The window.

My last post has had so many reach out to me. I can’t thank you all enough. I use this blog to release what’s inside and it helps me to sort of “look at the big picture.” I truly don’t know where I would be if it wasn’t for all of you, your support and your own stories. ❤️. I am doing alright, I feel strangely strong and hope this feeling lasts.

I’m just rambling this morning… trying to get my head around life at this point.

I’m a very visual person.

Meditation and visualization have been a part of my life for so long, I don’t really remember a time without it.

When I discovered he was talking to another woman, a window appeared in my mind.

It’s beautiful, really. It’s in a very dark room, the window frame itself is in silhouette, there are lace curtains softly framing it. It’s open about 6 inches. There are golden beams of sunset light coming through the glass, the beams glow in an unseen fog, as though there is smoke in the dark room. The stream of light rests on an old, wonderfully worn wooden floor.

So there’s my window. I’m not sure why it came to mind as it did, but there it is.

I am comforted by that light.

But always present is a small seed of panic building deep in my stomach if the window were to close.

When I found out about them talking, it appeared. As time went on, it remained the same. He promised me he was not having an affair.

I believed him.

He swore to me she did not reach out to him after I sent her a text, pretty much telling her he was lying if he told her our marriage was over.

They only talked for 10 days before I found out.

Surely I stopped anything from progressing further. Surely I did, look at how we were with each other. The sex was incredible and often, we talked more than ever, we broke down the marriage to the bones. I thought we were rebuilding it.

There were many moments I thought that them talking actually ended up making our marriage the strongest it had ever been. It made us realize what we had to lose.

So I thought. But in actuality, it was tearing me down to the bone, not our marriage. Yes, we talked, but it was more talking about all the things I did wrong. It didn’t make us realize what we had to lose, it made me fight hard for him and our family as he began to pull away emotionally. Not physically, but emotionally he started to hold himself back.

But the window… it was still open. It was still the same.

Christmas comes and he walks away from us and moves in with his nephew. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. The 27th finds me packing our kids into the suburban and driving to Florida to sit on a beach.

I asked him a thousand times that fall and early winter if they still talked, saw each other, if she was the reason for the emotional withdraw.

And when he leaves us, I ask him if she’s the reason.

No, he says. No. She is not the reason. She is not in the picture at all. They haven’t spoken once since I found out in September.

Do you promise? I ask. “I promise you.” He says.

The withdrawal and leaving us is due to depression, he tells me.

He laid in my bed Christmas Eve and swore he hadn’t spoken to her and never would again, he just needed some space and time, he said.

Now I know he spent the entire day with her, then came over to our house and chilled out in my bed.

“Will you come back home?” I asked. “Yes, this is my home.”

The window stayed the same. Still open, still comforting.

I find myself on the beach, I can hear the kids laughing in the waves. It’s December and we are getting sun and salt water therapy. I’m on my stomach, sun is warm on my back and I stare at the sand in front of me.

I believe him, I tell myself. The window is still open. There’s hope in that light.

But yet there I am. On a beach hundreds of miles away from him, and believing him when he says she is not in his life at all.

He’s not cheating on me, how could he? I think of how physical we have been. It’s like we are 20 again, but with time and age comes a level of trust that makes it even better than when we were 20. A level of trust comes with being with a man 25 years at that point.

I trusted him.

When I came home from Florida, he was standing in the kitchen. He tried to leave to go back to his nephews. I wouldn’t let him.

“This is your home. This is ridiculous, you belong here with your family.”

“I’m not ready” he said.

“If there is no one else in your life, then explain this to me, why are you living on a cot in your nephews house?”

“There is absolutely no one else. I just need peace.” He says.

I look at the gold band flashing on his hand. I’ve never seen it not on his hand.

The window is still the same. There’s hope in my heart as long as it’s still open.

I believe him.

But on some level that maybe I didn’t know how to face, I knew. I knew. It’s why the window appeared in the first place.

He doesn’t go back to his nephews that night. We end up tangled around each other for hours. He moved his stuff back in the next day.

The window stays open and looks so comforting in its lazy golden glow.

There is hope. I believe him.

Later in January, I text Toni. Something is off… something isn’t right.

She goes on to tell me that they haven’t spoken since I sent her a text in September. She says something definitely wasn’t right with his story when she got that text from me, so she didn’t talk to him anymore from that moment.

I believed her.

My window stayed the same.

February rolls in and my son tells me she met up with them at a Taco Bell by the dumpsters.

My husband says she just randomly showed up.

My son tells me before she showed up, that his Dad looked at him and said, “Toni is going to come by, are you OK with that?”

My son was NOT ok, now he’s in a bind. Should he tell me?

Yes. But it takes him until the end of February to do so.

My window isn’t the same. It’s almost shut now. Somehow, there’s no longer beams coming through transparent glass panes, now the panes are black and there’s a small line of light shining under the sash, but it’s almost gone.

The light isn’t warm and golden anymore either, it’s a harsh white light in this dark room and it’s hard to look at.

It’s not closed, but I no longer want to be in this dark room with that small stream of light. I want out. Panic has set in and it feels very heavy.

He spends some time explaining the Taco Bell visit. Swears she just texted out of nowhere, swears she stopped by just to say hi and see how he was doing. Swears swears swears.

I believe him, but I don’t.

My window doesn’t change back, it remains the way it is.

But it’s not closed. But I’ve now come to see it for what it is.

Hope. Hope that he’s telling me the truth. There’s a small glimmer of hope that he’s telling the truth.

Monday, April 25th rolls around and he hands me his burner phone.

I lose it.

“The only reason you would have a burner phone is if you were fucking her.”

“No no no!” He swears. “No! Just texting and talking! I swear! I promise! We didn’t see each other physically at all except that day she showed up at Taco Bell.”

The window stayed open a little.

I leave the house with that phone in my pocket. I’m losing it. He has no idea where I am that night. He thinks I’m at her house and her and I are talking. I let him believe that.

I told him she told me it was a full blown affair with all the bells and whistles and confetti.

He admitted it then.

The window slammed shut. I swear I could hear it. It sounded like bulldozer bucket slamming into the ground. I could feel and hear the room shake with slamming of that little window.

Very dark now.

It’s never opened again. Not even a little since that day.

That should tell me all I really need to know.

I think about that window sometimes. In the beginning, it was pretty and comforting. I miss it at times.

After what I found this weekend, I’m not sure how to move forward.

I’ll definitely talk to my counselor today about it.

But I have no desire to talk to him at all about it.

About anything.

A person can only take so much.

I am not a fan of the silent treatment. I think it’s abuse. He does it to me all the time after a fight and it makes me insanely sad.

I’m not doing that to him, I won’t. But I don’t even want to see his face right now, much less hear words coming out of his lying mouth, or even using an ounce of my energy to speak to him.

I’m so angry.

About Walking the Journey

I'm a wife of 22+ years, a mother of three, a sister, a friend. This is my journey on healing after an affair. I'm full of sarcasm, humor and truth. Sharing the journey after my husbands affair, I'm hoping to rid myself of the demons and get a ticket out of crazy town that I'm living in.
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20 Responses to The window.

  1. horsesrcumin says:

    Perfect analogy. Mine is like water torture. Drip. Drip. Drip.

  2. Hope is all any of us have when we embark on this journey that we didn’t choose. It is a good thing, God knows I wouldn’t be here now if I didn’t have it. But honesty is the second thing we have & I learnt that more than anything it was honesty with myself. Life will show you the way, just listen to it. Trust me. ❤️❤️

  3. The beautiful, warm, sunny window is your pre-dday heart.

    Your heart was open and now it’s closed. I can relate to you 100%. We all can, so thank you for your perfectly articulate description.

    It’s hard not to slam the window shut, but it’s even harder to open it back up – you feel you need protecting from the wind and rain. A closed window is not punishing him (but that’s how he takes you’re doing this on purpose specifically to keep him out and to make him pay…nope), it’s about protecting yourself.

    And by continuing to lie and/or lie by omission he’s proving that you’re right; that for now at least, you cannot open that window. And he should be aware that you’re seriously considering getting rid of those vulnerable see through lace curtains and will cover the window with solid plywood boards so he can’t see in anymore.

    I hope it’s ok to say this as I know how much you’ve been through with this man, but I do hope you’ll take some time (as you did in the beginning and throughout this disgusting journey) before you make a decision. Your nerves and stress are on a very high screeching volume. Every time I learned something new, I felt exactly as you did – square one. I know you’ve been doing this for a long time, I know you’re tired, I know you feel like you can’t anymore – but please take care of yourself first, and come up with a plan once you’ve processed this.

    No one here will judge you with whatever you decide – we’re here for you no matter what ❤

  4. I give the silent treatment sometimes because I get so angry, I’m afraid of what I’ll say so I need time to calm down. I’ve told Carol this is why I stop talking and stay away for a while. I need to process the worst thoughts and get them out of me instead of saying them in the heat of the moment.

    • That’s what I’m doing. I haven’t really been myself around him since Saturday. I havent completely ignored him, but find myself just processing through quietly.
      He was making coffee this morning and said, “I love you, even though it seems you hate me.”

      I didnt say anything back, but honestly thought to myself, “yes… right now I kinda do.”

  5. I support any decision you make (even if it’s not to make a decision). I’ll even drive to your house and hide the fork if you need me to. 😉

  6. I read your first post last night. I honestly had to digest it a bit. While waiting to pick up the kids this afternoon, I read this post.

    I am so angry for you too. I only was subjected to trickle truth and denials for about 10 months. But for you, nearly 3 years? That is torture, so unfair and so selfish of him if he is indeed sincere about reconciling. We dig because what we’ve been told doesn’t make sense. Deep down we know, but we keep the window of hope open because even though we ‘know’, their denials give us that small open window. To hear it from them is devastating, yet we must in order to process and move forward especially if there is any hope of rebuilding. And when they keep denying and we find the truth ourselves…well you know how that goes..

    When I opened my twitter account and began my blog, I had been floundering alone for 7 months, making myself crazy. You were one of the first people I found on Twitter. When looking up infidelity blogs, yours was the one that I felt a connection with. Your story gave me hope. I then found others, our ‘tribe’ whose posts all reassured me that I wasn’t losing my mind, that what I felt was ‘normal’, that it was possible to rebuild a relationship even though most of us said we would never stay with a cheater. Your beautiful writing gave words to what I was feeling and also inspiration while I tried to move forward.

    So now, I too am so angry with your husband. I do agree with all of the comments on both posts and I admire you for your strength. No matter what you decide, you have the support and love from all of us, our Twitter ‘tribe’.
    Love you. xoxo Dolly

    • Much love to you too ❤️

      I am just going through the motions at home right now.

      I can’t describe really how I feel, except that it feels like a shift. A power shift. I feel strong, like now that I can see what I’ve wondered about for so long, there’s a feeling of strength in the clarity.

      I do love our tribe, none of us are crazy. 🤪

  7. If you’re close to North Carolina, I can pay a visit to The Whore. I do love giving a good surprise.

    What really blows my mind (and always does with any affair) is how ‘okay’ the OW always is with knowing that they are a side-piece. And when confronted, she is lying for him and for herself. Have you no dignity, woman? Are all of the single men suddenly unavailable that you have to pursue a married man? What is wrong with her?

    You don’t even have to answer that. It would probably take all day.

    • She really was ok with it. I guess she thought she was special and everything he wanted in life.

      She, like all of them, are delusional.

      I love that you would visit her! 😂😈. I’m a little ways from NC tho, or I may take have taken you up on it!

  8. Ainsobriety says:

    The silent treatment is abuse. It’s one thing to ask for time to process, it’s another to sulk and stay that way until one gets their own way or they are no longer in shit.
    My own stbx, who I love and like, did that. It meant I was always worried about making him upset. And, I never saw this clearly, so did my kids.

    People who give the silent treatment hurt everyone in the home.

    You know the affair was real now.

    My stbx also said that exact same thing about me seeming to hate him. Honestly, I do hate him. I hate that he would sacrifice our 25 years together, our fun, our financial security and our kids happiness for illicit sex.

  9. LAA - Life After Adultery. says:

    I am so sorry WTJ. This is the worst treatment and you have endured it for so long. I think your anger is justified so let that happen. More importantly the power shift you are feeling is a good sign. It will help you.
    I am just so sorry because it is like you have been thrown right back into the first stages of discovery. We all know what that is like. It is horrendous.
    He really needs to lift his game and if he doesn’t realise this then it shows you something about him. He is telling you who he really is.
    Stay strong and brave.

  10. Just like you, I took matters into my own hands and dug up everything I could find to get the truth. Truth helped me more than therapy and conversations. It empowered me. It proved to me that, though I can’t trust him ever again, I can always trust my gut. My gut was correct about something being very wrong from the second she stepped into his life. And that’s something he won’t ever be able to take away from. We’re rebuilding. Even had our first child this fall. But I only admitted to him now, a year after knowing the truth about the length of his affair (which was also 8 months like your husband’s), how much I actually know about the affair. He was shocked and told me that he doesn’t understand how I’m able to forgive. Neither do I.

    I love where you are now. It’s so extremely painful, but so powerful at the same time. I think that things will start to shift for the better for you. You are stronger than he’ll ever be!

    • It’s a strange place to be in. Is it odd that I feel an actual peace? I don’t know right now if it’s numbness or peace, but I like it. It’s like seeing the truth has given me the answers that I have been needing.

      Thank you! I do feel a shift, and it’s wonderful.

      • It’s not weird at all! I felt the same thing. As painful as it is, truth is so healing. Their deception and lies hurt much more than the truth that they’re so afraid to reveal.

  11. What is it about women with boy names?! Ugh! I also felt much better after getting the truth!

  12. SpaghettiSam says:

    You are probably going to be sorry you told me to go ahead and comment. 🙂 I think I’ve said it before, and if so I apologize for repeating myself and I promise I won’t say it ever again. Your husband doesn’t seem to be one bit sorry about what he’s done. He seems more pissed off that you won’t forget everything and let it all go back to the way it was. He still blames you. He still believes any humiliation you felt was due to your own actions. I don’t know about you but if I put someone in the situation he did at his clandestine birthday party I would be mortified and I would spend the rest of my life apologizing and taking responsibility. He doesn’t do that. He throws it back on you.

    He has never been forthcoming from what you’ve written. You beg him for answers and he refuses to give them to you. I will never forget when you wrote about him insisting upon holding the computer when showing you his fake Facebook page. He had to have all the control and dole out the information in tiny little drips. I would think that if you wanted to reconcile you would do whatever your partner needed you to do.

    With that said, I support whatever decision you choose to make. Ultimately, though, I hope whatever decision you make is about YOU- what you can live with, what you can tolerate, what will make you happy, what you want in a relationship. You matter, Chris. In this situation I would say that what you want matters a whole lot more than what he wants.

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