What If Being the “Empowered Wife” Is Empowering His Addiction?
A Catholic Critique of Laura Doyle’s Advice for Wives of Pornography-Addicted Men
A Different Kind of Critique
There are already important critiques of Laura Doyle’s The Empowered Wife addressing what her teachings can do to women and to unhealthy marriages. Most recently, the team at Bare Marriage published an extensive review examining those concerns. I strongly encourage readers to read their review of "The Empowered Wife" and watch their in-depth video review.
I don’t want to duplicate that work.
I want to ask a different question:
What can Laura Doyle’s advice do to an addicted husband?
That question becomes particularly urgent when pornography or sexual addiction is present.
My concern is not simply that Doyle’s methodology may place an unfair burden on the wife. My concern is that applying this methodology to an addiction-affected marriage can interfere with some of the very processes an addicted man needs in order to recover.
Addiction needs reality. It needs ownership rather than blame, accountability rather than secrecy, consequences rather than protection from consequences, and confrontation of entitlement rather than accommodation of entitlement. Ultimately, recovery requires an addicted man to learn to encounter his wife as a whole human being rather than as someone responsible for regulating his comfort, sexuality, happiness, or sense of masculinity.
For Catholics, there is an even more serious question.
Pornography is not simply an unfortunate habit interfering with marital happiness. It is grave matter. Active addiction can become increasingly entrenched, damaging the addicted man, his wife, his children, his marriage, and his capacity to love. Pornography also exists within an industry in which coercion, trafficking, exploitation, nonconsensual material, and the recorded sexual abuse of children are realities.
His wife matters. His children matter. The people on his screen matter. His marriage matters. He matters. His soul matters.
We cannot evaluate marital advice for these couples simply by asking whether it produces a happier husband or a more peaceful marriage.
We have to ask whether it helps an addicted man recover.
1. Addiction Needs Ownership, Not Accommodation of Denial and Entitlement
One of the most important movements in addiction recovery is the movement from blame to ownership.
The addicted man eventually needs to become capable of saying:
I did this. I deceived you. My choices harmed you. My addiction affected our marriage and our family. My recovery belongs to me. Repairing the harm I caused is my responsibility.
That is why I become deeply concerned about applying a marital methodology to addiction that places enormous attention on what the wife needs to change.
If she is continually examining whether she is too controlling, too critical, insufficiently respectful, insufficiently receptive, insufficiently happy, or insufficiently feminine, the causal center of the problem can quietly move.
Instead of:
My addiction is hurting our marriage.
the story becomes:
Our marriage is hurting because my wife doesn’t know how to relate to me.
That story fits extraordinarily well with addiction because addiction already wants someone else to be the problem.
Blame, minimization, rationalization, and externalization protect the addicted person from confronting himself. He may already have explanations:
I wouldn’t need pornography if we had more sex.
I lie because she overreacts.
I withdraw because she’s critical.
I can’t recover because she’s controlling.
If she respected me, I would want to be a better husband.
Now imagine that his wife responds by continually modifying herself: more sex, less criticism, more admiration, less questioning, more receptivity, less anger.
She may believe she is removing the obstacles preventing him from becoming the man he wants to be.
There is a fundamental problem with that conclusion:
She was never the cause of the addiction.
You cannot accommodate someone out of denial.
When he blames her and she responds by changing herself, his externalization has worked. His attention remains directed toward her while hers becomes increasingly directed toward herself.
What am I doing wrong? How am I controlling? Why can’t I respect him better? What do I need to change so that he changes?
Recovery requires almost the reverse.
His attention needs to turn toward ownership.
His wife cannot take responsibility for the marriage in a way that takes responsibility away from him. If pornography has devastated their sexual relationship, she cannot repair that by becoming more feminine. If deception destroyed trust, she cannot rebuild it by becoming less questioning. If his behavior created emotional disconnection, she cannot manufacture genuine intimacy by becoming more receptive.
At some point, he must encounter the painful reality:
The pain in my marriage is not evidence that my wife needs to change. It is the consequence of what I have done.
That realization hurts. Recovery requires contact with reality even when reality hurts.
When Entitlement and Addiction Meet
This concern becomes significantly more serious when abuse is present.
Abuse is commonly associated with patterns of power, control, and entitlement: My wants, my comfort, my sexuality, my interpretation of events, or my authority should take precedence over yours.
Abuse is not a rare enough phenomenon that marriage advice can responsibly assume it away. Population estimates vary depending upon definitions and methodology, but intimate partner violence and abuse affect a substantial portion of marriages and relationships.
In the Catholic women I work with, approximately 75 percent report significant forms of abuse. That is an observation about the population I serve, not a population prevalence statistic, but it profoundly affects how I think about advice given indiscriminately to distressed wives.
Now combine entitlement with addiction.
Addiction creates a powerful competing attachment in which obtaining or protecting the addictive reward repeatedly takes priority over other values and relationships. The addicted person protects the addiction before protecting trust, secrecy before intimacy, access before the marriage, and immediate relief before the family’s wellbeing.
Then add the cognitive distortion of entitlement:
My desires should take priority.
Teaching the family to become increasingly accommodating in the presence of that distortion is not a neutral intervention.
You do not treat entitlement by giving entitlement fewer obstacles.
You do not treat addiction by teaching the family to accommodate the addictive system.
Recovery requires an addicted man to discover that his family will not reorganize itself around his desires or his addiction.
When Vulnerability Becomes Leverage
There is another reason relationship advice designed for a fundamentally safe marriage can become dangerous when applied to active addiction: vulnerability assumes something about the person receiving it.
Healthy marital intimacy requires vulnerability. We tell another person what frightens us, what hurts, what we long for, where we feel insecure, and what matters most to us because we trust that this knowledge will be handled with care.
Doyle encourages vulnerability as a way of increasing intimacy and inviting a husband to respond with care, protection, and generosity. That advice assumes something enormously important: the person receiving the vulnerability is sufficiently oriented toward his wife’s good to protect what she gives him.
Active addiction gives us reason not to make that assumption.
When protecting the addiction has become a dominant priority, the wife’s vulnerability can provide extraordinarily useful information. Her fear of losing the marriage, insecurity about her body, desire to be sexually wanted, fear that she is too controlling, longing for reconciliation, uncertainty about her perceptions, or concern that she is failing as a Catholic wife can all reveal precisely where she is most easily influenced.
Something offered for intimacy can become information used in the service of the addiction.
Active addiction can turn intimacy into intelligence.
The wife says, I’m terrified our marriage will end, and now he knows withdrawal carries enormous leverage.
She admits, Sometimes I worry that I’m controlling, and her self-reflection can later be used as evidence that her confrontation of pornography is the real problem.
She reveals, I desperately want you to desire me, and that longing can become vulnerable to sexual pressure, comparison, or pornography-shaped expectations.
She says, I’m afraid I’m failing as a Catholic wife, and that fear can be exploited to demand silence, deference, premature forgiveness, or tolerance of behavior she believes is wrong.
None of this means her vulnerability caused his response. She did not tempt him into manipulation by trusting him. His use of what she disclosed remains his responsibility.
The problem is prescribing increased vulnerability as a technique for producing intimacy without first asking whether the relationship is sufficiently safe for vulnerability.
A healthy husband receives vulnerability and understands, She has entrusted me with something precious.
An actively addicted, entitled, manipulative, or abusive husband can receive the same information and discover, Now I know where the leverage is.
Vulnerability is essential to genuine intimacy, but it must be accompanied by discernment about safety.
Vulnerability should follow demonstrated safety; it should not be prescribed as a technique for producing safety in someone who has repeatedly shown himself unsafe with it.
The goal is not merely a wife courageous enough to become vulnerable.
The goal must also be a husband safe enough to receive vulnerability without weaponizing it.
2. A Happier Husband Is Not Necessarily a Recovering Husband
This is where one of Doyle’s most attractive promises becomes particularly dangerous in an addiction-affected marriage.
Doyle does not simply suggest that a husband might respond positively when his wife practices the Six Intimacy Skills. She promises women that these skills will transform their marriages and that their husbands will respond differently when the skills are correctly applied.
When that transformation does not occur, the framework directs the wife back toward her implementation of the skills. She must consider where she is still controlling, disrespectful, critical, or otherwise failing to practice them correctly.
If he changes, the method worked. If he does not change, she has not applied the method correctly.
What disappears from the equation is the most important possibility of all: he is an actively addicted man who continues to choose and protect his addiction.
The wife can therefore spend years examining and perfecting herself while the addicted husband spends those same years avoiding an honest examination of himself. His continued pornography use sends her searching for where she is still controlling. His deception causes her to question whether she has made honesty safe enough for him. His anger at boundaries becomes an invitation to examine whether she has been sufficiently respectful. His failure to become the husband she was promised sends her back to the skills once again.
This dynamic is particularly dangerous in addiction because it parallels the addict’s own denial. Addiction already has powerful reasons to locate the problem outside the addicted person. If the wife is simultaneously taught that her behavior determines how her husband responds to her, both systems can begin pointing in the same direction:
toward her.
You cannot make him change.
No amount of perfectly applied relationship skills can guarantee another person’s recovery. Respect cannot produce sobriety. Femininity cannot produce repentance. Relinquishing control cannot produce honesty. Gratitude cannot create empathy. Sexual receptivity cannot reorder an addictive attachment.
His recovery requires his ownership, his choices, his willingness to face reality, and his participation in the difficult work of change.
If every failure of the husband to change becomes evidence that the wife needs to change more, the methodology risks becoming as resistant to reality as the addiction itself.
When “Adoration” Is Actually Relief
There is another reason an addicted husband might appear to respond beautifully when his wife stops confronting his behavior.
He may feel tremendous relief.
Relief that the questions stopped. Relief that consequences diminished. Relief that she isn’t challenging his explanations. Relief that secrecy is safer. Relief that his wife is no longer demanding changes he does not want to make. Relief that he may be able to retain both his marriage and his addiction.
That relief can produce genuine warmth. He may become more affectionate, complimentary, sexually interested, pleasant, and grateful toward his wife.
She may understandably think:
It’s working. He’s becoming the husband I was promised.
If the addictive behavior remains intact, however, we need to consider a radically different explanation:
Maybe she didn’t become more adored. Maybe the addiction simply became more comfortable.
An addicted man’s increased satisfaction with his wife cannot be treated as evidence of recovery.
The relevant questions are whether he is becoming more truthful, accountable, empathic, and capable of tolerating limits. Is he willing to hear the impact of his behavior? Is he accepting consequences? Is he sacrificing the addiction rather than asking his family to accommodate it? Is the addiction actually losing its position of priority in his life?
Addiction already involves a disordered attachment. The problem isn’t necessarily that this man has failed to encounter a sufficiently feminine woman to inspire his devotion.
His devotion is disordered.
The addiction is already competing with his wife, children, integrity, faith, responsibilities, and values. His wife cannot defeat that attachment by becoming more desirable, respectful, sexual, admiring, receptive, or easy to live with.
Recovery must interrupt the addictive attachment. Better performance by his wife cannot do that for him.
The addicted husband does not primarily need a wife who becomes easier to live with.
He needs an addiction that becomes harder to live with.
This does not mean his family should punish him. It means addiction needs to stop working so well. Its secrecy needs to become harder. Its denial needs to become harder. Its blame needs to stop working. Its entitlement needs to meet reality. Its consequences need to remain visible. Its isolation needs to be broken by community. Its ability to reorganize an entire family around protecting itself needs to end.
Some pornography-addicted husbands also desire more than the cessation of their wives’ objections. They may want their wives to normalize pornography, accept it, watch it with them, reenact pornography-shaped sexual behavior, or otherwise participate in the addictive sexual system.
What begins as stop confronting me can move toward accept this part of me, then stop treating it as a problem, and finally share it with me.
A wife can mistake being invited into the addictive system for being invited into intimacy.
Participation in an addiction is not intimacy with the addict.
An addicted man may become extremely pleased with a wife who stops interfering with his addiction. That does not demonstrate that the addiction is losing.
It may mean the addiction is getting exactly what it wants.
3. Staying on Your Own Paper Is Not Loving Confrontation
There is one important truth in Doyle’s framework that I absolutely affirm:
A wife cannot control her husband.
She cannot make him stop viewing pornography. She cannot make him tell the truth. She cannot make him recover. She cannot force repentance. She cannot love, criticize, boundary, admire, surrender, confront, or sexually satisfy him into sobriety.
His recovery belongs to him.
The crucial question is what follows from that truth.
If the principle is, “You cannot control another adult, therefore focus on yourself,” the principle fails as a complete moral framework.
Of course I cannot control another adult.
Christianity does not teach:
If you cannot control evil, ignore it.
It teaches us not to participate in evil, to protect the vulnerable, to bring darkness into the light, to practice appropriate correction, and to seek the good even when doing so costs us peace and comfort.
Surrendering control over another person’s free will does not require surrendering our obligation to oppose evil.
A Doyle coach might object that this misunderstands the instruction to “stay on your own paper.” The wife is not being asked to approve of pornography, they might say. She is being taught to relinquish responsibility for his choices, detach from what belongs to him, practice the skills, and focus on what belongs to her.
That distinction matters.
I am not arguing that detachment is identical to accommodation. I am arguing that detachment is not loving confrontation.
Detachment can sometimes be extremely useful. A wife needs to stop managing another adult’s sobriety. She may need to disengage from circular arguments, stop monitoring every movement, and develop a life that is not consumed by his addiction.
Detachment can be a tool. It cannot be the entire moral framework.
The fact that I cannot control another person’s behavior tells me something important about the limits of my power. It does not, by itself, tell me what love or morality requires me to do in response to that behavior.
There are things Christians are called not merely to detach from, but to oppose.
If a husband were abusing a child, the statement I cannot control another adult would be entirely true and entirely inadequate as a description of his wife’s moral responsibility.
If he were trafficking another human being, she could not control him. That would not make detachment an adequate response.
If he exposed children to pornography, her inability to control his choices would not remove her responsibility to protect them and act.
Serious addiction also requires more than a wife who has stopped trying to control her husband. It requires reality to confront denial, accountability to confront secrecy, consequences to confront entitlement, and human beings willing to challenge the cognitive distortions that allow addiction to continue.
Even under the most charitable interpretation of what Laura teaches, it is inadequate to the moral and recovery demands of active addiction.
The alternative is not control.
It is loving confrontation without control.
A wife can establish boundaries, protect children, refuse secrecy, involve appropriate people, allow consequences, refuse sexual participation she believes is unsafe or degrading, and clearly name what addiction is doing.
I cannot control your choices. But I can refuse to help addiction construct a comfortable home in our family.
Discomfort is not necessarily evidence that this approach has failed. Accountability is uncomfortable. Boundaries are uncomfortable. Disclosure is uncomfortable. Loss of trust is uncomfortable. Hearing the impact of your behavior is uncomfortable. Repair is uncomfortable. Repentance is uncomfortable.
We should not deliberately manufacture suffering as punishment. Neither should we systematically remove the discomfort naturally created by destructive choices.
Peace produced by recovery and peace produced by accommodation are not the same thing.
Respect Does Not Require Joining His Denial
This distinction becomes particularly important in Doyle’s understanding of respect.
Respect for a person does not require respect for his denial.
A wife can recognize her husband’s intrinsic dignity as a man created in the image of God while having very little respect for choices that are dishonest, sexually exploitative, destructive, or harmful to his family.
Treating him as a morally responsible adult requires refusing to pretend destructive choices are admirable simply because criticism makes him uncomfortable.
This is where Doyle’s “Spouse-Fulfilling Prophecy” becomes particularly concerning in a marriage affected by addiction.
If the wife is encouraged to speak about the husband she wants rather than accurately naming the husband currently standing in front of her, she can begin reinforcing the very story his addiction needs her to believe.
Addiction already says:
I’m not really addicted.
It isn’t that bad.
I’m basically trustworthy.
I’ve made tremendous progress.
You worry too much.
Pornography isn’t really affecting our family.
The addicted man does not need his wife helping him make those statements more believable. He needs people willing to challenge them.
Doyle then risks sending her further into his interpretation by telling her to stay on her paper and affirm the husband she wants to see.
Recovery needs the movement to go in the opposite direction.
The wife does not need to enter the addict’s reality. The addicted husband needs to come back into reality.
This does not require abandoning hope for him.
Quite the opposite.
Christian hope is not manifestation. Hope looks directly at what is true and still believes redemption is possible.
A wife can say, I believe you can become trustworthy, without pretending he is currently trustworthy.
She can believe he is capable of sexual integrity without minimizing active pornography use.
She can believe God can redeem him without pretending redemption has already occurred.
Hope tells the truth about where someone is while believing in where grace can take him. Denial skips the truth and calls the desired destination reality.
That is why relinquishing control must never require relinquishing reality.
I can surrender my attempt to control you without surrendering my responsibility to tell the truth about what I see. I can stay out of responsibility for your recovery without staying silent about your addiction. I can respect your human dignity without praising what is not worthy of praise. I can hope for the man you can become without pretending you are already that man.
That is the difference between detaching from responsibility for another person’s choices and abandoning loving confrontation with reality.
The opposite of controlling an addicted husband is not tolerating his addiction.
Neither is it necessarily detaching from it.
There is another possibility: confronting what is destroying him without assuming responsibility for making him stop.
4. Pornography Recovery Requires Reality: Real Women, Real Victims, Real Community, and Real Moral Consequences
All of these concerns ultimately come together around one word:
Reality.
Pornography offers escape from reality in multiple directions. Recovery requires the addicted man to return to it.
He Needs to Encounter a Real Woman
Pornography offers an artificial encounter with the feminine organized around the consumer.
The woman on the screen doesn’t disagree. She doesn’t ask him to sacrifice. She doesn’t require reciprocity. She doesn’t tell him he hurt her. She doesn’t require repair. She doesn’t have needs he must place above his own. She doesn’t frustrate his desires. She exists on demand.
Then he encounters a real woman.
His wife has a will, needs, boundaries, and moral convictions. She disagrees. She can say no. She suffers because of his choices. She may be angry. She may require something of him. She can confront him with the consequences of his behavior.
That encounter with the reality of another human being may be precisely what pornography has allowed him to escape.
When a pornography-addicted husband’s wife is taught to become increasingly receptive, admiring, pleasant, nonconfrontational, and oriented toward affirming his masculinity, we need to ask:
Are we helping a pornography-addicted man learn to encounter a real woman—or are we asking the real woman to become more like the fantasy world to which he has already become accustomed?
I do not mean sexually like pornography.
I mean relationally organized around him.
His wife is not responsible for regulating his masculinity. She is not responsible for protecting him from consequences. She is not responsible for becoming sufficiently pleasing that he finally becomes virtuous.
She is a whole human person whom he is called to love.
Christian masculinity should demand something much greater than a man feeling masculine because a woman relates to him correctly. Its model is Christ: self-gift, truth, responsibility, sacrifice, self-mastery, protection of the vulnerable, and love willing to suffer for another person’s good.
The goal of recovery is not to teach a wife how to make her husband feel more like a man. It is to help an addicted man become the kind of man capable of truly loving a woman.
He Needs to Confront the Reality of the People on the Screen
Pornography is not simply a private fantasy occurring inside the consumer’s mind.
There are real human beings on the screen.
The Catechism itself refuses to separate pornography from human dignity. CCC 2354 teaches that pornography does grave injury to the dignity of its participants and describes people becoming objects of pleasure and profit for others.
Pornography has included people who were trafficked. It has included coercion. It has included nonconsensually distributed material. Some pornography is literally the recorded sexual abuse of children.
When pornography depicts actual exploitation, the consumer isn’t watching a fictional representation of exploitation.
He is consuming a recording of exploitation.
The viewer generally cannot determine simply by looking whether every person depicted freely participated, whether someone was coerced or deceived, whether someone was trafficked, whether someone was underage, or whether material initially created consensually is now being distributed without consent.
Pornography consumption therefore cannot simply be discussed as though it were a private marital habit affecting only husband and wife.
There are other human beings whose dignity matters.
Imagine a husband brought an enslaved woman into his home for his sexual gratification. Would we tell his wife:
You cannot control another adult. Focus on yourself.
Imagine he were sexually exploiting women. Would confrontation become inappropriate because she cannot control his choices?
Imagine he were consuming recordings of children being sexually abused. Would we tell his wife that his choices belong to him and her responsibility is to create her own happiness?
Of course not.
Trafficking, coercion, exploitation, nonconsensual sexual material, and child sexual abuse exist within the world of pornography.
There is demand because there are consumers.
The person on the screen cannot disappear from our moral analysis merely because the consumer encounters that person digitally.
He Needs Community, Not Secrecy
Reality also means bringing addiction out of isolation.
Catholic marriage is intimate, but it is not simply a private arrangement between two autonomous individuals.
We marry publicly.
We make vows before witnesses, before the Church, and before God. We create families that exist within a larger community.
When serious ongoing addiction is damaging that family, a wife should not automatically assume that respecting her husband requires carrying his secret alone.
There are circumstances in which telling appropriate people is an act of love. That may mean a priest, qualified addiction professionals, a recovery community, trusted people capable of supporting the wife and children, or men capable of both supporting and confronting her husband.
That isn’t gossip or humiliation. It isn’t recruiting an army against him.
It is bringing what has been hidden into an appropriate community of truth and accountability.
A wife does not owe addiction the protection of her silence.
Christian community includes fraternal correction, accountability, repentance, reconciliation, restoration, and conversion. The purpose isn’t condemnation. It is the person’s good.
If an addicted Catholic man remains trapped in serious sexual sin, why would we want fewer people to know, fewer people challenging his denial, fewer people holding him accountable, and a wife increasingly skilled at preventing him from experiencing relational discomfort?
We should instead ask:
Who is helping this man come back into the light?
Not merely:
Who is helping his wife become less disturbed by the darkness?
The husband is not the enemy.
He is someone worth fighting for.
What Are We Actually Measuring?
This brings me back to the fundamental problem with applying Laura Doyle’s promises to addiction.
Suppose her husband becomes happier. Suppose he becomes more affectionate. They argue less. He compliments her more. Their sexual relationship initially improves. He tells her how grateful he is for the changes she has made.
What does any of that tell us about the addiction?
Very little.
Instead, we need to ask whether he is telling the truth and whether the addictive behavior is actually stopping. Is he taking ownership without blaming his wife? Is entitlement decreasing? Is empathy increasing? Can he tolerate boundaries without retaliation or manipulation? Is he willing to hear the impact of his behavior, accept consequences, dismantle secrecy, pursue meaningful recovery, and repair what he has damaged? Is he becoming more capable of seeing his wife and other women as whole human beings rather than people organized around his desires?
Those are much harder measures.
Addiction recovery requires harder measures.
A quieter marriage isn’t necessarily a healthier marriage. A happier addict isn’t necessarily a recovering addict. An addict’s gratitude toward the person who has stopped confronting his addiction is not necessarily evidence of deeper love.
Maybe she didn’t become more adored. Maybe the addiction simply became more comfortable.
That possibility should profoundly change the advice we give these women.
Because He Matters Too Much
This is ultimately why I object to applying Laura Doyle’s methodology to pornography and sexual addiction.
It isn’t because I believe wives should control their husbands. They can’t.
It isn’t because I believe wives can force recovery. They can’t.
It isn’t because I believe husbands should be punished. I don’t.
I object because an addicted husband needs things his addiction desperately does not want him to have: reality, ownership, accountability, consequences, truth, discomfort, community, correction, a wife he cannot reduce to an extension of himself, and a family that refuses to organize itself around his addiction.
For a Catholic man, he also needs a Church willing to care about something even greater than whether his marriage feels comfortable:
his freedom from sin and his eternal good.
Pornography is not spiritually neutral. It trains lust and objectification where marriage requires self-gift. It can bring secrecy where marriage requires truth and consumption where sexuality should communicate communion. It can connect a man’s sexuality to the exploitation of other human beings and become a powerful attachment competing with the people he has promised to love.
A Catholic wife is called to become one with her husband.
She is not called to become one with his darkness.
The husband himself is not the enemy. He is someone worth fighting for.
Sometimes fighting for someone means refusing to help him remain comfortable in something that is destroying him.
I cannot force you out of darkness. Love does not require me to make the darkness comfortable.
The choice is not between controlling an addicted husband and leaving his addiction alone.
There is another way: Loving confrontation without control.
- Give his responsibility back to him.
- Refuse to participate in denial.
- Challenge entitlement rather than accommodating it.
- Protect the vulnerable.
- Bring appropriate people into the secret.
- Allow consequences to remain consequences.
- Tell the truth.
- Call him toward recovery, repentance, and the man he was created to become.
- Refuse to help addiction construct a comfortable home in the family.
As Catholic wives, we stand courageously for the souls of our husbands with loving confrontation because he matters too much to accommodate his destruction.
Would you like to learn more about what empowerment and real intimacy actually entails for Catholics when sexual addiction is present in a marriage? Download your “What Would Laura Doyle’s Six Intimacy Skills Look Like If They Were Actually Catholic?” worksheet.
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