I’m curious. What was it about my page that made you think you needed to run to my husband and tell him all about it? Do you think that somehow those 3 or 4 years living as college roommates makes you more able to judge what he could or could not handle? I mean, I realize I’ve only lived with him for the last 20 years. That’s nothing compared to the years you two spent together. You lived with a teenager, pre war. I’ve lived with a grown man post war, moved all over the country with him, had his children, had his back, was his biggest cheerleader. Where have you been? We’ve seen you a grand total of 5 times in those 20 years. Yes, we’re very similar. Almost identical. And yet, your way ended up with him in a downward spiral that culminated in a stay in the psych ward. My way didn’t. So guess what? I win! Turns out I do know my husband.
Again, I’m curious as to what it was that you found so alarming. Was it the pictures of his whore? I’m not sure what was so concerning about that. Was it when I would try to wrap my brain around the concept of his family embracing his whore? Because once again I’m not sure what’s so alarming about that. Was it the times my anniversary triggered me and sent me on my own downward spiral? I suppose that might seem like something you might want to run and tell him all about. Then again we’re back to: I know my husband. I know he doesn’t want to deal with any of this. He wants to bury his head in the sand and pretend like he never cheated. I know this about him. You obviously don’t. Because once again, your way sent him on a downward spiral that ended with a trip to the psych ward. Mine didn’t. Mine simply let me vent and work through it on my own. Was it when I vowed to destroy him if he was still cheating on me with Harley? I think that’s a fairly reasonable stance. He knows this. I’ve told him. You also need to emphasize that small word: IF. If he screws me over I’ll return the favor. If he doesn’t we’re all good. Was it the part where I agreed to move closer to the whore, to the town they devised us moving to so they could be closer? I mean, what a bitch! What kind of horrible wife would uproot her life and the life of her kids to support her husband? What kind of a bitch says, “I’m perfectly happy here. The kids are happy. But if you’re miserable then we’ll move. It’s not fair to make you miserable. We’ll adjust.” You’re absolutely right! You did the correct thing by running and telling him all about that. Make sure you tell him how much I hate it here and how much I miss my old life. Maybe even leave the first part out because that makes me sound too nice and understanding. Hell, I come across as almost supportive and you’re clearly going for bitch. Was it the entries when I did my best to put a positive spin on his affair? You know, my bone analogy. My long and winding road analogy. Maybe it was when I talked about other blogs that pissed me off, or when I would copy things that were meant to be inspirational. Was it all the talk about our 20th anniversary and how conflicted I was? Maybe it was all the details of their affair. Did you think he needed to know I sometimes wondered what would have happened on D Day if I had played it completely different? Because I didn’t. Did you think he needed to know how worthless and pathetic I sometimes felt for staying because everyone says leave? Because I didn’t. Did you think he needed to know how pissed off I was with his sister and all of her lies? Because again, your way: psych ward. My way: No psych ward. Was it simply the fact that after a year I hadn’t completely let it go? I guess once Zack said he was sorry I was supposed to develop amnesia. I’m so sorry that his indiscretion can still hurt me 18 months later. I’m sorry I still have questions and doubts because my husband wouldn’t answer my questions or he lied. I’m sorry I haven’t completely forgotten every shitty thing and that I can’t blissfully focus on the future. It might be a lot easier if his whore were out of our lives, but since everyone in his family must stay in contact and fawn all over her that’s not a possibility. It’s hard to move on when the whore has a front row seat into our lives. I’m not sure what sent you running gleefully to my husband and you know what? I don’t care. That page was for me. It was my place to vent so I could pretend for my husband that everything was forgotten. I left it public so that she would hopefully see it. Or someone she loved would see it and know what a whore she was.
I would love to know what on earth made you think you were doing the right thing. Because it wasn’t the right thing. He ended up suicidal and hospitalized. And where were you? I’m the shitty wife he needs to be protected from but I’m the one picking up all the pieces you left behind when you broke him. I’m the one who sat with him. I’m the one who drove him to the ER and stayed with him for hours, leaving our kids home alone for hours. I’m the one arranging for rides for our kids while he was hospitalized. I’m the one that was up there for the entire duration of visiting hours every single day. In fact, I was the one that had to keep everyone, including those that want so badly to stick a huge machete in my back, updated. And again I ask, where were you? You emailed me almost a week after he got home to see how he was doing. No texts, emails, or phone calls to him. I haven’t replied and I don’t know that I will. You’re so damned concerned about him when you’re throwing me under the bus. You figure it out. You’ve obviously got his number. Use it. Instead of calling to let him know how horrible his wife is maybe you could call to check up on him and see how he’s doing.