Doctor Foster

I binge watched Dr. Foster on Netflix yesterday.

Both seasons.

Back to back, non stop.

I have this tendency to sign on to Netflix and search “infidelity” or “cheating” movies. I don’t know why. I guess it’s the same thing as doing the same search for blogs on the subject.

So I started with episode 1. Ended with the last one around 1am.

So good. I found myself nodding and understanding exactly what she was going through.

My heart was pounding when she found the burner phone. I actually felt dizzy with understanding. When she walked into the ocean? I knew that feeling. When she picked up the scissors and walked through the party? Oh yeah, I wanted her to just go ahead and go nuts.

But then season 2, episode 4. His back is against his front door, and he slowly slides down it, crying hysterically…

I smiled. 😏

Very good.

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A talk on the couch.

It was about a month ago. I spoke about this in my “forgiveness” post.

I threw a question at him out of nowhere. According to our MC, there has to be boundaries, timers, and a big talk about expectations before any discussions.

We usually end up in a fight before the actual talk, so I skipped all that.

I’m writing this, because this one was somewhat successful and when I read back on my blog, I want to see this one. He didn’t get defensive and he actually answered.

December 16, 2015. Our 20th wedding anniversary. I asked him days before, “can we go out?” He kept saying no. He wouldn’t say why. He only agreed to go out if the kids were with us. I just decided to go out on my own when the day arrived.

And I did.

It crosses my mind again as I’m driving down the road. I’ve mentioned this recently, but I am looking back again. Going over the timeline. I’m not sure if that’s “normal.” But looking back over it now with a bit of calmness, fog cleared, and emotions low has been enlightening.

I’m still healing, I’m still on this path, and I still need answers from him. But this go around of looking at the timeline, there’s less emotions.

I looked at him and said, “I have a question for you.” He looked at me.

“You refused to take me out for our 20th.” He looked a little stunned, but said, “I know.”

“I’ve been thinking about it.

“Did you refuse to take me out because you knew I would probably post it on Facebook, and she would see?”

“Did you not take me out because if she saw the two of us out celebrating our 20th anniversary on social media it wouldn’t quite fit the story that you were telling her? That our marriage was over?”

“Is that why you wanted the kids to come along? So if I did post it, you could just tell her it was for the kids?”

He actually looked sad. “No. The thought of social media didn’t cross my mind. I was being so fake, I didn’t know what I was doing, and I didn’t want to be any more fake than what I was already was.”

And then the icing on the cake, “I didn’t want to lead you on. I was going to leave you.”

We talk a little more, we hug, I take a walk.

Here’s where the healing through this falls on me.

I asked my question. I can’t argue with him that it’s the wrong answer. That’s crazy.

I’m furious though. But what good will it do to scream at him? What good does it do for me standing up, screaming at him that he’s a fucking liar? Maybe throwing some shit around? What good will that do us?

It will do no good. Nothing about this is good.

Maybe that’s how he feels now. Maybe looking back for him is full of shame and he sees it different.

But I know full well social media was in full swing at the time.

She was stalking me hard. I was stalking her, too. Anytime we went out with our kids, she would post the most passive aggressive shit. I would point it out to him. He would say, “It’s not about YOU Chris!! Not everything is about YOU. I’m not even talking to her, so why would she post about you?! STOP LOOKING AT HER PAGE!”

She was definitely posting about me. Now, 2 years later, he admits and agrees that she was attacking me.

If she saw a post with him and I out celebrating our 20th anniversary, that really would throw a wrench into his big stupid web of lies he was weaving.

Now? He wants to tell me that he didn’t want to lead me on? That he was leaving me?

Oh. Well, thanks motherfucker. Never mind the fact that you and I were dragging each other off to bed, or wherever we could, the entire time you’re thinking about leaving me?

That couldn’t possibly lead me on.

How about telling me you had a side whore? That would’ve helped you out get out the door you were so desperately trying to do.

Or the fact that we spent a million hours tearing (me) the marriage apart, seeing where we went wrong, seeing how it could work and what we needed to do. Yeah, that couldn’t possibly lead me on.

Stupid. That’s so stupid. “I didn’t want to lead you on.” Ugh.

Maybe that is his truth. Who am I to say?

I just don’t tell him. Because again, what good does it do?

So I walk and yell at him in my head. I get to a safe place that I’m alone, and yell at him out loud.

He thinks me asking questions is to punish him. But I don’t. If I want questions answered, I can’t scream at him after and call him a liar.

What good does that do?

But I’m not stupid. It was definitely because I may have posted on Facebook. He may have felt all that other crap he said, but in the end, I went out on my 20th anniversary alone because he would’ve been caught in a lie on social media.

Asshole.

So this is how I process. I ask… and IF I get an answer, I remain calm, leave the situation when appropriate and fume. I write about it here, I cry, I cuss him out, I cuss her out, I think about it.

Then…when the anger settles down, I see how far we’ve come. I see our marriage is different now.

I let it go.

Posted in affair, cheating husband, healing after the affair, infidelity, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Let me introduce myself.

When I started this 2 years ago, I wanted the security of anonymity. I also started my twitter account on the same day. That is also anonymous.

(Come say hi! @dawn_bythecreek)

I went anonymous to protect myself. The OW has no right to my story, if she were to find it. But there’s nothing in my story that would cause damage to my life or my children. Or even my husband.

The mask is starting to get on my nerves.

So let me introduce myself …

Depending on who you are in my life… co-worker, family, friend… my name is Christine, Chris or Chrissy. I answer to all.

I’m a photographer. It’s always humbling that people pay me to take their picture.

I’m a vegetarian. But I miss hot dogs. 🤷‍♀️

I only recently learned how to back up a vehicle.

I know sign language. I use it to communicate with non-verbal kiddos. When they use it back? Best thing ever. It gives them a voice.

I love antiques. I can’t resist an old cast iron pan, an old clock or an old typewriter. I have way too many of all mentioned. I love the sound of the clocks ticking away, but my kids hate it. So it’s rare when I wind one up.

A new obsession is starting to grow… fans. Old old fans.

I’m not sure how there aren’t more folks walking around missing fingers. These fans are pretty serious. 😂

I’m originally from the south… so even though I no longer live there, I still say “y’all” and it’s in my blood to bless your heart before I insult you. I also truly believe my blood type is sweet tea.

My daughter can’t stand tea, so though she looks like a perfect split of my husband and I… I am positive she was switched at birth.

I will not ever squish a spider. They can live where they are, or I will re-locate them outside. I had a tarantula for years. She made me love all arachnids… except ticks. They must die.

I went to 16 different schools before 8th grade. It sucked. No, not military. (My step dad was, but they weren’t married long enough to move a lot.) we moved usually because rent was due.

I look exactly like my mother. But she’s 6 inches shorter than me. And I’m nicer. 😏

I’m a huge Star Wars fan. My husband, father and son are all trekkies. The fights around here get pretty epic. I always win though… The Force is, and always will be, greater than tribbles and Q. Don’t even get me started on the millennium falcon vs. the enterprise.

I love love Love muscle cars. Chevy. A gen 1 Chevy Camaro? Good lord… I feel a little weak in the knees just thinking about it.

I’m a Stephen King fan. I have no favorite, but I do absolutely love Christine. I saw her at a show and I may or may not have cried a little. A single car restored from all the cars used in the movie.. it was a beautiful moment.

It’s incredibly hard to insult me. I just don’t care. Yet, I can be sensitive. What can I say.

There’s more to me than just being a betrayed wife. 😊

Nice to meet you 👋

-Chris

Posted in affair, cheating husband, healing after the affair, infidelity | Tagged , , , , , | 17 Comments

Trickle Truth HELL

I’m currently in hell.  There is no other way to describe this.  I’m losing it.

I came back up to the top to give you an F-Bomb warning.  There’s a lot.  Sorry.. sort of.

Last night, after yet another discovery hits me out of nowhere, I think I had a breakdown.  I couldn’t breathe, I threw up, my hands feet were cold and tingling… I couldn’t control my breathing, my thoughts, my body was shaking, I couldn’t stop crying.  It’s been a while since one of these attacks have hit me.  Panic?  Anxiety?  I’m not sure what it is called, but its AWFUL.  I can’t function, and I can’t think properly.

The crazy thing is I almost reverted back to techniques I used when I was younger and when I first found out about him and dumpster.  Cutting.

I haven’t talked about that here at all, (shame maybe?), but it’s there.  It’s a been a part of my life a long time.  As a teenager, I would cut.  It took away the pain, and I had control.  It was the only thing I had control of.  By doing that, I took the emotional pain and turned it into physical.  That actually felt better and again, I had control.

When people take away your choices, the desire for control is consuming.

As an adult, it came back when I found out about them.  It was a bad fight, and I guess I had what he loves to call a mental break down.  I was in the driveway.  I saw a rock that had a sharp edge.  I picked it up and went after a tattoo I have on my wrist that represents him and I.  I have no fucking idea why.  I didn’t think, I just did.

Immediate calm.  I hate that it brings immediate emotional relief.  But it does.  I didn’t do much damage to myself, but over time, the next year actually, I kept going back to destroying that tattoo.    I told a counselor about a year ago, and talking about it to another adult human seemed to help. I haven’t since then.

Even though he did look at me like I was nuts.  But this is also the one that also told me to have a revenge affair.  I don’t see him anymore.

This is all so fucked up.  I didn’t physically harm myself last night, but God I wanted to.  I hate this.  I hate him, I hate her, I hate myself. I hate this so much.  I’m fucking losing it.

I don’t know how to keep doing this.  Trickle truth is evil.   It will never end.  Things will be going great, the future looks stable, and BAM.  Out of NO WHERE.  Another big hit. 2 YEARS LATER!!!  How long does this go on???

As long as I let it, I guess.  I’m allowing this to keep happening by staying with him.

Bottom line.  I’ve asked about what I got hit with in the past. Several times I’ve asked. He lied.  I believed.  So when it comes out later that he lied, it’s so much worse.  I’m not sure why I’m shocked.  He’s not fucking protecting me, he’s a coward and protecting himself.  Fuck him.

I’m not sure how to get out of this hell.  I keep telling myself I’ll be on the other side of this one soon, but I don’t know how.  I know I’ll get there… I know I’ll get there… don’t pick up a fucking rock.  He’s not worth it.

It’s just going to keep happening.  If he grows the fuck up and actually sheds that coward skin, we may have a chance.

But I don’t see that happening.  I don’t see him growing up, and I don’t see me allowing this any longer.

How can I get away from him?  He will not leave.  I want him to LEAVE.  I love the house I’m in, and I can afford it on my own.  HE WILL NOT LEAVE.  I want HIM OUT.

I hate him.  I want him to leave.  I’m done.  I want off this ride, this roller coaster sucks.  I want off.  Fuck putting the puzzle together, it’s killing me. It’s gone on too long.

Sorry.  This was a hot mess post… I don’t know if I’ll hit publish.   I’m not doing good.  It’s continuing through to today, and I’m losing it fast.

 

sallyfield.gif

 

Truth really does set you free.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in extramarital affair, healing after the affar, suicidal thoughts, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 28 Comments

He wants forgiveness

I’ve heard it for over two years. “You will never forgive me.”

It usually ends the conversation.

He will also state, with a stern heavy voice, “I know with 100% certainty that you will never ever forgive me.”

Again, it will stop me from talking.

I now carry guilt for not forgiving.

But what exactly am I supposed to forgive? What does he want?

But time goes on. The fog has cleared. I’m looking back at the time frame of the affair with different eyes. I don’t know why I’m looking back, but maybe that’s just part of all of this. To look at it again when you aren’t in crippling pain.

I threw an affair question at him last night. Something that has been bugging me for a few weeks. I didn’t set up the conversation with safe boundaries and timers and all that bullshit, I just tossed it at him. It took him by surprise, but he answered.

We talked for a bit. The talk was good. Good in the sense that he didn’t throw up defensive walls immediately. However, when it got a little tough, his body language changed. He tensed up. His arms crossed and he looked away. “You will just never forgive me.”

Even though the conversation was going well, the minute he had to face his part of the situation we were talking about, he shut down and turned it onto me. It’s a deflection.

If he believes I just won’t ever forgive him, then the failure of the marriage falls on my shoulders. He takes whatever guilt he’s feeling and puts it on me.

I’ve been waiting for this. There has been some chatter on twitter about the word forgiveness. What it means. It’s made me really think about how it’s constantly said to me.

So I said, “You have been telling me that for years now. What I need from you is a definition. What does being forgiven mean to you?”

He looked confused. His body language relaxed a bit. He looked down, to the left, stared at the floor. The question was definitely going through his head.

I repeated. He still looked confused. So I went on.

“Tell me what it is you need from me that will help you feel as though you have been forgiven.”

Nothing. I can hear a clock ticking in the other room. I wait a while. Still nothing.

“You keep seeking forgiveness from me, but I’m not sure what that means to you. What does it mean?”

Nothing.

“Can I tell you what I think it means to you? I encourage you to tell me if I’m not on the right track.”

“Yes.”

“I think forgiveness, to you, means we never look back. That I never speak of the affair again. That we forget it happened and just go forward. Forgiveness to you means forgetting.”

He nodded. He said, “That’s exactly what I want.”

I smiled at him. “That’s not how this works. The affair is like dragging an elephant around with us. It’s always there. I want nothing more than to cut the ropes and be free. Or at least not feel the sheer weight of it all the time. You are helping to drag it along too, we both have to work at cutting the ropes.”

I went on, “You keep putting the word forgiveness on me, but for me, I feel like I have forgiven you. I’m here. I’m next to you. I am still fighting. I didn’t go. We just have to deal with the remaining effects of it. For me? I’m still putting my pieces back together. This isn’t an instant heal.”

“I’m not here to punish you, if you feel that way, it’s inside of you. I’m here to heal the only way I know how, and sometimes it’s going to fall on you to hand me a knife to cut another rope from that elephant. For me, healing has always come from truth. You have to open up, or this will never work. I will become exhausted and done with dragging around that big old elephant.”

I’m a visual person, what can I say.

I’ve never asked him to “heal” me. I knew from the start that my healing was my responsibility. He can’t stick his head in the sand though, and just ignore what he has put us through, us as a couple and us as a family. He has to work to do too.

I know he didn’t walk out the door and into her life to hurt me. I know this was not about me, or even her. It was never a malicious attack on me. It was always him and whatever he was going through.

I can’t heal him, either. He has his own path he needs to take.

But something tells me he will no longer throw the heavy weight of “forgiveness” on me again.

For that, I thank you Sean.

Thank you Cad Confessional . You don’t really know how much you get me thinking outside of the box I’m comfortable in. Your recent tweets on forgiveness really got me thinking. I don’t even know how to put into words how much your own journey has helped mine. 🙏

Posted in affair, cheating husband, extramarital affair, healing after the affair, husband, the other woman | Tagged , , , , , , | 6 Comments

The beginning. Who did you tell?

When I found out dumpster girl existed, I told a lot of people.

I’m not sure why.

Not to shame him. Not for sympathy. For no reason I think other than, I was fucked up and explaining why to people made sense. I actually didn’t give it much thought. I just told.

I carried no shame in his choices and actions.

I wish I did give it thought though.

Day 1. Coworker. “What is wrong with you?” “Husband has a girlfriend.” After discussing it a bit, she asks, “How long?” I didn’t know. So I text him. “A week.”

I tell her. “Oh, that’s nothing. You found out in time to fix this.”

I told my friend a day later. Same thing, “you got it in time, they haven’t started anything real, haven’t slept together, you can fix this.”

I told my Dad in December. “You need to leave him now.” “But it was only a week Dad, and he swears they aren’t talking anymore and nothing physical happened in that week back in September.”

“Leave him.”

I told his Mom. His brother. He left us 5 days before Christmas. 2 days after Christmas I packed the truck full of kids and some food and went to Daytona. They messaged me, “what is going on?!”

I told others. I just didn’t care. It was my life, if you sensed something was a mess with me, and asked? I told.

A friend at work had gone through this the year before. I told her, knowing she would understand. We would talk almost daily until the end of that school year (and we still do) about it. I remember that first day of telling her.

“I hate her. I don’t think they are together, I believe him when he says they aren’t, but if my marriage doesn’t make it, I don’t want him to end up with her.” We high fived on that.

I told another good friend sometime in November. She texted me “what’s up with you?” So I told her.

She replied in seconds, “Can you call me where no one can hear you?” So I do.

“It happened to me.” She goes on to tell me her story. Its a heart breaking story, and not mine to tell, but she became my hero through my own hell.

She handled it much better than I did. Her daughter never knew what was going on, they were able to keep that away from her. She followed a program. She paid for the program. She gave me tips and advice from it.

I bought the book. Mort Fertel. Marriage fitness. I could not afford the paid program.

Basically, Morts program wants you to remember that you loved your spouse at one time, go back to that. That you shouldn’t go to marriage counseling and you shouldn’t ask questions about the affair. That is in the past.

Oh.. and if your spouse is still having the affair, you need to treat them sweetly and kindly. Sleep with them if you want them.

Some of the things he advised made no sense to me. I was mad!! I was hurt!!

Some did. I remember reading a part early in October, going down to his office, dropping to my knees in front of him, putting my hands on his thighs, looking him in the eye “Divorce is not an option for me. I will never again ask you about that week with her, it’s in the past. I believe you, and we will move forward. We will look at the reasons why you started talking to her, and I will listen to you. I love you, divorce is not an option, I will not accept that.”

I remember he nodded.

I invested some time reading Morts book, getting advice from the friend that did his program, receiving his e-mails (free to get those) and really feeling like it was all good. Not talking about their week, not shoving it down his throat, figuring out why the marriage was breaking down, what he needed, what I needed… all of that seemed to be a good idea.

I was team Mort all the way (except for the paid program. I couldn’t afford it) for the entire 8 months he decided it would be fun to lie to me, lie to dumpster ho, and have himself a full blown affair.

Needless to say, I dropped Mort when I found out the truth that April. Instead, I found Samual at https://www.affairrecovery.com/our-blog. And a whole lot of people in the same boat as me on Twitter.

But I do think of Mort sometimes. One thing in an e-mail, that really stuck with me, is if your spouse wants to end the affair, work it out with you, and changes to do so? And you leave them?

The chances of you being cheated on again with someone new are high. If your unfaithful spouse figures out what went wrong and you leave, they now know how to treat the new person in their life like a queen.

Here’s the article:

https://marriagemax.com/cheater/

So, in ending, I told a lot of people. Some have stuck with me through this ride. It’s sad though, all of those people didn’t think he was still with her. Including me. None thought he slept with her, and that I did find out in time to stop that next step in their “relationship”.

My Dad is still mad. Mistake in telling him.

My work friend went through it again, the same time I did, and without her support I would’ve gone insane. We bounce off each other, and hate the other women in our stories. Her story took a different road than mine did, but we still text and talk and trash the OW’s. It’s cathartic, what can I say.

Mort may work for some. I definitely didn’t go into this blog thinking I was going to bring up Mort… but I guess he was a big part of that beginning stage.

Don’t talk about it.

Don’t accept divorce.

Don’t go to marriage counseling.

You loved this person before, you can do it again.

If you’re interested in Mort: (it did work for my friend). He’s easy to find, and the emails were helpful.

http://infidelityhealing.com/interview-mort-fertel-marriage-fitness/

Writing this, looking back, I guess I do feel some shame. And anger.

But not at him. Or even dumpster.

But at myself because I didn’t see what was going on right in front of my face. I was a fool.

No point in this blog, really… just thinking about all those that I told.

All of those still on the stupid ride with me.

Who did you tell?

Posted in 5 stages of grief, affair, cheating husband, cognitive dissonance, D-day, DDay, discovery day, extramarital affair, healing after the affair, husband, Hysterical Bonding, infidelity, the other woman | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

What am I doing?

What am I doing? I don’t know.

I work with children diagnosed with Autism.

I work with children on the severe end of the spectrum. Almost all are non-verbal.

(Though that does not mean incapable 😊)

January, after Christmas break, my husband sat me down and said, “I can cover your paycheck. If you want, please know that you can stay home for a bit. See what you want, take some time for yourself.”

At this time, I was coming home everyday bruised, bitten and bleeding. One student in particular.

This bothered my husband to see me like this. It actually made him angry. He doesn’t understand, and never would unless he was in that world.

But I understood his worry. He also didn’t understand when I would tell him about the day, but always end it with, “But I just love this girl so much. I don’t care what she does to me.”

He would shake his head.

Then one day, before break, she bit me pretty good and hit me in the eye so hard my vision blacked out in that eye for about 15 seconds. When it came back, there was like a half circle of black at the bottom of my vision for almost an hour. Turns out she knocked the crap out of my retina.

This did shake me a bit.

Put that on top of driving to work everyday on the same road that he would travel to visit the ho bag, who worked 2 miles from my school. Put that on top of intense counseling that was going on, and trying to muddle through infidelity and the kids needs, and my mental state of mind?

I took him up on his offer. My whole being was craving peace. Rest. Healing.

Not many get this opportunity, to take some time, but he gave me that.

I was going to return back to school for the summer session. But as it approaches, I don’t think it’s my path any longer.

At least not public school.

A new school has opened up near me, geared completely for autism, and I have my eye on that. Private seems to be more appealing to me at this time.

IEP’s, Public school politics, teachers and parents that don’t understand? I don’t think that’s my path any longer.

I’ve enjoyed my time off, I’ve come a long way since January.

He hasn’t… but I have.

He told me this morning he doesn’t want me to go back to work. I get a weird feeling he knows that by me staying home, I’m dependent on him. That I can’t leave.

And he is right, I can’t right now.

But maybe I’m looking at it wrong, maybe he sees that I am better. That the house is clean. Food is being served. I have time to grocery shop and run kids again. That I have time to be a mom and wife.

Or maybe he sees that once I establish a good paycheck, that I’m out the door.

I’m working hard on my resume. He’s not taking this choice from me.

He’s already taken too many.

His Dad would not allow his mother to work. I never saw my husband like that. He’s always stood behind anything I’ve ever wanted to do.

But it crossed my mind when he told me not to go back.

Posted in healing after the affair | Tagged , , | 18 Comments

Lovers Lane.

I live right on the MD/PA line. I am closer to shop in PA than Maryland, so I’m there a lot.

There is this one road, and on this road is 11 restaurants, a huge movie theater, Walmart, Target, Home Depot, Lowe’s (of course, they are always next to each other -weird really) Hobby Lobby, a mall, Petco…oh, and a Sams Club.

You have absolutely everything you need in two miles.

I’ve shopped there for years.

Years.

This is where they would go to eat dinner.

They hit most of the restaurants there. What the hell he was thinking? I don’t know. Even though it’s in another state, it’s very close to our community, and I’ve run into people I know or work with almost every time I’m there.

I asked him once, a while back, “Did you ever worry you would be seen?” He said, “I was a nervous wreck the entire time.”

I’ve nicknamed the road “lovers lane.”

He told me where they ate, and it was literally a line of restaurants down the road.

Some days, it’s trigger hell. Others? I’m absolutely fine. I refuse to stop going there, because they are not ruining that for me.

Our daughter went to the movies on Sunday. We dropped her off together. We came to a halt and back-up right by the steak restaurant they went to.

I felt it coming on. My heart starts slamming against my ribs, my fingers tingle, breathing becomes shallow. Damn it. I need to fight this off. Breathe. In. Out. This is stupid, you’ve been here 100 times since dday, why now? Do the 5 things technique…quick.. it’s taking over…

Look around:

5 things you can see: ok ok ok… the red camaro symbol above the gear shift, my bracelet, the personalized license plate in front of us… clearly they are a dogrumer… his hand on hers when she orders a steak, he’s so happy she eats meat, his loser wife is a vegetarian, nope nope nope, get outta my head, look, there’s the fucking Perkins right across the street, a family restaurant you took your whore to…

This isn’t working. I can usually grab onto the 5 things and make it through pretty quick..but not today.

Let’s move on to 4.

4 things you can touch: I touch the dash, my watch, I panic, I can’t find something that will pull me out of this, I look at his hand. Reaching for him, touching him, will often ground me… not today, that hand touched her. Fuck that hand.

Can’t even focus now. What was the third thing to do? 3 things you can hear.

Nothing. I can’t pull anything in other than the sound of them laughing together and still talking about what I loser I am because I don’t eat meat.

I’m done. I can’t even go on. I also know in the back of my traumatized thoughts that they did not talk about me at all and I’m being ridiculous.

If I’m not trapped in a car sitting next to him, I can usually accomplish the flood control with a walk.

The light finally changes. We move. We literally go by two more of their restaurants to get to the movies. My daughter is in the seat behind me, earbuds in and humming to her music. She has no idea what I’m going through. That’s good.

We drop her off and go eat. Not at one of theirs. I hope. He says, “What’s going on?”

I was honest. “Sometimes, it’s not easy to be here. Some days, it’s no big deal at all.” He nods. He knows I will randomly struggle coming here. He knows I call it Lovers Lane. He looks at me and says, “you didn’t need to come, I can drop her off and pick her up without you.”

I said, “Nope. I know she shops up here, I was coming with you.”

He gets pissed off. “You didn’t need to say that. Just because you have a thought doesn’t mean it needs to come out of your mouth.”

In other words: he’s uncomfortable now, and it’s my fault.

I say nothing. Tension is thick now. How can I make him see this is just not about him at all?

That realization hits me for the very first time since all of this has happened:

It’s not about him at all, it’s about me.

He should not be getting pissed at me because I struggled through a trigger. Him getting angry is a reflection of his own feelings about himself, he’s the one that brought this on. He’s the reason we are going through this, and he’s not faced it. So it’s easier for him to get mad at me than face what he’s done. I have no time for all that while I’m in the panic of a trigger, or after I’ve pulled through. That’s on him.

On the way back through to pick her up, I said, “Shut up and listen to me. Don’t say a word, don’t cut me off because you’re uncomfortable, just listen: I do all I can do to control the flood when a trigger hits. What you need to understand is it’s not about you. You always make all of this about YOU. This is what I AM feeling, this is me. I’m not mad at you, I’m not mad at her, this is just what I am going through. I’m not punishing you or taking digs at you! This. Is. Not. About. You. 99% of the time, you don’t even know that I’m experiencing it when it happens.”

“I’m not asking you for anything. I’m not asking anything of you. I’m going through it, and that’s on me.”

I point at the steak place we are in front of, again, and say, “I see that place, and I think you loved taking her there. Because she eats meat. I feel like she’s a better partner for you, you were happier with your meat eater. I will never be enough for you and I am not the type of person you would like to be with. All these stupid thoughts slam through my brain, and I can’t stop them.”

He said, “That is absolutely ridiculous. You really think that?”

I say “Yes. But when I get myself to the other side? I see that it’s ridiculous. I’m not going through this to make YOU feel punished or ashamed, or whatever. This is just about me.”

I hate triggers. This is also the first time I’ve talked to him about what the thought process is when they happen. How jumbled and insane it feels and how hard some them are to pull out of.

What I need to do is stop calling it lovers lane. I need to take them off this street and make it about me and my favorite place to shop. I need to change the way I view it.

It’s not about him, it’s about me.

This does work for me most of the time….

Posted in affair, cheating husband, healing after the affair, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

BBQ, ghosts, flowers and muscle cars.

I love this time of year. The winter was long, it’s nice to feel the sun and warm days and the end of a long hibernation.

Do you believe in ghosts? I live in a 170+ year old farm house. There are records going back almost 200 years, but I believe the house I’m in now is the second house on this property. So it’s a little newer than records show. It sits on 56 acres, 5 of those acres are open, the rest are now wooded. There are old logging trails that wind through the woods that are perfect for walks.

There is something about the springtime here that kicks up the paranormal activity. I can imagine it was a very busy time for them, working fields, repairing any winter damage, gardens, the animals. Even though it’s no longer a working farm, there is an energy that kicks up that you can feel.

I hear music, old music, 40’s maybe? The scratchy sound of the needle on an old record. Not long segments of the music, but enough to sort of place the age. I’ve heard a male voice saying “wake them up” Door knobs will jiggle and turn, laughter can be heard between two voices that you can’t figure out what’s so funny and what’s being said.

There’s even been arguments and what sounds like a scuffle… but we can’t place it. If you’re upstairs, it sounds like it’s downstairs, if you’re down, it sounds like it’s up.

The barn is even more active. Voices, noises, conversations, my hair has been touched. The barn will even glow. A very weird, low yellow glow.

We were here two years watching that barn glow every now and then when we found out the original barn burned in ’74, it was re-built right on the original foundation. I have a record of the original barn being built in 1853. Strange, huh? Now I know what the glow is.

My barn. Doing a little HDR photography on a foggy night. That’s a light in there, not the glow.

Its incredibly rich in history, too. Both confederate and union soldiers camped right in the backyard on their way to Gettysburg. (Not on the same night though!)

I love this place. I love the old house, the property, the ghosts. I feel like the house approves of us. We spent a year bringing it back to life, and we all love living here, ghosts and all.

For the first time since I’ve been here, I’ve turned my attention to the outside. I’ve put in a few new flower beds, the start of a garden, cleaned and organized. It feels amazing to have my hands in dirt, sun on my back. There’s nothing more healing for the soul than to connect with nature. Put your hands in dirt, earth, connect with that energy. Plant something and watch it grow.

I’m doing so much better. I’m doing me.

Husband and I have been doing OK. We just got back from a weekend at the ocean. Classic car show. Cruisin week has become our thing. We do it twice a year now, and oh… I love those old muscle cars. The sound of those engines…

Right before we left, I deep cleaned our bedroom. It’s an old house, the rooms are small. We have a California King shoved in there. I moved the bed as much as I could to get dust bunnies and other crap out from under it. From his side a few receipts and other stuff came out with the broom I was shoving under there. I looked at them, he saves all receipts. I didn’t want to throw away any that he may need for records.

It was a BBQ restaurant. Clearly a dinner for two. I looked at date. 9/16/15. My heart slammed against my ribs. This is actually a date I remember well.

They started on 9/10. He went to her house on 9/15.

However, on 9/16, my daughter and I went for a hike. We got lost. I had to pick my son up at his job at 8. Panicked I wouldn’t find my way out of the woods in time to get him. My husband had told me that he had a job to look at that night. He told me that if he finished in time, he would get our son. He said he would text me. But if he didn’t, that I needed to get him.

I never got a text, so I made it out of woods and hauled ass into town to get him. I pulled up to his job, and right behind me was my husband. He pulls up beside me and glares at me. We end up in a little argument over who was to get him, what was said about texting… so on.

This night runs through my head as I look at the date on the receipt. I look at the time. 6:30pm. She gets off at 6, probably met him there for dinner.

I look through our texts from that day. (Yeah, I don’t delete texts) we chatted throughout the day. He even sent a “Love you” text. He talked about the job he had to look at. He lied. The job was her. The jobs he looked at the next 8 months after this were always her.

I make a weird noise and walk out the door. Breathe. Walk. Don’t punch him. It’s not a big deal. I know he was a big fat liar face. I know he cheated. I know others have had to deal with much more than a dinner receipt.

I walk down to barn. Catch my breath. As I walk back up, he is walking down. He asks me what is wrong.

I use this moment. Blackacre left a comment on my last blog post… the puzzle.

I turned and swept my hand towards the barn. I said, “It’s like a 1000 piece puzzle of our barn. But look, the puzzle is missing the silo, your truck, that tree. Only you know what the complete picture looks like. You can tell me the silo is concrete, the truck is a ford, the tree is green. But how tall is the silo? What color is the ford? What kind of tree? You expect me to finish the picture on my own, but I can’t without more information.”

I went on a little more, but a look came over him. Did he get it? Even a little?

He hugged me. We walked back to house. I told him that I found a receipt. He asked me to show it to him. He said, “Let me give you a piece of the puzzle.”

Interesting turn.

It’s behind me. I’m feeling a little silly about the receipt… yet I own the feeling. It’s what it is. These step backs will happen. I just have to keep moving forward no matter what.

Well… I needed to ramble, so I did. If you stuck with me this far, thanks for doing so 😊

Go outside today. Take your shoes off… connect with nature.

Posted in affair, cheating husband, cognitive dissonance, DDay, healing after the affair, husband, infidelity, lies, marriage, mistress, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

We have a disclosure talk that ends with screaming and things being thrown. Pt. 1

So it took me two months, but I finally sat down and told him I needed to talk. He groaned.

I talked about my needing to know their start and their end with my counselor. All three I have tried agreed it was a ‘normal’ thing to want know. All the hows and when’s and why’s of the start, and the end, because their finality of the relationship really does have to be over for us to try and move forward.

So I set a timer- per our previous counselor.

He agreed, very reluctantly.

I told him, “I’m struggling through a couple of things.” I go on to tell him that as time has gone by, emotions have cleared and settled a bit. I tell him I know he’s not a talker and that talking about these things makes him upset.

I don’t put in there how upset I am.

I tell him I need some clarification. I tell him that I know we have talked about these things before, but now that fog has cleared a bit with time, I would like to talk again.

He nods.

I explain, quickly, because I know I will lose him if I ramble on. “The reason I think I’m stuck on these couple of points is because when I’ve asked before, you’ve answered. But since some of what you said does not make sense, I’ve asked again. Every time the answer is different. Toni has even addressed both of these points without me asking her at all, and it’s different than your version. So let’s get this out, tell the truth, help me through. It’s you I will believe.”

He nods.

I throw one more pre-talk sentence in there, I truly do have to get this all in there before we talk, and fast. “After this talk, I will have no choice but to take you at your word and that’s that. I either believe and process, or I don’t.”

I can hear some of you yelling at me that I’m catering to him and babying him… believe me, I’m playing the game as best as I can. I know what I need and I am doing what I think will work.

I tell him it’s their start… and their finish.

(I think it’s when he did her Floors)

Me: When did you do her floors? You have records from your first job in 1995. But I can’t find their folder at all.

“I trashed it.” Why? “I didn’t want you to find it and get upset.” That makes no sense to me. It’s a job record. “It’s what I did.”

You told me she contacted you on Facebook about the floors. But after her husband passed in January, I saw a message from her thanking you for going to funeral. But there were no previous messages about the floor job. Why erase and delete the floor messages?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

(I breathe deep here. Ok. Ok. I can see by his expression he is somewhat confused by what I’m saying to him, so I go on)

I found pictures of her back deck on your iPad from October 2014. You said you were planning some kind of an addition with her husband.

“Yes. I walked around with him and took those pictures after the floors were done. So it was 10/2014 that I did their floors.”

(Her husband passed away 1/2015, just two months after the floor job. My husband and Toni hooked up 9/2015)

You told me that you went to her in September because you knew she liked you. How did you know that? Did something happen during the floor installation?

“No. I’ve known her since we were 10. I knew she had a crush on me a long time ago.”

So nothing happened during floors. “No.”

(I don’t know yet if I believe, but I have to take his word and stop making up my own scenario of their affair)

So almost exactly a year later, you show up unannounced out of nowhere at her job, take her to lunch.

“Yes.”

Why? Why her? What made you show up like that?

“I became interested in her from following her on Facebook. I knew her from when we were younger, I knew her first husband. I was just interested. I knew she liked me.”

(I sit with this a bit. We talk a bit more about their start. The 15 minute timer goes off. We both look at it, and I ask if we can go on a bit more. We are doing good, emotions are all in check on both sides. He nods. Says, “5 more minutes.”)

What hurts is that you pursued her. You went out of your way to go to her.

He nods. Says, “I get that.”

I go into the second part… their end.

We go past the extra 5 minutes by about 20 minutes. Emotions start to go high, I start to lose it, I say something that sets him off and he starts throwing shit. He throws his iPad to the right of him. Picks up his phone, throws that against the left wall. Then picks up a water bottle and throws that.

Not at me… but still. He’s so hypocritical. I’ve done my fair share of throwing stuff in the past and his reaction is to not talk to me for a day or two. But yet he can do it.

I got in my car and left.

I broke my own rules.. the timer. If I had stuck to the timer rule, we may have been able to go again another night.

But we never talk, it just sits inside of me festering. There’s no other word for it. It’s poison. No matter what I do, how hard I work out, how much I journal or meditate… it’s still there. So we were doing good when the original timer went off… I didn’t want to stop.

I’ve been trying to write about their “end” for almost two years. I’ll try to do pt. 2 tomorrow.

This was Sunday night. It’s Thursday now. Monday morning after that fight, he was all apologetic and loving.

The only time that ever happens after a fight is when he knows he was wrong. 28 years together… I know him.

I want SO BAD to ask him what it was about her Facebook that got him so interested that he almost threw his family away. But not sure how to ask. Because right now? We are good. But yes… I do want to know.

..I think…

Yes. Yes I do.

God… we are doing none of this right. I hate this roller coaster ride.

My friend will ask me, “what difference does it make now? It’s two years later, why worry about their start or their end now?”

I don’t know. But it does matter. It matters to me. It’s not been my choice that this disclosure crap has gone on this long. It’s been his choice to stick his head up his ass and spend all this time deflecting and turning everything on to me.

What am I fighting for? I don’t know right now. Maybe I will tomorrow.

Posted in affair, cheating husband, extramarital affair, healing after the affair, husband, infidelity | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments