Thursday, April 28, 2011

The Universe is Full of Irony

Or just plain full of it. I can't decide which.

I've decided to write a book about my experience as the partner of a sex addict. Not just because I want to write a book, but because I've kept so much silence for so long that it seems the only way to begin healing is to tell my truth.

If you didn't already know this, I work with Roi, and we work from home. This makes it difficult to get any space from him when I need it. Today I needed it, so I drove to a cafe/used bookstore that's known for great food and pretty reliable internet. I planned to type out the first chapter of my book which I had hand-written, and to work some more on it. 

Then, oh dear Universe you have got to be fucking with me. Surely you did not seat one of Roi's booty-call freaks just one table over from me. Surely you did not mean for her to lean over and introduce herself laughingly to the women sitting between us so that my attention would be drawn to her and there would be no mistaking who she was. Now you're just fucking with me, right? 


  1. Speaking of books and irony....

    Sometimes I think that when I get to heaven, I will get to sit down with a book and read my life story, but from a really creative author's take on it. So, I will get to see the ironic twists of fate and the red herrings and what the other main characters are doing as the plot develops.

    Crazy. I'm glad I wasn't there.

  2. Talk about triggering! I'm sitting there trying to relive pretty traumatic memories through writing, and then I realize this woman is there, just one table over, who was on Roi's call list for when we would have a break up. Break ups, by the way, which often seemed to happen when he was acting out a lot. I've long felt those break ups were his way of being able to act out but feel less guilty about it.

  3. Also, my internal response is what tells me that I'm suffering from some form of PTSD. When I realized who she was I was having trouble breathing, I felt sick to my stomach (couldn't even drink the nice tangerine-ginger iced tea I had treated myself to), and was pretty sure I might cry right there in front of all those happy cafe-goers. I may write in a comedic way to cope, but these things are excruciatingly painful.

  4. Trust me, I know that you're form of writing is just a way to handle things and I know that all of this is painful for you.

    Someone, I would have to find her, went through a very PTSD group therapy and blogged about it in great detail and it sounded so therapeutic (more therapeutic than any therapy I've ever had).

    I think you are suffering from PTSD, I think I am, too. I think it is hard to take something that has been so deservedly assigned to brave soldiers and assign it to myself, though. I am also tired of having titles. Of course, with a title I might get better treatment and heal. Just like having strep throat gets you the right meds, as opposed to a sore throat getting you Sucrets.

  5. It was this this blog, but she seems to have taken down/out a lot of the personal stuff and left just the non-descript, general information.

  6. I just got in the mail the book "Your Sexually Addicted Spouse" by Barbara Steffens and Marsha Means where they present the PTSD model and how to heal. I'm already halfway through!