from my journal

It finally dawned on me that the questions I send the attorney are all about trying to prove that the law is a bad law. That doesn’t matter, so that small hope has been stripped.  The attorney is patient with me; he answers my questions and discusses the law with me. That doesn’t matter. My husband will go to prison. Even if, by some fluke, he doesn’t go to prison, there is no way to pull back to the sparkling lives we had. And they were sparkling. I was a little smug about how great things were for us—such a great husband, such wonderful children. I still have the great husband and the wonderful children but there is no way anyone will believe me if I tell them that. I don’t know how long this shadow will last but it seems likely to be forever.

I say that I understand addiction, that I understand that my husband's choices were not free and clear. But I don’t. How could he not know? How could he risk it all for…for what? A thrill? And somewhere there are children who were photographed or videotaped doing I don’t know what. Such evil. And to find my life and my family smeared with it…too much to think about.

So, gratitude is best. What am I thankful for? I do have a wonderful husband. I do have hope that he can kick this vile addiction to porn. I do have hope that we will grow old together. My children are intelligent, sensitive, good people. I have a good job and I have friends who will stick by me when they find out.  Which friends will they be? I don’t know. Gratitude. I need to focus on that. This list seems meager.