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.

recapping

just recapping...

Sept. 2015 - Discovered there was another woman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

He chose us. April 2016

April started with us discussing separating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was looking for peace.  I wanted peace.

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

He texted me:  Are we done?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's all it took.

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

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

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

I don't know.  He's like an alien.  

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

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

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

This is all it took.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell was going on?

It was amazing.  

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

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?

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.

Discovery Day 9-20-2015

For me, I feel like if I look over my shoulder, I see the past 9 months through a thick fog.  You may wonder why I would want to go back.  I feel like I need to.  I feel like I need to, so that when I turn back around and look forward, that I'm seeing a little more clear, and hope I'm not peering through fog.

This will be honest.  This will contain cussing, sex, anger, pain.  Just a forewarning.   I guess this will be long, boring, and read like a story.  I have to get it out. 

Before I begin the insanity, let me just give a quick background.  I've been with this man since I was 19 years old.  25 years together, 20 of them married.

This man was my everything.  My constant, my partner, an amazing father and he was my husband.

Now, I'm about to find out he's a little bit more.  He's a liar, a cheater, a bastard, betrayer, sneaky, cowardly chicken-shit asshole.  He's someone I no longer know.

He went on a camping trip with our sons.  It was the weekend of Sept. 18.  He got home on Sunday, the 20^th.  One of the first things I do when he gets back is ask for pictures.  He usually does not have a signal where he is when camping, so I wait patiently to see their adventures when he gets back.   There was a new kid on the trip this time, and since it was a pretty high adventure trip, I thought it would be awesome if that boys Mom could see pictures of her son climbing.

He had unpacked, I made lunch, he had a beer, his iPad, feet up, comfy pants on, football game on the TV.  He is sitting next to me.  I asked, “Hey, any pictures from the trip?  I know (new kids mom) would love to see her son climbing.”  He acted strange… mumbled a little something incoherent, then said, “Not that many this time.”  I just looked at him, and said, “Oh.  Well let me see what you have?”   I’m telling you, I could tell by the energy in the air, something was off.  He seemed nervous.  I was actually confused… and yet…. I knew.  Somewhere in me, I knew.  He picked up his phone, moved further away from me, and scrolled through the handful of shots as fast as he could.  I shook my head, confused, said, “What the hell?  I can’t see, slow down.  Gimmee your phone?”  He literally jumped up, grabbed his iPad, his phone, and said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

I knew.  I knew then.  I didn’t say anything.   He was in the bathroom for quite some time.  My heart was pounding in my chest.

He comes out, the game is heading into the second quarter.  He sits down.  I’m just sitting there next to him, acting like the game is the only thing on my mind.   I let about 10 minutes pass, and then said, “Can I see the pictures?”  He pulls up his phone, unlocks it, opens the photo album to the first picture, and hands me the phone to see the rest.   I smiled… looked through, commented on a few of them, and handed his phone back.

The boys stumbled into the kitchen to eat.  The oldest watched a few minutes of the game.  Small talk about the trip, the football game.  He mumbles something and he goes off to his room.  It’s half time now.   I picked up the remote, turned off the TV.   He says, “Hey!  Turn that back on!”  I looked at him.  I can still see his face.  I can still see the look in his eyes.  My heart was pounding so hard, I could hear it in my head, the room felt like it was dropping out from under my feet.  “Who is she?”  I said.

This man.  This man… the father of our three kids.  Our provider.  Our backbone, our strength, the center of my world… slumps down into the cushions of the couch, puts his fucking leg up on his knee, so that his face is hidden behind it… and says in a small tiny, unrecognizable voice, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I cannot tell you exactly what was said and what happened in the hours after that.  I remember that at one point, because the kids came into the living room, we started texting each other, that he literally texted me, “I want to be friends.”  But still denying there was someone else.  I remember him telling me that it was over between us for a long time, but still denying there was anyone else.  I was so confused.  How is he sitting here telling me its over?  Isn’t it over when you both know?  

I remember looking into the kitchen, and seeing a cast iron pan he had JUST bought me.  He had just taken me out, days before this, bought me antiques, took me to lunch, brought me home, made love to me.  He had just taken me to the movies, and it was a movie made from a book that we both loved, and both read several times.  We had been having an amazing connection for weeks leading up this night.  We had been making love, holding hands… smiling.  It was good.

I remember walking into the kitchen and picking up the pan.  I stood there holding it… it was an amazing gift, he knew how much I wanted the pan… this gorgeous 100 year old cast iron pan that seemed to fit right into our 200 year old farm house.  I looked at him, and stood there holding the pan.  He looked scared.  His eyes were big… I think he thought I was going to hit him with the pan.

I opened the back door and sent that pan flying into the field. 

I told him to get his shit and leave.  He swore again, “There is no one else, you’re crazy.”  But then went right back into what a horrible wife I was, and how it had been over between us for a long time. It was hours.  Hours of going back and forth with questions, denials, lies.

I remember climbing into the shower, I wanted to wash off the pain and confusion.   He was refusing to leave, so I decided I would.   It was closing in on midnight by this time. 

I remember getting into the truck and driving down the driveway.  I didn’t know where I was going.  I got to the end of the driveway, and I couldn’t breathe.  I couldn’t breathe…and I was going to be sick.  I opened the door, fell to my knees  and threw up.  I cried, I could hear this sad, unrecognizable wailing coming from me...I felt like I was crying from the bottom of my soul.  I climbed back into the truck, and after a minute or two, turned it around and headed back to the house.  He was in the driveway.  I stopped and picked him up.  He asked me if I was OK.  I cried.   He pulled me across the seats and into his arms, he whispered “You’re the only one I want.  I want you.”   I asked again, “Who is she?”  He swore again and again, “No one.”

I pulled up and parked, and sat there.  We went in.  More questions, more denying.  More crying.  I then remembered the pan… I didn’t want it to get ruined, the grass was wet.  I flew out of the house into the field to get it.  I found it, the moon was bright.  I remember falling to my knees, hugging that stupid pan, crying.  I heard him coming up behind me, I felt him picking me up, I felt him pulling me towards the house.  He got me inside, took me up to our room, undressed me and put me to bed like a child.  Was I in shock?  I couldn't seem to move.  Was I holding on to a small sliver of hope that he was being truthful when he said there was no one?  After all.. this entire evening is going on a feeling I had.  My soul knew though.  I knew.

He undressed, climbed in next to me, wrapped himself around me, and made love to me.  It was sweet, kind, slow, loving.  He buried his face in my neck.  He just kept telling me, “I want you.”  He fell asleep holding me tight.

He fell asleep easy.  I did not.  My stomach was wrecked.  It was in knots, my heart beat wouldn’t slow down.  I slid out of bed around 4am, picked up my iPad, went down to the couch.  I looked up his facebook page, I wanted to see what girl on there was liking pictures.  I looked up his Instagram.  I was looking for a pattern.  By 5 am, I had it narrowed down to two girls.  I wondered if I could look up our phone bill on the iPad, I didn’t want to turn my computer on, I didn’t want to wake him.  I couldn’t tip him off that I was searching for answers.  Turns out, I could.  There it was.  Two phone numbers repeating, and long conversations on both.  The times matched when he was out of the house, eating lunch… so on.  One was a cell phone number that had no search results.  The other was some business in the next town over.  As far as I knew, he was not getting any work done that would require that business.  I just knew.  But I didn't say anything as he came downstairs and got ready for work. 

I made coffee.  Sat on the deck, watched the sun come up.  He made coffee, checked on me, hugged me, told me he loved me.  He held on tight.  I cried.  He told me to have a good day.  He told me he loved me again.   The kids left for school.  They were looking at us strange.  They knew something was up, but had no idea what.

Finally, he left.  That's what I was waiting for.   I went to his night stand, grabbed his old iPhone, that he still used once in a while.  I knew, he may not have known at the time, but I knew that his iPad, his iPhone and his old iPhone all linked up together.

Within seconds, I had her name.  Funny, it was actually one of the two I had narrowed it down to.  I had actually wondered about this girl for a while.  Back in January, her husband died, and my husband went to the funeral.  He knew them.  She sent him a message not long after the funeral that I found sort of interesting, at the time, to be sending my husband so soon after hers had passed.  Back then, I checked out her facebook page, and found her annoying.  She posed with her dogs a lot, she showed her boobs, she was dripping in victim, narcissism and “poor me”.  She a shit ton of pictures of herself looking to the side.  (Nothing annoys me more.. bitch, don't act like someone else is taking the pictures)  It's the most annoying selfie, besides ducklips and dirty bathroom mirror pictures, that anyone can take of themselves.  But that's just my opinion.  Anyway, I digress.

  

It was her.  I could see the messages they sent to each other during the camping trip.  She sent him pictures, he sent her pictures.  She talked about letting her kids out… (her fucking dogs, who are not kids, she does not have children)  I was actually seeing red.  

I sent her a message on facebook:

I took this picture and sent it to him.  I doubt by this time he was even a half mile down the road from when he left for work.  

He replied, "Oh my god."  and then called me. He wanted to know how I found out.  I'm actually smiling a little at this point, because damn, I really did find out quick, and I am already on her ass. 

He and I hung up, and I texted her to the number I found on our phone bill:

(Yeah.  I have her in my phone as “the Whore” so what)

What else could she be to me?

So, she didn’t have anything to say to defend herself after I let her know I saw the messages and pictures between them over the weekend.

He and I talked all through the day.  He swore nothing happened between them.  He swore that it was over, and that he wouldn’t talk to her again.  He called her that day, and I could see it was a 15 minute call on the phone bill.   He told me she cried, yelled at him for lying to her, and that it was over.

I asked him, “What did you lie to her about?”  He said, “I told her our marriage was over”

I said, "Don't you think you should have told ME that before you went to another woman?"  He didn't answer.

He came home from work that day, hugged me, told me he was sorry.  He wrapped himself around me that night, and we made love again.  It was a crazy feeling, raw, passionate... desperation.  I was clinging hard, I couldn't lose him.  But he is the one that has initiated the sex over the past night and day.  I'm numb and so confused. How can I want him to touch me?  I'm internally battling the shit out of myself over this, but seem to have no control.

DDay...  It's the most clear day of the past 9 months.. and yet it's still foggy.  


If you would like to share your DDay, please feel free to do so.  Write and release, write and release. :)