I have travelled alone many, many times. But I am realizing that none of what I used to do counts for much right now. As I prepared for my flight to see my son and grandchildren my anxiety grew. Anxiety about what? Who knows? Free-floating anxiety has become my recent companion. This is the email I sent my kids and it is a window into my world right now. It made me laugh…and then cry.

This October 26th, 2011 news story caught my eye when I read it a while back:

“Up to 20 million tons of tsunami debris floating from Japan could arrive on Hawaii's shores by early 2013, before reaching the West Coast, according to estimates by University of Hawaii scientists. Jan Hafner, a scientific computer programmer, told The Associated Press on Tuesday that researchers' projections show the debris would reach the coasts of Oregon, Washington, Alaska and Canada around 2014. They estimate the debris field is spread out across an area that's roughly 2,000 miles long and 1,000 miles wide located between Japan and Midway Atoll, where pieces could wash up in January. Just how much has already sunk and what portion is still floating is unknown.”

(http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/10/25/japan-tsunami-debris-hawaii_n_1031299.html?ncid=webmail3#es_share_ended)

The words jumped out from the page and tugged on my heart.

I started the new year back home in Mexico, and as always, I find myself in a world of color and contrasts among a people who know how to make-do—another way of saying they accept that it is what it is. If life is hard, they deal with it. Just yesterday as I pulled into a grocery store parking lot a young man with window washing liquid in one hand, soft cloth in the other stood waiting, hoping for customers. Like many here, he is doing is best to find a way to work, even if he can't find a job. And even if washing someone's car windows only earns him 10 pesos.

“Senor,” I called, as I stepped out of my car. Quickly and eagerly he came, a broad smile spreading across his face. The conversation that followed, interestingly in perfect English, told me this young man was really making do. Turns out he—Jesus is his name—was born in Mexico but his mother moved to the United States when he was very small. He grew up in Arizona and Colorado. However, when the immigration laws tightened in Arizona a few months ago, he left a good job and the woman he loves, and returned to the country of his birth rather than run into trouble because he was in the United States without papers. Jesus is making-do; he's accepting that it is what it is, even though life has turned his plans inside out.

Since I launched this ministry known as A Woman's Healing Journey in 2004, we've continued to look for new ways to help wounded womens' hearts heal. We've also become deeply aware that helping marriages heal is usually a big part of what a woman wants and needs, including deep emotional intimacy with her husband.

So when that doesn't happen—when her husband remains handicapped in knowing how to grow deep emotional intimacy with her—full healing fails to happen for both of them. What they need, and what each longs for, remains out of their reach. In the last few months we've added wonderful new resources to fill that gap.

Did you know “Clothing stores sell thongs for seven-to ten-year-olds, some with slogans like 'wink, wink' or 'eye candy'?” I didn't until today. That factoid, gleaned from a hospital for kids in Canada newsletter reporting on the Sexy Baby documentary, is the tamest factoid I found. As I contemplated how to tell you about an important new documentary, while not offending you, I learned many things I would rather not know. Though a few sources present their facts tamely, others don't spare our sensitivities. They simply plop today's reality in front of us where we're forced to look at the hard facts, just as our kids must every day of their young lives.

Like so many of you, I find Dr. Ley's statements offensive. As a clinician who should know better, he is clearly biased, and nowhere is his bias more blatant than in this quote from his blog post:

"...when I’ve worked with these folks, they show the exact reverse, demonstrating an obsessive, ruminating fixation on the details of their partners’ betrayals and actions. They’re not avoiding these situations or details because it makes them feel awful – no, they’re diving in head-long, beating their partner about the head and shoulders with the details of their betrayal and making this betrayal a central part of their life and relationship."

After reading his post, I grew curious about Dr. Ley's strong bias. Where might it be coming from? Though we can't know how pieces of his personal story may have contributed to his deeply biased core beliefs, I decided to learn more about his work and his writing, hoping I might at least find clues. Sure enough, I did.

“I am dying,” her email began, “and I need a coach to help me stay focused on several projects I want to leave behind as memories for my sons and future grandchildren.”

The words hit me with a thud. Oh, my gosh; can I do that? I wondered, considering the emotional cost. But soon after, my heart committed to taking this journey as I slid into my seat in a Greek restaurant where we met for the first time in Seattle, Washington. As she unpacked her story, filled with surgery, chemo, baldness, and the rest, I searched her warm, open gaze, topped by loose, short curls, and I knew I would grow to love her. And I knew that as I walked this out, my heart would break over the losses her husband's extracurricular sexual activities would ultimately extract from her, and from the many who loved her.

Name:anonymous

I'll try to be succinct.  I've been married for 15 years to my husband and known about his sex addiction for 15 years.  About 4 years ago, I confronted my husband to let him "know that I know".  He came forward to tell me of his struggle.  He was shown porn at age 9 by his uncles.  He compulsively masturbates every day for the past 30 years.  Throughout the years, I've tolerated, forgave and continued with him because we have 4 small children. 

Name:Mandie
Last Name:
Essay Title:Shattered Heart