Coming out of Denial
In all the years, my marriage was marked by the effects of unresolved sexual addiction. I didn't have that AH-HA moment of seeing the reality I had found myself in. It took time. It took about four years, so I call this my ‘slow snap’ out of denial. Coming out of denial is probably the most powerful way for a betrayed partner to start the healing process. When the betrayer is in denial, it prevents them from entering authentic recovery.
Denial can hold you back in many ways in life. Coming to terms with what is happening is challenging, but it is also the first step toward understanding. It’s a necessary step. It is essential to know that it will probably not be sudden; most of us emerge from denial gradually. I think this is best because, all at once, it might cause us to go back under the rock rather than face the reality we have just been shown.
It started when I read the book Kosher Lust, which I believe is helpful in marriages without problematic sexual or abusive behaviors. The reason behind this is that a man should have a healthy desire for his wife; he can't objectify her or anyone else. In the book, author Rabbi Schmuley talks about men ogling their wives. This is not something a man can do if he engages in porn, and in fact, he even says that Kosher Lust can't be applied in a marriage with porn and masturbation. I loved the book, but he was right. At the time, I was unaware of the extent to which compulsive sexual behaviors were affecting our intimacy and my safety. It wasn’t until later that I understood how those patterns impacted our connection. I was listening to the audiobook while on a road trip, and my former husband was also listening on a separate road trip. We would pause the book and discuss through a voice message app we used. Both of us felt validated and heard during this process. Then the book was over, and I returned to my usual TED talks while driving. I ended up diving into porn use and addiction talks to understand why continuous porn use prevents men from having healthy desires for their wives. I listened to an incredible talk called "Your Brain on Porn". Hours later, finally, at my destination, I had practically earned my Ph.D. in porn addiction. Whew! I came to the conclusion that my husband's brain needed to be rewired so he could engage in our relationship in a healthy way.
Not long after, we attended a conference for people who wanted to learn more about human sex trafficking and how to get involved in creating more awareness around that. This event was led by an incredible organization based out of Kansas City called Exodus Cry. I heard from speakers who gave insight into things I had no experience with. I wasn't expecting to hear testimonies of child sex abuse and the adults who had overcome the shame attached to it.
One speaker was my game-changer. Gene McConnell, who runs Authentic Relationships International. His ministry is about showing up authentically and how shame can hold you back. I cried through most of his testimony because I realized that overcoming the behaviors associated with sex addiction didn't happen through sobriety. I didn't know there was a difference between sobriety and recovery. I thought giving up porn was the ticket out of addiction and those behaviors. I realized that the research I had done previously on addiction meant a porn-addicted brain needs time to heal and rewire. They needed recovery. This was the missing piece in healing our marriage. I sat there in my seat in tears and feeling numb. All I could say was, “It’s not fair.” While I wasn’t processing emotions, I struggled with doubt about whether he was truly ready to face the depth of the healing journey. Over time, those doubts were confirmed by the continued patterns I experienced.
That year, God was shifting us, or perhaps I should say sifting us. A lot happened in our marriage and in my heart towards my husband. We were losing friends due to reasons that were out of my control. God was placing us on an island. Not long after that, I learned I was pregnant with my fourth baby. I would be lying if I didn’t admit this troubled me. I dreaded having another baby with a man who didn’t make me feel loved. I was starting to have thoughts about wanting to end the marriage. I was coming home from a trip the night I found out I was pregnant, and I walked into the house to find him asleep on the sofa as usual. I went to bed, and he went to work the next day. I prayed for comfort and direction. I remembered something I heard from one of those TED talks I listened to, and I searched for therapists in our area specializing in sex addiction. I decided at that moment that if the resources were there and he was willing to take them seriously, then I knew we could overcome this battle. If he didn’t take it seriously, I knew it was over.
He got home from work; I told him I was pregnant. Then I shared my concerns about our marriage and my expectations for him (and us) moving forward with him. We heard the same speakers; I saw how it impacted him. I knew he didn’t like where he was either, so I gave him a choice and set a firm boundary. I knew he wanted to change and be free of the shame he carried his whole life. I thought he cared about how it affected me and even the kids.
Not even two weeks later, we sat together in front of a therapist for the first time. (This therapist was who I ended up using to help me navigate separation and divorce.) He laid out a path and gave my husband things to do. We invested in this for the sake of our marriage. For months, he went weekly. They covered childhood trauma and family of origin dynamics. He was open with me about a lot of what they discussed. I started to understand him more, and over time, we could have hard conversations without disrupting our relationship for days or weeks. He wouldn’t blow up at me when I was triggered, and he could talk more about his struggles. On the surface, this might all seem like a good thing. The problem was that while our conversations improved on the surface, deeper patterns remained unchanged. I didn’t feel pursued, emotionally connected to, or consistently cared for in the way recovery often brings. Over time, I began to recognize that what I was experiencing aligned with covert emotional abuse, subtle but deeply wounding forms of neglect and manipulation that left me doubting my worth and sanity.
After two years like this, I joined a support group because I also needed to go through a recovery process. I think I went into even deeper denial because I heard the stories of others who were more aware than I was. My group leader, with whom I have remained close friends, and I discussed how severe my denial was during this time. At this point, I knew God was calling me into ministry to support women experiencing intimate partner betrayal. My husband and I were asked to discuss the topic, which helped me heal. However, I was still experiencing betrayal unbeknownst to me. I believed he had stopped consuming porn and lying about it years before this. He kept telling me that his work in the ministry was helping him resist temptation. It offered accountability. Living in the dissonance between what I saw and what I felt created layers of trauma that I had to unravel. The inconsistency was deeply destabilizing.
After two years in the group and still not experiencing recovery behaviors in my marriage, two significant things happened.
Someone told me, “You can’t heal what you don’t know,” in response to why I wasn’t getting better. I started to develop more bitterness and resentment towards my husband. Others noticed when I talked about him and our marriage. That same person then pulled me aside and pointed it out to me. It hurt to hear her say it, but I needed it. She held a mirror up so I could see who I was becoming. It showed me that I wasn’t ok and it was time to invest in my healing. I decided it was my turn to have regular visits with the therapist. Not only was he a Certified Sex Addiction Therapist (CSAT), but he also helped betrayed partners. I explained everything I was feeling. I sat on the sofa, sharing all the ugliness I had in my heart towards my spouse, my marriage, and how I wanted to heal. I wanted so much better for myself, my husband, and my kids because I knew that was what God wanted for us. After hearing me vent about what I was experiencing, the therapist told me my husband was still acting like an addict. In an instant, I felt heard, seen, and validated. I could breathe because I knew I wasn’t crazy. I don’t remember much of what he told me after that because all I could focus on was that there were things my husband needed to do if our marriage was going to be successful. I felt powerless because I wasn’t the one creating the issues. I was only reacting to them. I needed him to show me he loved me through consistency. We discussed how I could feel myself wanting to control his recovery, but I knew that wasn’t healthy. So I said to the therapist in a half-joking manner. “How do I get my husband to do what I want?” Of course, that question gave us both a good laugh, but his words after that resonated with me deeply and have stayed with me ever since. “Consequences are the catalyst of change.” I sat with those words for a few weeks. Then God used them to change our marriage and my heart. I wrote about that in another blog post HERE.
Not long after this, I got my first full disclosure. After sixteen years of marriage, I had never received a disclosure like this. I later learned that the behaviors I thought had ended were still ongoing, which felt deeply disorienting, especially given the support roles we were both involved in. Throughout all those years, he presented his ministry as his accountability. I believed him, and so did many others. But the truth eventually came out: he had been continuing the same behaviors in secret. What we saw on the outside didn’t reflect the reality underneath. That disconnect was devastating, not only because of the personal betrayal, but because I realized the illusion wasn’t mine alone; many others shared it.
At this point, I was probably 75% out of denial. I was faced with a new reality, and it was like I was thrown from a plane without a parachute, still hoping he would change and our marriage would be what I was praying for. I would find a soft landing. While I had hope, I was also highly traumatized and experiencing PTSD symptoms daily.
A couple of weeks later, I attended an intensive retreat that my therapist was offering, which took place over a weekend with another therapist from his office. A handful of other women and I learned about neuroscience and boundaries, discussed our traumas, and talked about our feelings. That was where I laid my denial down, every last bit of it. My eyes were wide open, and I was starting to regulate my emotions. I was able to weigh my options. I decided that if he were going to change, he would have to do it without me cheering him on anymore. It hurt me too much and caused my walk with God to suffer because I wasn’t putting myself first.
The problem with denial is that you don’t know you have it.
It’s completely hidden. You don’t think to pray about it because you don’t know it’s there. Others can see it, but they can’t say anything because being told you are in denial is perceived as offensive. I don’t think anyone would receive that well. If I had had awareness seven years ago when I sought healing from betrayal trauma, I would have asked God through prayer to walk me gently out of denial. You can’t heal what you don’t know.
So if you are experiencing confusion in your relationship, such as what he says doesn’t align with his actions.
Consider what I am saying here.
I caution you, though; once you know, it can no longer be unknown. I wouldn’t recommend doing any denial work without support. A therapist or a coach who specializes in this work is likely to be more effective than well-meaning friends. After my divorce, my friends who genuinely loved me were more comfortable telling me what they truly saw. I am glad they waited to be honest about what they were seeing. I was blind to it all, but they loved me where I was, and that was exactly what I needed to safely walk myself out of the dark and into the light.
My story doesn’t have to be everyone’s story. I genuinely believe that when a husband struggles with porn and loves his wife and kids, he will fight his demons to get to a place of healing. He will embrace change and take ownership of his transgressions against those he hurt.
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