The timeline is killing me - When he started sleeping with her.

The timeline.  What difference does it make, really?  It's not like I don't know, sitting here today, that they fucked each other, but for some reason, I've needed to know WHEN it started... and it DOES make a difference...possible life changing difference.

It's killing me.  I'm warning you now, I get pretty vulgar as I go on with this story.  There's the warning.  I sort of turn into a crazy cussing maniac.

I'ts been almost two weeks since we talked.  I am still feeling like I'm standing in quicksand.

I still can't stop shaking my head and trying to wrap my head around what he's told me.

I don't know if I ever will, and I don't know if I will ever be able to get the answers I need.  I think that's what I have to come to terms with now, that I will never understand, and that I need to come to terms with it, or make a decision if I can live with it.

I'm fighting with myself very hard, and it's an internal battle of madness.

The timeline.

Sept. 10 - He goes and takes her to lunch.
Sept. 11 - He goes and eats lunch in her office with her.
Sept. 15 - He goes to her house that night, tells me he's going to band practice.
Sept. 18 - He leaves for a trip with our boys, they text all weekend.
Sept. 20 - I ask to see pics of the trip, he refuses to hand me phone.  I know.   7 hours of fighting, he still tries to deny there is anyone else, picks me up out of our yard and makes love to me all night.
Sept. 21 - I check phone records, and take a look at his old iPhone that is still connected to his account...it's filled with their texts.  I contact HER before I confront him, she promises she had no idea and will back off.  He comes home from work, takes me to bed.

 And so it goes, on and on.  Repeat....fight, tear down marriage, finger point at each other why this happened. Tear each other down, begin seeing what was going wrong, start slowly rebuilding.  And of course, drag each other off to bed... it's crazy, heartbreaking, and insanely passionate.  It's exhausting.

We have been together 25 years at this point, and I am realizing that I am no longer that 18 year old girl I was when we started, we have never been like this in our relationship, and it's amazing.

I believed him as he tells me they are not talking at all.  Even though I can see his confusion, I don't see him pulling fully away from us, because we can't seem to keep our hands off each other.

I have asked him since I found out about them at the end of April 2016... "When did you start sleeping with her?"

He has refused to answer.  Just says, "I don't know."

I have always felt like it was that Tuesday night he went to her house.  I've asked, he has repeatedly told me no, they did not.  In my heart... it makes more sense to me that he slept with her that night, and caught some feelings...some excitement... some danger.  So that when I find out a week later?  He is not ready to let go, and that's what led to the 8 month affair with her.

So two weeks ago, I ask again.  After all, he's understanding and witnessing that when he sets something at ease in my head, I can put it to rest.  And I usually do.  So, I ask again.  We are in the barn, getting ready to mow.  This is something we weekly do together, and I have his attention.  I asked him, "When did it start?" He says, "I don't know."

This makes NO sense to me.  How can you not know?  It's a pretty game changing thing to do!  When?  "I don't know"

Yes you do!

He says, "When did you find out?"  I told  him, "Sept. 20th, did it happen before then?" He says, "No, it didn't happen before that."

Ugh.

I say, "Did it happen before your birthday?"  His birthday is Sept. 28.  I'm wondering if it happened that week, right after I found out.

This man actually says at this point, "When is my birthday?" I roll my eyes at him, he's clearly nervous.  I tell him when his birthday is.  He says, "No."

"So it happened AFTER your birthday?"  "Yes"

But in my head, I'm like... no... how?  He was with me almost EVERY SINGLE DAY at the end of Sept, till middle of December when I had a surgery done, and was out of commission in that department for a week or so.   No... in my head, I'm screaming, NO!

So he holds strong to "I don't know" for quite a while.  We start mowing.  I can't even look at him as we pass each other.  I'm furious.  But I have to keep it together.

We stop, park the tractors, and I walk away.

Never mind, I turn and head back.  I walk around the barn and say, "When."

He pulls out his phone.  Loads the calendar.  Asks me a couple questions about things that happened that fall.  He narrows it down.

"Sometime the first two weeks of October."

I'm numb.  I can't figure it out in my head.  I'm arguing internally with myself that it had to be that Tuesday, that it made more sense that he CHEATED BEFORE I FOUND OUT ABOUT THEM..... NOT AFTER!!!  That doesn't fucking compute in my head!

"Huh?"  I muttered.  "First couple weeks of October??"  "Yes"

I don't understand.

I make it through to Monday...but I'm reeling.  Dizzy is the only way to describe it.  I have a program that I can plug my iPhone into, and it will save all texts.  I go to that and pull up our texts to each other during that time... The end of Sept, and all through October.... I'm especially interested in those first two weeks of October... when sometime in those two weeks, he decided I wasn't enough, and fucked another woman.

Our texts during that time are so x-rated, it's crazy.  We would talk about what we had done the night before, or even that morning...he would tell me things he wanted to do that night, I would tell him things I wanted to do, or wanted from him....   I DON'T GET IT.


How can  he do that?  And why am I so upset it didn't happen when I thought it did?

Though no matter WHEN it happened, it fucking sucks, but it still made more sense to me that he fancied himself with another woman before I knew!  But NO.  He decides to have sex with me almost EVERY SINGLE NIGHT and DAY, and sometime in there decides it's time to stick his dick in another woman too??

WHAT THE FUCK.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

My friend tells me I can't wrap my head around it,  because it's not something I would do.  She's right.

But I'm crushed.

I FEEL USED.  I feel dirty!!  I'm disgusted!!

Here's a little back story... I ended up in a foster situation when I was 14.  Without that family, I would not be here.  My mother would have killed me. She was an abusive alcoholic hot mess.  When I was 13, she decided to start hanging out at a truck stop bar near Baltimore.  She brought home a different trucker every other night... they never knew about each other, because they were never in town on the same days. She really liked one of them, and she decided he would help her with me.  Me being a wild out of control teen girl that was angry at the world.  She valued the way he said I should be raised.  Whatever.

He picked me up in his truck one day, minus the trailer.  He said it goes faster.  He took me to lunch at that truck stop, and talked to me about respecting my Mom and doing my school work.  We walked back out to the truck, and when I went to put my seat belt on, he told me not to.  The truck had that sleeper bed thing in it, and he straight up told me he needed to teach me about the real world, and then proceeded to rape me right there in that nasty truck, in that horrible parking lot of that disgusting bar.  When I got home, I told my Mom.  She said I was a liar, and it was not long after I wound up in foster care.

THAT'S WHAT I FEEL LIKE NOW!  Dirty, used, humiliated.  How could my HUSBAND do that?  He was the ONE PERSON IN MY LIFE THAT WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO HURT ME.  How could he shake the shit out of our marriage, then proceed to take me to bed every day, and then think... Oh, well... I need to have another woman too, and decide to sleep with her?    ASSHOLE.

My husband, father of my kids, the man I look up to, the provider of our family...has made me feel like that 13 year old girl again.  Dirty, used, humiliated, disgusting.

I'm trying so hard to separate the two, they are not the same, but strangely, the hurt is.  The hurt and humiliation feels the same.

He used me.  I ask him, "How?  How could you be OK with yourself knowing you were using me?"  he said, "I didn't think of it that way."

Back in June, during a session with my therapist, I told him about the trucker. I told my story and then curiously asked him, "Why is that time on my mind?  I have not thought about that man in many many years.  But it's on my mind a lot lately.  Almost like I'm pissed that this affair of my husbands has me more fucked up than what happened to me as a girl.  That should be more traumatic."

He looked at me and said, "Both of these instances are extremely traumatic, and you are now associating with a time that you survived.  Your survival instincts are showing you can make it through this one too."

It made sense.  Sorta.  I don't know.

I was surprised I told him.  I have only told my Mom about that day.  She didn't believe me, so I never spoke of it again.

So here I am.  Almost two weeks past him telling me this.  Am I mad it didn't happen like I thought it did?  Am I throwing a huge bitch fit because his affair didn't happen the way I THINK it should have?  That's almost funny.

But I'm lost.  I'm so lost.  I can't think.

I'm sitting here pounding on this keyboard, angry.  Hurt.  I usually feel better after writing and releasing...but I'm so angry that this isn't helping at all.

I'm so lost.

I just can't stop shaking my head about the timeline.  But the fact that he decided that I wasn't enough, and fucked her too?   I can't comprehend.

Part of me feels sorry for her, too.  He used us both.
But then that feeling passes quickly.  She KNEW HE WAS MARRIED.  

 I never thought I could feel hate for my husband... but I do now.  A small sliver of hate has slipped in, and I'm not sure right now what to do with that.

I trusted him.  I trusted him.

He chose us. April 2016

April started with us discussing separating.

He had moved back in to our house, but he had also moved onto the couch.  He slept there every night that week.  I have to be honest though, he would text me from the couch, late at night, and I would come down to visit him.  I wouldn't say a word, I would 'visit' and then I went back to bed.  There was something shifting in me, I could feel the broken pieces of me starting to go back together.  That break down I had the weekend before had caused a shift.

I felt a strange power in me to go 'visit' him, take control, detach myself from emotions, and then walk away without a word to him.

Friday, April 1st, he worked late.  Though he had been on the couch every night that week, we still lived under the same roof.  He didn't come home after he was supposed to be off.  He had turned "Find Friends" back on on his phone, so I checked it.  He was at a bar near where he worked on Fridays.  When he came home much later, I was angry.  I told him that it was just common courtesy while we were still under the same roof to let each other know where we were, when we might be home.

Let's face it... I thought he was with her.  Even though he swears on all that is holy that he has not spoken with or texted with her since New Years day.  So, let's be honest, I was pissed and freaking out.

April 2nd found us on the couches all day, talking about separating.  I didn't cry.  I didn't get emotional.  I was reaching the end of my rope.  I didn't understand ANYTHING he was doing to me, to us, to our marriage, to our family.  We talked about where we could live, we talked about the kids, we talked about trying to keep lawyers out of it as much as we could and be civil.

Sunday, April 3rd... We are on the couches again, not really talking.  There is a calmness in me, a strange mood has settled over me, and I actually feel somewhat strong.  There is something about having a plan, that can put the ground back under your feet.  I had a plan, we were actually talking about the future, and though we were not discussing working on the marriage, we had a plan to separate.  The unknown was no more, there was a plan.

I was looking for peace.  I wanted peace.

Our son was in the living room at one point.  There was a strange vibe around him all morning.  He looked at our son, and looked at me.  He seemed very off.  He silently nodded at my phone, and then looked at me, holding his up.  He started to text.  I picked up my phone.  He obviously wanted to talk, but not with our son in the room.

He texted me:  Are we done?

Sorry about my crude language to him, but it was honest and real... Stop fucking me if you're going to be done with me.

I held it together for about 5 minutes before I lost it.  Talking about separating, discussing living arrangements?  Through all of that, through all of the talking, he had not said he was done.  To see him say it?  In a text?  I made it about 5 minutes before I ran upstairs, threw myself across our bed, and cried.  He came up and wrapped himself around me.  He told me he loved me.  He told me he was sorry.  

I got myself together, and crawled into the shower.  I had to take the kids to a skating party, and I was going too.   I piled them and their friends into the truck and we left.  I glanced at him as I left, and I remember giving a sad smile.  I said goodbye.

We all made it into the rink, and I was actually looking forward to lacing up some roller skates and hitting the rink.  I love to skate, I am hoping it will take my mind away for a bit.

As the party was about to end, the kids were thirsty, so we rolled into the cafeteria, and got drinks.  We chatted and teased each other about skating.  I'm from the 80's!  It's what we did on weekends!  I was good, and found out I still am, but my kids not so much! We were laughing and teasing, we were hot, thirsty and getting tired.  That's when I saw my son's face change a bit, a look of confusion on his face as he was looking over my shoulder.  I looked behind me, and there he was.  He came to the rink.

I'm so confused.  I gave him a look of pure confusion.  He sat down next to our daughter, and started chatting with her.  He kept looking at me though.  I can't even begin to explain how confused I was by him being there.

I got up, got back on the rink.  Very confused.  He came over to the wall around the rink and watched me skate.  Still, I'm confused.  What in the hell is he doing here?

The party wrapped up, and we headed out to the parking lot.  He walked out with us.  He parked next to me.

Now, to explain what he said, let me tell you where it came from.  In December, our son had messed up with his girlfriend, and she was angry with him.  He needed to make it up to her, but didn't know how.  My husband told him, "Just straight up tell her, "I messed up, lets go for pizza", and through all of our drama and fighting, and crying, moving out, moving back, was there a girlfriend, wasn't there.... I would sort of tease him and say, "I'm just waiting for you to say you messed up, and let's go get pizza."  He would always give me a little smile when I said this to him.

So there, in the parking lot of the skating rink.... as I was about to climb into the truck and take the kids all home, he pulls me back and wraps his arms around me.

He hugs me hard, tight and for a long time.  I didn't hug him back right away, but I did eventually wrap my arms around him.  He buried his face in my neck, and he whispered, "I really messed up, let's go get pizza."

That's all it took.

All he had to do was put his arms around me, like that.... and I melted.  I was super confused, but it really didn't take much.

He asked to go to the grocery store with me.  He kept hugging me in the isles.  

At one point, my daughter looked at me and mouthed, "What is going on?"  I just looked at her with complete confusion.  I don't know.

I don't know.  He's like an alien.  

There's been some moments over the past months that he would let his guard down, but it's been nothing like he is doing at this moment.  He can't seem to keep his hands off of me, touching my shoulder, hugging me, arm around my waist, hands in my hair...  What is going on.

But, I'm melting.  I'm shaking my head, trying to clear it, but he's clouding everything with his kindness.  This is all it took.

We got home, and he pulled all of his blankets out for his couch bed.  I was silent.  We watched the season finale of Walking Dead together... and I just kept watching him out of the corner of my eye.  He's reaching for me, he's taking moments during the show to just touch my hand.

This is all it took.

I picked up his pillows and blankets and pointed up the stairs.  He followed.

We made love that night.  First time in a long time... he was there 100 percent, and for the first time in a very long time, he told me he loved me.  He was sad, it felt like he was drowning and I was his life raft the way held on to me.

I held on too, but I had no idea what was going on.

The next day, while at work, he sent me a text that I will never forget for the rest of my life.  Never.  His few words that he said in that text will be with me the rest of my days.

It was a surreal night.  It was an amazing morning.  But I'm spinning from the 180° he has done.  How can we start the day being 'done' and talk about separation, and end the day wrapped up in each other, and clinging for dear life?

I'm smiling... that text from him was true... I didn't give up, I fought hard.  I thought I had lost, there was nothing more that I could do.  The two minutes it took me to reply felt like years... I just stared at the words he wrote.  When I replied with, "You're mine." I realized at that moment that in 25 years, I had never called him mine.  It felt good.  It felt so good to claim this man, to let him know he's mine.  I'm his.  

I kept shaking my head that day.  Like I was trying to wake from a dream.  He texted me all day.  Little sweet things like, "I'm thinking of you" and "I love you" it went on almost all day.  I couldn't stop smiling.

But... I couldn't let my guard down either.  I felt like I was in a dream, and I was still waiting to wake up.  

April was good.  I fell in love with my husband.  I fell so completely, head over heels in love with him.  I couldn't get enough of him.  I texted, he texted.  We called each other.  He would be waiting for me on the front porch when I came home.  I fell in love with this man 25 years ago, but the man in front of me now?  I didn't know him.  This man was incredibly easy to love, and for the first time in my life, I let all the walls down around me, and let him love me. 

I don't think until this moment in our lives together, that we knew how to love each other.

What the hell was going on?

It was amazing.  

But the end of the month brought the most pain I've ever experienced in my life.  

We went south - and I got him back in the house

I told the kids to pack, we were going to go to Florida.  That's exactly what we did.

The kids were surprised, and yet seemed excited.  It was a long, long drive.  16 hours to get to where I wanted to put my feet in the sand.  I had a relative in that  area that I had not seen since my wedding, 20 years ago, so I was excited to see her, and excited to put some distance between him and I.

So I told my navigation app on my phone to get me to 95 south, and that's where we went.

I listened to music...sad, happy, hip hop, country, heavy metal, all the way down.  I have no idea what in the world is going on in South Carolina, as I was at almost a standstill during the entire state, not seeing an accident, just slow as can be.  Literally, when we hit the Georgia state line,  I was back up to normal speed.  Strange.  Anyway, finally, we arrived in Daytona, got a nice little room, and were walking in the surf in late December.

The kids were excited.  My daughter was in heaven, she loves the beach, and to be sitting on one in December was thrilling to her.  She had never seen a palm tree, and her excitement was contagious.  My teenage sons, who never think anything I do is 'cool', were excited and you could feel the tensions of the past couple of months, and the holidays, melting a way.

There is something magical about the ocean.  It's healing.  It's where I yearn to be when my soul is in shreds.

I saw a quote by JFK... it's so true, and makes so much sense.

I did what I could do to heal.  I never told anyone that I was contemplating the selfish act of putting myself and my vehicle into a tree on the previous Monday night.  I just knew that I had hit a point that I had to save myself from going any deeper into the insanity, I had to pull myself out of the dark thoughts that kept threatening to drag me under.

We didn't have much money to keep us down there for an extended time.  Only 2 days.  Only 2 days.

We sat on the beach.  We swam in the ocean.  We cooked in the little kitchenette in our room.  We slept.  We visited my Aunt.  She got to meet my children, and we spent an afternoon chatting about our family.

I would call him, and he wouldn't answer.  I would text him, and he would not text back.  He did text the kids, though.  

I cried a lot.  The kids would just look at me, lay a hand on mine, or hug me.  I tried not to, but there were times I could not stop it.

I would wake up before the sun came up, and walk down to the beach to see the sunrise.  I was always alone during this time, and it was much needed time I took for myself.  The ocean, the sunrise, the beautiful beach, it was perfect.

Sunrise on New Years Day, Ormand Beach Florida

New Years Eve was interesting.  Everyone was setting off fireworks on the beach.  We brought in the New Year in a little hotel room, with each other, and I couldn't ask for better under the circumstances.    

It was strange for me.  He and I had brought the new year in together for 25 years.  

I tried to call him during the evening, from about 7pm on.  I wanted him to talk to the kids, wish them happy new year.  But he would not answer.  Texts went unread, and undelivered.  It looks as though he has blocked me.

He does not answer my texts until 7am the next day, when he tells me that he was out with our friends the night before for New Years Eve, and he had no signal.  

Ok.  Ok...

New Years day, I woke up around 5, sat on the beach, watched a stunning sunrise.  I went back to the room and we packed up quick and hit the road to home.  He has been staying at the house while we were gone, to watch the animals.

It's a long drive, long long drive home.  16+ hours in the truck, and we get home around 1am.  When we walk in the door, he's standing in the kitchen.  He hugs the kids, and glares at me.  "You took my kids."  

?  What?

He KNEW we were going, I had to ask for money to go!  I was stunned by his anger and reaction.  

I brought some things in, and that's when I really looked at him.  He was dressed head to toe, shoes on, jacket.  I asked him, "Are you leaving again?"  

To be honest, I got him back in the house, and I was hoping he would stay.

"Yep" he said.  "But it's so late" I said.  "I've already taken my things back over to where I'm staying." he said.

There was no way he was going.  Nope.  I said, "Ok.  I'll just grab my keys and follow you."  He looked confused.  He fought me.  He said he didn't want me to make a scene there.  (He was staying with his 23 and 24 year old nephews, and a couple of their roommates)   He wouldn't leave if I was going to follow.

3am rolls around, and he finally stayed.  He went to bed, in our bed, pissed off.  Told me not to touch him.  Told me that he was leaving in the morning.  Told me he was exhausted and to leave him alone.

I didn't care. I was so excited to have him home, and in our bed.  After all, if he is not seeing her, there is no freaking reason what-so-ever that he needs to be living with a bunch of 20 year olds, and not with his family.  We need to work this out, he needs to talk to me.

We got into bed, and he turned his back to me.  But I curled around him, breathing him in, confused, but happy to not be in this big bed alone.  He turned over not long after and took me in his arms, and all that that implies.

The next day

We drank coffee together.  He hung around the house.  He talked to the kids about Florida.  He said he was sad and sort of jealous that they got to be on a beach.  He asked them if they wanted to go to the movies.  The new Star Wars movie was out.  They said yes.  I was not invited.  

They all walked out of the door together.  The kids looked at me sadly, they knew I wanted to go.  I smiled, and told them to enjoy the movie.  I reassured them I was fine.  "It's fine!  Have fun!"  smile, smile, smile.

I heard the truck doors slam, and the engine start up.  I sunk to the floor in the kitchen and cried.  Is this my life?  Is it?  I cried.  I heard the front door opening, and he walked in, he forgot something.  He saw me, and said, "I'm sorry.  I just don't want to give them false hope with all of us doing something together.  Are you alright?"  I nodded.  I said, "I understand.  I do." 

But I didn't.

When they got home that evening, he sat in his spot on the couch, and we talked a little.  I asked him if he wanted a divorce.  "No." he said.   I asked him what he was doing, then.  "I don't know." he said.  I asked if he was together with her.  "No." he said.  Then he motioned with his head to the ceiling, indicating the kids upstairs... and he says, "They don't need us to be together to be happy.  We will still be their parents."  I know, I said.  I asked him again, Do you want a divorce?  "No."  I'm so confused, I said.  Do you still consider this your home?  "Yes, it's my home." 

I'm so fucking confused by what he is saying.  If he's not with another woman, doesn't want a divorce... what the hell is he doing??  

"I'm heading out now."  he said.  "I'll get my keys, then." I said.  

And the night before repeated.  He was not leaving his family.  We will figure this out.  He is not leaving the 4 of us in this house alone.  We go back and forth for a long time, he does NOT want me to go to his nephews house.  

He finally caves.  To be honest?  He did not really fight me too hard.  He just kept trying to stop me from following him.  But, he ended up smiling, and looking at me like I was crazy.  Shaking his head, grinning.  

He said, "I will go get my things and come back."  I said, "I'll help you get your things."  He said, "I promise, I'll come back."  I said, "I'll help."  He said, "What if I take a kid with me to help, you know I will bring them back."  I agreed.

They came back 20 minutes later.  He actually seemed happy.  I swear.  He fell right back into his routines in no time at all.  I think he wanted to come back, but didn't know how, and I got him back.  He could blame me for my craziness and not feel like he caved.  

I got him back in the house.  Back in the house, back in my bed, back in my life.  He got his two week break.  I got him back in the house.

But it may have been too soon.

The hardest thing I've ever had to face... December

I think I've been avoiding my blog because I know December is the next part to the story.

December will never be the same for me again.  I read other blogs, and I know I will have years and years of flashbacks and triggers whenever the weather turns chilly, snow starts to fall, and the holidays become a focus.

December.

It started out OK.  I was having surgery on the 8th.  I would be put under, and it was a three hour procedure.

In November, he texted me at work.  He said, "Call your GYN.  Get on the pill, and let her know what's going on with you."   What was going on was that I was bleeding every month like a stuck pig.  It was like helter skelter.  So, I went, and turns out I had some large fibroids.  She recommended that I have them removed, and then to burn the inside of my uterus.  I asked if I could still get pregnant?  She said, "Yes, so if you want, while I'm in there, I will do a tubal ligation."  So, I agreed.  That's better than the pill, and what the heck.  Just get it all done.

So, the 8th rolls around, and in I go.  He has to take me, but I can tell he does not want to be there.  I'm scared the morning we go.  He doesn't talk to me the whole way there.  He sits next to me before I'm taken back, and he doesn't hug me, or tell me he loves me before I go.  He held out his finger, and I was allowed to just touch the tip of it.

I type this now, and it angers me.  What I didn't know that day, the day I went in for surgery, the day he seemed so freaking annoyed at me for needing to go, that I know NOW...was that it was HER birthday.

Recovery took about a week.  I was in pain, and just kind of out of it.  Around this time, it's our anniversary.  Our 20th anniversary.  He does not even wish me a happy anniversary.  He looks sad, and says, "It would be hypocritical to wish you a happy anniversary, because I know it's not."

I went out to dinner with a friend.  I was so sad.  I had looked forward to the big 20 for a long time.

One weekend, 2 weeks before Christmas, we went Christmas tree shopping.  This is a tradition that we have had for several years.  It's fun, we all argue over the tree, the boys help him cut it, our daughter just looks cute, we drink hot chocolate, we just have a blast during this tradition of ours.  But not this year.

This year...after the tree was chosen, we sat at the picnic tables.  I was sad.  But trying to smile on for the kids.  He put his arm around me, and leaned his head against my shoulder.  "I'm sorry" he said.  We both knew that this was probably the last time we would do this as a family of 5.

It was so sad.  The tree came home, and our daughter decorated it.  She tried to hang on to some spirit for all of us.

But.... I need to put out there that I didn't know why.  He just kept telling me that he was not happy, not in love, it was over for him.  But he STILL kept taking me to bed.  I couldn't buy his, "It's over." when we were connecting in the bedroom like never before.  I would ask once in a while if they had spoken or seen each other and he SWORE that it had nothing to do with her, and they had not spoken since I found out in September.

December 18th.  2 days after our anniversary... I see a tweet from her and her sister.  It says, "20 years is nothing, WE know where his heart is, especially when he sends pictures like this."  And it was some stupid picture of a marquee that said, "Don't fall in love, fall off a bridge, it hurts less."   He was at work when I saw the tweet.  I texted him, he denied it was about them, or us, or had anything to do with him and I.

(I think this is gaslighting?  When someone tries to convince you you're crazy, and makes you second guess every single thing you know to be true?)

That was a Friday.  Saturday night, I was still trying to talk about it.  He kept saying, "Not everything in the world is about you!"  So, I picked up his phone, and said, "Then let me call her and we can straighten this out."  He FLIPPED out.  We ended up in a scuffle, and I ended up on the floor.  He ended up with his phone back.

Sunday, December 20th,  he leaves early in the morning to go pick up a Christmas gift for one of the kids.  When he gets back, I was making breakfast.  I asked him, "Are you hungry?"  He said nothing.

He got in the shower.  When he got out, he still said nothing.    There was something wrong.  I could feel it.  He went upstairs to our room to get dressed.

When he came back down, he had laundry baskets packed full of his clothes, and was heading into the bathroom to get his toiletries.  I was shocked.  I felt this coming, but not before Christmas!

I cried, I howled, I tried to hang on to him.  I was a mess.  I was a mess, and I was pathetic.  He had our oldest son hold me so he could leave.  He put his things in his vehicle, and as he drove away, I collapsed.  I had grabbed one of his pillows. and I just collapsed in the driveway.  It was cold that day, very cold.  I was still in my nightgown, and there I was, laying in the cold stones on the driveway, hugging that pillow that smelled like him.

I couldn't move.  I couldn't even feel the cold.  I was never going to get up.  I wasn't even crying.. I just laid there.  My son, he said, "Mom.  Please get up.  It's cold, I can't feel my feet."  I couldn't even answer him.  I couldn't move.    He just left us, 5 days before Christmas.  He.  Just.  Left.

My son started to cry.  He said, "Mom, please please get up, your legs are bare, it's so cold, you're going to get hypothermia."  I still couldn't move.  It sounded like his voice was coming from far away.  I remember wanting to move, but I just couldn't.

He leaned down next to me and told me he was going to get his sister, and that he didn't want her to see me like this, but he would do it.

That snapped me back a little.  I remember looking at him, and working my way up.  It was the hardest thing I've ever done.  Stand up, and walk back in the house.  My legs didn't work right, and I didn't know what to do.

Shock?  Was I in shock?  I don't know.

I knew him leaving was coming, but I didn't believe it until he actually left.

He left.  5 days before Christmas... he left.  He left me, he left his kids, he left our home.

What am I going to do?

October and November after DDay

End of September:

His birthday falls at the end of September.  He did not want to celebrate it.  But I didn't think that was fair to the kids, after all, I think that the older we get, the more our birthdays become about the family around us.

I made him a cake.  I made him his favorite dinner.  We gave him some gifts.  It was quiet, and there was a sadness in the air, he is pulling away.  He is pulling away in every single way but the bedroom.  Our sex life has become insane.  It's all I can think about.  His texts to me throughout the days are erotic.  

But he will no longer say, "I love you."

"Are you talking to her?"  No.

"Did she contact you for your birthday?"  No.

There is a community event we always go to at this time of year.  We have always looked forward to it.  He wouldn't sit near me, and seemed agitated with me during the event.  All of our friends noticed.  I shrugged, I didn't understand.

"When is the last time you spoke with her?"  "The day you found out was the last time we talked."

October:

Our sons birthday is in this month.  We celebrated it much better than I would've thought.  We shopped together, we made it as special for him as we could.

We spent this month crying, talking, yelling, tearing the marriage down to the bear bones.  We spent this month analyzing everything that I've ever done wrong in this marriage.  We never talk about what he has done, or didn't do.  I'm still to be blamed.  I still know on some level that he is completely justifying what he has done.  But, yet... he maintains that he had done nothing but talk to her for 11 days in September.  That it was over the moment I contacted her.  But that the whole situation, and the fact that he spoke with her at all leads him to understand he has been unhappy in our marriage, and he is done.

But not done in the bedroom.  It's almost every single day.  It's become almost desperate between us, I can not say no.  What is wrong with me???

Halloween comes, and he actually goes out with me and our daughter.  Our boys are too old to go, but she still goes.  I tagged him on facebook as being together and trick-or-treating with our daughter.  I post a picture of our daughters silly costume.  I post it global, so it can be seen by anyone.  I probably did this on purpose...  

Even though the The Whore has blocked me on facebook, I can still see her main picture and cover picture.  We get back from trick-or-treating, and I was curious.  I looked up The Whore, and she had changed her profile picture.  She was looking off to the side, as always, and really fucking sad looking.  I wondered if she had stalked my page, seen we were all out together as a family.  I know she did.  Just as I'm watching her, I know she's watching me.  

I showed him her sad, pathetic, give-me-attention picture.  He shrugged.  I asked again, "Are you guys talking at all?"  "No.  Not since the day you found out."

I'm starting to believe him.  There is NO evidence on our records that they are talking, he lets me look at his facebook, he gives me his phone whenever I ask.  I'm starting to really believe him.  He is never home late, he is always home when he's supposed to be... I think he's telling me the truth.

I'm starting to think we have hit a time in our marriage that we need to step back and look at it.  We had been so busy with our own lives, the kids, our jobs, our families, that we had really forgotten how to be together.

November:

We have really good days in November, and we have really bad days.   By this time, I'm almost glad that it happened.  It's hard to admit that, but without him going to her, without this huge shake-up, we wouldn't be in this super analyzing of our relationship.  We have now spent more time from September to November talking about US, spending more time together, making love, fucking, whatever, than we have done in YEARS.  Probably never as much as we have been these past few months.

There are tears.  There is anger.  But I'm beginning to even forget about her.  She is not in my head as much as she was.  

He tells me what has bothered him in our marriage, and I've been fixing it.  I've realized that these were all things I wanted to for myself anyway.  Repairing family connections that had been lost.  I had a tendency to be negative, and I began to change the way I looked at things and situations, and realized I was happier.   I lost a lot of weight... hard to eat when your stomach is wrecked.  I was like a pitbull when it came to our kids, and I realized I needed to sometimes back away and let them live a little, without so much hovering from me.   

He told me, I worked on myself.   

But, he was still not happy.  He's still not saying, "I love you"  well.. sometimes he would.  Usually after having sex, or when he would leave for work.  I did not stop telling him, but it was getting harder to do, because 95% of the time he would not say it back, and it hurt like hell.  25 years, he always said it back.

Our middle child, our son, his birthday is in November.  It was good, and we pulled it together to give him a great day.  We went to dinner, gifts, cake.  Time together as a family.

Thanksgiving was horrible.  I told him that I had a feeling it was our last.  He didn't say anything.  I told him, "When we sit down as a family, I want you to look around and see what you will never have again, your children and your wife sitting around you as your family."   He didn't say anything.    We ate, we laughed, I tried to hold it together.  He caught my eye at one point, and looked at me so sad.  I looked away.  I didn't want to cry in front of the kids.  When dinner was over, he stood up and helped clear the table.  He kissed me, told me that it was delicious.  He seemed very distant, and very sad.

My birthday is at the end of November.  He took me for a bike ride, but it began to rain, so we had to cut it short.  We came home and spent the whole day wrapped up in each other, we had sex all day long, and into the night.  No talking really, no tears, just laughing, joking here and there, and being together.  He made it a good day. 

By the beginning  of December... The Whore is hardly even talked about.  I do ask periodically, "Have you spoken to her?  Seen her?"  "No."  

She's almost completely out of my mind.  She was an 11 day mistake in September... I can deal with that.  It's caused us to look at US.  Will we make it?  I don't know.  He thinks I'll never get over those 11 days, and that I will constantly throw it up in his face.  He is still telling me he is done with the marriage, but he is still taking me to bed almost every day.  I don't believe he is done.  I'm fighting harder than I've ever fought for something in my life.  My husband, my marriage, my family.

It was an overwhelming sad fall.  Christmas is coming... I have to hold it together for the kids.

Furious...at her AND him

I hate her, I do.  It's over 9 months since Dday, and shit is STILL coming at me from their affair.  4th of July weekend was a disaster.  I'm fucking losing my mind.

I fucking hate her.  I have friends in my life that tell me, "Stop.  To have ANY feelings towards her what-so-ever gives her power in your head."  Let it go, they say.  She's nothing, they tell me.

They say, "HE'S the one that did this.  HE'S the one that broke your vows, your trust, your heart, your family.  Be angry at HIM."

Oh.  I am.  Trust me.

Furious.  My anger towards him, at times, is immeasurable.  I physically shake, clench jaws and fists, I throw things, I've verbally ripped him apart for what he's done to our family.

But I love him.  As angry as I can get at times, it fades quickly.   There's been 25 years of my life loving this man.  There's been decades of memories, decades of love, building our family, raising our children, our trips, our hobbies, our life together.  He's my partner no matter what he has done.  So as angry as I get, as furious as I can be, the bottom line is, he's my husband.  He's the father of our children.  He's been my best friend, my lover, my sanctuary, my other half.

But her??  Fuck her.  FUCK.  HER.  To be honest?  I felt bad for her.  At one point in this whole fucked up mess, I felt bad for her.  This man, my husband, who I thought I knew like the back of my hand, went to this whore with a bucket of lies in his hand.  He went to her and told her his marriage was over.  He went to her with no ring on his finger.  He went to her and lied.

There was a time in November that he and I got into a huge fight.  He's on the couch, and I'm screaming at him.  I knew this woman had lost a husband in January of '15.  He went to her the first time in September.  This woman was about to face the holidays without her husband, and here's my fucking husband handing her a bunch of lies.  Deceit, lies, betrayal.. not only to me,  but to her too.  (Now, I can't believe I felt bad for her at all)

When I found out about them, 10 days into their "affair" I went right to her.  She told me she would not contact him.  That she would not fight for him.  I told her he was married, I told her she and him were destroying a marriage and a family.

So the bitch knew.  In the days after DDay, in the months after... THIS BITCH KNEW.   Every text she would send, every time she put her hands on him, every time they spoke on the phone, SHE KNEW he was married.   Whore.  What kind of fucking woman is she?  A pathetic one.

I think some of my hatred towards her is because it's easy.  I love him, I don't know her.  It's even because I feel some kind of betrayal from her... as a woman, a fellow female, I am dumbfounded that she would do this.  That she would KNOWINGLY help destroy a marriage and a family.  WHY?  What the fuck could she get out of this???

There was several more contacts between her and I in the upcoming months.  I learned the definition of narcissism from dealing with her.  I didn't even know the word until recently.

I read a lot of blogs, and haven't really found one yet that deals with the hatred of the other woman.. or at least it doesn't seem to match the anger I have for her.  I hate that she's in my head at all.  I hate that I look for her when I'm in town.  I hate that I fantasize about running into her, and what I would do.  (I probably wouldn't do a thing... but I think about it anyway)

I read about how other woman is forgiven by the betrayed wife.  I glance through the "homewreckers" on shesahomewrecker.com ... I read the comments.  Almost all of them say, "Blame the husband!!"  But... seriously... why is the mistress always a poor victim?  She's NOT.  

I hate her.  I hate her mother, who clearly didn't raise her well.  I hate her dogs, her cats, the town she lives in, the town she works in.  I hate her car, her sister, her brother.  I hate her dumbass name, I hate her fishponds.  I randomly just hate anything that surrounds her.

But I do have to say, that I'm hoping that in time, I learn to let go of any feelings at all towards her.  I do sort of realize that being this angry, is exhausting and not healthy.  I hope that in time, she becomes to me what she is....Nothing.  But that time is not today.  It's hard to begin to let go, when every other fucking day something new hits me in the gut.

I sometimes wonder if I project my anger and hatred towards her, because to do that to him, tears apart what we are trying to build.  I don't know.  I'm just fucking insane, and today?  Today I hate my life.  I can't take much more.

Confronting my husband about the affair

Fog.  Clouds.  That's all I could see around me.

It's 4 days since D-Day.  It's Thursday.  He just told me the night before that he was, "done."  That it had been over for years.  He felt no connection with me.  He can't talk to me.  He doesn't know what to say.  He swears on everything holy that they are no longer talking.  He thinks he did a good thing by taking off his ring when he went to see her.

I can't help but not only play back the timeline of the past 11 days of their affair, but when he continues to tell me how the marriage has been over for him for years?  I play that timeline too...

I think about family trips, the hobbies we have all gotten into.  I think about all the milestones the kids hit that we celebrated as a family.  I think about hiking together, geocaching, mountain climbing, the million miles of cycling him and I have done together.  I think about getting home from a long cycling trip with him, stripping off our cycling clothes, and just diving into the pool to cool off... and how each of those times we would end up fucking.  All those memories, happy I thought, crash in on me when he tells me he has been done for years. The memories we made with each other, the memories we made as a family of five.  I am not registering or comprehending at all that he has been done 'for years.'

But he and his whore?  I'm digging hard by now.  I want all details.  I want to know when, where, why.  At this point, I've dug into her as much as I can.  I have looked her up on facebook, I've googled her name.  I think I know as much as I need to.

She is already The Whore to me.  I will not say her name, and I'm when talking to him, she is referred to only as that.

I know by this time that he went to her place of business out of the blue for lunch on the 10th of September.  "Did you call her before showing up?"  "No." he says.  "So, you decide to just go visit her, take off your ring, go in, eat lunch?"  "Pretty much, I think we went to a place nearby her work to eat that first day."   I flipped out a little over that.  "YOU BOUGHT THE WHORE LUNCH?"  "No, I bought mine, she bought hers."

Then he goes again the next day, Friday, and he takes off his ring, takes in his lunch and they eat in her whore office.  He plays in a band, and that night they had a gig.  I asked if she went.  He said, "No.  She's never seen us play."  Good.  That's my man... I've been watching and listening to him play for 25 years.  Fuck her.

Then comes the Tuesday that I know he went to her house.  The Tuesday that I could see on her facebook page how excited she was to be going home early.  I wonder why she needed to go home early... fix herself up for a married man?

I remembered that night very well.  I remember that Tuesday now, 9 months later... I remember he showered, shaved.  I remember his clothes looked very nice.  I remember he smelled amazing walking through the living room.  I remember him putting his guitar down by the door, and going upstairs into the bedroom for something.  I remember when he came down, picked up his guitar, he stood there holding it for a second looking at me.  I told him "Bye. See you when you get home."  I reminded him that he had to pick up our son at his girlfriends house at 9.  It was 6pm when he walked out the door.  He did go to band practice, but not for long.  He left after only about 30 minutes and went to the whores house.

I remember making a mental note at the time, when he was leaving, about how he was dressed, showered and shaved to go band practice.  It wasn't usual behavior.  But I brushed it off, and just smiled at my crazy thoughts, and just enjoyed the scent of him still lingering in the living room, and the fact that I enjoyed looking at him looking so good.

Now here we are, just barely over a week later, and my world will never be the same.   Now here I am, 9 months later, and I've discovered the word, "trigger".  Band practice is a trigger to this day.  It pisses me off.  I would never tell him he had to stop the band, that's not where I'm going with this, it's just one of the many triggers that send me backwards.  I hate triggers, they make me feel weak, and they piss me off.   I love his band.  I love the guys, I love their music, and the pride I have for all of them, my husband most of all, is huge.  But... it's a trigger.  Getting easier, but still there all the same.

I asked him again, "Did you fuck her that night?"  "No, I swear."  "Did you kiss her??"  His face changed a little, and I knew the answer.  But he said, "No, I swear."   The conversation begins to change and switch to us.  We start heading to how I'm the worst wife on the planet.  The lack of sex. The lost connection.  The lost feeling of being in love.  The lost this, the lost that.  And how I'm the one that caused all the loss.  I look at him, and say, "But the kids?  My lost connection with you is a result of our children. My whole world is wrapped up in them and all their activities, and all their lives.  I can see how we have lost each other, but what would you have me do?"  We really tear this particular issue down to bare bones over the next few months.  We both realize how much our lives revolved around their schedules.

We both came from difficult childhoods.  I think, I KNOW, we are over compensating that with our children.

But I refuse to be put down because I made them first in my life.  I'm their mother, I don't think I'm the first woman in the history of the human race to put her kids first.

But he does.  He tears me to pieces.  He rips off a piece, shows me how horrible I was, and throws it to the ground.  He doesn't care.  He is tearing me apart on what a bad wife I am to him.  He says I don't support him, I don't have enough sex with him, I don't do this, I don't do that.  Just to put it out there... this same conversation goes on for months, almost daily.  About how bad I was in this relationship.  I had to take it.  I took it a lot.  I listened, I let him rant on about me.  I took it.  If I tried to defend anything I did, or give a reason to something he tore me apart about, he would throw his hands up and say, "See, you don't listen.  You never let me talk."  I would say, "But you are upset with something I did, I get the right to explain to you.."  He would just snap back with, "Whatever."

The lack of sex issue is big.  He throws that one at me constantly, and I throw it back in defense.  At this point, it's been about 7 months since it took a dive.  As I wrote in the days after D-Day, there were a lot of factors that led to the decline of our life in bed.  His depression over the foreclosure, the working on the farmhouse, the heart attack of his brother, and the biggest one... the fact that he would not put that fucking iPhone game down, and I went to bed every single night alone.

He would blame me for not connecting with him.  I would ask him, "What did YOU do to connect with ME?"  and he would tear me apart with answers like, "Nothing.  Because I was not inspired to do so."

I would say, "But remember the time I wanted to go away for the weekend, but I couldn't get you to say yes or no about it?"  he would reply, "Because if I didn't plan it, it wouldn't happen.  You never do anything."

He would throw that one at me a lot.  I was pretty dumbfounded at that, and still am.  Because I did not know he felt like that.  I would try to explain why I always went to him with ideas, or suggestions instead of just planning it and doing it.

To me, it's rejection.  I have an issue with it, it stems from my own fucked up childhood.  So when I would go to him, and ask if he wanted to go here, or there... I was in a state of mind of, "What if he doesn't want to go there, I want him to be happy when we go there, and if he hates my idea, he won't be happy, what if he becomes resentful that we are in a place he doesn't want to be, and starts being an ass because he hates where I picked..."  THIS is my fucked up train of thought, it's ridiculous, and it's always been the way I am, I'm not really sure how to fix it.

I just want the people around me to be happy.  No matter what we are doing, I look at it like THEY are the one that picked what we are doing, so therefore, they are happy, and now so am I.  I guess that makes me a people pleaser?  I don't know.. all I know is, I have this need to make sure people are happy around me.  I guess I screwed up by not making sure he was one of the people around me that should have been happy.

I try to explain this to him, and he just says, "You're fucked up and crazy."

He calls me crazy a lot.  He will spend the next 7 or so months from this point on saying I'm crazy, I'm psycho.  I'm a horrible wife.  He even puts my parenting down.  He puts down how I am with family friends...He puts down just about every single thing about me.

Somehow, through this tearing of me down, I'm still standing.  On some level, under that shock and pain of this whole fucking thing, I'm understanding that this man is tearing me to pieces to justify what he did.  He's justifying why he went to another woman.  He's putting the blame on me, because that makes what he did sit a little better in his own soul.

Somewhere, I know this.  But it's hard to reach and hold onto under the barrage of blaming ME for HIS actions.  I just know it's there.

At this point, and for the months ahead, I'm standing.. but barely.  I look forward, never down.  To look down is to see the shattered pieces of myself all around my feet.

He's completely torn me apart.

I do not know him.  I do not know this man who is hurting me, who is destroying me.  He is cruel, mean and not the man I have known for the past 25 years.