WEAK

"Because you felt secure in your wickedness, and said, "No one sees me." Your wisdom and your knowledge led you astray, and you said to yourself, "I, and no one else!"

Isaiah 47:10

Another cry for help reverberated in my atmosphere but it was too close for me to hear, even though it swept across the pages of my journal in black ink:

February: You know Neal and I are arguing right now and I can’t even think straight. He’s trying to tell me that my ‘job’ is 24/7 raising the kids BUT because I do CCE on Sunday nights and have a Bunco night once a month that I only DO my job 12/7. The nerve!

Men.

Sometimes he can get me so riled up I want to smack him with a new personality! One that is more sensitive and understanding. Maybe I am crazy...I just told him to leave.

Ugh...now I’m pondering if I should be the one that breaks down and says I’m sorry. Maybe I should, but I’m sick of being told I’m crazy, or every time something happens it is always ‘What did you do?’ not “What happened?’

Man he wears me down. He told me I was insecure but he MAKES me that way!

Right now I feel indifferent.

Neal and I had been married six years, together for almost nine. We were comfortable and quick to push each other’s buttons. My journal explains clearly the enemy’s conniving ways of confusion and how slippery that slope truly can be. How in touch with God we can be and at the same time blinded by the enemy.

May: I certainly know that God is in control of my life, but I also know that sometimes it is hard to discern what is coming from him or is an evil trick of the enemy to throw me off course. So I pray. I know my destiny is to glorify God and His love and work in my writings. I feel it in the very marrow of my bones.

But in the meantime I’m trying to focus on Ryan and Seth. They are both adorable boys that I’m very proud of and they are both growing so fast. Ryan loves to sing and make believe. Maybe he’ll be a writer or actor too one day? Seth loves to dance and wants me to read to him all of the time.

Neal and I are doing fine enough, but this is a tough time for us now. Maybe it’s that seven year itch? I love him just as much or even more than when we first met and fell in love, but it seems he is much more agitated these days, especially with me. One day we will be fine but the next he’ll say something rude or condescending and it’s hurtful and I don’t want to be around him. I want this time to pass so we can enjoy each other again.

Neal and I were strapped on a roller coaster, riding the emotional waves of a bipolar marriage. High above the financial issues, parenting disagreements, and consistency of sex (or lack thereof) we rose with our hands up, laughter in the air and smiles on our faces. Down, down, down we’d free fall into the pit of anger, frustration, and pride, only to be thrust back up onto the next peak fast enough for the drops and falls to be pushed aside by the desperate need to feel happiness. At some point the ride was going to stop but we didn’t think about the fact it stops on the ground where the pile of anger, frustration, and pride lingers.

This portion of the emotional roller coaster we were on felt like the climax of the ride with one steep incline and dramatic free fall after another.

July: I have to write about the awesome thing my husband did for me. We went to San Antonio for our anniversary weekend and while we were gone Neal had someone come in and clean the house. I mean – CLEAN! It looks amazing. That’s not all. He also paid to have the carpets cleaned and boy did they need it. My neighbor bought flowers and put them on the table. It was so wonderful to come home to a super clean house.

It is one of the sweetest, most special things Neal has ever done for me. I have a wonderful husband and I love him dearly. I’m blessed.

The week following our return from San Antonio, I was invited by good friends of Neal's family to a bachelorette party in New Orleans. Neal made no fuss about me going and even though we'd just had a break from the responsibility of the boys, I was happy to go along and have another.

In college my girlfriends and I would go to New Orleans for the weekend and bar hop from sunset to sunrise, fill up on beignets, and sleep through the next day until it was time to get up again and go at it one more time before we returned to school. We went often, until one time unspeakable tragedy struck our sorority. A group of our girls went on an outing to New Orleans but this time one girl trusted the wrong guys and was left with only a thread of life to sustain her. Repeatedly raped and beaten with her own clog shoe, it was a miracle she survived.

We stopped going to New Orleans after that incident. Six years later I thought about my sorority sister and considered backing out but I was going to be with family; I would be safe.

Our group consisted of twelve women: the mother of the bride, the aunt of the bride, the bride, and six of her cousins and friends and myself. We took a short flight from Houston to New Orleans and were checked into our hotel by dinner time Friday evening. The sun was already beginning to set and a wave of deep bass and treble shook the closed merchants’ windows as the nightclubs kicked into life along Bourbon Street.

The group took in a collective natural high partaking in New Orlean’s special alcoholic drinks the Hurricane and Grenade, Cajun Étouffée, and the type of laughter and joy that comes with a sloughing off of the daily grind. We christened our bride to be with her BACHELORETTE sachet and crown and entered into the crowds at the bars that spilled out of the doors and into the streets.

A few of the girls in our group ran over to a street vendor to buy more Hurricanes. I stood next to the mother and aunt and observed the crowd.

"Where do I fit in?" An unpleasant feeling nagged at my stomach. A year earlier I would’ve been with the younger women throwing back a few more of the fruit punch flavored kerosene. Now I was older, possibly wiser, the mother of two boys, and trying to live a Christian life. "What am I doing here?"

The three of us 'older' women stood in awkward silence as we watched the booty-bumping, body-humping throngs of people around us. The bride-to-be broke through the crowd and grabbed her mom's hand. "Come on!" Her aunt and I followed.

Before we knew it we were among the mix of hips and backsides gyrating to the latest R&B tunes. A quick second song change and the crowd went wild. It was a new line-dance. The bride and her entourage slipped right into the steps as her mom and aunt struggled to keep up. They gave up after a few seconds and stood to the side. Quick to catch on I hung in with the rest and as the song played we clapped, stomped, and turned. I realized that a group of guys cozied up to the other ladies.

Another smooth transition and the song moved right into a popular top 40s hit. Song after song the men stayed near the women and with a few breaks and introductions I found out the group was a bachelor party from up north.

The bachelor and our bachelorette had hit it off...in a fun, friendly sort of way. The groups quickly meshed together and the men became our protectors as we went from bar to bar for the night. Most of them were single but there were a few married ones thrown in the mix. By the end of the night I was beat and sat out on a few songs as did Sean, one of the married men from the other group. We tried to fill the awkwardness with small talk but the music drowned out every other word. We gave up and laughed at the fools on the dance floor instead.

Around one or two in the morning, the bachelorette's mom, aunt, and I were fading fast. We couldn't hang with the others so the young married man, Sean, and another guy from the bachelor's group offered to walk us back to the hotel. Away from the crowds, bump of the bass and people screaming to be heard because their eardrums were shot, we all took a moment to introduce ourselves.

Sean walked beside me. “We’re all buddies from high school. Most of us went to college together too. Three of us in the group are married. Myself and Colby.” He pointed to the other guy who was in conversation with the mom and aunt. “I’m the only one that has kids though. I got married right after college.”

I nodded and smiled politely. “How many kids do you have?”

“Three. Three boys all under the age of four. Colby’s wife is expecting and Matt just got married two months ago.”

“I have two boys. Three and one. It feels weird to be here when I used to come when I was in college.”

“Oh yeah? I’ve never been here before. I don’t think any of us have. We’re from Michigan.”

“I’m from Texas, the Houston area. But I went to college in East Texas so it wasn’t too far to drive, so we used to come quite a bit.”

“I bet you got in a lot of trouble here, huh?”

I smiled. “Tried not to. It is a dangerous place for girls though.” The memory of what happened to my friend made me shudder. We were at our hotel. “Thanks for walking us home.”

“Oh yeah, no problem. Colby and I wanted to leave awhile ago. I’m beat.”

“Well, y’all have fun.”

Sean smiled. “Y’all. I love the accent. I don’t think I can get sick of hearing it.”

I laughed and then felt uncomfortable. There was a moment of awkward silence so I stepped closer to the women with me.

Later that morning, officially the next day, the bachelorette and her friends were still sleeping off the fun they had the night before. Our room, the 'married bunch', walked to the French Quarter to Café Du Monde and munched on powdered beignets for breakfast. The moms bought a few dozen to take back with us and as I waited for them to pay I saw Sean, Colby, and a few of the other guys walk into the store.

I contemplated whether I should acknowledge them. We were essentially strangers that crossed paths in one of the craziest cities in the States. The sun shone through the picture window and bounced off of a stainless steel napkin holder blinding my sight. I squinted and stepped out of the glare.

"We run into y'all everywhere!" The aunt standing behind me called out.

I cringed. What if they don't want to keep up the friendly banter?

"Where is the rest of your crew?" Colby came over and set me at ease.

At least we didn't embarrass them too much. “Still sleeping. What time did they get in do you know?”

Sean walked up and stood next to me. “I think I heard Brad and the others roll in around four. They said something about hanging out with you guys this afternoon.”

The eyebrows peaked of the soon-to-be-bride’s mother. “Really?”

One of the other guys came up with a beignet in his hand and powdered sugar on his lips. “Yeah, we’re gambling on that boat I think.”

I looked at the other two women and realized they were just as surprised as I was. “Okay well I guess we’ll see y’all this afternoon.”

“Y’all.” Sean let the phrase roll off his tongue in a drawl. “Love it.”

By afternoon everyone was ready to go to make the most of the mini-vacation. We met up with the bachelor group at the gambling boat. I dreaded going there not because I didn't like to gamble but because I didn't have the funds to blow. Gambling wasn't supposed to be a part of the trip but because most of the girls enjoyed the attention of other guys in the group, our plans changed.

I dragged my feet once we were at the pier. I called Neal to see how Ryan and Seth were doing and when I got off the phone I saw Sean lingering as well, talking on his cell phone. I waited for him to finish. "Calling home too?"

"Yeah, the little guys are giving my wife trouble.” He laughed. "She played it cool now but I know I'll get it when I get back."

I laughed because I knew I probably wouldn't be too happy to have Neal out with the guys in New Orleans. It was a double standard and I blushed recognizing the fact.

"You guys are all the same.”

"Well, I mean you have three kids. I can imagine how hard it is to be left alone with them all weekend.”

"Why aren't you going on the boat?"

I shrugged. "I'm going I guess. I don't really have any money to gamble."

He leaned over the metal railing that kept us from pitching over the cement embankment into the canal. "Yeah, I'm broke too."

There was something about his mannerism that seemed familiar. He reminded me of one of my best guy friends in college. The one who, that in many ways, saved me from myself when I was at my most destructive. Sean wasn't a guy that would drive the girls to clamor to get his attention, but he wasn't homely either. He was about an inch taller than me, he had dark features, a friendly smile, and he wore the efforts of his wife's cooking well. His demeanor was at ease and I felt safe standing next to him.

"Well, don't feel like you have to hang out here with me. I'll go in and find everyone.” He laughed. "Trust me, the way my guys play they'll be back out in thirty minutes."

I laughed.

"There are some benches over there. Let's sit down and wait it out."

We sat down on the bench and I asked him questions about his wife and kids. He pulled out pictures in his wallet, and I showed him a tiny photo album of pictures I kept in my purse of Neal and the boys.

“My oldest is in pre-k 3 at a Catholic school.”

“You’re Catholic?”

“Yeah. Yes, I am.” It felt good to claim it and mean it.

“So am I. Well, I was brought up Catholic. My wife too, but we don’t really go anymore. I attended Catholic schools all my life though.”

“I stopped going for awhile too but recently I’ve had a change of heart…I guess you could call it that.”

“What do you mean?”

I divulged a few simple details on the struggle I had finding faith. Figuring out what it meant. I didn’t want him to know too much about my dark past and what led me to the place of anger and despair. He seemed intrigued and time passed quickly before a cluster of his friends mixed with the girls in my group walked off the boat.

I stopped in mid-sentence feeling exposed and vulnerable. Why are you telling this stranger your most personal business? I chastised myself.

"Have you guys been sitting out here this whole time?" One of the girls from my group asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," one of Sean's friends hit him on the shoulder. "Sean here is a tight-wad. It takes a lot for him to part with his money."

Sean smiled and took a mock swing at his buddy. "So why don't you tell me how much you're down, huh? One hundred dollars? Two hundred?"

The guy threw up his hands and backed away from Sean. "Ok, ok...just playin'."

I was curious. "How much did you lose?"

The guy mumbled something under his breath.

Sean laughed and jumped up to tackle him. "What was that? Five hundred dollars?"

"You lost five hundred?" I was shocked. I stood with the other girls and could tell we all thought the same thing, 'Do you know what I could do with five hundred dollars?'

By this time the rest of our groups emerged from the boat and the bachelor and bachelorette made plans for the two groups to meet up after we went our separate ways for dinner. They had agreed to hang out with us for the rest of the night to keep both groups 'safe'.

Before the groups split Sean walked over to me. "Hey, I want to hear the rest of your story later. You got my attention."

I did? I smiled, proud. It felt good telling him about what God had done in my life. I could sense he was as lost as I was. It was invigorating to be able to help someone else see the light and know God's love.

The rest of the story would have to wait until the wee hours of the next morning. The groups converged after dinner and hopped from one club to the next. We learned every new hip line dance like the Macarena and Cha Cha Slide to old dance moves like the Tootsee Roll, Da Dip and the Humpty Dance. I hadn't danced that much since college and with every new move, dip and shake I felt all of my inhibitions fall to the dance floor.

It was liberating to dance and cut up with this group of women of all ages and to have a group of guys to dance with and not feel the pressure of any mixed signals. We were all out to have a good time and enjoy the culture of New Orleans.

But age won out and the three of us who were the oldest deflated once we passed midnight into the early morning hours. We made our plans to catch a taxi home and let the other girls continue on with their last night.

Sean walked up to us. “Hey, I’ll take you guys back. You don’t need to get a taxi.”

“You’d do that for us?” The ladies gushed over his chivalry. I secretly celebrated the fact he saw something in me that made him want to know more about my faith. I was on a mission and wasn't going to let God down.

Careful not to step across the blurred lines of appropriate and inappropriate discussion between two married people I sat in the hallway of the hotel right outside the room I shared with the two other women. Sean sat across from me and leaned against the opposite wall.

Neal jokes that I can meet people and in five minutes have learned their life stories and manage to memorize their social security numbers. He isn't too far off. I know he is apologizing to others for my nosiness when he says this...I'd like to think it's being in tune to the details.

“Tell me more about your wife and kids.” I didn't jump right into my conversion story with Sean. I wanted to know more about him before I tried to push God and our Catholic faith.

“Stacey and I met in high school. We’ve been dating since we were fifteen.”

“Fifteen? Wow, that’s kind of cool.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, it is. We broke up a few times and tried dating other people in college but somehow we always came back together. Then she got pregnant and…” He shrugged his shoulders and lifted his hands in surrender. “We got married.”

“I got married young.” I laughed and snorted. Embarrassed I laughed harder. “Sorry, I do that sometimes. I’m laughing because it’s not like I’m old. I’m only twenty-eight.”

“Really? I’m younger than you?” He smiled.

“What? You are?”

“Yeah, I’m only twenty-six. Just turned twenty-six. You’re an old woman.”

“Oh geeze, thanks.”

We both laughed.

I played with my wedding ring. “Well I guess if I’m older then I’m wiser.”

“I’d say so.”

His words hung in the air, embarrassed I looked away.

“Earlier you were telling me what made you go back to church. Was your family really strict in the faith when you were growing up?”

With an ease that surprised me I opened up about my family with its issues, but I wasn’t about to talk about anything deeply personal like the rapes.

Sean stretched his legs out. “My family was pretty normal. We went to Mass every Sunday and my parents rarely fought. I did my share of stupid things in high but other than that life was boring. I didn’t have to go to CCE classes because we got religion in school.”

“What did your parents do when they found out Stacey was pregnant? That had to have shaken things up a bit.”

He looked up and past me to a memory in his mind and laughed. “Yeah, you could say that. Our parents made sure we got married quick so it wasn’t an‘issue’. He punctuated his sentence with his fingers framing the words in quotes.

“Stacey and I fight all the time.” He bent his head and traced the pattern on the carpet with his finger. “She isn’t happy.”

Now it was personal. Danger! Danger! My heart rate escalated. Here is the line I don’t want to cross. “Have you ever thought of going back to church?” Bring it back to God.

“Right. Like that will cure everything.”

“No.” On impulse I reached out and touched his arm snapping my hand back as if I touched a hot coal. “Well, yes.” I fumbled with my words. “I mean I think it does. I mean my husband is like you and doesn’t want to really do as much as I do with the church but…”

The elevators came to life and the girls stumbled out. The bride-to-be looked at me and cocked her head to the side, as if to say something but thought better of it.

I scrambled to my feet. No one said a word and the four of them fell into their room passing out wherever they landed.

Sean and I looked at each other and laughed. "I guess my crew is back at the hotel too.”

"I better get some sleep. We have an early flight tomorrow."

"Today you mean.”

"Well," I hesitated, not quite sure how to say goodbye. "It was good getting to know you. Good luck with everything."

An awkward moment passed where I had a sense of regret. But regret for what? I turned and let myself into the room.

Four hours later my group was packed and wheeling bags out to the waiting car service. All of the young men from the bachelor group were waiting outside including Sean.

"We thought we'd say goodbye," the bachelor offered. I turned in time to see the bride-to-be's mother and aunt exchange a curious look between them.

"Hey," Sean walked up and handed me a slip of paper. "Here is my email. I want to keep in touch. Write yours down on this." He handed me a notepad from his hotel.

My heart fluttered with flattery and I could feel heat rise to my cheeks. What is wrong with me? It's just an email. But knew deep inside I enjoyed a man's approval, no matter who or how old. It was a curse - the need to be accepted and desired by men.

"Thanks.” I wrote down my email. "Y'all be safe."

He smiled. "Y'all," he mimicked. "I'll miss that."

The flutter increased, and I turned to get in the car before he could see my red face. All the way to the airport I replayed our conversation the night before in my mind trying to figure out why I felt like a school girl who had been given a note by the boy she had a crush on. Did I flirt? I didn't recall saying anything that wasn't appropriate or even looking at him in that way.

However, it felt good to be noticed, to be liked, to appear 'normal' when I struggled every day with Neal to be 'normal' for him. Through no fault of his own he was too close. He knew my brokenness and my inability to perform as I felt a wife should. We had worn each other down with our issues. With Neal I felt consistently inadequate, not because Neal knew how to push my buttons of insecurity to cause this feeling but because I had a vision of what I felt like 'normal' should look like.

The simple and innocent night spent talking with Sean was a reprieve. There had been no expectation of anything because of the obvious boundary of our marriages and he knew nothing of my past. As far as Sean knew, other than my family issues I had it all together.

Spent and ready for me to come home Neal greeted me at the door with Seth. I gave him a big hug and kiss and he received it with trepidation. I wasn't the one to instigate affection. I withdrew from affection. Something in the exchange with Sean helped me to feel a taste of confidence in myself again.

I took Seth into my arms and felt he needed a diaper change. By the time I was done I went back into the living room to tell Neal all about the weekend but he was already gone. I sighed. It was the typical game. I was gone for two and a half days so now it was his turn to get out and relieve some steam.

Despite the few hours of sleep my blood flowed. I cleaned the house while the kids napped, played trains with Ryan, and when he was preoccupied watching a video I checked email.

The first email I noticed was the last received. An email from Sean. My heart pounded.

What am I doing? I scolded myself for reacting to the attention. It was a weakness I had noticed over the years receiving attention from men. Later in counseling I would find out this is a common behavior with survivors of abuse. Of course I didn’t realize this and just assumed it stemmed from years of watching my sister flirt with her boyfriends. Watching caused feelings within me that as a child I couldn't understand but it felt good. If someone of the opposite sex looked at me as if I were 'desirable,’then it made me feel those same feelings.

I brushed the feeling away like an annoying gnat and opened the email.

The gut of the email was both shocking and secretly pleasing. “I enjoyed our conversation and I hope you don’t take offense to this but I can’t stop thinking about you. I know it’s inappropriate. I don’t mean any harm and I don’t expect anything but I had to tell you. I know you might be offended and if so, I’m sorry. I can’t help but want to know more about you and about our Catholic faith. Can we still talk? As friends?”

And there it was. The line was obliterated. The apple dangled from the forbidden tree. Like a cartoon character I imagined a little devil, pitchfork and all, popping up on my left shoulder and a little angel, Bible in hand, on my right.

"He is thinking about you.” The devil scammed. “You matter to him.”

"Delete the email. Don't respond. This is a test." The angel pleaded.

"It's not that big of a deal. You're making what he wrote into something more than it is. He wants to know more about his faith. You're helping him." The devil convinced.

"It isn't fair to Neal to email or talk to another man. It's not the attention you want." The angel's voice getting smaller.

"Tell Neal about Sean. It's not that big of a deal. Neal trusts you and what could it hurt. The guy lives states away.” The devil won.

I wrote back. “Hey, Sean. It was good to meet you as well. It’s always fun getting to know other people. Anytime you have a question you’re welcome to ask.”

Later when Neal came home from hanging out with his friends we sat in bed and talked about the weekend in New Orleans. I was truthful and told him about the bachelor party that we hung out with and the conversation I picked up with Sean. If it bothered Neal he didn't show it. Instead we made up for lost intimate time while I was gone.

I allowed my mind to enter into a world where Neal didn’t know all of the brokenness about me and it gave me a boost. My senses were awakened as if a key had unlocked the door to my inhibitions. I felt freer, more confident. I had beaten myself down with Neal over the years and convinced myself that I could not live up to what he deserved because of all of the triggers. During sex I could not speak or make a sound. I couldn’t be touched in certain ways or places; even the smell of our union at times made me cringe. I felt unsure and unable to be who he deserved. But maybe I’d found a way.

The following week Sean and I emailed on a daily basis. Within the week we exchanged IMs and he messaged me first thing in the morning. Nothing was written that broke a marital vow. It was everything else that created the fall.

Tormented by this new friendship and whether or not it was 'of God' or a door for the enemy to slip in I went to my journal and prayed for God to reveal a purpose of our friendship.

Sean and I talk a lot about spirituality and religion, I wrote in my journal. Today he asked me to tell him what makes me 'so faithful'. I had to laugh because I remember not long ago asking what FAITH was and how to get 'it'. He wanted me to tell him what made me so sure. So I did and it was awesome! I told him that no matter what I said it would ultimately be up to him to get a true understanding or belief. I continued to give him my basic testimony and he listened. I mean really listened. When it was all said and done (this is what I'll cherish forever and I totally lift it up to God) he got real serious and said, "In all my life, not from my grandparents, my parents, or going to Catholic schools and church on Sunday have I ever had faith explained to me in such a way that makes sense as you have explained it to me today."

Praise God. I asked God to speak through me and He did. What an awesome feeling. I pray Sean looks into this more. If I could reach people like this all the time my life would be so full and blissfully high. I'm so blessed. Thank you God!

I was hooked. Sean was a project, someone I could save whereas Neal wanted nothing to do with my newly-found vigor for evangelization.

When Neal got home from work I'd venture to have the same discussions but he often met me with a blank stare or a simple, "That's interesting."

It was a slow fade but one that had been coming on for awhile. Neal and I were not on the same page. We fought daily about the simplest of issues. Who did more, who cared more, who said something more hurtful or demeaning than the other. I didn't feel appreciated, respected, or supported. He didn't feel appreciated, respected or supported. We were at an impasse.

The thrill of knowing someone who knew nothing about me made things better with Neal, but I could no longer carry that over into my existing relationship. The little devil on my shoulder convinced me maybe Neal hadn’t been right for me from the beginning.

Neal would come home and surpass me to give his attention to the boys and then head out to be with his friends. He doesn't love me as I deserve, I’d fume inside. Or at all.

Weeks turned into a month and my friendship with Sean was more like a long-distance relationship. We had regular times to talk on a daily basis. We dove into one another's life, what was going on with our kids, what our spouses were doing or saying that caused us both to feel inadequate and displeased.

We spoke less and less of faith and focused more on ourselves. Our selfish needs and desires. When I ventured a daydream about living a different life the angel groped her way through the fog. "What are you doing? You're playing with fire."

Ryan was in preschool and Seth was eighteen months old when I received an invitation for a new Bible study taking place at a friend's home. "What study is it?" It didn’t matter. I knew I needed something to save me from myself.

"It's on spiritual warfare.”

My heart pounded through my chest as I choked back the guilt and tears. "Yes, I'll be there.” God had perfect timing.

The invitation itself served as a personal wake up call. If anyone should recognize the enemy's ways it should be me but I was caught up in the web of lies. I avoided Sean's routine phone call and ignored his IMs.

"He cares about you." The devil wiped away my tears of anguish and confusion with more lies. "He doesn't understand why you won't talk to him. At least give him an explanation."

Unable to withstand the guilt of hurting anyone I gave in and called. Sean understood what we had was nothing beyond a fantasy life that was based on deceptive illusion. But the enemy was smart and conniving and even in our understanding we couldn't stop the simple principle of caring for one another.

The Bible study began and every word of every paragraph leapt off the page like alarm bells. "Get out of his grasp!" they cried. "Wake up to his lies!" they screamed. "Fight back!" they wailed.

I wept in the shower. "God help me." I wanted my marriage to be a good marriage. I wanted with Neal what we had in the beginning and not what we'd become - like roommates in the same home. The grips of the enemy had tightened around me but this time I could taste, smell and see the pit that had claimed my life for years. I fought back with every ounce of strength I could muster and when I didn't have enough Christ stood in the gaps.

January: I am horrified that I haven't journaled in five months. I guess it shows the turmoil I've been facing - I don't even want to write my true thoughts down when I'm not sure of how I feel about them myself.

I don't talk to Sean as much anymore. I think God needed me to speak to him and then let it go but the enemy snuck in and put me to the test. I'd like to think I passed. Sean and I check in every now and then to see how our families are doing but that's it. I do believe he was a blessing meant to open my eyes in my own marriage. I do thank God for that. If I take a look back at the past year it makes me sad, proud, and blessed. This year was full of some of the most challenging and difficult experiences in my life even more so than the rapes because they were spiritual attacks. But I think it has also made it the most rewarding. God has granted me wisdom through these tests and that humbles me.

Neal and I suffered this year, but we are on the climb back up...at the moment. We have a long way to go. There are so many obstacles and variables in our way. I nearly left Neal two months ago. It's not that I really felt like we were over. But I had reached my breaking point, and I believe he had too. But we stopped ourselves from separating and resolved to get over this big bump together. We went to counseling with our parish preist, Fr. Ken, because he didn’t know either of us, which felt unbiased which was helpful. I went back to personal counseling to deal with the sex/lack of desire issue and it has helped but I think Neal is a little beyond being compliant in 'helping' me 'get better'. Get better...hmm...to be honest I'm not sure I can. And why is it that it's always my issue or my fault. Argh...I guess that's my hang up in all of this.

I do feel for Neal. For so many years he has felt shunned and inadequate. I'd take it all back if I could. But that's not how God created the world. We are to move forward and it's my future that I can control (with God holding the reigns of course).

What is interesting and ironic is that through some strange (and not really wanted) occurrences I have come to realize I am a sexual person who is wanted and can desire. So, I do look forward to seeing what might be of this 'new' me.

At the moment Neal and I are selling our home to move to a new area. I pray this is in God's will for us. I have learned enough to know it's God's will I desire above all. This next year will be better. I feel it.

"I think I'm ready to move." Neal had come home with the idea one evening after visiting a co-worker's home who lived in another suburb of Houston forty-five minutes north of where we currently lived. "There is something about this place that tells me you'll never want to leave."

Stunned into silence I stared at my husband who had refused the idea of moving away from what was comfortable. Why the sudden change of heart? Then I realized it didn't matter. This was our chance to start over.

The move happened within nine months and even though the proximity of location made no difference to the distance I had between Sean and me, I allowed it to be the final goodbye to what never would be or ever should have been.

Before we moved I found the courage to confess my sin. "Tell your husband the truth and go on a married couples retreat,” the priest directed as my penance. Turns out God had more in store for us before we could make this happen.

---