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!