Hope, Healing, and… Wait, Weren’t You Supposed to Text?

Ah, recovery. It’s a journey, they say. Full of hope, healing, and growth. And sometimes… a little confusion. Especially when your partner, in all their well-meaning glory, says, “I’ll text you after the meeting,” and then… crickets. You’re left staring at your phone, wondering if maybe you somehow missed the part where “after” turned into “sometime in the next decade.”

So, here we are. I’m cruising along in my healing journey, feeling like I’ve reached some level of emotional zen (or at least emotional stability), while my partner? Well, he’s about halfway up the mountain, still trying to remember which way is north. It’s like I’ve made it to the lookout point, and he’s down there squinting at the map, occasionally waving up at me, like, “I’m coming! Just…give me a minute!” Meanwhile, I’m over here thinking, “Should I send a search party, or just chill up here with my emotional granola?”

And honestly? That’s okay. Recovery is a journey, not a race. But let’s be real: some days, I’m like, “Seriously, are you ever going to catch up?!” It’s a wild ride of patience, hope, and sometimes, just trying not to lose my mind while he’s busy figuring out how to untangle his emotional shoelaces.

So here we are at Step 12. The big one. The final frontier. The moment when, after all this work, we’re supposed to have a spiritual awakening, carry the message, and practice these principles in all our affairs. Easy, right? If by "easy" you mean constantly surprised that you’re still standing, then, yes. Totally easy.

I mean, let’s get real for a second. "Spiritual awakening" sounds lovely, doesn’t it? But let’s just say, for a partner of a sex addict, this whole process isn’t exactly waking up to a peaceful sunrise over a serene lake. It’s more like waking up to find your kitchen on fire, and you’re holding a fire extinguisher that only sprays glitter.

So here we are, navigating this wild thing called healing. Spoiler alert: it’s not as glamorous as social media would have you believe. Forget the sunset-lit selfies of couples holding hands on beaches—healing is more like walking barefoot on Legos in the dark. You know that old saying, “Time heals all wounds”? Yeah, what they forgot to mention is that sometimes, time just gives you more stuff to overthink.

Ah, Step 11! The step that gently nudges us toward peace and trust with our Higher Power (HP), and basically tells us, “Hey, you can stop micromanaging the universe now.” Sounds calm and collected, right? Almost like we’re channeling our inner Zen master.

But let’s be real—if you're anything like me, the idea of "letting go" is the equivalent of walking into a room full of unsupervised toddlers. Your brain is shouting, “Who’s in charge here? What if something goes wrong?!” Surely, HP needs my advice on how to run things... right?

Spoiler alert: HP’s got this.

Well, look at us now—Step 10! The part of recovery where we get to continue taking a good, hard look at ourselves and… drumroll please… admit when we’re wrong. Fun times, right?

Before you roll your eyes and hit "back" on your browser, let’s take a moment to appreciate how much we’ve grown. We’ve been through the chaos of dealing with sex addiction, managed to keep ourselves (mostly) sane, and now we’re stepping into a new chapter: self-awareness without the melodrama.

Step 9: Making Amends Without Losing Your Sanity (Or Your Sense of Humor)

Ah, Step 9. Here we go again! After navigating the emotional boot camp of Step 8—where we listed all the people we’ve harmed (and realized that list could rival the Yellow Pages)—we’re now at the step where we take action. Time to step up, make amends, and maybe, just maybe, lighten the load a bit. But let’s not forget the golden rule of Step 9: we only make amends when it’s safe and won’t cause harm to the other person (or ourselves!). No need to create more chaos in the name of healing, right?

Wait… I’m Not the Addict—Why Do “I” Have to Make Amends?

From Dumpster Fires to Fireworks: Healing, Hope, and Moving Forward Together

So here we are, 18+ years of marriage… and what a wild ride it’s been! I’m talking about 16 of those years knowing—with receipts—that my partner was cheating. Long-term affairs, inappropriate photos, chat logs that made me want to chuck my phone into a volcano—it was all there. If you’ve been through it, you know the emotional rollercoaster I’m talking about. And if you haven’t… bless your soul!

Why Didn’t I Just Leave?

Ah, the million-dollar question! Why didn’t I pull a Beyoncé, pack my bags, and bounce?

Well, well, well, here we are at Step 8, the part of the journey where we make a list of all the people we’ve harmed—and let’s be real, if you’ve been living in the chaos of sex addiction recovery, that list is long enough to rival Santa’s. But fear not! There’s something weirdly beautiful (and dare I say, even funny) about admitting the truth: sometimes, we’ve tried so hard to be superheroes that we accidentally made everything worse. Who knew, right?

Wait… I'm Not the Addict, So Why Do I Have to Make Amends?

Hold up a second. Step 8 asks me to make a list of everyone I have harmed? But I’m not the one with the sex addiction! My first thought was, “Why am I making a list? Shouldn’t I be at the top of their list?”

Welcome, fellow warriors. If you’ve found yourself here, chances are you’ve recently realized that your love story has taken a sharp turn into territory no one ever prepared you for. I get it—your world feels like it’s been split wide open by the betrayal, lies, and chaos of addiction. But here’s the truth: you are not just a victim in this story, you are a Princess Warrior, and that power has been there all along, even if you didn’t know it yet.

If you're reading this, there's a good chance your world has been turned upside down by your partner's sex addiction. I get it because I’ve been there. I know what it feels like to have your entire reality shattered and to wonder, “How the hell did I end up here?”

Let me tell you, I didn’t sign up for this. None of us did. But here we are, navigating the wreckage of betrayal, broken trust, and a whole lot of confusing emotions. And somehow, we’re still standing.

So, you’re in a relationship with someone in recovery from sex addiction, and if you’re anything like I was in the beginning, you probably thought, “Me? I don’t have any problems. It’s all his fault!” Yep, been there. I mean, after all, he’s the one with the devastating addiction, right? Surely, the addict is the only one who needs fixing. But here’s the kicker—once the addict starts stabilizing in recovery, it might just be time to take a good, hard look at ourselves. Yikes!

The Art of Asking (and Not Just for Directions)
Ah, Step 7—the moment “we humbly ask God, or our Higher Power, to remove our shortcomings”. I don’t know about you, but the word “humbly” always makes me pause. It’s like the universe is saying, “Okay, you’ve tried it your way, and now you need to politely hand over the keys and let the big guy, (or girl), upstairs take the wheel.” And let’s be honest, I was driving like a maniac in a car with no brakes for a while there. So yeah, it’s time.

The Struggle with “Entirely Ready”
So, we’ve made it to Step 6: Were entirely ready to have God, as we know our higher power, remove all these defects of character. Seems simple enough, right? Just be entirely ready to hand over all your character defects like you’re returning a bad Amazon purchase. But let me tell you, I was not entirely ready. If anything, I was partially ready—or maybe ready-ish. Ready-adjacent, at best.

So there I was, staring down Step 5

Step 5 of recovery goes like this: Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs. And my first reaction? A big “Nope! Not gonna happen… I’m out, I’m done! Exit stage right”

Honestly, I’m the one going through the wringer here, right? How am I supposed to sit down and admit anything when I’m still feeling like the universe is throwing rocks at me? The idea of making amends while my world was still crumbling felt like I had wandered into the wrong movie set.

Ah, Step Four. The infamous "searching and fearless moral inventory." It's the part of the journey where we put on our detective hats, whip out a magnifying glass, and examine our inner lives like we’re the stars of some reality show called "The Real Overthinkers of Recovery."

If you’re a partner of a sex addict, you’ve probably felt the fear bubbling up as you approach this step. Maybe you’re afraid that once you start digging, you’ll uncover some untapped realm of ridiculous quirks, like the fact that you still sleep with your childhood blanket or that your irrational fear of squirrels might actually be holding you back in life (just me??? Really?? Ok.. well let’s move on from that awkward moment… lol ).

Step 3: Wait, You Want Me to Do WHAT with My Will and Life?"

So, you’ve reached Step 3 in your journey as a partner of a sex addict. Congrats! This is the part where we make the big decision to hand over our will and our lives to the care of God—as we understand Him (or Her, or It, or the Universe, or, honestly, whatever works for you). But wait, what exactly are we handing over here? And are we sure this is a good idea? Because I don’t know about you, but I kind of like being in control of things… even if my track record suggests I might need a little help in that department.

But let’s break this down together, and maybe by the end, we’ll all feel a little better about giving up the illusion of control we cling to so desperately.

Okay, so you’ve survived Step One: Admitting you’re powerless. That’s a doozy, right? It’s like realizing that no matter how many times you refresh your Wi-Fi, you’re not the one who controls the internet. You’ve done the hard work of admitting you can’t control your partner’s sex addiction (or much else, for that matter). You’ve thrown your hands up and said, “I’m done playing detective/therapist/Mom/Google search engine!”—and honestly, good for you!

Now, welcome to Step Two: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. Sounds promising, right? But if you’re sitting there thinking, “Uh, what sanity? I lost mine around the time I was checking my partner’s browser history at 3 a.m.,” don’t worry—you’re in the right place. Let’s dig into this step, because who doesn’t want a little more sanity?

You ever find yourself staring into the distance, thinking, “Wait a minute... why am I still here? Shouldn’t I have applied for emotional hazard pay by now?” Loving someone in recovery from sex addiction can feel like you’ve been buckled into a rollercoaster you didn’t even want to ride—ups, downs, twists, and turns. Sometimes, you’re upside down, but somehow, you're still hanging on. And let’s not forget those moments when you’re quietly asking yourself, “What is it about this person that I love again?”

Because, let’s be honest, loving someone through this can feel like trying to dance on a minefield. Could I set boundaries and not take it personally when they miss the mark? Probably not. Could they feel safe enough to truly understand what their actions did to me? Eh, doubtful. So here we are, learning to figure this all out—like a confusing board game with no instructions, except with way more emotional baggage (and no “Get Out of Jail Free” cards).

You ever find yourself scrolling through old texts, peeking at someone’s social media, reliving past arguments, or digging up a situation you know is going to make you feel worse, but you do it anyway? Welcome, my friend, to the wild world of pain shopping.

Yeah, it’s a thing. And no, it's not about buying a fancy new exercise machine that will sit in the corner collecting dust while you binge-watch your favorite show. Pain shopping is when we go out of our way to find something that makes us upset or confirms our pain—even when we know it's not good for us. It's like we’ve got a mental shopping cart and, instead of filling it with happiness and cute cat videos, we toss in guilt, regret, and anxiety for good measure.