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.

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.

Hope having an affair with a married man was worth inviting a crazy wife into your life

*Warning*  There's A LOT of F bombs in this entry.  I also know that at my age, my interactions with her are immature, they come from anger and pain, I'm lashing out.  I know there are many that don't believe in contacting the affair partner at all, but that person is not me.

I do wonder if I feel a betrayal from her.  I feel like I contacted her TWICE, and both times she lied, and both times she acted like nothing was going on with them.  If she had just turned him away, he wouldn't have had the opportunity to cheat with her.

I feel like I need to get over this part.

I feel like I'm needing my blog NOW, in the present to do a bit of writing, releasing, and trying to figure it all out.  And some venting. Boy, do I need some present day venting.

I can't go out of order though... lol!

I woke up that morning, and while we were having coffee, I asked.  I asked, "Did it just recently end with you two?"

"I don't know"

What do you mean, you don't know??  This answer makes my head spin.  I put it more simple, "Did you still talk to her, or see her, or text with her after Jan. 1st?"
"Yes."

I have to baby step him to answering that they were still communicating through March.  April 3rd is when he came for me.  I asked him if he saw her in person.

"No."    But I know.  I know he's lying.

"It's just texting and talking on the phone?"  "Yes."

I know he's lying.

I'm furious.  I get in the car, and leave.  Take a drive.  He texts me, "I love you, let's get that hot tub you want, come home..."

I pull into a parking lot, and using the Notes app on my phone, I type out a nasty letter to her.  I know she has an android, so I want my text to her to be complete, and not broken up into several different texts.

I'm furious.  At this time in the discovery of his affair, I'm full on blaming her.  I'm full on hating her and totally blaming everything on her.

(Side note:  A year later, I'm definitely still angry at her, but not like I was, and YES... I blame him more.  He did this.)

I don't send it right away.  I'm actually not really planning to send it. It felt a little bit cathartic just to type it out.

We get in the car to head north to pick up our son.  Now I have him...He can't leave, he can't run out the door, he can't avoid me.  He has to sit next to me for almost 3 hours.  He's mine.

On the drive, he admits ONLY to talking and texting.  He continues to hold strong that he was home alone on New Years eve.  I asked four thousand times about New Years Eve. He swears he wasn't with her the two weeks he moved out in December, SWEARS and promises he didn't see her in person at all.

 I ask a million questions about her.  I had seen her social media, before she blocked me, and she very much likes to play a little mousy victim.  I said that to him, "She's a damn mouse."  (I'm more of a velociraptor... mice piss me off)  He mumbled, "She's no mouse.  She's 6 foot tall."  I said, "I meant more of the way she acts." But then it hits me what he said.  I said, "What?  6ft?!  You're 5'6!!  You would never let me wear heels because I would be taller than you!  WTF?!"  He didn't say anything.

I asked about certain dates and days again, asking if he had seen her.  I just don't believe that they didn't see each other in person.  He continues to tell me they only saw each other 2 times, once 5 days into their affair when he went to her house, and 1 time when he had her show up at Taco Bell with our son in the car.

He SWEARS it was only an emotional connection over text and phone. I said, "FINE.  Let me text her and ask her."

He says, "IF YOU TEXT HER, I WILL CANCEL YOUR PHONE THE MINUTE WE GET BACK HOME."  He's screaming like a fool.  We are yelling at each other, fighting hard.  We pull into a McDonald's, and as I was getting out, I was shaking hard.  I told him I had quite a bit to say to her too, and was going to text her.  He yelled, "I just don't give a fuck anymore!!  Go ahead!  I don't care!"

So I did.  I sent my angry letter from that morning.  I was so furious at them, I wanted a divorce right then and there, that moment, that second.  I was insane.

(When I texted her all the way back in September, the first time, she went crying to him that I texted her.)

Yes.  She's looking for her 4th husband.  She's 45 years old.  Her maiden name is our last name.  I asked him if she thought it was some kind of fate that they shared the last name.  He said, "She told me that she would never go back to that name because she has Daddy issues."

I'm so immature.

Anyway... she sends me a nasty reply and then she CALLS him right away.  He doesn't answer, and he doesn't listen to the voicemail she leaves.

I'm shaking.  I can't breathe, I don't even know what I'm saying back to her.  I'm just a mess.  I sort of remember his face, he's driving, he's looking ahead, he's looking worried.  I'm not even saying anything out loud at this point, I'm just texting her and having a mini stroke.  The adrenaline was off the charts.

I don't usually talk like this.  Just saying.

Needless to say, none of that is true.  When she said what she did about me and my kids not being his, and I've cheated on him?  I was dumbfounded.  Did he actually say that to her?  Did he go to her and tell her these horrible lies as some kind of excuse to make himself look like the poor cheated on husband who has done no wrong?  To get her to feel better about what SHE was doing?

Oh...the wife is a whore, poor guy...here, let me make you feel better?

I don't know.  He swears to this day he didn't say any of that to her.  I'm still floored to this day over this.  

Funny how they both told me within minutes of each other how tall she was.  It's not like I have anything against tall women... it's just that he's on the short side, and he's always had a little bit of a complex over it.  To choose a woman that is half a foot taller still leaves me shaking my head.

We arrived early to pick up our son.  I'm dying, sitting next to him.  I'm yelling, I'm crying, I'm laughing... I'm pretty sure I've gone mad.

He listens to the voicemail, I can hear through his phone that she's yelling.

She tells him that he needs to get control of me, and that none of this is her fault.

We picked up our son, and went home.  I was in a strange, strange mood.  I felt like I had circled my wagons around my husband, my kids, my life.  I viewed her as the enemy, I hated her.  She was the enemy.

The sex that night was off the charts.  I'm truly feeling insane at this point, like something inside me has slipped off it's track.

I'm still not back on it.

Her and I are not done.  We have another go at it the next day.

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.

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.

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.

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.