Changing the Marriage Relationship After Addiction

We addicts don’t tend to be messed up in just one aspect of our lives. It’s not like we’re just perfectly healthy people in every way except for that one isolated problem. Rather, we tend to be fundamentally flawed people, with a crack at the base that fractures and compromises us all the way through.

One common failing for many addicts is in their relationships with other people, including the spouse. In what way the marriage relationship is flawed varies from addict to addict, but for me it came in the form of abdicating all authority to my wife.

As I think back to my old approach to marriage, I think I just didn’t want to be responsible if things went wrong. If I never had the final say in anything, then nothing could ever be my fault. And so, even in matters that I felt very strongly about, I would downplay any personal opinions and just defer to her judgment.

Of course, I dressed it up very nicely. I told myself that I was just a really nice, really agreeable guy. I was self-sacrificing, unfazed by disappointment, always making sure everyone else was getting what they wanted. In reality, though, I was building up resentments, putting undue stress on my wife, and undercutting my own power. It wasn’t a good way to be.

As I dove into addiction recovery, I started to recognize this unhealthy pattern for what it was, and I knew it had to change. I realized that I wanted to grow up. I wanted my opinions to be taken seriously. I wanted to have the deciding voice on the choices that rightfully belonged to me. I wanted enough space and grace to make and learn from my own mistakes.

Now I’d like to say that my wife and I made this transition immediately and there was no drama whatsoever…but that would be a lie.

Making this change was actually very difficult and conflicted. Since I was so inexperienced in sticking to my guns, there was a lot of trial and error in finding the right tone when I did so. I’d lurch from spineless simp to fire-and-damnation persecutor, creating a lot of unnecessary tension. Meanwhile, years of experience had taught my wife that I would back down on any disagreement if she just turned up the pressure, so things would escalate even further.

At first I blamed my wife for a lot of the difficulty in making this transition to a balanced relationship. As I thought about it, though, I realized that a large part of why she expected me to adapt to her whims was because I had conditioned her to do exactly that. From the very start of our relationship, I had demonstrated to her that I didn’t want her to take my feelings seriously. So now she was experiencing the whiplash of me being angry at her for doing the very things that I had been asking her to do for years!

When I realized that, I concluded that I carried at least half of the responsibility for what the relationship was, and for why we were having a hard time in changing it. Of course, none of that changed the fact that I still wanted to make that change, but it gave me greater empathy and patience as I took ownership for my part of the problem.

Gradually, my wife and I settled into a new dynamic. I learned that it was possible to hold my ground in a way that was calm and confident. By doing that consistently and peacefully, my wife and I naturally reoriented ourselves to one another.

Changing the relationship was like wading out into the middle of a riverbed. At first, your new presence seems to be an intolerable disturbance to the already established flow, with the water violently sloshing and trying to knock you down so that it can continue undisturbed. But if you find your place and stand still, the river will soon develop a new cadence that takes your presence into account. The trick is to not be so discouraged by the momentary chaos that you quit before peace reestablishes itself. You can have a better relationship than you’ve ever had before, just by consistently showing up as the new you.

By Abe, Writing Team

Importance of reaching out

In our most recent episode, the team dives deeper into the importance of reaching out. On my journey I struggled a lot to feel worthy of being loved because of the shame of things that had happened to me and things I had done to myself and others.

Feeling the weight of the world to pose and try to project an image of “everything is good here, no need to take up any of your time,” I didn’t feel worthy of seeking love or giving love.

Even worse, I didn’t feel worthy of being loved. I couldn’t give grace to myself, and as a result, I really couldn’t give grace to others. While downplaying the hurt of others against me, I was also always looking to blame others for my lot in life. My ego got in my way and blocked me from being able to connect.

So, stuck in this cycle of trying to be brave and hold it all in, but then crushed by the anxiety that I’m not worthy of love from others and God (because, after all I falsely believed that I am a bad person), I was constantly struggling to know what I need and feeling worthy of accepting what I need.

Sounds crazy typing that out - but it is the demonic cycle which kept me in isolation and this acting out in addiction.

How do I overcome this?

I just reach out.

Uncomfortable, ashamed, or posing and trying to be brave, I reach out anyway.

I’ve learned God is big enough to accept me in spite of myself. And many of you accept me in my weakness. And together we have laughed in our weakness, seen the insanity of selfishness and shame, and prayed for and been present with each other.

As I look back over my trials of the past few months, despite the things which happened to me that seemed out of my control, the real struggles came when I tried to hold it all in and carry it myself. And the real deliverance came when, despite all of that, one of you reached out to me or took my call when I finally had the courage to reach out to you.

“Reach up, and reach out” is an AA tenant I am reminded of often. One of my intentions for 2025 is to remember how much this helps me and to regularly take action in following though.

By Pete, Writing Team

Our Personal Prince of Peace

As I reflect on a talk given at a recent Genesis Group devotional, I'm struck by its profound message about one of Christs’ titles, the Prince of Peace. This title is not just powerful and promising, but deeply personal. Jesus is not only the Prince of Peace in a global or eternal sense; He is our Personal Prince of Peace. From His very first moments, He was transforming chaos into calm.

The Genesis Group speaker imagined Mary, a young mother surrounded by the unfamiliar and the uncertain. Amid disrupted plans and urgent needs, there must have been a measure of confusion and fear. The stable wasn't a clean, serene space, but likely a chaotic, crowded area filled with animals and perhaps strangers. Yet in that moment of potential fear and confusion, Jesus' presence must have brought profound peace. It’s possible that His first miracle was the quiet act of bringing tranquility to that turbulent moment. The Prince of Peace was already at work.

We’ve all experienced the peace that a baby brings as it’s held in careful arms and against a softened shoulder. I can only imagine the peace the Christ child must have brought to the space He was born into—already calming the storms, not just around Him, but in His people’s hearts.

In fact, true peace can only be found in Christ. He offers us the same peace He brought to that manger—a peace that quiets our fears and calms our troubled hearts. Peace isn't always about improved circumstances or the absence of struggle, but about an inner stillness that defies explanation. When we invite it, this same peace finds us in our own moments of uncertainty and fear.

The Genesis Group speaker beautifully illustrated this point by reflecting on a moment years later in Jesus’ life. Taken before Caiaphas, facing those wrongly accusing Him in a rushed, tense trial, and anticipating a certain, cruel death, He "held His peace.” Perhaps this was more than simply keeping quiet. It may have been a deep, unshakable calm granted to Him in His hour of need. If so, it exemplifies the inner peace that He, in turn, offers us. A peace that transcends circumstances.

It’s a peace that is at once accessible and beyond our understanding. It’s a peace that is offered to me. To you. Not as a distant concept, but as a living, breathing reality today. It holds us steady when fear and confusion and loss threaten to overwhelm. It whispers, "Even here, even now, you’re okay."

This Christmas, may we know our Personal Prince of Peace—not just as a title, but as a personal invitation to rest, to breathe, to find calm in the midst of our stories. It’s His gift to us.

John 14:27 “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you... Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.