Surviving the Storm: A Partner on the New (ish) Journey with a Partner Battling Sex Addiction

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.

Physically Traumatic:

Imagine finding out the person you love, the person you trusted, has not only betrayed you but put your health at risk. I’m talking about the gut punch of learning you’ve contracted an STD. In my case, I ended up with fibroids and HPV after an infection that nearly cost me my life. I went septic from something he gave me. Fun, right? It’s like the universe handed me a permanent reminder of his mistakes, a battle scar I never asked for.

But here’s the kicker: no matter what my body has been through, it’s still mine. I’m still here, and I refuse to let what happened to me define who I am. My health is part of my journey, but it’s not the whole story.

Mentally Traumatic:

The betrayal hit harder than I could have ever imagined. I found myself questioning everything. Was our relationship ever real? Was anything he said true? It’s like living in a constant state of paranoia—wondering if I missed the signs, if I should have known.

Gaslighting was a regular feature in our relationship. He’d lie, cover things up, twist reality until I wasn’t sure if I could even trust my own mind. But guess what? I’m not crazy. What he did was real, and so is my pain. No amount of his denial can change that.

Confusion:

Some days, I still don’t know what to think. Why would someone who claims to love me do this? Why would they keep hurting me, lying to me, betraying me over and over again? There are no easy answers, and that’s what makes it so damn confusing.

It’s hard to wrap my head around the idea that the person I loved could also be the source of so much pain. But I’ve learned that addiction does that—it turns people into someone you barely recognize. And sometimes, you have to accept that you may never fully understand why.

Anger/Resentment:

Let me tell you, the anger is real. There’s a part of me that wants to scream every time I think about what he’s done. The lies, the cheating, the fact that he knew what he was doing and still looked me in the eye and told me he loved me.

How could he? How could someone who claimed to love me cause so much damage? It’s a rage that burns deep, and there’s no quick fix for it. But I’ve learned that I can’t let that anger consume me. I have to feel it, process it, and then let it go—because holding onto it just keeps me stuck in the pain.

Chaos:

Living with someone who has a sex addiction is like trying to hold onto sanity while standing in the middle of a tornado. The lies, the cover-ups, the minimizing of their actions—it’s enough to make anyone feel like they’re losing their mind.

I’ve been told it wasn’t a big deal, that I was overreacting, that it’s all in my head. But let me be clear: It’s not. His addiction created chaos in our relationship, and I’m allowed to call it what it is—insanity. I’ve had to learn to ground myself, to find stability within myself, because relying on him for that wasn’t an option.

Hopelessness:

Addiction is a long, painful journey. It’s not something that gets fixed overnight, and some days, it feels like it may never get better. I’ve had moments where I’ve wondered if he even wants to change—if he even wants me, or our relationship. It’s hard not to feel hopeless when it seems like the addiction will always come first.

But here’s the thing: my hope doesn’t have to be tied to his recovery. I can have hope for myself, for my own healing, even if I don’t know what his future holds. It’s not easy, but I’m learning that I can choose hope even when things feel uncertain.

Worthlessness:

In the darkest moments, I’ve questioned everything about myself. Maybe if I were prettier, smarter, more exciting, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe if I had bigger boobs or a perfect body, he wouldn’t have felt the need to cheat.

But that’s the lie, isn’t it? The idea that his addiction is somehow a reflection of my worth. The truth is, I am enough. His actions were never about me. I am not responsible for his choices, and my value doesn’t come from his approval. I am lovable, worthy, and whole—exactly as I am.

Grief and Loss:

I grieve at the partner I thought I had, the future I imagined, the life I believed we were building together. It’s a loss, and it’s okay to mourn that. But as I grieve, I’m also learning to let go of what never truly was.

The person I thought was the person I wanted him to be—wasn’t real. And while that’s painful, it’s also freeing in a way. I’m letting go of the illusion, and in doing so, I’m making room for something real, something better.

Betrayal:

I’ve asked myself over and over again: How could he do this? How could someone who claims to love me cause so much harm? The betrayal runs deep, and it’s not just about the cheating. It’s about the lies, the gaslighting, the way he made me question my own reality.

But here’s what I’ve come to realize: His actions don’t define me. Yes, he betrayed me, but that doesn’t make me weak or foolish. I am strong, and I have the right to demand the love, honesty, and respect I deserve.

In Conclusion:

This journey has been brutal, and it’s far from over. But through the pain, the confusion, the anger, and the grief, I’ve learned one thing: I’m a survivor. I’ve faced things I never imagined I’d have to deal with, and yet, I’m still here. I’m still fighting for myself, for my healing, for my future, and maybe for the future of my relationship with the sex addict in my life.

So if you’re going through this, too, know that you’re not alone. It’s messy, it’s painful, but you are stronger than you think. And in the moments when you don’t feel strong? That’s okay, too. Just keep moving forward—one day, one step at a time.

And remember: Coffee, (or wine .. never a judgement here) and chocolate are always there to lend a hand. 😉