None of My Business?

Why do I snoop?

I snoop for a couple of reasons.

1. I'm curious if my husband will stop looking at, commenting on, and downloading pictures he sees on facebook of women in sudcutive poses, little or no clothing, etc. when things are going well between us.  I wonder if what we experience together in a good way makes any difference.  It doesn't.  I keep hoping it will...so far it hasn't made one ounce of difference.
2. I'm curious if he is trying to hook up with other women via messages on facebook or in his email.  

Those are pretty much the two reasons I snoop.

What difference does it make what I find if I do nothing about it and continue to torture myself with his findings, with his downloads, with his messages, with his comments of perfection - oft times sexual in nature?

Why the hell does it bother me?

And if it does bother me so much (and most of the time in these past six and one half years it  has bothered me), WHY DO I STAY?

This is what he has told me:

1. He loves pornography.
2. He thinks of it as art.
3. No one is going to tell him what he can or can't watch.
4. He is never going to stop looking at it or commenting on it or saving it or having it in his life.
5. He defends it with his life.
6. He gets angry and defensive about it when I bring it up and ask him if he would consider stopping.

The big question is this:

•  Why do I think that what I want doesn't matter?  That what I want is inconsequential?  That I just have to accept it?  That when he says he is not committed to our marriage (unless a few things change on my part), why do I stay and accept that?

Is it the money or lack thereof on my part? 
Is it that I keep hoping he will change?
Am I looking the other way because there are so many other great things about him that discount the porn, flirting, comments, etc?

I had a meltdown this morning. A photo triggered me. It was taken yesterday at the State Fair. He showed it to me this morning and as I looked at it, all I saw was what I wasn't – a sex bomb with boobs hanging out. I didn't see the amazing woman I am, all I saw was what I wasn't.

I don't even want to be a sex bomb with boobs hanging out, unless it's in the bedroom.

But those are the pictures my husband comments on in Facebook. He says things like, “perfect, yummy, scrumptious, you're a dream, I'd be in trouble if you lived in my town, etc.”

So when I saw this photo of us I knew he wouldn't be complimenting me, at least not like he does on so many women's photos.

I picked up my journal and began writing in it, then I began throwing it and screaming how ugly I am. I kept picking it up and throwing it down. Then I curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor and sobbed. He came over to me and asked what was wrong. He held me and told me I am beautiful and that I am not ugly.  He asked what I saw in that picture that caused my meltdown; what I was seeing that didn't see or notice.  I explained it to him.  He began telling me that this was a kick around picture, not a modeling picture.  He tried to make me see the reality of the situation and tried to help me feel better.

Why do I torture myself? I am torturing myself living in this world where I love him but tolerate his flirting and comments to other women. I look the other way and pretend it doesn't matter. But when I look at myself and in my mind I am comparing myself to all of these airbrushed women... that is torture.

The truth is, I am grateful I am me. I love how I look. I love who I am. I feel I have so much to offer others via my writing and my music and my health journey. But what I find is I get wrapped up emotionally in all of this crap and feel I don't have anything to offer.

That is a lie, and I know it.

It is amazing to me how many lives are affected by pornography.  How many women suffer in silence.  Why silence?  Because we are concerned about confidentiality and trust.  We are concerned how members of our family will react.  How they will view our husbands.  Our choices.

I have come to realize that the viewing of pornography by my husband is not about me.  It was a choice he made when life was falling apart all around us and he felt hopeless; when he felt he didn't really matter to the family; when he felt judged by everyone at church and in the community.  After all, our lives were spiraling out of control while others' seemed to have all of their ducks in a row. His viewing began as a way out.  A relief from all of the pressure.

Like the person who begins drinking.  Or taking drugs.  Or smoking. Or overeating.

And yet, why does it feel it is all about me, and what I'm not or what I am lacking.