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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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

December.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What am I going to do?

Furious...at her AND him

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

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

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

Oh.  I am.  Trust me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Confronting my husband about the affair

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's completely torn me apart.

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

I need a break

I need a break.

I have this incredible urge to get those first weeks out, to get them out now.

I already feel a little bit better about DD.  It's writing and releasing.  Writing and releasing...

I took a break from it yesterday.  I wanted to spend some time with my daughter and a few friends.  The rest of the family has been on a camping trip for the last week.

One thing I'm beginning to learn, is that I don't have to feel and deal with everything RIGHT THIS MINUTE.  It's alright to push it to the side for a minute and just be me for a while.

I went to bed the night I started this blog exhausted.  That was Thursday night.  I told myself I would let it go on Friday, relax, enjoy the day.   I told myself it would be a good day, and I would not allow myself to think about him, the affair, the OW.  (I really want the initials to be, 'OW', and for it to stand for Other Whore)   Or how about TW.  The Whore.  So much better.

But no.  Can't happen.  Because every other day, something new comes out, and it sends me spiraling back into Crazy Town.  I swore yesterday that I was leaving him.  I swore up and down that it was over.  I was packing his shit, and he was out. I can't take one more fucking discovery.  But they just keep happening.

So, I'm taking a break today.  We talked and argued over what sent me spiraling backwards, and it's sort of fixed.  I think.   They come home today, so I'm going to put this on the back burner for today.   I hope.

I know the months coming up in the story are burning in me to get out.  I've learned all kinds of new terms and acronyms:

DDay - Discovery Day  (for me.. there was 3...I'll explain)
OW - Other Woman (Other Whore, or The Whore, as I like to call her)

Hysterical Bonding. (my new favorite term)

Hysterical Bonding.  Google it.

The first three days after DDay, I was very confused why I wanted him so bad.  How I could let him anywhere near me?  How I could want to go anywhere near him?

I was confused and battling with myself, but I could not seem to say no, or stop myself.  I could not get enough of him.  It was all I could think about.  When we weren't talking, fighting, discussing, crying, yelling.... we were fucking.

 It was only a few weeks ago when I started looking for help, that that term came into my life.  I actually feel a little relief that I am not the only one, and it's quite common after discovering your spouse has had an affair.

The day I got aboard the Crazy Train

It's Wednesday now.  Only 3 days past DD.  It already feels like a lifetime at this point.

Just so you know, Crazy Train has come for me now, and there's really no holding back on the language.  If it offends, please move on to the next blog.


He's home from work, and went downstairs to his office.  I followed.  He sat in a chair far from me, I sat in his office chair, knees pulled up to my chest, my arms wrapped around my legs.

"I'm done."  he said.  Those words caused my head to swim.  "No." I said. "It's over." He said.  "No." I said.   This was the beginning.  The first time he's ever said anything like this.  I'm swimming.  I can't seem to come up for air.  You don't end a marriage of 20 years, three children, by saying "I'm done."  What the hell?  I think of the past few days, we've been making love like rabbits, clinging to each other... what has changed??

We talk for hours.  I cry for hours.  He looks sad for hours.  I talk about the kids, I talk about why he did what he did.  I talk until I can't stand to hear my voice one more second.  I'm trying so hard to understand why he is doing this.  "Do you love her?"  "I don't know what is going on." he said.  "I can't talk to you."

"How can you even think you love this woman after only a little over a fucking week?"  I scream.  He hangs tight to, "I don't know what's going on."  I ask, "Are you still talking to her??"  "No, we are no longer talking." he said.

We go upstairs.  He sits next to me on the couch, picks up his phone to play that fucking game.  I see the ring on his finger flash in the lamplight.  I'm almost obsessed with looking at it.  I can't take my eyes off of it.  I ask him, "I hate that that ring was anywhere near her, or touched her."  He looked up from his game and said, "I took it off when I went to see her."

Annnd helloooo Crazy Train.  It stopped, picked me up, and off we went at a very high speed.  "What the fuck do you mean you took it off?!!"  He just looked at me, like he thought that by taking it off to go be with her was a good thing.  I think he actually thought he did something right.  I said, "You took your ring off, went to see her, and put it back on before you came home?!"  "Uhh.  yeah?"

I don't even remember what I said.  It was like a kick to the fucking stomach.  I remember looking around the room, I remember feeling crazy.  I remember throwing something into the kitchen, though I can't remember what.  It made a mess though, I remember cleaning it up later.

 I made it to the back porch, leaned over the railing, and threw up.  This has now happened like three times, over an emotional outbreak. This has never happened to me in my entire life.

"Do you love me?" I cry.  "Yes, I do.  You know I do."  He says.  What the hell does that mean, I wonder.  How is he doing this to us?  How is he doing this to his family?

We make love again when we go to bed.. but this time is different.  There's a roughness, an anger on his part, a very raw passion.  It's confusing.  I'm so confused.

I laid there that night, listening to him breathe.  I moved next to him, pressed my face into his back, breathed in his so familiar scent.  I could feel his body move with his heartbeat.  I loved him.  God, how I loved him.  I will not let this man go.  I will do whatever it takes to keep my family together.


My oldest told me earlier in the day, "There are 5 stages you will go through, Mom."  He tells me of the 5 stages of grief.

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.

I wondered... what stage was I at?  So far, I'm in denial that he's done with the marriage.  How can I take that serious when he keeps making love to me?  I haven't really gotten angry at him, not really.  I'm not depressed... Definitely not accepting... but I'm starting to wonder if I'm bargaining.  I will not say no to him.  Am I bargaining with my body?  I can't help but wonder.  Are there rules to this '5 stages of grief'?  Do they go in order?

And I can't help but remember that it's only been three days at this point.  I'm on the train ride now.  I can't get off.

The days after DDay

DD was on a Sunday night going into Monday morning.  

I went to work that Monday morning, and sat at my desk, dazed.  I had not slept.  I'm way to old to be pulling an all nighter. I can't believe I've gone to work.

I'm sitting at my desk, and a co-worker comes in and sits down and talks about her weekend.  At one point, I looked over at her, and I remember her gasp.  She said, "Oh, what is wrong?"  I said, "I didn't sleep last night.  I need to find some coffee."  She asked why I had not slept.  I just looked at her, I felt like I was standing next to myself, I didn't feel real.  It didn't sound like my voice when I answered her.  "My husband has a girlfriend."  She was shocked.  She asked what was going on.  I told her what I knew.  I showed her the text between the OW {Other Woman} and I just minutes before.  

It's so fresh at this point.  I'm in some kind of weird shock.  I don't even remember driving to work.  But I looked at her as I was talking about the discovery.  I looked at her, and I said, "This is horrible.  I'm in shock, but I KNOW why it happened.  I can see it, I can feel it.  I even understand why."

We had just gone through a foreclosure.  It was an extremely long process, and it was terrifying to go through.   He had always provided well, made very good money, ran his own business.  We bought at the height of the market, and when the recession hit about 6 years ago, it hit us very hard.  We went from 6 figures a year to almost nothing.  It hit him hard.  We both carried the weight of uncertainty, and fear of being homeless with three children, but he carried it harder.  He held the most weight.  

That was one of our problems there, we were both under so much stress, but we didn't talk to each other about it.

Not only were we facing this foreclosure, but in knowing that it was going to happen, we rented a small, very old, farm house.  It needed a lot of work, so much work that it was a year of working on it to make it livable before we moved in.  When we foreclosed, we moved into the farm, and right around that time, his brother had a massive heart attack.  He was his partner at work, his brother, his friend.  His brother pulled through, but it's a miracle that he did.  

He wasn't the same after that.  I watched him shutting down.  I did not know how to reach him.  I watched him shrink under the weight of all that was going on around him.  I did not even know how to talk to him.  My life was insanely busy with the kids.  I was running them everywhere, they are all involved in so much activities.  Between work, and the kids, and my husband who was disappearing before my eyes, I was lost.  I saw it.  I tried to talk to him, but I'm sure it came out to him as bitching and nagging.   I felt like I was raising the kids alone, running everywhere, every day, and he was literally sitting on the couch playing an iPhone game.  

Hours he played that game.  On weekends?  He played that game 15+ hrs a day. Past midnight or later on weeknights.  I went to bed by myself every single night.  He started sinking money into the game.  I was annoyed, and honestly, confused.  I wouldn't do that, so I couldn't comprehend him doing it.  If I was sitting at one of the kids events, I would be cheering them on, and he would have his face in that game.

He picked that game up around the same time his brother had a heart attack... So as pissed off as it made me?  I sort of understood.

I definitely got bitchy.  I got bitchy, and I got lonely.  I started resenting.  But I didn't voice it all the time.  I would go about my life, and it would build internally.  It would get let out about once a month.  I would bitch about the game, I would bitch about yard work, or that we didn't do anything as a family anymore.  I would bitch, but I would bitch nicely.  I knew he was going through something, so my bitch would be not as raging as I felt inside.

He felt like I was a nagging, bitch of a wife.  I could not see at the time that his world had taken a serious hit.  His EGO had taken a hit.  He's never relied on anyone for anything. He rarely talks. I think he felt like he lost our home, and I think he felt some kind of awareness at the near death of his brother.  It's not usual for someone in our age range to have that type of heart attack.   

So, I told her.  My co-worker... I told her.  "I KNOW why it happened.  I can see it, I can feel it.  I even understand why."  I tell her everything that he had been going through, that I think led up to this.

I told her, "This woman?  This other woman?  She has no children.  She represents relief to him.  There's no responsibility to her.  He doesn't have to provide for her, shelter her, take care of her.  I think he thinks he has failed me and the kids.   I have never, ever told him he failed us, I believe that feeling is inside of him.   I have held on to him during the last couple of years, trying to make him understand that I don't care about losing the house, we could live in a goddamn box for all I care, as long as we are all together.  A house doesn't make a family, the people do."

She asked me, "How long has it been going on?"  I said, "I don't know.  We were up all night, and he kept denying there was anyone else."  I told her how I found out he lied that morning, with the other phone, and him admitting it once he saw I messaged her.   I said, "I know nothing else right now."  So I picked up my phone and texted him.  I asked, how long?  He didn't want to talk to me at work.  I said, "Fine, I'll just text her and ask."  He replied right away.  "A week."  he said.

I was dumbfounded.  What?!  A week?  I pulled up the info I could on that phone, and damn, he was telling the truth.  They exchanged phone numbers around the 10th of September.  11 days.   I started replaying every single second of the past 11 days.  Every second, every moment, every single word we spoke to each other replayed through my head.

Is that normal?  I don't know.  Someone please tell me if that's normal, or if I'm the only one.

I have since nicknamed it, "The Timeline"  I replayed the timeline a million times.  I realized that the previous Tuesday, he had gone out that night, and was supposed to be with friends.  I knew he was with her.   

I checked her facebook.  I looked at that Tuesday... She posted that she was leaving work early, and was excited.  By that time, it was only 5 days into them 'talking.'  I was so pissed.  

She had all this other stupid shit on her facebook page, too.  She had these dumbass pictures posted that said shit like, "Having a deep conversation with someone is the new making love"  "You're the one I couldn't forget even at the last breath I take.  You're the one my heart longs for because I found real joy in you."  "Date someone who gives you chills just by the way they look into your eyes"  I was sick to my stomach. 

When we got home from work, the questions started.  He refused to answer anything that night.  That was Monday, and like I said in the previous blog, we ended that night in each others arms, wrapped around each other all night.  

I slept, but not well. I felt like my heart rate was never going to slow down, and my stomach was in knots.  I hadn't eaten since Sunday morning.

When I woke up the next day, I was feeling a little frisky, so I woke him up with my hands.  We made love again, and once again, I battled internally, trying to figure out my actions.  I don't understand how or why I would want to touch him, or have him touch me.  What was going on?

But it wasn't long into the morning before I started in on the questions again.  Needing to know everything I could.  When did it start?  It's only been 11 days, how many times could you have possibly seen each other?  Have you talked since I found out who she is?... on and on.  

He's making coffee, looking at me sadly.  He answers.  "We've seen each other 3 times.  I went to her work twice, we had lunch both times."  "Yes, I went to her house that Tuesday night, we just talked, I promise."  "We have not spoken since yesterday when I called her and she was angry."   

I flew out of the house.  (I will spend a lot of time over the next 9 months flying out of the house like a crazy person)  I couldn't breathe.  I was crying like an idiot.  I know damn well he did not go to her house just to talk.  I started yelling, "You fucked her!  You fucked her!"  He grabbed me, holding on tight, he said, "Sometimes you need something from someone that's not sex, I did not have sex with her."  He held me tight for a long time, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

We went to work.  I just sat at my desk again.  Dazed, sick, tired.  Needing coffee.  My friend came in, I filled her in on the details that I had.  "No." She said, "I don't think they hooked up, he didn't do it.  You found out before it happened, I think.  You guys can work this out, you'll be OK."

My facebook posts by this time were bordering on some violence.  Not like me at all.  I'm usually pleasant on FB, and stay out of drama.  I definitely checked out her page, she had some dumbass post about wearing some ugly boots to work and kicking some ass around there.  I believe I sprained my left eye rolling it when I read that stupidity.

But, it was like 2 minutes later when she blocked me.  Oh well, there went my stalking ability.  

But MY posts were so not like me, that my best friend texted me and asked me if I was alright.  No.  I replied.  No.  So I filled her in as much as I could.  We had off the next day (Wednesday) so she asked me to come over, and talk.  

She's not only my friend, but she's his too.  Her and her husband, and me and mine did a lot of things together over the past decade.  She knew my husband, and was very shocked that this was happening, and that he did something like this.  

Tuesday night brought more questions, more tears, more love making.   Still not much sleep for me, and I still couldn't get any food down.  At that point I have not eaten since Sunday still.  Only about 5 total hours of sleep.

The next day, Wednesday, I'm off work, and I'm having trouble getting off the couch.  I start playing "Titanium" and I can't stop crying.  My oldest, who pretty much knows exactly what is going on at this point, walks by and leans down for a hug.  "You'll be alright, Mom.  You'll be alright."  Kisses my cheek and goes back to his room.   

My friend texts me, she says, "Where the hell are you, get over here."  I almost don't go.  I feel so weird... no sleep, no food, my heart rate is insane.  But I go.  We spend the afternoon talking about it, she's shocked it's only been a week for them, she also assures me that she doesn't think they slept together either.   I needed that time with her, I felt better.  She told me to go home and sleep and eat.  
I wanted to, but didn't.  He comes home from work.  He goes downstairs into his office.  He doesn't say anything to me really.  

I go downstairs to him.  This night is a blur now.  Very foggy, and I don't know much of what happened.  But this is the day, the night, the moment, that I boarded the train to Crazy Town.  It's 9 months later, and I'm pretty sure I'm not getting out.  I want off this train ride so bad.  I want my life back.