Falling Back

FallBackDaylightSavings

Maybe it’s the change in clocks, but I feel as though I’m a bit “stuck” with inner dialog and anger. I’m falling back – doing what I did pre-affair.

Is it normal for recovering from infidelity? Probably. Is it fun? No, it’s not.

I had a bad day yesterday. It was Tuesday. I woke up at 4am and my mind started the replay. EB was off all last week and I was able to breathe. Yesterday, I felt the breath leave me. I hugged him when he left for work and just said, “I hate Tuesdays.” He gruffly said, “I know.”

I was in a funk all day because of it. I went into my office and brought home three boxes of crap, as we are cleaning out and preparing for the big office move. Even with all that going on, I was still preoccupied – distracted – disconnected.

Question to the BS’s out there…how long did it take for you to start having “back talk” in your mind and noticing those small things that annoy you about your spouse?

This has just started for me. I used to have it pre-affair. Twenty three years married of “little things” and grumbling under my breath at things he would do or say. I’m worried. I don’t like it.

After the affair, those little annoyances didn’t bother me. In some f’ed up way, they were endearing. I was just so happy to be together.

Now, I’m not so sure. Perhaps I’m finally out of the BS fog. You know, the honeymoon sex, the “he walks on water” and “isn’t he so hot?”  I’m not happy about it. The BS fog was nicer. It formed a bubble/cocoon that prevented the shit from becoming real.

But, what’s really bothering me is that I’m feeling a bit stuck for not knowing what he’s going to do about a new job. He keeps surfing next vacations, stupid sports scores, but not even a hint at looking for another job.

He’s smoking again, too — has been since the summer. He smoked last year and on 10/17, I threw out his pack of cigarettes, out the truck window. He quit cold turkey then. Weird how I remember all the specific dates of things that week. But, I’m sure we all do to some extent…

Guess who also smokes? Yup, Ms. Evil Bitch. Oh, but “they don’t usually smoke alone.” Another person “almost always joins them.”

I resent both of these things: no new job and smoking.

I think that’s part of my pent-up anger and it’s going to boil over soon.

I’m scared, guys. I’m scared that he won’t find another job and that will be it for us. I think I’ve swallowed enough pride and paid my dues from my past sins. At least, I think I have. He must still be punishing me. I just can’t imagine what his motive(s) are if he isn’t.

We are getting the remodeling done. Final things selected and it should be full remodel mode by early December. All I am thinking lately is…well, it will be good for resale because I don’t know if we’ll be here much longer.

Sigh

Didn’t think my heart could break anymore. I was wrong. It just keeps breaking a little each and every day.

A Year Ago Today

My husband had intercourse with the Evil Bitch a year ago today.

I know this specifically because he wrote it in a letter to me last November. His timeline of his affair.

Was it the first time they had sex? No. You see, to a woman, sex is defined by any sexual touch. To men, sex is defined by intercourse. I don’t know the specific date they had “sex” – he doesn’t recall. After all, it was “dozens of times” (they touched, kissed and other things). Yeah, that makes me feel so much better…

Therefore, it was more than one year ago he had “sex” with her in my mind.

How do I feel today? What am I doing?

Well, I feel distant about it. Not really hurting horribly. I guess a bit numb. Time helps. Our progress in healing has helped. My attitude helps.

Do I still want to rip every hair out of her head and break her teeth? Youbetcha!

Where is my husband today? Well, he’s on his way to a big college football (American football) game with his brother. He won’t be home until late tonight. Tailgating is a sport in itself around here.

Does my husband have any idea what day is today and what it means? Probably not.

However, he is very aware how many days it is until we leave for Bermuda. He has been counting those days down since two+ weeks ago. I’m happy about that. It makes me feel loved and hopeful.

So, instead of wallowing in any self pity, I’ve got plans to get myself out of the house.

First, mani/pedi – it’s time for some dark nails to ring in the autumn weather! After that, my girlfriend and I will walk around a nearby town’s cheese festival (yes, it is festival season, after all). Then, I will take my oldest son out for a great dinner. And then, at the end of the night, I’ll probably watch some soppy chick flick and ball my eyes out as an excuse to let it all out.

Will I throw the date in my husband’s face? No. I won’t mention it. It’s one of the many wounds I will carry for the rest of my days.

So, chin up, getting my ass up and starting my day.

Happy September 13th, everyone…

D Day Definition

D Day has many meanings in history, specifically military history.

However, to a betrayed partner/spouse, D Day = Discovery Day, Destruction Day, Devastation Day, Dickhead Day, Disappointed Day, Divulgence Day, Death Day, etc.

For me, Discovery + Destruction + Devastation + Dickhead + Disappointment + Divulge + Death = my D Day.

  • Discovery of his adultery and lies.
  • Destruction of my faith and trust in him.
  • Devastation of my soul.
  • Dickhead (no explanation necessary).
  • Disappointment in his character and morals.
  • Divulgence (to divulge or not to divulge…his internal dialog.)
  • Death of our marriage and possible love.

I was thinking what you would call the days before D Day? I came up with C Day (ha!). C Day for committed life, carefree life, common morals, contentment, companionship, and CLUELESS! That’s what I would call my marriage before October 14, 2013.

Anyway, I hope you don’t mind my semi-detailed diary/timelines here. It helps me make sense of my life and all the drama. So, grab another cup of coffee and I’ll continue my D Day story…

It’s October 14, 2013. I waited for J’s return home but instead, I received a text…THE text that will define our lives for the rest of time (our time).

Let me set the scene: I was home, it was almost time to start dinner, both boys were about. I looked at the text and the few opening lines (you know, the ones that you get the gist of the entire blurb without reading too far — kind of like a Dear John Letter, just reading that opening salutation). I read the first 5-10 words and froze, freaked, said, OH, MY GOD a billion times.

My youngest son rushed in and asked what was wrong. I quickly composed myself and said it was nothing. Then I foolishly told him I was running to the store to buy cat food. He wasn’t really buying it. I started to break down a bit and then hugged him and asked that if he heard from his father, to please call me right away. I then left the house, drove to a nearby park and read the text, over and over…

I’m not going to post the actual text (sorry, but I don’t have to divulge all things personal here…).

But, to paraphrase he basically said he couldn’t lie any longer and then threw my past affairs in my face, by “answering the only two questions he ever asked me”– about four months and only once (but other things happened, too).

He was remorseful, regretful, thought I’d throw him out on his ass and said any money in our savings account was mine. He professed his love for me.

I was saying NO, NO, NO and shaking. You, who have been betrayed, must have had similar reactions? You can’t believe it’s happening. It’s hitting you in waves and you are just trying not to drown. You can’t breathe…right?

I called him. He didn’t answer. I called again. I left a voicemail and basically cursed him out and told him that he was a coward (which he admitted in his text) and that we had to speak face-to-face and to call me. I then texted him and asked him to call me, please.

I started to drive toward his office, thinking that is where he would go. It’s about a 30 minute drive from home. I called my sister en-route and told her what was going on. She asked what I wanted to do. I clearly remember a few soul-deep revelations at that moment: I had to see and speak with him eye to eye/face to face. I didn’t know if our marriage would survive but, all I knew was that I was driving TOWARD him, not away. I told her that. I was going with my “gut” and going TOWARD him. She wished me luck AND love.

Almost to his office, he called me. I asked him where he was and he said he was in the neighboring town, about 10 miles BACK the way I came. I did a U-turn (insert screechy tire sound) and we agreed to meet half way toward home.

I got there and waited just a few minutes and he pulled in. His body language was so negative – closed off – brooding. He walked over to my car and got in the passenger seat. He wouldn’t look at me. I made him, by asking him to face me. I asked him all the question a wife asks a dickhead of a husband (sorry, guys). I was very reserved, my anger didn’t exist. I was SCARED. I was scared of knowing more, of learning he didn’t love me and was leaving me. Leaving ME!?! I thought I was always the immoral spouse in our relationship and that I would have been the one to leave based on my past behavior all those years ago. But, instead, I was a naïve woman, who was betrayed by the one person who knew and experienced what adultery does to a marriage. BASTARD!

He was still angry at being caught, I think. Angry at me for my past and the pain I caused him, I think. He was humiliated that I was asking him questions, I think. I don’t know the answers to those questions because it was like pulling teeth. I kept pleading with my eyes…JUST TALK TO ME…LET ME IN!

I drilled him (nicely, as nicely as a dentist could…): Did he love her? NO. Did she love him? NO. It was just sex. She was married and happily (yeah, right…). It was convenient. It was completely over. Over before I discovered it. Weeks before our anniversary. He ended it because he knew they would be caught (good reason? WTF????). He wore a condom. Does he love me? YES.

He never said he was SORRY. Never apologized. Not with those words. Not literally. Tuck that fact away…

I was hesitant, meek and scared shitless. Yet, I was calm(ish). I remember a common coping mechanism I started to do that moment, and which would last until today…I looked down at my hands in my lap, and twirled my thumbs at the tips, just looking at my thumbnails. Thumb to thumb…making little figure eight movements. Heart was racing and I felt as though my stomach was pulled out through my feet. Like the feeling of being on a roller coaster, but without the fun factor!

I sat there, absorbing all the information with the realization that this man was not the man I thought he was. I knew how he felt. I knew that his actions were a result of our distant relationship. I knew how he felt. He was caught, humiliated and hurting. I felt the same way years ago.

Here’s the most mature moment of my life – get ready for it…I told him that I didn’t want him to leave and that I would work toward forgiveness because he gave me that gift 13+ years ago. I owed him that. I loved him. I wanted him. And then I grabbed his face in my hands and said with all seriousness and love, “You are MINE – MINE!” He was mine and I was his. He looked a bit shocked yet pleased, relieved, thankful and I think…slightly proud. I asked him, did he still want me? YES! Did he still love me? YES!

Ladies, please — I know what you are thinking. It’s okay. I get it. Trust me, the bitchy side of my psyche want to beat the shit out of him AND the EVIL BITCH. I really didn’t deserve this betrayal. We didn’t deserve this crisis. But, we were in the midst of it and now we had to either deal or walk. I chose to deal and win.

We didn’t hug, but we held hands and didn’t say anything more.

No “I’m sorries…” – yet.

We decided to get home and just tell both boys (who were texting both of us and left multiple voicemails because they were worried about us) that we needed to talk.

At home, we tried to act normal, but avoided each other. I was nervous for when we went to bed and were alone with him. How would I react and behave? How would he? I was testing him. Did he really want an excuse to leave our marriage? Did he really love me? Did they really end the affair?

Finally, we did go to bed (he asked if he should sleep on the couch and I said no, that I wanted life to look normal for now for the boys’ sakes).

I was determined to keep our marriage separate from the boys. They were part of the family, but not part of our marriage. Not knowing if our marriage would survive this infidelity, I just didn’t want to add the dynamics of our sons knowing that their father cheated on me and, if J would ever divulge, that I cheated on him long ago. Two wrongs don’t make a right. But one wrong really, really sucks…

He read a book on his Kindle. I got into bed and we didn’t touch. I read my iPad and the TV was on in the background. I think somehow I just broke down and cried quietly, I got up and blew my nose and returned to bed. He then hugged me and I cried more and more. No words, just him hugging me and me crying. Inside, I was wailing WHY, WHY, WHY?!? But, I couldn’t scream or make noise.

Eventually, we fell asleep. I guess I got up a few hours later when I woke, realized this was real and not a nightmare. THAT is an awful, awful realization. THIS IS YOUR LIFE moment. And then the grief begins…over the loss of something beautiful, innocent. It happens each morning since. I long for the day where I wake up and there is no moment of living the nightmare but living the dream, instead.

The house was quiet and I went downstairs with my iPad. I was numb, dead, destroyed, devastated, etc. I started to Google: my husband cheated on me.

I found a million websites and threads. None of them made me feel “better” but, in a way, I was part of a selected sisterhood. Honestly, that sorority should never exist. Wish it didn’t and wish I wasn’t a card-carrying member now. Delta Day Sorority? FFS…no thank you, but at the same time, it was comforting.

I finally went to bed and we spooned. I needed the comfort and warmth and I eventually fell asleep.

D Day Accomplished.

Fuck you, D Day!

You suck…