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.

Just dump the whole thing on me!

I've said this from the start.

Dump the whole bucket on me... Don't slowly fill your cheap water gun from the dollar store, and just shoot me with little drops of water.

Dump.  The.  Whole.  Bucket.  On.  Me.

It's what I want.  It's what I need.

I need to come up, gasping for air, cold from the shock, dry off, warm up and heal.

I don't want little drops hitting me for days, months, years.  I don't want to keep getting wet over and over, and have to continually dry off.

I tell him this.  He looks at me.

I tell him again, he just looks at me.

I tell him again.  For over a year, I've told him this.  He just looks at me.

And is silent.

I have always felt this way.  I'm not a mouse.  I can take a hit.  Just dump the whole thing on me, let me drown a little, and let me sift through the crap.



To be honest?  I thought I was alone in this.  But recently read another blog entry that helped me realize I wasn't the only one to think this way, and that we, as betrayed spouses, deserve the truth if you want to reconcile.

Her entry: Drip, Drip, Drip
Though I'm glad I'm not so alone?  I'm sad that there are so many of us.



I wish he would listen...

It's been a year

It's been a little over a year since that night.

It has not been easy.  There have been some amazing days, weeks.  There have been the lowest of the lows.

There has not been a single day that I have not thought of them together.  I've watched as many videos as I can,  I've read articles,  I've bought and read a million books.  I vent anonymously on Twitter.

But I feel like I'm still just laying in the grass by the creek.

Summer of '16 rolled in, and it found us going to a marriage counselor.  Our first visit, he asked the guy, "So, can she come alone?"

wtf?

He thinks only I need the counseling.  I went alone for 6 visits.  Counselor decided that I have 'abandonment issues' from my past.  From that stemmed how I actually loved my husband, and allowed him to love me.  He was right.  I did spend the past 27 years with this man, behind a protective wall.  I think I was always waiting for him to leave me.  Well, he did.

The 7th visit found him coming with me.  We ended up in a HUGE fight on that couch, and the counselor never returned my calls or texts after that.  Abandonment..  at the pushing of my husband, I found another one about 2 month ago, and I'm still not sure about this whole counseling thing.

I had an appointment this past Monday.  I was seeing him just once a month, but after what I dumped on him this past session, he's trying to see me once a week.  No.  Too much.

I wonder if I could write about what I dumped on him.  I AM anonymous here... I wonder it it would help to write it out...

I feel like HE needs counseling, too.  But he says he's fine, and doesn't need to talk to anyone.

One thing I know, is I need disclosure from him.  I need some details... and he's not willing to do so.  I've given him every article, every video, every blog post I can find, showing him the importance of disclosure. I've given him my reasons that I need them... nothing.

Crickets.  Or, sometimes he will grab me and we'll have sex.  I've noticed that he uses that a lot.  He used that during his affair, too.  Is it deflection? Take my mind somewhere else?

I feel like no matter what I read, or spend on counseling, or watch on youtube, that if he doesn't disclose, I will not begin healing. So how long do I stay in this limbo?

Some don't need details.  I am not one of those people.  I need information.

I have a good friend that has been by my side the whole journey. But she has not been through this.  She will ask me at times, "Why do you need to know?"  Another friend says, "What good will it do you to know now?"  Again, neither have been through it.

I need to know, because it feels like he is still keeping secrets, living that double life, still lying.  Like I am not worth knowing anything of his secret love affair.  But I am supposed to stay with him, because he chose me.  He chose me, but did he?  Or did she dump him and now I'm just the fall back second choice?

Actually... I have gotten a couple details.  I guess I should be lucky?  I wanted to know where they went out to dinner.  I DID NOT WANT TO GO TO THE SAME PLACES.

He told me. (It took him 3 months to tell me)  I processed it.  I had my moments of envisioning them there.  I had my anger.  I imagined he had a wonderful time watching her eat meat. (I don't) I imagined him telling her that he loved that she did.  I had my moments with the disclosure of the restaurants.   I'm processed, I'm through it.  I no longer obsess about where they went.  I know.  I wish he could see that, that talking to me and answering my questions calms my imagination and helps me process.

I also got Valentines day.  This took him literally 7 months to tell me.  Valentines day '16.  "Did you see her?  I woke up that morning, and you had left for work, I didn't see you all day."

He swore up until the night he told the truth that he didn't see her at all.  But he finally came clean, (sort of, I know he's still lying)   "Yes, after work I stopped by and gave her flowers."  7 months of asking, and lying to my face up to the moment of telling me the truth??

Damaging to rebuilding trust, let me tell you.

Valentines Day '17 found me in a complete meltdown from the triggers and contacting the other woman.  Upcoming post. My twitter friends really let me have it for contacting her!  lol!  I'm sorry! #WeakMoment

Have I processed through that tidbit of disclosure?  A little.  I think it's hard, because I know he's still lying about it.  Do I care?  I'm getting over it.   Some of my friends advice is starting to sink in a little, "What good does that do you now?"

And that's it.   That's all I've gotten in a year.  Flowers on Valentines day and the restaurants they went to.

I want to know when it started.  I want to know when it ended.  He has tried to tell me the end, but it changes EVERY SINGLE TIME I ask.  It's like he is still so caught up in his own web of lies, that he is forgetting what he told me.

I don't ask that a lot.  I can count on one hand how many times I've asked.  But I do feel like knowing how and when it ended is important...after all...did it end?  I don't really know.

But during my February meltdown when I contacted her, she volunteered some of the ending information, without me asking AT ALL...and IT DOESN'T MATCH HIS STORY ONE BIT.  I tell him that, and he says, "She's a liar, and is telling you these lies so I will contact her and say something to her."

Maybe?  I don't know.

So here I am, a year later, and still lost, and still confused.  Every day finds me getting angrier at him, for I see him as the one who can release me from this pain by disclosing, and he doesn't.

I think he's ashamed.  I know that when I do ask, his breathing changes, he looks down, he says, "This is not the time or place to do this" even though we may be sitting in the house completely alone or in the car together with no kids around.

How much longer do I do this?  How much longer CAN I do this?

I don't know.

I'm tired.  I'm finding that more and more, all I do is sleep when I come home.  I just want to sleep.

Can I move forward with my marriage, and healing, without him opening up to me?

I don't think so.

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.

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.

Discovery Day #2.

February 23, 2016

(The timeline and dates are important to me... I'm not sure why.  Maybe I'll ask the therapist why I'm obsessed with the timeline, because I really don't know)

Tuesday evening. I'm driving home with our oldest, I've just picked him up from his girlfriends.   "Mom.   You're done with Dad, aren't you?  There's something different about you."  "I'm not sure what is going on, but I believe I'm going to ask him to move back out."  My son... my sweet son... he says, "Mom.  You deserve better.  I've talked to (my other two kids) and we all see it.  You don't deserve how he is treating you."  And after a pause, he says, "I'm proud of you."

He's proud of me.  He's proud that I want to stand up, not put up with how I'm treated, he's angry at his Dad.  I don't know how to fix any of this.  I'm heart broken that our son is proud that I might ask his Dad to leave.  

February 24, 2016

Wednesday evening.  My oldest and his girlfriend are sitting on the couch.  The husband is not home.  Band practice.   

We are all talking.  Religion, school, parties... normal teen/parent talking.   He moves next to her, very close, takes her hand.  Looks at me.  "Mom.  I have something I've been wanting to tell you, about Dad and _________, do you think you can handle it?"  My heart races and pounds in my chest, my head swims a little, and I feel out of focus.  I realize I must keep a straight face and no physical reactions.  "Sure....?"  I said.  He grabs her hand tighter, and looks at her, "Should I say it?  Should I tell her?"  He's asking his girlfriend for permission.  She must know what he's about to say, too.  He is struggling, he actually looks like he's in physical pain, his breathing is rapid, his eyes are wide.  She answers him with a shrug, she looks nervous, too.

"I have something to tell you about them."  Them?  I think... them?  How does my son know ANYTHING about 'them'.   I have to reassure him.  I'm calm, on the outside, but there is a fucking storm raging inside.  "It's alright, you can tell me anything."

"It was on a Saturday in December, the weekend before he left us.  We were at Taco Bell before ________ basketball game.  He was texting like crazy.  When we got up to leave, he said, "Hey!  _____________ is going to stop by, are you OK with that?"  Mom, I didn't know what to say, so I said, 'I guess'.  So we leave the restaurant, and pull away and park by some dumpsters, and she pulls in next to us."

My heart is pounding, but I nod at him to continue.  I don't trust my voice.

"So Dad gets out and goes to her window, and I can hear her yelling at him HOW CAN YOU BRING YOUR SON?!, so I'm snapchatting with _________(his girlfriend) and I snap a shot of them, send it to her, and tell her I can't believe he's doing this.  Dad and ________talk for a bit, and she takes off."

I nod again.  

"So Dad gets back into our truck and looks at me, and tells me not to tell you."

He describes her.  He describes her car.  I'm doing the dates in my head... it was only 4 days after my surgery, 4 days before our 20th anniversary,  8 days before he walked out on us.

I ask my son for a few more details.  He answers.  I apologize to him that that happened.  I'm FURIOUS that my husband put him in that situation. 

SERIOUSLY?  SO who does he think he is?  That's our KID.  Our CHILD.  You don't do that!!  You don't put our kid in this, and tell him to lie.

I think about the 20th... I think about when he left us, and how my son had to pick me up out of the cold gravel in the driveway.  I thought about how angry he seemed during the "break".  I thought about how upset he seemed with his Dad when we were in Florida.  I'm beyond pissed he put our son in this situation.  

Did he think he would high-five him?? Chest bump him??  Clap him on the back with respect?

So, I realize at this moment, that it was not over for them in September when I found out.  I realize that it was all a lie.  How long?  How much of a lie?  How many lies?

My head is spinning.  I can't breathe.  I hold myself together and thank him for telling me.  He looks scared, he asks me not to tell his Dad he told me.  He's actually very scared.  I know I have to bring this up to my husband, but I'm not sure how to do so, and still protect my son.   So, I look at him, and (probably make a mistake doing this, but I'm not thinking straight) and tell him that I will tell his Dad that SHE texted me and told me.

My head is spinning.  I text him.  "Your girlfriend just texted me, let me know that you have been lying, and if I wanted proof to ask my son because he was there during one of your meetings with her at Taco Bell"

I don't feel bad that I'm throwing her under the bus.  I don't feel bad at all.

He replied, "no...."

I got my keys and left.  I just drove around.  I screamed, I parked, I cried.  What the hell??

He calls me.  I answer it, he wants me to explain.  I hang up.

I'm out for several hours.  My son calls me around midnight, crying.  He said that his Dad came home, slamming crap around, stomping all over the place.  Said he came into his room and demanded he tell him what he told me.  My son tried to deny it, but then his dad got it out of him.  He wanted to know exactly what he told him...get this... so he could figure out how to make ME believe it was just a chance meeting.

That she just happened to stop by.

He tells this to our son.   Unbelievable.

I come home.  He tries to convince me that it was a chance meeting.  I stop him immediately, "Stop"  I said. "Just stop lying."

"Are you still seeing her?"

No.

"When did you stop?"

When I came back home.  She was pissed.

"Where you having sex with her?"

No.  

"I don't believe you!!!"

Just texting and talking on the phone.  

"Then WHY was she showing up at Taco Bell to see you??"

I don't know.

"You're trying to tell me that the only time you ever saw her in person, from September to December, was a quick 'hi' at Taco Bell??"

Yes

We go long into the night.  He swears they have never seen each other in person, besides those days in September.  He swears to God they are not having sex.  He swears that they never did.  He promises that their talking and texting was over on New Years Day when he moved back home.  He said he lied to her, told her that it was over between him and I, he said that she was waiting for him to be single.  He said that by moving back home, that she felt he was lying to her and she ended it.  He said she was very upset with him.  

He's doing everything he can to convince me.   I ask him about those days in September, if they were physical with each other.  No, he swears.  No.  

My stupid ass wants to believe him so bad, that I think I do.  After all... I play back the timeline obsessively!  He may have been distant, he may have been cold... but he TOOK ME TO BED ALMOST EVERY SINGLE DAY.  How COULD he be sleeping with someone else???  There's no way... so I begin to believe him....  

But, I'm broken.  Shattered.  He lied.  He lied, he lied he lied.  I don't know what to think!!  

The next morning, he leaves for work.  My son comes into my room, and told me, "Mom.  He wants to try to make it look like it was a chance meeting.  I just want you to know it wasn't.  He told me she was coming, and we pulled away and parked by dumpsters to wait for her."  I smiled at him, and told him I knew.  I knew what he was trying to do.  I'm FURIOUS at him for doing this to our son!

I told him to have a good day at school, and not worry.  He had a concert that night, and he needed to have his mind there.

I texted her.  She had recently accidentally texted me, and then immediately replied that she was sorry she had done that and would remove my number from her phone.  I would show the screen shot, but I use his name a million times in the text...

But I basically told her that she could remove my number, and she could have my lying husband.  I told her that she was getting herself a real gem, a married man with three kids who cheats.  I told her that I don't know what kind of game he's playing between us, but we had been intimate the entire time, almost daily.  I told her during his "break" that he visited my bed frequently.  I told her he was lying to both of us, and that was why I reached out to her in January.  I thanked her for lying to me about it.  

She never answered me.

I text my husband.  I tell him that he needs to delay going to work the next day, Friday, so that he can get our daughter on the bus.  He agrees.  He asks me if I'm leaving.  I say, "Yes."  He asks me, "Are you going to Kentucky?"  I said, "Yes.  I'm leaving tonight after work."  He said, "Ok..."  he sounded sad.

Kentucky is where my Dad is.  It's an 11 hour drive.  It will be a long one to start after work... but I'll find a stop somewhere in between.  I need to get away, I can't breathe.  I have to get my head wrapped around this.  What am I going to do?  

So, I'm aboard the crazy train, and we are going at a high speed...  God, I want off this ride.  

I want off this ride. 

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.

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.

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.

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.