get our own laptop back from Evidence?
Since "it" is only a victim-less crime, should "it" be considered "actually" criminal at all? Shouldn't we just call "it" a private matter, like adultery? An online romance with sex-acts and a virtual mistress. Shouldn't a good wife just have overcome her prudish reluctance and participated in re-enacting the "stuff" on the screen ? (Many women are embarrassed to admit they actually tried that, at least until he kind of went over the edge and started in on the hard core/the rough stuff/ the hurting/ the "dabbling" into child porn "that stuff" anyway.
And if we tried and if it just felt too, I don't know,
demeaning even in the privacy of our own homes, must "it" not have also "actually" been demeaning also to the "virtual" no-bodys which our antics were supposed to be emulating, to please our husbands of course.) The poses felt awkward, even silly. It was all too too embarrassing. He got angry, impatient and... maybe we just left him to "it," his harmless "virtual"hobby. After all we had to look at him over the breakfast table the next morning and "know."
What if we, if she just decided to look the other way? If she didn't confront him before, stop "it" all before, shouldn't she forgive and forget now? But whose responsibility was it, really? To stop trolling. Even if, as he says he didn't really (actually) have sex with that 14-year-old he met on the inter-net and went to meet at the mall... (anyway that 14 year-old wasn't "actually" a 14 year-old was she? "She" was just a dirty minded police officer with a high voice who ran a sting on the respectable (until-his-arrest) hobbyist? Doesn't the law have anything better to do than victimize innocent offenders?)
Wouldn't, couldn't, shouldn't a good wife have been able to satisfy her husband? If she had, would he have "had to" go on-line at all? If she had lured him away from his growing obsession with porn, somehow made him go to a therapist, regardless, (she knew he wanted to but was too shy to ask) if she had just been more loving, paid more attention to him, been less focused on the children, wouldn't things have been different? If he just hadn't felt so ignored, If she hadn't ignored him...well?
Still I have a confession. I Do think pornography is nasty (in the old fashioned sense of the word: filthy, indecent, obscene, harmful, even dangerous.) I DO think engaging in pornography should be considered a sex offense. I "actually" believe that pornographic web-sites are to sex offenders what flight simulators are to pilots-in-training. They help those so inclined to fly, to fantasize dominance and then actually learn the skills necessary to take off and fly straight into the World Trade Center. In my view, pornography websites are not harmless. The websites whet the appetites of those so inclined, they teach them that it is eminently possible to
actualize their own personal sexual obsessions. To take pleasure in demeaning and degrading others.
But setting aside my own negativity, there is still the claim that pornography is virtually harmless, that even child pornography, is victim-less
because it is virtual. (But aren't, those real children who eat and sleep and really live somewhere
really, actually being photographed performing sex acts?) But I digress. Never mind, tell yourself those children "actually" are "virtual," they are "no-body" only momentarily alive looping on and on up there on your computer screen.
So if we agree not to think about even virtual pornography. Can we turn our attention to the very real flesh and blood wives and mothers and girlfriends. We are "Actually" Pornography's other victims. Even if the children in our own homes have not "actually" been victimized (yet.) We already have been. We are loath to admit this one shameful reality: We are ashamed to admit that our own husbands/spouses/boyfriends actually
preferred virtual pornography to sex with us. Or, if we insisted they pay us sexual attention, they wanted us to re-
enact the pornography they desired instead of making unscripted messy, laughing, sweaty love to us.
So, we waited in our real beds night after night for our flesh and blood husbands, lovers and spouses to want to have sex with flesh and blood us. Why didn't they come to bed and make love to us instead of getting off watching a Computer screen? Face it, they are obsessed with virtual sex acts some of which make our skin crawl when we stumble across all the pornographic web-sites they have set up on our computers. What's wrong with us? That they don't love us? Ah, the power of love. The magical delusions. If we were only slimmer, prettier, sexier, if we weren't so tired after dinner, we imagine we could compete with the virtual sex objects on the computer..
But we tell ourselves it's only pornography. It could be so much worse. We just need to be more sophisticated about this. Not such prudes. After all he's so good otherwise. Such a good provider, a good husband, a father, a grandfather, a coach, a teacher, a pastor, a Cub Scout leader. Everybody likes him. Maybe we could convince him to try couple's therapy with us? Maybe buy more sexy negligees? Just wait, hope and work this problem out in the privacy of home. Meanwhile we wait up-stairs. Why can't he get off the computer? Why can't he just come up here to us? Make love to the real us. After all we are the one person who really loves the actual
him. At least we think we love the person he has led us to believe he is. We tell ourselves "It could be so much worse."
Then it does "get worse." He gets arrested. And for a victim-less crime. Like pornography.
And we suddenly realize that we have been victimized by his victim-less crime. ("She knew. Of course she knew! How could she not have known?" and more-over why didn't she make him stop? Before he got in over his head, before "it" was too late.) It is a shock to realize he/we have been living
his lie. We also have been demeaned and victimized. The boyfriend, the spouse, the watcher, hobbyist, the internet-stalker-of-children has betrayed not only those victims, but has victimized us and in a very real (very "actual") way.
Betrayal is the bone deep hurt we feel (on a
very personal level) when we and our needs as
real people are set aside over and over in favor their bone deep obsession with pornography. When did we first realize that they
preferred watching, fantasizing, getting-off with virtual men, women, and yes, small children performing ritualized sex acts over and over? It was indeed humiliating to realized they liked "it" better than making love to real flesh and blood us? Then their "actual" crimes are "discovered." The police raid our home and, there in full view of the neighbors, he is actually arrested. Taken out in hand-cuffs.
Things got much worse.
We cry and rage and "forgive" and understand, and vow to help them and we blog and try to find other women who "know" because they too have been through "it." Hoping they at least will recognize all the ways we too have been victimized. Betrayed. We need to find somewhere where we don't get judged. Where we can say whatever it is out-loud. Somewhere, where we don't need to explain ourselves all over again. We can tell it like it is and be understood. Where are recognized as real people in real pain reaching out, helping each other.
Sooner or later we find courage to know our first duty is not to help him, somehow. But we have a duty to ourselves. We are on a journey and we are not alone. There are others telling their stories, blogging, commenting, ranting, snapping, being snarky, laughing, crying, telling us ways we can heal because they too are healing. They too are focused on creation instead of destruction. Others are willing to share what happened. How they survived. They give us hope that since they are making a new life, new lives for their children, new futures for themselves, maybe we can to. Even if we decide to visit him in prison. Even when our phone bill goes up and up, all those angry, all those begging calls from the jail. Whatever our choices. Other spouses at least know what it's like to be torn apart inside but healing. Somehow.
But it takes time to work through to a new reality. In the meantime we all deal with another painful reality: who in their right mind wants to admit he wanted pornography more than he wanted them. They
are victims. Who wants to see
themselves as "sooo lame." One of
those women. Still we mourn what has been done to us, to our lives We pray, and hate and pretend it's "all OK now"
and we mention betrayal on this blog over and over. We did, we do suffer the reality of "actual"
Betrayal acutely. Because Pornography is not a victim-less crime. Pornography actually has many victims. We too were victimized.
We deserve our love and attention. One of the first "taking care of myself" things I did was to ask myself what would help me when I woke up at 2 in the morning and could not go back to sleep, when it was dark and I was scared and felt so alone. I bought myself a magazine, some book I really wanted to read but waited until some 2AM to treat myself. I created some little stash of comfort, some special bath soap and when I woke up I'd have a warm bath and read until I was so sleepy I could fall asleep. As time went on I got more imaginative in taking care of me. It helped. Have you noticed that many blog comments are posted late at night? We search the internet for others who know.
In this increasingly "virtual" world we are told we cannot claim to be victims. Just like the virtual children in the victim-less crime of pornography, as wives and mothers we think we don't have time to take care of another "victim" especially not ourselves. Where could we find the money to take care of ourselves anyway? We have children to raise, jobs to find, court dates loom, and there are social workers to please.
We cannot have been betrayed, demeaned, degraded right along with his virtual victims. We are just lucky they didn't decide to arrest us also. Therefore the pain we feel so acutely isn't Actually Betrayal of the love and trust, of the life together, the life we actually thought we were choosing when we fell in love with the "virtual" husband we actually thought we knew, back then...
Before the knock on the door. Before he called from the jail telling us to make bail. Before the arraignment, before, before. Back before... If we could only get back to before from here.
But we have to move forward. Things have changed.
We change. We are changing for the better.
