Just found another recent reddit post about us--and the follow up from therapy.

One thing I have become a master at is doomscrolling while nursing our newborn. It's probably not the healthiest of habits, but Ashley has decided that her overnight feedings are going to be absolutely epic in duration. For all three of our kids, co-sleeping has been a lifesaver, and with both Abby and TJ (and for a while, Ashley), they would wake up in the middle of the night, I'd whip a boob out and get them nuzzled up, and then I could get some wake-sleep. Even those few seconds of being out were a lifesaver the next day. When our two-week hiccup occurred, she decided that she only likes being fed while I'm sitting up in my rocking chair, so it requires a whole other level of attention—and to keep myself awake, I scroll on my phone.

That's when I came across this Reddit thread that was posted about a month ago:
https://old.reddit.com/r/BORUpdates/comments/1k003hl/the_saga_of_the_wife_who_went_mexico_was_too/

The OP as well as the account that posted it are deleted, but my impression is that someone who knew our story took one of my blog posts and tried to say that there was actually a positive outcome from our story. The comments are a whole other can of worms—and in a lot of ways took me right back to June of last year when everything was happening. Now, I don't expect the average Reddit poster to have followed the literal library of information I have posted to follow up from our original story—but maybe, just maybe, read what I wrote and take my word for it that things can and have gotten better.

But all the same old nonsense is in that comment section:
"She cheated."
"She's a whore."
"She can't be that naive."
"She knew what she was doing."
"She lied to him."
"The baby can't be the husband's—get a DNA test."
And my absolute favorite: "The story is so FAKE."

It's been quite a while since something new has popped up about us, but it does show that for some reason our small little story caught the imagination of people. The comments don't make me sad for me—I am and will always be anonymous (literally because of posts like that)—but it makes me sad that people get so entrenched in their ways. Even 90 blog posts later, people still won't listen to me and take my word about what happened. The information is there, but they would still rather believe first impressions, other commenters, the innuendo, some dude on YouTube, etc.

I have been an open book. People can email me, they can comment, and I try my best to respond. They could have invited me to be part of that discussion. If the story is that compelling—that people are still compelled to comment 10 months later—then for their own edification, get my side of the story.

Now—on to our therapy session from Wednesday.

It was Tuesday night when I caught Bubs tossing baseballs to TJ while I was frantically trying to get supplies for TJ's "last minute" project (that he'd known about for 3 weeks) that was due the next day. The only things I said to him were that we had an appointment with Lydia at 1 and we were going to have to do it from separate rooms because of how mad I was. I have almost never been speechless—in fact the opposite. When we fight, I could keep it going for days, sussing out every detail, every nuance, every facial tic, etc. I think Bubs knew he had really fucked up because I wasn't talking to him. I took Ashley to sleep in Evie's bed because hammer-fisting Bub's swollen balls in the middle of the night may have been a real possibility.

Our appointment time came around and it was so good to see Lydia again—even over the computer. Her forthright manner has been a godsend since our whole crisis started. I started in by telling what had happened last week, and she sort of stopped me when I told her that we had scheduled Bubs’ vasectomy so close to Ashley being born and said:

"Well, I'm not an MD, and what's done is done, but I would have told you that's one of the stupidest things I've heard of any couple doing—but specifically for you two—what, did you decide you need more drama in your life?"

I tried to explain that everything probably would have been fine had Bubs not decided to go for his run last week. She cut me off and said we'd get to our individual actions, but that Bubs could have had the same result from tripping in the shower or bending over wrong—that it was the decision we made together that "loaded the gun."

Fair enough.

But when we did talk about Bubs deciding to go for his run last week, completely against medical advice, she really did seem disappointed in him and said she was formulating some thoughts that she would get back to. We talked about how the next few days were ok, and despite being completely exhausted, I really appreciated that Bubs stayed in bed and let me take care of him for a couple of days.

Then we got to Tuesday when the "water cycle" crisis popped up.

Just like so many of you said in the comments, Lydia agreed that TJ pulled off a master class in parental manipulation and may in fact be some sort of Marvel Universe supervillain.

I have to be impressed with the mechanics of his little brain here:
"My mom the teacher is super mad at me because I was irresponsible, and my dad the former baseball player has his feelings hurt that I don't want to play baseball anymore. How can I turn them against each other so I'm out from under the barrel?--Daddy, will you please toss me balls so I can practice hitting?" 

So again, I love Lydia for her candor, and like I posted the other day, her near direct quote was "You know, sometimes it's ok for a spouse to have a few days to process their emotions when they feel like their partner isn't acting like much of a partner..." She told me and Bubs that what he did was very insensitive, especially with everything that has fallen on me to keep the household together. She then asked if I would be ok if she talked to Bubs alone. I said of course—but—I have to give Bubs credit here. He said he would rather I stay on so I could hear whatever she was about to say as well, since this counseling was for us. She said that was fair enough.

So basically she told him straight up: he's an addict—or more precisely, a person with an addictive personality.

She said he's very lucky (and by extension, me and the kids are lucky) that his “substance” is not something that is going to kill him instantly or make him steal from his family to get his supply, but in the long run, the results may be similar.

She reminded him of why we first came to see her last year. He said, well, it was the Mexico thing, and she was a counselor who was going to help us through the divorce process. She said while that is true, the real reason was that he had more or less worked himself into becoming a stranger to me. He had three jobs, was traveling all the time, coaching swimming and baseball—and the best he could offer me was “maybe” taking a trip to Disney World in the fall.

He said he didn’t see how that made him an addict. She spelled it out again (paraphrasing): "Well specifically, you are addicted to exercise. The amount of running you do is probably not healthy. Let’s do a theoretical substitution—running for cocaine or alcohol. I can’t count the number of addicts I’ve seen who have told their wives they promise they won’t use or drink so they can help with the new baby--and so many of them don't keep the promise. You went against medical advice, lied about it being a walk—and needed to be rescued off the side of the road. Do you see the analogy now?"

Bubs said that he did. She went on: "I think even more than that, you are addicted to activity."

She basically explained that since we first started seeing her, whether it’s work, running, being active with the kids, or being at my dad’s beck and call over the business—Bubs has not allowed himself to take a moment’s rest. She said it's really hard because all of the things he’s addicted to are things that society is going to tell him he’s amazing for doing—which in itself might be part of the reason why he craves the activity so much.

It’s a good thing that he’s such a great dad.
It’s a good thing that he’s an entrepreneur.
It’s a good thing that he makes great money.
It’s a good thing that he’s a military officer and a pilot.

But—if he can't even rest after surgery and overextended himself to the point where he can’t get out of bed—the short-term result is the same as if he’d taken a bad shot of synthetic opiates. 

I guess I should interject and say that I'm posting all of this with Bub's permission because even thought we were on separate laptops in separate rooms, I could actually tell he was tearing up--which never happens. Lydia asked if I had anything to say and I said I had ton to say because everything she had just laid out rang enormously true but that I wasn't sure if now was the right time to pile on. She said that since we've obviously had some sort of break through here, it's something that we want to revisit in the future and maybe Bubs needs to get some individual counseling where he can talk these things out. 

I think that was an amazing breakthrough because I think it gets to the core of what so many of our issues have been. I love my husband for who is and how hard he works and how great of a dad he is. But at the same time I resent him for every single one of those things because I feel he overdoes it and I get left behind. But at the same time things have been so much better than the were last year--and maybe with this new breakthrough, things can be even better next year. 

Well, once again--typing this out really, really helped. Bubs and I started speaking again after the appointment on Wednesday--its Saturday and after writing this all out, I may even go give him a big smooch and tell him that I love him for the first time in a week. We'll see.