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.

The clocks...

I'm just sitting here tonight.  House is empty, silent.

There's a clock sitting above my TV.  It has caught my eye tonight, as it has many nights. 

I love antiques.  I spend a lot of time antiquing.  There is an energy, an aura around an antique, no matter what it is,  that I've always been drawn to.

It was Sunday, August 30, 2015.  I had been on the hunt for a 1940-50 fan for a while. Hopefully in working order. I live in a very old farm house, almost 200 years old.  Anything too modern doesn't seem to fit, and I've been looking for an old fan that will circulate some air conditioning throughout the bottom floor.  I told my husband I was heading to the antique mall to browse.

He said he wanted to go.  I was taken aback, he never wants to go.  I think he enjoys my decorating, but doesn't quite care where I shop to pull it all together.  I was grinning when we walked out to the car.  It would be just us.  This is extremely rare, we never do this.

I had a blast at the mall.  Browsing through 100's of booths stocked full of the past, it's my thing.  In one, I was admiring an old camera, and as I placed it back on the shelf, this old broken Big Ben clock caught my eye.  It didn't wind up, and the glass was cracked.  I didn't care, I wanted it. Sometimes I wonder if some of the items I simply must have were possibly in this old house at one time.

I showed him the clock, and he even agreed it was pretty cool, even though cracked.  He held up an old cast iron pan and asked me if I wanted it.  I had, at the time, just started cooking in them.  The older the better, they are amazing to cook with.  I was smiling ear to ear as we checked out, and I was kind of feeling silly as I hugged my old pan and broken clock and tucked them safely away in the truck.  He asked if I wanted lunch.  Yes!  We never do this.  

He held my hand  as we drove to the restaurant, and he held my hand on the way in.  What was going on?  I didn't know, and I didn't care.  I was having the best time with him.  Our conversation didn't even involve the kids.  We just talked.  We researched the age of the pan, and looked for the age of the clock.  We found it, it was created sometime between 1928-1935.  It was going to be a very cool shelf piece.

We had a nice lunch, and when we got home we spent the rest of the afternoon wrapped up in each other and really enjoying each other.

I put the clock right above my TV.  I could see it whenever I was in the living room. 

That Thursday, Sept. 3rd, he took me to a movie.  We saw a movie that was from a book we both loved.  It was amazing, really.  We hadn't gone to a movie in a very long time.  This was so nice. It was unusual, and welcomed.  It was needed.

September 10th, he started his affair.

I found out about them on September 20th.

That clock haunted me every time I looked at it.  All through October, as we hashed it out and tore the marriage apart, I would catch a glimpse of that clock and it was like a punch to the gut.  November rolled around, and as I prepared to cook what I thought would be our last Thanksgiving as a family.  There that clock sat... almost taunting me with memories of that rare day we spent together.

How could he go to another woman?  How could he give me such an amazing day, and then go to another woman days later?  I thought we were reconnecting, seeing that we needed to spend some time together, starting to enjoy moments together that didn't involve the kids.

December started, and we had a morning in the house to ourselves.  I was going to get him to talk.  We had torn me, the marriage and the past 20 years to shreds. Most, if not all, the blame falling onto me. Though, at this time, he was still holding onto convincing me that he was not with her,  or talking to her, that it ended before it started on Sept. 20th.... he told me that morning that he wanted to be with her.  That he had never felt that way about someone in his life.

That he loved me, but wanted to be with her.  Wanted to see where it would go, if she was the one that he was supposed to be with.

I couldn't breathe that morning.  My world was spinning out of control.  He wants to be with someone that he's not even talking to?  (God I was stupid). In my hyperventilating mess, I saw that clock sitting there... I didn't even think.  I picked it up, opened the door and sent it flying into a tree.  I stepped back in and closed the door.

Two days later, I went out and picked it up.   The glass was broken now, the side dented.  I felt bad.  I felt good.  I was a mess.  I put it back up on the shelf above the TV.

He saw it, "What the hell?  Why put it back?"  "Because I want to."  "But it's broken."  "So am I."

It stayed there.  Moved only for cleaning.  I was careful of the glass.  It stayed there.  It no longer taunted me of good memories, instead it seemed to comfort me.

13 months later, after Dday, after an ocean of tears has been cried, a million words said to each other, a thousand fights and make-ups... it stayed there.  There was something comforting about the shattered glass, the dented side... why, I don't know.  But it stayed there.

13 months later, he and I were again browsing through an antique mall, when he spotted another one. Same clock.  But in beautiful condition.  It was clean, it worked like it was brand new.  The sound of it ticking away was comforting.   It was beautiful.   He bought it without a word to me. 

It came home, and was placed where the broken clock sat.  I moved the broken one to a shelf not really seen, in a room we don't use that often.

I can see it now.  Sitting there.  Its whole.  It works.  It's in amazing condition. I can wind it up now and listen to it tick away the minutes.  It's a beautiful old clock.

He knew what that old one meant to me.  He saw my excitement the day he bought it for me. He knew I loved it, cracked and all.  He thought I was insane when I sent it flying into a tree. (I was).  I think he thought it would make up for it when he bought the new one.  

There is so much symbolism in those two clocks.  

I strangely miss the old one.  Why.   Why do I miss that one?  Why do I stop when I enter that room and just stare at that old one?  I miss it.  

I miss it.  I'm much more drawn to that broken, sad clock.

I may have had too much wine tonight.

He hands me the burner phone

This one is the most insane entry I will do.  Might as well be truthful, it's life.  It's dealing with infidelity.  It's my definite DDay.  There have been other days of discovery, but this is the one.  And pretty much the last one.  This one will have sex, cussing, insanity, screenshots and madness.  If that's not your thing, just move on. :)

It might just be why he does not open up and talk to me now.  More than a year later, there has been no disclosure, and I think it's my fault. I did not handle this night well, and I think it scared him.  It scared me, too.  I've never  been this out of control in my life.  Something inside me flipped.

It was a tough day at work, the day before still running through my brain, little to no sleep the night before, adrenaline has not stopped pumping through my system.  When I got home, I was bottoming out.  I made a cup of coffee and sat on the couch, trying to breathe, trying to function.  He had a meeting that night with our sons, and was getting ready for that.  I laid back and closed my eyes for a second.  I heard him near, and opened my eyes.

He sat down on the coffee table and looked at me.  He looked at me for what felt like years, there was true fear in his eyes.  His voice shook a little when he spoke.

"You've been asking me what app I used to communicate with her.  I just wanted to come clean, it wasn't an app."

He reached into his pocket and handed me a phone.

"I used that."

I held it.  I held it.  I held in my hand the piece of shit phone that held them together.  I tried to hold myself together.  Here he is, trying.  He's trying to communicate and talk to me.  Somewhere in my brain, I realize he is trying. But there is a loud pounding of my heartbeat in my ears, and I also can see he is still talking.  But I don't hear anything he says over the roar in my ears. I don't say anything but, "Ok."

I held it together for maybe 3 minutes.  I stood up, slipped the whore phone in my back pocket and picked up my coffee cup, and walked out the door.

I walk up a hill, I'm crying?  I'm not sure what I was doing.  4 million things are hitting me at once.  The whore phone. He's trying to talk to me. The whore phone cost money, that we didn't really have. He spent money on her by using that phone.  Why would he have that?  Apps can be used?  Why?  Are they sleeping together?  Did they? The only thing that made sense was that they were definitely in a physical relationship for him to be hiding and harboring that whore phone.

I can't breathe as I'm heading up that hill.  I dropped to my knees, hyperventilating, about to throw up.  I see him coming up the hill.  I saw red.  It's not just a saying, it's true, I saw red.  I stood up, threw my cup over the hill, (I miss that cup, I should go find it) and charged at him.  I charged down the hill like a madwoman, screaming "Did you fuck her??!!"  I hit him in the chest with both hands.  He grabbed my hands and tried to hug me.  "No" he said.  "No, we didn't"

We head towards the house, me yelling and repeating "Did you fuck her?!"  With him repeatedly saying, "No!"

But it caused a rush of questions.  I questioned every single thing I've asked before:
Did you fuck her?  No
Did you spend time with her over Christmas?  No
DID YOU SPEND NEW YEARS EVE WITH HER?  NO
Did you fuck her? No! I didn't!

It went on for a while.  He said he needed a shower before he had to go to the meeting.

I was there when he stepped out, hitting him with more questions.  I've lost it.

But before he walked out the door for the meeting, he was promising and swearing that all he had told me for the past month since he came back to me was true.  That they only texted and talked on the phone.  They never met in person, they never had sex, they never took it to that level.

I watched him leave and picked up my phone.  I texted her a meme that I found to be appropriate.  Looks like she was wondering what I was up to today.  Also, notice I asked her NOTHING, she just started spilling information without being asked.

I felt crazy.  She spilled enough that my mind just slipped.  I took to social media - FB, Instagram, Twitter... Calling her out and trashing her.  

Reading back on that?  I called her a twat....um... I don't think I've ever said that word in my life until that night.  Not even sure where that came from.

Anyway, I realized I was slipping... I realized I needed some help.  I called my best friend, and told her I needed her.  I've never asked for help in my life, and haven't since that night.  She knew me enough that that was very unusual for me, told me to get over there asap.

I pulled up into her driveway, and got out.  I feel like my eyes were huge, heart racing, hair wild, shaking... I must've looked like a nut.  I was holding MY phone, not the whore phone, and said to her, "Stop me!  I'm doing stupid shit!"

She sat me down around her fire pit, poured me some wine, and listened while I filled her in.  She told me to take the social media posts down immediately.  That it was beneath me and to cut that shit out.  That I'm giving her power to post the things I did.  

(I did.  I took it all down except one... that will come later.) 

She definitely calmed me down.  She told me to be glad he had tried to share with me, by giving me the phone.  

I had my Find Friends off while I was there.  I'm not sure why I turned it off, but I did.  He texted me, "Where are you."  I didn't answer.  I spent some time there. I didn't want to come home quite yet.  Talking was good.  Wine was good.

After a while,  I drove home and sat in my car.  He's still texting me, and he actually thinks I went to visit his whore.  He thinks we sat around that evening having bash session about him.  I didn't correct him.  So he thinks I was with her, talking to her.

(He should know me... I wouldn't be talking to her, I would be punching her in the throat)

I used that.  I put together what I thought happened, and used the fact that he thought I was with her.

I told him she told me they had sex.  After he admits it, I let him know she didn't.

Oh, the games that are played.  Straight up truth would've been nice.

I got out of my car, and went in the house.  I kicked the door, I stared at him.  I grabbed something, I can't remember, and I left.  I walked.  I walked to the creek and laid down in the grass.  What the hell?  I don't know, but I laid there.  It was chilly, the sky was clear with millions of stars.  I just laid there.

I just laid there.  Do you know there are lightening bugs -fire flies- in the grass at that time?  I watched some slowly glowing, coming to life, and then slowly blinking out.  I couldn't move.

I just laid there.

Falling in love and car accidents

April was amazing.

That first week after him coming to the skating rink was strange.  He was never far from me, and texts and calls all throughout the day.  He was sweet and attentive.  I did not know what had changed in him, but I was happy.  I also kept one eye on him, and I found myself not really letting any walls down as I did not trust that it would turn again.

The weekend of April 9th found me wanting to get out of the house.  I told him I had found a new antique mall about an hour away, and that I was heading out.  He asked if he could come with me.  Antique malls for me are heaven.  I've nick named them "My Happy Place". Just to spend an hour or two wandering around in the past is my idea of a little slice of heaven.  

Let's just say, he has gone with me before, but he has never asked to come along.  

I said, "sure?"  And he jumped up, went into the kitchen and pulled my wedding rings out of an old milk jar I had stashed them in back in January.  He put them back on my finger, and told me he hopes I never have to take them off again.

We had an amazing day.  He held my hand the whole way there, he held my hand through the mall, he took me to dinner before we headed home.  It was such a nice day.  

We went out, just the two of us, many many times over the next few weeks.  He held my hand, he opened doors, he made me feel incredible. I was falling in love with him all over again.  Dare I say that I may not have fallen in the beginning of our relationship like I was falling now?   I can only describe it as desperate.  Something had shaken us, we almost lost each other, and we were now desperately holding on.  It wasn't hard to do.

My life was wrapped around my kids.  His life was wrapped around our company, his band, and his own life.  We had long ago lost each other.  For the first time in almost 18 years, we were paying attention to US.  Taking time for us.  We talked, we laughed, we went out constantly, we texted, we flirted, we pushed some boundaries that we had not even thought of crossing in the past.

It was amazing.   I fell in love with him. It was easy, it was fun.  It was incredible.  I was seeing this man in a whole new light.  We could not get enough of each other.  I do think though, that we were both taken by surprise by the intensity of what was happening.

April 23rd.   My youngest son was out of state, a weekend training session for scouts.  I was cleaning the kitchen and doing some household chores.  The husband was working on one of the vehicles, and he realized he needed something from the auto parts store.  He let me know he was heading out, and asked our oldest son if he wanted to go.  He told his dad he did, and asked if they could stop by one of his friends house on the way there to pick up a video game. He said yes, and then handed him the keys so he could drive.  He has his learners, and still needs an adult driving with him.

We all said goodbye to each other, and they left.

I finished cleaning and sat down for a bit.  My phone rang.  

"Can you come and pick us up by Advanced Auto?"  I'm registering what he is saying slowly... He took our Suburban, and I'm not picturing that particular vehicle breaking down.  "Why?" I asked.  "The suburban is totaled" he said.  "Come get us, he's OK, I'm OK, just drive carefully and come pick us up"

I don't remember driving there.  When I came on the scene, full of cops and emergency vehicles, all I could think about was finding my son and husband.  I ran through policemen that were standing around, one tried to hold me back, but I kept yelling my son was just in the accident.  My eyes took in the condition of the two vehicles involved, our suburban, almost beyond recognition, and a black Honda Civic, completely demolished.  My eyes took it in, but my mind couldn't comprehend what I was seeing.  No one could survive what these vehicles looked like.

I heard someone yelling out, and I realized that had to be the other person involved.  I had beaten the ambulance to the scene!  Somewhere in my mind, I could hear more sirens heading our way.  He looked alright to me, but his pants were torn, and nose was bleeding.  

I finally realized my son was sitting next to the other young man that was involved. I saw my husband a few feet away talking with police.  

The ambulance came, and took the other driver.  We got our police report, watched a bit of the clean up, and left the scene.  It was horrifying.  It's been 9 months since the accident, and I still have nightmares.   All I can say is that engineering is amazing.  Those two vehicles were completely totaled and everyone walked away.  They did what they needed to do in the accident, and that was protect those inside.  The other driver was fine, my guys were fine.  Just shaken the core.  Our Suburban was towed to a lot, and when we went to get our things out of it, I was just blown away by how many airbags had deployed, and was strangely grateful to whomever designed it to keep my guys safe inside.

That Honda hit them going around 60.  Spun it completely around, knocking it into oncoming opposite traffic.  Both drivers and passengers survived.  Amazing.

Needless to say?  It was a somber evening at our house.  Quiet.  Still.

We went to bed that night not saying much.  He laid down, and I next to him.  I had my hand on his chest, my head on his shoulder.  

To this day?  I can't remember what was said in the next few moments after we laid down.  I've been trying to remember, but can't seem to grasp it.  It seems to dance just right outside of my memory, and I can't grab it.

But I guess it doesn't matter.  Whatever he said, brought HER back into our lives.  Whatever he said that night, laying in the silent dark, I realized that he had just ended with them.  It had just ended with them recently, not January 1st like he had been telling me.  It had just recently ended.

Man... I wish I could remember!!  

I remember shaking my head, and asking about it.  His voice sounded hoarse and shaky as he answered me, saying, "Please.  Not tonight, I can't do this tonight.  I'm sore, stiff from head to toe, and can't do this tonight."

I gave him that.  I let him rest.  I did not.   My head was full of visions of the accident and the two of them together.  I tried to piece together the past 8 months.  I tried to push away the thoughts of the accident, instead trying to focus on the fact that everyone was alive and alright.  I was stuck that night. I was in hell.

The next morning, after he woke up, the madness went into full fledged insanity.  We had to go pick up our son from training that afternoon.  This will be one of my craziest days.  The next few weeks will come close, but this day starts it all.

recapping

just recapping...

Sept. 2015 - Discovered there was another woman.

October 2015 - He promises that the day I discovered them, that he dropped all communication, has not spoken or seen her.  We spend this month breaking the marriage down, piece by piece, fighting, crying, making love.

November 2015 - Same.  Breaking down a 25 year relationship.  He swears no contact still.  But is 'done' with me and our marriage.  Thanksgiving was sad and I was sure it was our last as a family.  My birthday, he was good to me. I go to doctor this month, and discover I need surgery.

December 2015 - Surgery.  He's an ass.  20 year anniversary.  He ignores me.   December 20th found him high tailing it out the door... leaves his family 5 days before Christmas.  Christmas comes, he spend the days of that Christmas weekend at our home...  But by the 28th, he's horrible again.  I pack the kids in the truck and take off for Florida for no apparent reason other than to try to survive.  What better place to survive than sitting on Daytona beach?

January 2016 - I get him to come home on Jan. 1st. He's angry, but I don't care.  He swears and promises that he did not even see her, talk to her, and there's been no contact with her since Sept.  But he's not happy, and thinks he came home too soon.

February 2016 - By the end of this month, I find out that he's a liar.  My son informs me that in the middle of December, that he brought her around him at a 'chance' meeting.  When confronted, he swears it was not planned, that it was the only time they saw each other, that it was only texting and talking, and that the day he moved back into our house, Jan. 1st, pissed her off, and that was the last he heard from her.  Swears no contact has happened, by phone, text or in person.

March 2016 - I make an appt. with a lawyer.  I've had enough, he's treating me horrible unless he's taking me to bed.  The fights have escalated to the point that he's got a busted windshield, some of his clothes are forever lost to the creek, and our kids are suffering.  He moves out again for a week...swearing it's just a break from the fighting, gives the kids a break, and states that if it's a separation that he won't leave.  There are times during this month he tries.  There are moments during this month that he lets down some walls and I can see him clear.  There are moments of kindness and love.

April 2016 - In one day, he tells me it's over, and then hunts me down and throws his arms around me.  In just one day, it's over, and he changes his mind.



Good lord... looking at that time line like that?  I'm a freaking fool that I couldn't see what was right in front of me the whole time.  I have heard that love is blind, and I think I experienced that.  I loved him.  I loved him... so I blindly believed him.  But I think my heart knew all along.  I just kept that glimmer of hope that I was wrong, I kept it.

It was like a window for me.  The window was open, small light coming through... that was my glimmer of hope.  While that light was still shining through, there was hope in my heart that he was telling the truth, that there was nothing between them.  That the only relationship they had was text and talking...that they never had a physical relationship.

The window was about to shut for me.  The truth was about to hit me like a ton of bricks.

I wonder to this day if it hit me as hard as it did because I believed him.  I believed 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.  

March...and he left us AGAIN

March 2016

It's been a while.   But I remember this month like it was yesterday.

The end of February brought the knowledge that he was still talking to her through December.  He admitted they talked, only talked, through the end of December.  He said she was very angry with him when he came back home after leaving us right before Christmas.

He swore on everything he could that they didn't have a physical relationship.  He swore that it ended on Jan. 1st, when he came home.

I believed him.

But we fought.  We fought a lot.  He kept doing things that were painful, he kept me at arms length... Except in the bedroom.  We were not lacking there, and connecting like we have never before.   This was hard on me.  I loved our physical connection, but I could also tell he was still wanting to end it.

March 8th... We got into a fight in the yard.   I was so angry.  I picked up a plastic bucket and threw it at his work truck.  I wasn't thinking... It broke his windshield.  March 9th... I had made an appt. with a lawyer.  At this point, I was done.  I had been asking him to go, and he refused.  Even though I feel us parting, and separating... He will just not go.   We have begun having nights with the kids.  Even though under the same roof, Thursday's were his, Tuesday's mine... It was sad.  

I wanted advice from a lawyer, how do I proceed with separating, and how do I get him out of our house?   

I was heartbroken the day I went to see the lawyer.  The building had been sold, and it was now a law firm, but 11 years earlier, it was a real estate office, and I sat in the same room with the lawyer discussing how to divorce my husband, that I sat in 11 years before signing the papers on our first house.  

Bought a house in that room, and looking at a divorce in the same room a decade later.   I could barely breathe.

March 11th.. He asked me to go to dinner.  I went.    Remarkably?  He was sweet.  He changed almost over night.  He gave me his jacket, he held a door open for me for the first time in 25 years.   He laughed.  He held my hand.  

What was going on?  In my head, I was convinced he was just scared... If we split?  His child support and alimony was going to be significant.  Was that why he was being nice?

I didn't know... And honestly, I didn't care.  I welcomed the night, the change, the kindness.  He even told me he loved me.  It didn't last.

2 days later, he moved out again.  He left.  Again.  He packed his stuff and walked out the door.  He said that it was just a separation, a break.  He said we needed it, the fighting at this point was as bad as it could get.  I actually welcomed his absence.  I felt like I could breathe.    But he came back home a week later.  I actually wasn't ready for him to come back this time.  I was able to breathe a little.

March 25th, his band plays.  I go.  I ask him on the way there how they talked.  I didn't understand, I saw nothing on the phone bills, and I saw nothing on his phone.  I wanted to understand what app he was using to talk to her.  He refused to tell me.  We got to the venue he was playing at, and by this time, we are fighting.  He threw his phone at me, we scuffled, and he told me walk the fuck home.  We were literally in another state, but I headed out.    I made it about 7 miles away, and he got me.  The next day... Oh the next day....

I had what can only be described as a break down.  I literally felt it, something in me broke, I felt like my mind split and went crooked... There is no other way to explain it.   I cried.  I cried like I've never cried before.  I couldn't control it, I couldn't control the thoughts, the anger, the pain.  It had been almost relentless since September.  I literally could not take it any longer.   

When I came back, again, that's the only way to describe it, I felt drained and lost.  I felt physically weak.  I felt scared for myself, and my kids.  I had been all out bawling for hours.  I even picked up some broken glass that was in our barn, I had visions of just dragging it across my wrists... I wanted out.  I did not know how to hold it together.

He took the glass from me. I had lost my mind.  

I went to my family's house for Easter.  He didn't go.

April 2nd rolls around.  We are calm.  We spend that Saturday sitting on the couch in the living room discussing how we can separate.  We talk about how the kids' schedule could dictate who gets them and when.  We want to be open, friendly... We don't want to play games with the kids.   On this day, too, a friend of ours messaged him and told him she was sorry that we had separated.  I had long changed my Facebook status to separated... Lol... You know it's official when you change your status.   

He was actually a little shocked about that.  He didn't know, and I could tell as the day progressed, and the conversation about how we could separate continued, that he and I both were coming to the conclusion that it was over. 

He still swore up and down though that it had nothing to do with her, and that he had not spoked a word to her since New Year's Day.

I believed him.

After he came back home...and I contact the Other Woman....And DDay #2 is coming....

January 2016

He's mostly distant.  I would ask him, "Did you come home too soon?"  "Yes"

Do you want to go back to your nephews?   "No"

It's a cold January here.  Not only the weather, but he is too.

"Where did you spend New Years eve?"  I asked.  "I went to the bar with _____ and ______, there is no signal down there... then I came home and it was me and the dog."

"Did you see her over your 2 week break? Or talk?"  "No."

Okay.  I'm just trying to make sense out of him leaving in the first place, and now the distance and coldness....

He tells me to go get something "sexy" to wear.  He send me pictures of what he wants me to wear.  I'm confused... I really am.  He's still being weird, keeping me at arms length, showing no love, but has no issues taking me to bed almost daily.

And I go willingly.

He's acting so weird.  I'm so confused, that I reach out to HER.  My best friend told me to go ahead.  Most of the time she tells me to get that bitch out of my head...and not give her power.  But when I tell her how he is being, and that I will be very civil in reaching out to her, she gives me the green light to do so.... so I do.

Here's my text to her. Click it to view the whole thing.  What you need to know is I baited her a bit.. he was not telling me they were in love, he was denying her all together... but I was trying to get her to talk, since he was not.  She confirms with the reply "A few months ago" because that would have put it at the timeline that he tells me it ended with them when I found out.  It also confirms that she knew he was married by acknowledging something was "wrong" when she got my messages in September.   Also, she didn't block HIM... I took his phone and blocked HER.  But that's neither here nor there.  :)

The month goes on...

A large snow storm is expected to hit our area at the end of this month.  By the end of the month, I'm done.  I can't take it.  He's mean, unless he wants me.  He's distant, unless we are in bed.  I tell him, "Go back.  Move back in with your nephews."  "No."  he says.  "Let me get through this snowstorm at home, so I can dig us out, and then we will see where we are."

The snow hits, and hits hard.  We ended up with well over 2 feet of snow.  He digs us out, but we are snowed in for a week.  No school, no internet, just us.  Just the 5 of us in this old farmhouse, beautiful views, and it's just us.

We connected so well.  We chopped wood together.  We stacked wood together.  We spent the days wrapped up in bed together.  We cooked, we hung out with the kids, we were together.  He was kind, he would catch my eye, smile... He would take my hand and drag me to the bedroom... connection was amazing.

Snow cleared, he went right back to his old self.  Distant.  Mean.

I'm so confused.

I cry a lot.  Our daughter plays basketball.  We never ride together, he always has something to do before her games, and he meets us there, watches the game, and goes home in his own vehicle.   He's distant at games, he's angry with me all the time.  We usually eat out after her game, he doesn't like to go, because he says I'm too sad and it pisses him off.

February 2016

Now I'm pulling away, too.  There are a few times he's reached out, asked me out to dinner, tried.  But I feel myself pulling away, not trusting him.  Not understanding.  Afraid that if I accept him reaching out that he will just flip again and be an asshole.

Valentines day rolls around, he's supposed to work that day.  He gets up and leaves without saying goodbye, doesn't tell me anything, and he is gone all day.  He finally comes home that night with a little plant for me and one for our daughter.  He has little cupcakes for both of us.

I don't see that, I am so angry.  I throw my cupcake at him.  I'm so angry.

ARE YOU TALKING TO HER???  "No.  Not since you found out."  He wants me to stop asking about her... but I can't think of another reason that he is acting like this to me.

But then the end of them month approaches... and DDay #2 is coming.  From a source very unexpected... my son.

I'm so lost

He left Sunday, Dec. 20th.

I picked myself up out of the driveway, and told the kids to get ready to go out, we are going for lunch.

I stayed out with them as long as I could, to come home to the empty house was an excruciating thought.  But we did, eventually, and I survived it.  For them.

I went to bed, but did not sleep.  I curled around his pillow, breathing in his scent, trying to comprehend what had happened.

I sent him a text, "Doors are locked, kids are OK, wood stove stocked for the night."  He replied, "Thanks."

Monday, I had to work.  I don't remember much.  He came to pick up the boys for scouts.  I just hugged him and didn't say much to him.  Tuesday, our daughter had a instrumental concert.  He came, he sat with me and our son, and he gave me a twizzler.  He had his ring on.   Just a side note... I never saw him without his wedding band on.

Tuesday night, it was unusually warm.  Our region is crazy.  Below freezing one day, warm and barefoot the next.  After the concert, my daughter and I sat on our porch with a lighted frosty the snowman, and just made small talk and joked around.  I did everything I could to lighten the mood.

I also realized I had not shopped for the kids.  What a mess I am.

Wednesday, I went shopping.  I remember screaming in the truck till I was hoarse.  How can I do this?  How can I put this together for the kids?  How can I shop for the very first time for my children without my husband?    But I did.  I was so lost.  So fucking lost.

Thursday, Christmas eve.  I needed to clean.  I cleaned until my muscles hurt.  We had to turn on the air conditioner, it was muggy and warm.  What a strange Christmas eve... I wrapped the gifts, shopped for food.   He texted me, "I have to stop by and drop off something for the kids, and what time do you want me to come over tomorrow."  I told him not to come over that night, that he can come over Christmas.   I didn't want to see him.  I'm holding it together, and I don't want to lose it.

My daughter and I packed up the dog, he's big, and took him to the local dog-wash... a brilliant invention I must say, it sits next to the local car wash, and it's just so convenient!   When her and I returned, he was at the house.

I came in, looked at him like he was crazy, and yet was secretly happy to see him.  So happy to see him.

He spent some time with our daughter, and the boys.  I pulled him into our room to talk, and he laid on the bed with his arm over his eyes.  I asked him how he was.  Small talk.  At one point, he mumbled, "Is this where you rape me?"  I had no intention, but at that point, I did ask..."Are you two seeing each other?"  "No." he said.  "I haven't spoken to her or seen her since you found out."  I believed him.  We started flirting a little, and he was grinning and actually laughing a little.  He told me to text him later, to send him a picture.

He left, and I waited a bit.  Sent him a text, and then sent him a picture that I knew he would like.  We texted a while back and forth.  He told me he would be coming over very early, before the kids woke up for Christmas morning.  I knew what he meant.

And he did.  I heard him around 5am.. he came up the stairs as quiet as can be, and came into our room and locked the door behind him.

Christmas day was nice.  Weird, but nice.  We did presents, we were sort of normal.  But then he left again.  It rained that day.  I stood in the driveway, in the rain, watching him drive away.  He didn't want to stay for dinner.  I couldn't cook.  I stumbled into the house, fell on the couch.  I apologized to the kids, I was so sorry I couldn't seem to cook.  What a loser I am. They were OK, we ate light, and stuck to each others side.  

9pm rolls around, and I get a text from him.  It says, "I don't know how you can out do the picture you sent last night."  So, I did.  I out-did it.  But my heart was not in it, I was playing the game and trying to get him to come home.  We had an interesting texting, facetime, phone conversation for a few hours... it ended with him telling me to make sure my bedroom door was unlocked for the next morning.   He stopped by again, early.  5am.  Came in, locked the door behind him.

He spent the rest of the day at the house.  He worked on his work van, I cooked for him and brought it to him.  He enjoyed every bite, told me that I was an amazing cook, and that was the best lunch he had ever had.  He dropped little lines here and there, about the possibility of him coming home soon, he missed me, he missed the kids, he missed our animals.  I didn't push.  I just went on about my day.  Around 3, he left again.   We didn't text that night...not the way we had been.  We did talk a little, but not much.  Sunday found me looking at the Christmas tree and decorations around the house like they were my enemy.  They needed to go.

I started struggling to get the tree out of the house.  At the same time, I found myself bawling... I felt bad for the tree, I felt bad for our ruined holiday, I felt bad for my kids, I just felt bad.  While crying and dragging the tree out, he called.  He wanted to know if he could do laundry at the house.  I said, "Doesn't your place have a washer and dryer?"  "Yes" he said, "But I would like to eat lunch, watch the game while my clothes wash."  At this time, I was in the backyard, with a phone in one hand, a tree in the other, and trying to stop crying.  I can see the road from here, and I saw his van coming.  I said, "It doesn't matter what I say, I see you're almost here anyway."   He came in... I came in, crying.  He knows I cry over the tree every year, and he gathered me up in his arms, smiling a little at my ridiculousness, and hugged me tight.  Kissed me.  Told me it will be alright.

He washed his clothes.  I cooked lunch.  We watched the football game.  We made love all afternoon.    He left again around 7.  But everything was really starting to feel right.  Like we were going to be OK.

Monday, he was coming over after work to get the boys for scouts.  I made dinner, and texted him that I had dinner waiting if he wanted something before the meeting.  He said he did.  He came late though.  Freshly showered, looking amazing.  He ate real quick, gathered up the boys and left.  He was distant.  I didn't understand.  But I didn't say anything.  He came back after the meeting and asked if it was alright if he went up to see our daughter.  I waited in the living room, he brought her down with him.  He kept putting her around us, and would not be alone with me.  He refused to look at me in the eye.  I asked him what was going on, he said he didn't know what I was talking about.  I followed him out when he went to leave, and tried to engage him, he pushed me away, and drove away.

What is going on??  We had just had three amazing days, with some intensely wild intimacy, there was a good connection going on, and now he's back to keeping me at arms length, and pushing me away.   What the hell??

He left.  I sat in the living room lost.  Screw this... I picked up my keys and got in the truck.  I called him.  He wouldn't answer.  I texted him, he didn't respond.  It just said, delivered.  He wasn't reading them.  I called again.  Nothing.

I start losing it... I think he might be with her.  I go by her house.  Lights are all off, no one looks home.  I call him again.  Nothing.  I'm really losing it now... I feel used and stupid for the things I've done over the past three days, I feel lost and confused.  I don't even know where I am at this point, I've taken turns that have gotten me a little lost.  It's raining.  I'm calling, I'm texting, nothing.  I'm losing it.

I'm hyperventilating, I'm crying, I'm driving, I'm calling, I'm texting... none of this is smart.  But I think I can't do this, I can't do this pain.  Why is he doing this?  How much more can I take?  I drive past a tree... I think how easy it would be to accelerate into it.  Would I survive?  I don't want to.  I just don't want to.  I've failed at the marriage, I've failed my kids, I can't keep their family together, I don't know what the hell to do.  I can't take the pain one second longer.  The trees that are passing me start to look more inviting.

My kids, I think about them.  I can't do this.  As I start to get myself under control, I realize I could go by where he is staying.  I go... his van is there, it looks like he is there.  There are no other vehicles.  I'm just losing it.

I go home, and lay in bed.  I can't sleep.  I can't sleep at all.  I toss and turn all night, I'm so hurt, I'm destroyed, I'm pissed that I'm destroyed.  I'm pissed that I am hurt.  I'm pissed that I thought it would be easier to put my truck into a tree than to deal with what life is handing me.  I'm pissed.

I know what I'm going to do.  I have to take care of myself, and my kids.

They get up the next day, Tuesday, and I tell them they have 45 minutes to pack, we are leaving and going to go sit on a beach in Florida.

And that's what we do.

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.