Most of the time when I sit here with the intent to blog, I find my mind working much faster than I can type or even dictate. My. Mind. Races. All the time. I have dozens of questions to ask my husband, but at the end of the day I can’t remember what I wanted to ask. Sometimes it just doesn’t seem worth asking anymore. In either case, I am still trying to find answers. I just can’t ask the right questions at the right times…
I don’t even know how to untie the knot of a mess my husband got me, and us into. I start trying to sort it all out and just get so overwhelmed. Once overwhelmed, I shut down, and go thru the motions. But then man up and go at it again until I’m overwhelmed. This cycle is draining me. And I can’t seem to break it… And each time I feel a little more defeated.
My husband and I can look back and see the big picture. I know my part I played in leading him down the path to have an affair. I’ve owned it and apologized many times. Oh how fucking sorry I am. If I could only go back and do things differently… If I could turn back time…. If only…. Maybe he wouldn’t have cheated on me… But we’ll never know. Because I can’t and he did.
That reality sucks and I’m living it.
So I keep trying to figure out where I was while he was fucking Mouse. Where was I when he was so unhappy. Looking back, he checked out years ago. Not fully out. He will tell you, and I’ll admit he’s been present. He’s a good provider and supporter. He’s a great dad. He’s got a long list of great attributes that he will gladly sing for you. Humility doesn’t make that list… I get it though. I look back over the past 3-4 years and he’s gotten by. But over the course, he’s done less and less. He disconnected slowly. Not unnoticed.. I’ve asked him countless times over the years and He was always quick to respond,
“What’s on your mind?” … “Nothing”
“Where’s your head at?”… “Right here with you.”
“Are you/we okay?” … “Why wouldn’t we be?”
“What are you thinking about?” … “You” or “the kids” or “work”
I could bore you, myself too with a list all the subtle ways I asked. And so many times too! Because I knew, sensed that something was wrong, or maybe “just not right.” And he always had a simple, gentle response that would temporarily assure me.
I accepted the answers he gave, but deep down I’ve known that something has been off for quite some time. Too fucking long. I’m still trying to sort that thru… But regardless, I was “all in.” I knew and wanted things to be better… A lot of things…BUT life! OMFG!!! He and I have been sustained by bread and water and a lot of artificial sweetener. We are ALL living this crazy busy life, the only things different are the history, details and drama. Work. Family. Kids. Healthcare. Finances. Commities. Sports. School. Education. Entertainment… feel free to add to my very short and basic list.” Sometimes at the end of the day you steal time from sleeping, So you can have some “Me time.” We are all so fucking busy living insanely busy lives!! I get it…I hardly have time or rather make time to properly nourish and nurture myself. I surely didn’t nurture our marriage. And he didn’t have much more time than me. How, how the hell did he find the time to have an affair? I’m his wife… I know how fucking busy he is. Always has been. I can’t figure out how he had time for an affair. What suffered? “Nothing,” he says. What suffered was me. FUCKING ME.
He could always assure me those things were ok and nothing to worry about. So I mostly didn’t. Who has time to worry? So they weren’t perfect. But I loved him. I was spending my life with him… Exactly what I set out to do 16 years ago…
I’ve told him countless times “you’re my dream come true and my happily ever after.” And I really meant it. I knew that I loved him enough to make a life together. Now it’s been no Cinderella story. We’ve struggled with some biggies as far as marriage stressors go. We’ve always gotten thru them. Scathingly so a few times, but I never considered divorce. I’d be amiss to deny that in heated arguments, with my angry-bitchy-lashing-outbursts I didn’t suggest “we should, or let’s just get” but I wasn’t serious. I didn’t really want a divorce. I just wanted him to get just how fucking pissed I was in that particular very heated moment. Just wake up!
But now… Divorce. It’s a serious potential outcome of his affair. And I don’t think he believes me. I don’t think he gets it. He says the right things, calls when he remembers, has made a point to send a handful of endearing texts. He apologizes. But does he really get it? I really scrape to find his positive gestures and good intent. When I’m mindful I recognize it. That’s undermined by my new-found anger at all the ways he’s faulted me as a partner in our life over the past few years as he insidiously disconnected from us. I just accepted it. Allowed it even. I said or did less and less about it. He just kept assuring me.
Thru our discussions over the past months I learned that my husband has thought of divorce over the past 4-5 years. Years even before his affair. Other than another fucking mind bomb exploding in my head. AGAIN. It makes me really sad… Because I never knew. All these years that I’ve sensed something, questioned him and been reassured, and he tells me this, that he’s thought about divorce. Shouldn’t I know this??? You were thinking about divorce yet reassuring me that everything is fine?”
My husband is emotionally shallow. He always has been. He’ll argue otherwise but he does know the truth. I’ve accepted it. Years ago. He hasn’t. Or perhaps he has but is too vain to admit it… See what I mean? Shallow…
I’ve only seen my husband cry a few dozen times maybe, over the course of our lives together. I’m sure there’s been some I haven’t seen because well, he is a vain man. Strong, stoic, proud and masculine, but doesn’t totally buy into “real men don’t cry philosophy.” I have told him he should practice humility.
Then there’s me. I could cry me a river… Or a few. I’m highly sensitive. I always have been. I’m moody and my feelings get hurt very easily. I’ve learned to “suck it up” (but I suck at sucking it up since my life imploded…) I feel things much more deeply than most. Believe me, if I’ve read your blog, and I have read many, then I’ve cried for you and with you. It kills me that anyone else is feeling this same fucking hell of betray and infidelity. Fucking Mind blowing insane… I’ve just recently dared to wear mascara, even waterproof. Because, still so many tears.
So if I get it down to basics this is where my husband is at… The way I see it anyways…
He’s been unhappy for years. Not unhappy enough to say or do anything to make the situation better, but unhappy. He believed, still believes, I was that unhappy too. He has been emotionally detached and disconnected from “us” … “It wasn’t and hasn’t been my fucking imagination. (Would this be gas lighting?”) He can’t really tell me why he didn’t want to talk about it. My guess is he never felt convicted enough to bring anything up.
He’s made feeble attempts a few times to talk about our sexless marriage. Yes, our marriage was, up until the hysterical bonding started, essentially sexless. We hadn’t made love since February of 2014. (So in terms of him fucking mouse and then coming home and us carrying on as a normal sexed couple, Thank what ever higher being you believe in, because I know I couldn’t go there.) I can say without a doubt or reservation, that if he and I were making love during his affair I would have been so done with him. Us. So fucking gone!
So there’s part of me, maybe out of self-preservation, compassion and even empathy that can understand him “needing sex” and “going elsewhere.” That fundamentally “I failed my husband in my wifely duties.” So “it’s my fault” and “I’m guilty.” Pathetic much?
Certainly the main stream world in general, normally and statistically speaking, “blame’s the wife, because her husband, Mr. Wonderful, would never cheat on her without a good enough reason… Therefore, she failed him.” Main stream media, network television, PBS, cable, Hollywood, music, all bow to the cheater. Rarely is the compassion for or empathy driven toward the betrayed, who’s live just imploded. Irrevocably and fundamentally changed. Broken. Damaged. Stained. Marred. Less than. Judged against the responsible party. Who should but doesn’t doesn’t bare their share fault, guilt or shame… They live happily ever after, or get a divorce. Those divorces are focus on the bat-shit crazy spouse, and lucky for Mr. Wonderful he gets out free. Rarely, maybe never do they portray the betrayed wife left trying to make sense of the kind of crazy he unleashed. I can’t honestly think of one single movie. Lifetime Network maybe?
Anyways. I’m in this same marriage. I didn’t think it was so bad that divorce was a option to contemplate. I didn’t think he did either. It makes me crazy all the shit I didn’t know… And all the times I was sensing things were off, but would be easily reassured by him. I was ALL IN!!! How can I ever trust him again? How can I trust me again? I know that sounds dramatic. Pathetic and hopeless even, but it’s how I feel. How can I? I was in the same fucking marriage. I didn’t think it so bad, and certainly not bad enough to cheat. I so didn’t deserve this. This.
So back to where my husband is at (my perspective) …
So he had an affair… He insists, I think even believes that it was nothing more than good sex. Yeah… He told me it was “good.” Asshole. They started the physical relationship affair after years, yes years, of operating as “old friends.” Mouse’s words… The issue with them being old friends, is that my husband felt he needed to keep it a secret. He didn’t tell me about the random lunches and coffees they shared over the years. Didn’t share that they exchanged at the very least, inappropriate and often from what very little I saw and read, flirty and suggestive emails and 1000’s of random texts. He didn’t want me to know about mouse. Because she is and was (his words) “nothing.” Whatfuckingever!!! “Nothing, you ask? Nothing as in, the emails and thousands of texts and good fucking-sex and lunches and coffees and “just friends” and lies upon lies and American Horror Show, “can’t make this shit up” and “not gonna lie” petty and utter BULLSHIT I’ve put up with for years. Fucking years. And it means “FUCKING NOTHING???”
I discover his affair. He tells me he was overwhelmed with her, she felt more demanding than he was comfortable with. Started was thinking it was time to end the “nothing” affair. Of course that’s what he says. The texts and emails just prior to Dday had them excited about an upcoming “work” trip and missing each other and an invite to her lake house. So maybe he was looking for an out with her. Umm, yeah okay. If I give him the benefit of the fucking doubt. But I don’t see it. I just can’t by that cheap heaping sack of horse shit…
Regardless… I confronted him with my evidence and he confessed. I demanded he end it with her immediately. He did. She sent him a “good-bye” letter, “for her closure,” the week after he made his no contact call. He immediately disclosed the unopened letter when he got home. He read it and gave it to me. I read it a few weeks later and tucked it away. It was and remains immensely painful that she cared so much for my husband and he insists he was nothing. Denies that he had any clue to the depth of her feelings that are so fucking obvious! She didn’t say “I love you,” but trust me you have to be a fucking emotionally shallow idiot NOT to know what she means. She fucking loved him. And again, she was NOTHING.
He claims to have not heard from her since. I haven’t found any evidence that he has, but I don’t go digging anymore. Try as I may and make myself crazy doing it, I can’t control his actions. (Repeat: “I can’t control his actions.”) If he’s going to cheat on me, well, he’s going to cheat. I really can’t stop him.
So he’s “off the hook,” his secret is out. He apologizes, but I think mostly for getting caught. He’s living life straight and narrow. Ready to take this imploded marriage by the horns and fix it. Now, that he’s destroyed it.
He says the right things. Sometimes. Sometimes he’s a stupid, stupid man and doesn’t think. Sometimes he’s a selfish asshole. Too often really. He really could suck it up. Man up. Up his game. He’s got lots of room for improvement. He could try harder. And I know he is. But try harder!!! His passiveness makes me crazy!
I’m not judging. Really. I’m so not judging!!! I am no sight to see or prize to be had at the moment. He assures me that he loves be that he never stopped. That he wants me and only me, and will “never cheat,” again.” He assures me. He reassures me. Yeah. Right. That got me where? Oh yeah! Fucking post affair pit of hell!!! His assurance means shit. I’m still not buying that bag.
But that’s what I have to go on. His assurance. That I used to find comfort and safety in. He has an incredible knack and ability to assure me that things were and will be okay. I wish he still did.
I’m not sure what okay is anymore. Maybe not even what okay really was. Certainly not what okay will be..
I’m pretty sure I can “Fake it, til we make it” Really, that’s what I am and we are currently doing. Faking it. Fumbling along. We are “making it.” Limping along. Sometimes still with just bread and water. A Butt load of what feels like artificial sweetener. Sometimes, with fine herbs, brews and wines.
I think I’m tired of faking it and my husband doesn’t have to anymore. So where does that leave him now? And where does it leave me?