What do you do when the pain is unbearable. When the reality of the devastation your husband has caused you, your children, the victims, and everyone around him feel so much more real?
It happened to me the day he went to take his polygraph. He was honest and truthful about everything that he answered during the examination that day. It was really a relief to know that he never touched a child, or gratified himself to any of the child sex abuse materials he viewed. That even though he did view the previews and download the films, the attack on conscience he had was too great to cause him to act on it. So much so that he could only view moments of the footage before deleting it. It was a greater relief to know that he didn’t fantasize about children while he was intimate with me and that I was and still am the only woman he has ever been with.
What wasn’t good was the fact that he had a dream about having intercourse with a child. That was the event that triggered everything. When he told me that, it triggered an anxiety attack. Just the fact that, because he was exposed to that material for 2 days while he was a teenager visiting his dad, would warp the man’s mind for the rest of his life, when he became stressed out and depressed, made me fall to pieces. Is there really no coming back from this? Some of the police officers said yes, some of them said no.
I’d rather the opinion of a trained specialist than those that arrested my husband that day. Those people that came into my house, threatened to say that my children were being molested by my husband, threatened to say that he was viewing way more files than he was to pull a confession. Yes, he confessed alright. To everything, he didn’t do. Guilty to all of it. A complete loss of hope would lead him to try to hang himself in a county jail cell. A confession before being read his rights, that would find him guilty of every account that they put on him, that he didn’t commit verified by the polygraph. This is justice for all.
It all came flooding back, as I laid curled up in the fetal position on the floor. My husband knelt beside me. Prayed for me. Wept and apologized for the ruin that he brought to everyone around him. I tried to compose myself the best that I could, I couldn’t. I just lay in the bed and wept. He as always never left my side. He just sat with me, watching the news until it was time to pick up our boys from daycare.
Just the thought that in a few days, he would either be a free man or an imprisoned one, was crippling.