My first year teaching at a private school had just ended and we had just made plans to go on the survey trip that would seal our commitment to foreign missions. And Jeff had just emotionally beaten me almost to death—the rejection that had abated during our weekly counseling was back and Jeff had become more brutal in his insistence that our problems were my fault. I was lying on the floor, crying and begging for hep when the phone rang. It was our counselor telling me that—though he had finished our release to work in missions—he needed to have one last session with us. When Jeff got home that day I told him about our appointment and begged him to tell our counselor about his struggle with pornography—this was our last chance! And to my astonishment he agreed.

I was even more astonished at the questions our counselor asked when Jeff confessed. He wasn’t surprised, wasn’t taken aback. I was sure that he would turn to me and say, “Look what you have done to this man.”  Instead, he said, “You know, Jan, this has nothing to do with you.”  Then he used question after question to unfold the details of Jeff’s addiction to pornography. He gave us a whole new vocabulary. I hated these vocabulary lessons! But it was the beginning of knowing who we really are, the beginning of transparency.

The next six months seemed to last years and years. Besides vocabulary lessons for me, Jeff’s recovery involved 9 weeks of celibacy (which seemed so unfair to me), attending support groups, telling the mission team we worked with about Jeff’s addiction, and lots of reading and talking and crying. During these months, he only confessed his involvement with pictures.

Our counselor told me I had to tell two people so that I would have someone to talk to. These parameters really protected me. If you are struggling with where to go for support, think hard about the people you share with. I almost told some friends that I know now could not have handled that kind of responsibility, but I eventually found an acquaintance who had endured the same “vocabulary lessons” and a wise, understanding friend. Both of them assured me of God’s plan and protection.

Perhaps one of the greatest fears of someone married to a sex addict is that there is more that they haven’t told you. And when Jeff finally confessed that there was more than pictures, that he’d had sex with a prostitute, I wondered if there would be an end to the revelations. In counseling session after counseling session new information surfaced—erotic massages, topless bars, nude models and on and on—things I didn’t know were possible anywhere, much less in my own home. My husband has an honest face and a gentle spirit. I could never have imagined him to be capable of such deception over such a length of time.  I had a whole range of emotions –fear, anger, shame, doubt.

This was where the healing for my struggle with anger began, too.  Our marriage had been polluted by a force I couldn’t see.  Identifying the problem and recognizing the damage that had been done—learning to speak the truth and walk in the light--healed every aspect of our lives.

The Affair Recovery group we joined was an incredible blessing. The women in that group were precious blessings that changed my life. It was a place to come completely clean, be completely accepted, and to have a fellowship of sufferings.

The hardest day was when I had to tell my closest friend that we were not going to join them on the mission field. By then, I was confident about Jeff’s healing, but this seemed like a permanent loss.  She and her husband honestly expressed both anger and support for Jeff.

I’m happy to say that four years later I was given the opportunity to help start a missions organization that has allowed me to not only visit my dear friend, but to attend to her needs as a missionary.