Psalm 56:8

This past weekend was the pits. And I don't really even know why. Hubby admitted he has been in "addict mode," but assured me he was not acting out. He was however struggling with lustful thoughts, memories of his past, and discouragement about his future. All in all, he was just in a bad place.


So was I. For some reason (I'm still trying to figure out the reason, if there even is one), I just wanted to cry all weekend. And I did cry alot. I cried whenever I could. I did have to stop crying Saturday morning in order to go to a ladies gettogether at church. And I know just when to stop crying so that my eyes recover and I don't get the question, "Have you been crying?" I learned that little trick right after my discovery about hubby's porn use. If I stopped crying by 2 p.m., he could not tell I had been crying when he arrived home from work. And I did not want him to know I was crying every single day. Back then my tears had meaning. My tears were therapeutic, cleansing me of the shame and disgust I was feeling inside. More importantly, my tears were bringing me ever so closer to my Maker, who took me in his arms and forever implanted these words on my heart, "Amy, fall into My arms, for I will never leave you nor forsake you." This verse still remains my favorite.


But back to the tears of the weekend. They were somewhat lacking in purpose. Friday night went pretty well until bedtime, until you-know-what was brought up. And you-know-who was not in the mood. Hubby, who remember is in addict mode, did not take to this very well. But bless his heart, he doesn't give up. Saturday morning he woke up early with one thing on his mind. Excuse me? The kids could be up any minute, are you crazy? This was it for him and once again, we had the discussion of discussions about our sex life. And all I could do was cry. The rest of Saturday was okay. Hubby did some things around the house that needed to be done, so I was really grateful for that. We had a good evening with our kids doing nothing special, but just hanging out at the house. Then came Saturday night bedtime. I knew hubby was still mad but now he was being stubborn as well. He went right to sleep. I guess he had given up on me.


Sunday morning I felt really strange at church. I had regressed to my old thoughts. Every female I saw was my enemy. Trying to steal my husband. Every female I saw was prettier than me. Built better than me. Peppier than me. And I'm sure each of them had a bigger sex drive than me. I felt little, invisible.


I fell apart when we got home. The tears would not stop. Hubby locked the door to our bedroom so the kids could not come in. He sat in a chair facing mine. I talked. I cried. I wanted hubby to take me into his arms and tell me he loved me. I just wanted to be in his arms period. He didn't have to say anything. But, as I have mentioned a couple of times already, hubby was in "addict mode," not "loving husband mode," so he could not give me what I needed. I don't necessarily blame him, but I just see it for what it is now. He said something that ticked me off, made me feel stupid for crying, and I just wanted to scream. When will they learn to take us into their arms and just let us cry?


"Amy, fall into My arms, for I will never leave you nor forsake you."