That Time Sam Was Ready To Throw In the Towel

April 2015

My darling daughter crashed my car into the garage door on Friday.  Fortunately Zack was able to fix it.  He spent the weekend mostly in bed. And then today the dog knocked the trashcan over in the bedroom and I found 2 vodka bottles in there.  One probably didn’t have much in it to begin with but I’m pretty sure the Moscato flavored vodka was almost completely full.  So I’m getting pissed.

Honestly?  I don’t know how much more of this I can take.  I’ve dealt with his damn anxiety and depression for over 20 years.  I’ve dealt with his drama of thinking everything is a disaster, and his reluctance to help with the kids and be a partner to me.  For quite a few years now.  I’ve dealt with having to go to family events and family holidays without him; I’ve dealt with going on vacation without him because he wanted no part of it.  I’ve dealt with having no couples friends pretty much since OB.  I’ve dealt with low key holidays and him napping and everything else.  I’ve taken him to the ER every time he gets sick and I’ve dealt with and survived his affair with Harley, all the while he’s lying to me and humiliating me.  I’ve moved my ass from my home state to State #2 down to State #3 and back to State #2 before moving across the country to State #4 and then back across to State #5, all in the name of his career.  I’ve dealt with him being locked up in a psych ward.  I’m dealing with all the PTSD shit now.  But I’m not sure I can add on him becoming an alcoholic to my list.

I didn’t even spend that much time with him this weekend.  He slept most of the weekend.  Every time I went upstairs to check on him he was asleep.  I went out to grab some lunch from McCallister’s around 2 and he was up but when I came home he grabbed his food and went back upstairs.  I’m exhausted and I’m not even dealing with him. He has an appointment on June 2nd with a psychiatrist and I’ve got an appointment with my doctor tomorrow morning to be put on anti-depressants.  I hope to God it helps. I’m also trying to get him in to see a new therapist that does EMDR therapy.  At least that’s what Google is telling me.  I can end up calling and finding out she doesn’t do that after all. But I can at least try.  Like I said, I’m exhausted.  I don’t know what else to do.  I keep thinking I should call our pool contractor and cancel the pool because I don’t know what’s going on in our lives.  I try to be happy.  I try to look for the positives.  But then I’ve got all of this going on.  And I hate to shake up my kids’ lives yet again. So I guess I’m dedicated to making this work and doing everything I can to help him get better.

I’ll tell you, though, some days I wish that little bitch had gotten her way and he had left me for her.  I’d love to watch her deal with him, especially with the added guilt of what he had done to me and to his kids.  I don’t know why all this has bubbled to the surface lately.  I have my suspicions.  I am willing to believe it could possibly be because he finally got what he wanted in regards to work, and now if he’s not happy, well… where does he go from there?  It’s one of those what do you do when you’ve achieved the dream you’ve set for yourself situations?  Or, there is a slight chance I suppose that he’s leading a double life and the stress is killing him, but I give that about a 1-2% chance.  See?  I’m evolving!  More than likely the guilt and stress of him cheating on me and then moving us across the country (the man does not deal well with change) was already doing a number on him and then when Blockhead told him about my other FB page he completely lost it.  He was an anxiety ridden mess for a while but it’s gotten really bad over the last few months.

In other words, I have managed to send my husband to the psych ward.  I have damaged him perhaps beyond repair.  Is that fair?  I mean, I’m already dealing with this shit and trying to repair a a marriage and focus on the fucking future all the while I still have questions and my in-laws are fawning all over her, and now I’m supposed to stuff all of that deep down inside because it bothers my husband to know that I’m not totally, 100% over everything that went down.

I was thinking about this the other day.  As I’ve said before I have tons of time to think since I have no life here.  Here’s what I want to know (or at least some of what I want to know):  I want to know who made the first overtly sexual move.  I know he told her she looked fantastic.  I know she whined about her marriage.  I want to know who started the fucking affair.  Who made the first move?  Who took it from friendly conversation to soul mates destined to be together forever?  Was it her with her, “I can envision a future with you” remark?  Did he say something before that?  I don’t know, because he won’t answer my questions.  Or he conveniently forgets.  I want to know how he was planning on having a future with her but wasn’t going to leave me.  How was that possible?  What was he telling her?  What were they planning?  How much thought did they put into their little plan?  Did he tell R he wanted the Whoreville plant before he got involved with Harley, or did he tell him that once they decided he would move closer to her?  I want to know what the hell happened the day I confronted him.  I want to know why she sent that text message that made it sound like she was the one calling it off.  I want to know why on earth he was more concerned with her feelings than with mine, if indeed the truth was she sent it to save face or to prove to her husband that she ended things. What I want is to be able to go back in time and have him text her that it’s over, that his wife knows and she’s told him she’s done playing these games and that he needs to pick because she deserves to be happy too.  And then I want him to dig the knife in deeper and tell her that he’s chosen me, that he loves me and he’s always loved me and when he realized that he could lose me he also realized how much he loved me and wanted to make our marriage work. Finally, he would follow it up with:  It’s over.  I won’t be contacting you anymore and I want you to leave me alone as well.  My wife is my only focus now.  You were a terrible mistake and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to my wife.  Ok, ok, ok.  I know that’s pouring it on a little thick but that’s what I’d like.  I’m being honest.  No matter what he may have said to her in their conversation, when she texted him with all of her drivel he still chose to let her have that instead of slapping her down hard and thinking about me.  I want to know why in the hell she and her husband seemed to be divorcing right when we were buying a house in Whoreville, their target city.  I want to know why she was liking Tammy Faye’s post that talked about having a handsome son.  I want to know why in the hell that bitch was liking Tammy Faye’s post where she asked for prayers for Zack.  Those are some pretty damn big coincidences and I no longer believe in those.  I thought it was a quirky coincidence when she blocked me right after I had her picture up in our house.  Turned out it wasn’t a coincidence at all.  They were still having an affair and my husband told her about the pictures. And speaking of those pictures… I want to know exactly what was said about the pictures.  Did she ask if I was suspicious?  Did you tell her you thought maybe I suspected something?  How did that conversation go down because it’s pretty damn apparent to me now that she blocked me on purpose to let me know she was still messing around with you.  So what was said?  I’d love to know.

I could play this game all night and well, all year, really.  Hell, maybe the cunt is even more devious than I ever imagined and she knew full well that I had that other page and could use it to watch her.  Maybe she deliberately staged it so that when we bought our house she closed everything down so I would be suspicious.  Maybe she did the same for the other posts where the bitch shouldn’t have been liking anything having to do with them.  I think it’s rather elaborate but I wouldn’t completely put it past her either.

Oh well, I need to go.  I’ve got a lunch date with my husband tomorrow and I think I might eat a burrito before picking up Rock Star.  Tons of excitement here!

Present Day Sam Says: He probably was fooling around with the whore at this point. Little did I know when I said, “I sometimes wish that little bitch had gotten her way and he had left me for her,” that she was getting her way and he was planning his exit into her loving whore-y arms right then and there!

I find it interesting, too, that I decided drinking was the final nail in the coffin. I had already put up with so much but I wasn’t going to deal with an alcoholic as well. Would I have left if there was no infidelity but he continued with his drinking? I’d like to think I would have but I don’t know. This was April and I continued to spin straw into gold in my quest to keep this marriage alive. I think I might have stayed until the very end, although I was finally getting fed up with everything.

In the end it was good that he left. I don’t think I ever would have and he was killing all of us slowly. He’s still killing all of us; he’s just doing it a lot more quickly now!

Trying To Make Sense of the Nonsense

 

March 2015

Let’s see them hack into this!  There is more than one way to skin a cat. At this point I switched over to journaling on my computer.

I’ve been thinking.  A lot.  Mainly about Jezebel and her comment, my favorite, about how he deserves so much better than me.  About my husband’s comment to his other sister, how it’s been 2 years and why can’t we just move on? About that sister and her snide message to me about me worrying about the house and then turning around and booking airline tickets. About being grateful.  About accepting reality.  About moving on. About pain shopping, which dovetails nicely with moving on.

OK, we’ll tackle moving on first.  It’s very difficult to move on when your husband doesn’t do the few basic things you’ve asked for in order to reconcile.  I told him that 1. He needed to send Harley a text and end things with her.  I wanted to see the text to prove that he actually sent it, and he was to have absolutely no contact with her after that. 2. He was to give up all passwords to me and remove the passcode from his phone. 3. We were going to attend marital counseling. 4. He was to never discuss our marital issues with Jezebel again.  What did he do?

Well, instead of sending her a text and ending it, he says he called her and ended it.  That’s nice, but that’s not what I wanted.  I had a purpose behind wanting you to send a text.  I wanted to see it in black and white.  I wanted to see him write:  My wife knows about you.  She gave me an ultimatum.  I choose her.  We’re done.  Don’t contact me ever again.  Did I get that?  No, I got the replay of his supposed phone call to her. And then I got her text which makes it look like he actually chose her and she ended it.  Furthermore, his response to her was based on not wanting to hurt her.  He felt bad for her.  Her- the mistress of 3 1/2 months.  Not me, the wife of almost 19 years.  I got a reply about honor and duty and obligation.  Not love.  Not choice.  Am I supposed to believe him without proof when I vividly recall asking him if she was worth losing his wife and kids, and he replied he knew he didn’t want to lose his kids?  Am I supposed to believe him when he would have sex with me and then turn around and walk out our door and text her good morning and then precede to talk to her on his entire 30 minute drive to work every.fucking.morning?  That is some strong faith, and if I’m not there yet so be it.  I figure I mainly believe him.  I only have doubts some of the time.  It’s been 2 years?  Nah, not really.  We’re coming up on 2 years of your half hearted confession where you couldn’t even admit you were doing something wrong, or that she was your whore.  You tried to make it sound like she was one of many and it was just a little texting.  No, it wasn’t.  It was her, and only her.  And you were telling her you loved her and you were telling other people you loved her and she made you happy and you were going to marry her. On top of that, you two were talking about sex and what all you were going to do to each other, and you were talking about a future together and she was sending you naked pictures.  It’s been 2 years since you tried to confess and pull the wool over my eyes at the same time.  It hasn’t been 2 years since I discovered the truth.  We’re at about 18 months for that.  18 months since I found out the extent of your lies and betrayal.  18 months since you told me you didn’t want to lose your kids.  18 months since you told me you hadn’t been happy in years.  18 months since you admitted that you two talked about sex, and how much you loved each other, and how much you wanted to be together.  18 months since you told me you two really really liked each other. 18 months since I received The Saint’s FB message asking me if I had gotten a good lawyer yet.  And we’re at 16 months since I discovered you bragging to your nephew about marrying her, after insisting to me that you two had no concrete plans.

So that’s part of the not able to move forward movement.  I don’t know.  I don’t know what their plans were.  I don’t know what all they talked about.  I don’t know how far into the planning it got. I don’t know that I was his first choice. I have no proof of that. Again, for all I know he called her up right after he got off the phone with me and told her I knew and I’d issued an ultimatum.  And then he told her she was his soul mate, his one true love, his very best friend, and the love of his life and there was no way he could give her up.  For all I know he told her, “I choose you, Harley!”  And Harley, being the manipulative, deceitful cunt that she is warned him that if I got wind of his choice that I’d probably run.  Maybe she even reminded him that I already had airplane tickets to fly to my home state in 2 days.  “If you want to keep your kids around, then you need to make sure she thinks you chose her.”  And then the good little whore proceeded to tell her husband she was leaving.  And her husband said, “Fine, but you’re not taking the kids.  They’re all disgusted with their whore of a mother.”  That’s when Harley finally realized she and my husband weren’t going to be forming their own version of the Brady Bunch, that there might be bumps in the way, and that the path to true love was not going to be a smooth one.  Maybe her kids gave her a ration of shit.  Maybe the two oldest told her they weren’t going to live with her.  It was at this point she decides it’s just not going to be worth it and that’s when she sends her bleeding heart text to Zack.

Is that really all that crazy?  Why is that version any less believable than the one he told me about?  At least in the second version I have her text ending it. It would be lovely if, instead, I had a text from him ending it.

What else did he do?  Well, he did in fact give me his passwords and take the code off his phone.  And to his credit he did recently offer to have my thumb print be one of the prints that could open his phone.

Marriage counseling?  He went but he didn’t really participate, and our counselor told us that is was pretty much a waste of time after 3 or 4 sessions. If we ever went again I think it would be interesting to hear his side of everything that happened.  It seemed to be mainly me talking because he didn’t much participate. I’ll give him credit for going when he didn’t want to, but I’m not giving him credit for anything else.  He didn’t participate and I don’t think we got much out of it. At this point in time I’m tired and I’m not willing to go again so I guess he’s safe.

And not discussing our marriage difficulties with Jezebel?  We both know that one went completely off the rails.  He performs a fucking Shakespearean soliloquy when he’s telling everyone all my faults and everything I’m doing to him, and I get a fucking one line reprieve when he pulls his head out of his ass.  I know that’s not a kind way to put it, but it pisses me off. And upon looking up how to spell soliloquy that’s not really the best description.  That’s what I perform on a daily basis when I’m raging!

That brings me to another point- the concept of the man in the middle. There is a poster on a board I like to read and she often says that many times you can look to the man in the middle as the source of conflict.  I’ve thought about that a lot and I believe it’s true, even with this.  He throws me under the bus to Jezebel, goes on and on and on about how horrible I am, and then says, “Oh, my bad!”  Is it any wonder she hates me?  He doesn’t tell her the good stuff.  He’s too busy getting his head patted when he’s the poor, oppressed little brother married to the evil, awful wife who uses him as a handyman and a paycheck. Man in the middle.  Have no doubt, I’m still not pleased with her encouraging him to leave me when he was fucking around.  And I’m definitely not pleased with her latest round. But he poured gasoline on the fire, and he did something I told him not to do ever again.

His mom and stepdad are another case in point.  I told him in therapy I didn’t like how Pastor Fake was gushing over Harley’s picture.  It was hurtful.  His attitude was, “I can’t control what he does.”  Then shortly thereafter his mom gets online and tells her she’s sooooooo pretty.  I unfriend them (they were sharing an account at the time) and probably blocked them at the time.  Undoubtedly unfriended them from my daughter as well, and blocked them.  I know she must have asked about it but instead of coming to me and saying, “Hey, what happened?  My mom says she’s blocked on both your and our daughter’s page,” he acts like he can’t control anything.  I keep thinking that if he had only pulled his mom aside in the beginning and said something along the lines of, “I know I created this mess, but if the two of you want to have a relationship with my wife and kids you’re going to have to distance yourself from my mistress.  It is upsetting to my wife to see the two of you acting all chummy with the woman I cheated on her with.  We both know we can’t control you and you can both do exactly as you want.  But I’m here to tell you that there is no way you can have Harley in your lives and have my wife and kids in your lives.  So you’re going to need to make a choice.”  Or even a much shorter, condensed version:  My wife can see you two gushing all over Harley, joking with her, telling her how pretty she is. You know that I cheated on her with Harley; therefore, she has no desire to associate with anyone that wants to be a part of Harley’s life.  It’s that plain and simple. You can have a relationship with my wife, or one with my mistress but you can’t do both. (Believe me, I tried! ba-dum!!!).

I think that’s part of not being able to move on, as well. I think I have made tremendous progress in accepting the fact that his parents will never turn their backs on Harley.  They will always be kind to her.  They will always compliment her.  She will always be around.  And I, in many ways, am forced to accept that. I’m forced to accept the fact that I will never be around for any family events because I don’t know if the whore will be there or not, and I don’t want to be there if she is.  I’m forced to accept (and I know this is morbid) that when his mom dies I’m going to be going through 3 levels of hell.  I’m going to have to deal with Zack and his grief, I’m going to have to deal with his bitch of a sister, and more than likely, his whore will show up. It’s very difficult to move on and forget about her when she is front and center all the time, or at least it feels like that.  She was praying for my husband last month.  Praying for him!  She has a front seat into the window of our lives.  Anything my in-laws post on FB about us, about my kids, that bitch can see. How do you move on from that? How do you move on from your in-laws thinking that your husband’s whore is a swell person?  I keep expecting her to show up at Thanksgiving and for them to offer up the use of their bedroom so he can fuck her.

I read about pain shopping yet again yesterday.  It’s not so much that I want to do that, it’s more I don’t want to be ambushed.  I guess when you don’t feel safe or confident you continue to look over your shoulder.  I don’t know that I was his first choice.  Hell, I don’t even know for certain that he’s not back in contact with her again.  I don’t know that someone won’t throw facts at me, facts of which I have been completely unaware of for over a year, which might result in my own downward spiral. I don’t look on her page that often.  I check every now and then to see if she’s got a new profile picture up.  I occasionally check my in-laws’ pages to see if she’s commenting or liking certain things.  Of course she is!  Good ol’ Harley can’t fade into the background. Oh no!  Look at me!  Look at me!

I know I’ve said it before and I will say it again.  Not knowing the bitch is being welcomed with open arms by all who know about her and Zack doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.  And closing my eyes and pretending like as long as I don’t see it everything is ok, is just living in a fairytale.  It does no one any good.  Eventually, you wake up and you discover the truth and you feel betrayed.  I’d just as soon get it out of the way.

I guess what it boils down to is can I accept what happened?  Sure.  I can accept it.  Doesn’t mean I like it.  Just like accepting who my in-laws are.  It hurts me very much knowing they can embrace the woman that almost tore my life apart.  But, I accept that that is who they are. When I am with them I enjoy being with them and I love them.  However, I will never have a close relationship with them again.  I simply cannot do that, not when they are still in contact with Harley and act like she has done nothing wrong. I will never be willing to go out of my way for them again. I don’t call.  I don’t confide.  I let Zack handle it. Honestly, I prefer to keep my distance because I’m afraid I’ll be sucked in if I get too close.

Can I accept the fact that I’ve been moved 2000 miles across the country to live in this Godforsaken town where I know almost no one?  Sure.  It’s reality.  I can pretend I don’t live here but what good would that do? I can pretend that we can go back to our former state but I know that we can’t.  Whose job is he going to take?  Especially when they just got a new GM and a new PM less than a year ago.  Where will we live?  Are we going to ask the new residents of our home to kindly move out because we’d like our house back?  No. If I’m being perfectly logical most newcomers to the area head over to two up and coming areas.  Our kids wouldn’t be going to school with their old friends; they’d be at a new school.  My daughter could go back to her old gym but she would be competing as a Level 8 once again, more than likely, and all of her former teammates would be 9s.  My son could play hockey again but he’s lost a year and he already started late so he’d be behind as well.  No, we are stuck here, at least for 7 years until they both have graduated from high school.  Then my husband can yank me away from my new life, and at the rate I’m going now that won’t be a bad thing. I’m so tired of hearing, “You need to get out there and meet people!  Volunteer! Take classes!”  Um, I’d love to meet people but that’s a little difficult when you’re 46 and not in school and don’t have a job. There are no classes to take. Quite honestly, I’m sick and tired of being the new person.  And volunteering?  Where would you suggest I volunteer?  The PTA?  They don’t seem to have many opportunities.  I’m supposed to go tonight for an after prom meeting where I will know no one and the woman in charge is going to ask me to solicit donations, which is something I absolutely hate to do. HATE IT! This gets me thinking that if everything PTA does needs to be funded with business donations I want no part in it. Oh, I also found out that I was sent an email to see if I wanted to volunteer at the book fair for the middle school.  It went to my junk mail and I didn’t get it until after the book fair was over. Lovely. I could go to a PTA meeting but again, I’m tired of putting myself out there.  I’m tired of being the new person.  I’m 46, for crying out loud!  My life should be settled.  I shouldn’t be scurrying around trying to find a whole new set of friends.

I tell myself to think back on all of our other moves.  OB was easy.  I had just turned 29 when we made the move. We went out with all of his co-workers.  And from that I became friends with some locals and they introduced us to other people. In the next state I started out by participating in an online group.  I got very lucky and those people met weekly.  I put myself out there and I joined their group. Gradually, other people joined in as well. Then, right before my daughter turned 2 I started going to church; when my son was an infant I volunteered to help in the nursery. A few months later I became a team leader in the nursery.  Gradually I did more. I became a small group leader.  I joined the meal team. I think when my son was around a year I joined MOPS.  I became part of the hospitality team with them.  I started a MOPS group at our church. I was there 6 years and it was gradual, but my calendar filled in.  Plus, it helped that I had family only 2 hours away. I think I found my online friends within the first 6-8 months. I was 31 when we moved back to State #2, just under 2 months before my 31st birthday. We moved a few months before I turned 38. In State #4 I think it began after I volunteered to join PTA.  It was about 5-6 months later.  The following year my daughter was competing so I made some friends that way. PTA just became a huge thing for me.  I met a ton of people that way.  And I met some people through my kids.  This time it just doesn’t seem as easy. I was 45 this time when I left. I’ve been here coming up on 8 months.  They have been the longest, loneliest 8 months of my life, I think. I don’t have online friends.  I don’t have a church. I don’t have PTA; it’s pretty much non-existent.  I certainly don’t have MOPS. My daughter competes alone most of the time. This next meet all of the girls meet together.  But here’s the thing:  most of the girls are young, like 10-11.  Their moms are young.  I don’t want to hang out with them.  I don’t need to be overrun with 30 somethings while I’m nearing death. I do have some parents I can sit with at the high school meets.  That’s nice.  But that’s it.  I know a few people on sight.  I’m still shocked when I run into someone I know at the grocery store because it happens so infrequently. I am grateful for the outpouring of support from the few people I do know when Zack was in the hospital.  Our neighbor called and offered to help with whatever we may need.  S offered to take my daughter to gymnastics.  C prayed for us and checked in on us, offering to run errands or bring a meal.  D took my daughter to gymnastics and grabbed food for both of my kids.  I felt very fortunate to have that help and those offers.

So, this is my reality.  I’m far from family.  I’m far from friends.  I’m not fitting in or finding a niche.  I really really hate it here.  I’ve booked tickets for me and Rock Star to go see the state gymnastics meet back in our former state at the end of the month.  I’m looking forward to that.  Can’t wait to be around friends again. Can’t wait to see all those cute little gymnasts that I get to cheer on for the first time this year.  I’ve missed this.

I’ll save Jezebel’s asinine comment about him deserving something better for later.

More of Poor Pitiful Zack

January 2015

Zack has been very sick (like, hospitalized sick) and has also been dealing with extreme anxiety. Lots of war issues. I noticed though that he would ask, “How can you ever forgive me? How can I make it up to you?” And I started thinking, why would I need to forgive him for what he did in war? Why would be need to make it up to me? So now I’m wondering if he was actually talking about his EA. He was in such rough shape I didn’t ask if we were still talking about the war. In my mind, though, that’s what he was asking about.

Present Day Sam Says: If I’m being honest I would like to believe that he really was struggling with believing I didn’t love him. Because that would mean he did actually love me. But in a twist of fate if that really was what happened then it’s too easy to try to take responsibility for what he ultimately chose to do.

If I believe he was psychotically depressed over the thought of losing me, that he was suicidal at the thought, then it’s too easy to me to say, “See? It’s your fault. If only you had reassured him he wouldn’t have left. If you didn’t have that alternate Facebook page then you’d still be married. YOU caused all of this! You have no one to blame except yourself!”

Here’s the thing: Regardless of whether or not he thought I would never forgive him (Newsflash: I had! I moved across the damn country for him!) the way he chose to solve this dilemma was entirely, completely and utterly wrong. He had many options and yet the one he chose was to cheat on me. He chose to confide in others who were only too eager to urge him to move on and leave me. When the cuntface cum dumpster called him he could have refused the call. He could have told me she called him. He could have been honest. That would have required some courage on his part, though, and he is sorely lacking in courage.

Likewise, if he was truly so unhappy and felt unloved and like we could never repair our relationship he could have left before he found himself a new true love. I’m so sick and tired of hearing about all these pansy ass cheaters who are “so miserable” and yet never find the “courage” to leave until they’ve got somebody else to fuck.

Yes, nothing shows conviction like tossing aside your wife or husband once you’ve encountered someone you want to nail.

Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda

September 2014

Last month I posted about the differences between reality and what I sometimes feel I should have done. I know how I handled it. I was pissed but pretty calm, I think. I demanded that he end it. Honestly, I didn’t think he would and I was prepared to start divorce proceedings. I figured I wouldn’t come back from my home state. He must have thought that, too, because he told me he planned on driving out there to come get me.

But I wonder what would have happened if after confronting him and him admitting to loving her and wanting a future with her I had said: Fine. Call her up and let her know you’re free to be with her. Don’t bother coming home tonight. I’ll tell the kids you’re on a business trip and tomorrow I’ll tell them we’re getting divorced because you’re in love with someone else and you want to marry her. I’ll take my car to the airport on Friday morning and while I’m in my home state I’ll figure out what I’m going to do about all of our stuff and how to get it out there to us. CLICK.

Would the end result have been the same with the only difference being I wouldn’t feel like such a doormat? Would he have jumped at the opportunity to be with her? Would he have too much pride to fight for me after I told him I was leaving? Would it have sent him into a panic? Would he have, in fact, driven to my home state to come get us?

I could ramp this little fantasy up. He panics. He realizes he’s about to lose everything for some fantasy whore that he really doesn’t want if it means losing us. He calls her and ends it. He calls his mom in a panic, crying that I’m leaving him because he’s been having an affair with Harley and I found out. Maybe even texts his dear sister with the news. Of course, she’s no help. She’s good at helping people leave marriages but she’s at a loss on how to rebuild one. The news is spreading back in his home state like wildfire. She’s leaving Zack! He had an affair with Harley! I come home after the party and find him there. I ask him why he’s here and he tells me he won’t leave. I say fine and go into the bedroom to pack. I tell both of the kids to pack a bag. When he tries to interfere I ask him if he wants to tell them now. They are frantic now, wanting to know what’s going on. Of course he doesn’t want to say anything but I calmly tell them that he’s in love with someone else and wants to marry her so we will be getting a divorce. We probably won’t be coming back from my home state and we’ll probably be moving in with Nana.

Ok, honestly, I don’t see the part involving my kids happening. The last thing I wanted to do that day was ruin the memory of her party. I remember thinking that this would be her last good memory before her world came crashing down. I would hate to throw the discovery of her father’s affair and the fact that she was going to lose all of her friends and teammates basically overnight on her that night after having such a great day.

So, if he came home against my wishes I would probably have just ignored him, told him to go talk to his future wife. Hey, it’s all out in the open now. Call her. Text her. You’re free to be together now without all the hiding. Maybe he would have been begging me to talk to him, to reconsider. Maybe he would have told me he ended it right after he got off the phone with me. Maybe he’d be begging me for a second chance.

I’d like to think the outcome would remain the same. Eventually I would agree to work on this marriage and to not run off to My home state and file for divorce. We’d make up. I’d forgive him. He’d answer my questions. The only difference is one of pride.

Can it be said that a person is too rational, too calm, too focused on the goal of keeping the marriage together? Or is that a good thing? I sometimes wish I had made him grovel more. I wish I had been more hot-headed, less rational.

I know he went through hell (well, let’s face it- his own version because hell is finding out your partner’s been cheating on you) even without me tearing him apart. I know he thought I wasn’t coming back and he was prepared to come get me. I don’t know why he thought that because as I’ve said many times I never told him I was filing for divorce. I never said I wasn’t coming back. I know he was frantic in October when I found those Facebook messages and I told him I wasn’t coming home after I dropped off our son and dinner. I know it hurt him to see me cry.

In the end what’s done is done. Regardless of what actions I took or what actions I wish I had taken it is in the past. He banished her. He chose me. We are still together. Despite my last few entries we are happy. God willing we will celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary in 30 years and wondering if I want to acknowledge our 20th won’t even be a blip on the radar.

Clarity. Yes, at our 50th anniversary celebration this will all be so far in the past. If you look at our marriage, our life together, as one long winding road then this will be a huge pothole along said road, but only a pothole nonetheless. There will be beautiful waterfalls, and canopies of trees, and plenty of beautiful flowers and wildlife along the way as well. There will be hills and sharp turns and straight stretches and rough patches. There will be mountains and red rocks and countryside scenery and congested cities. Rivers and oceans and streams. And sometimes it may just be barren land that goes on for miles like I-80 through Nebraska or I-57 through Illinois. But those desolate drives always take you where you want to go. You have to look at the entire road and not concentrate on the potholes, the flat tires, the rough patches.

So, I may just go ahead and celebrate our 20th anniversary. In a big way. Hell ya we made it. We may not have made it perfectly. But who does? I won’t let some whore define us. I won’t let some whore take away our happiness and prevent us from celebrating a huge milestone. We may not have made a huge fuss in the past but nothing prevents us from adjusting and learning and applying what we’ve learned to the future. We’re not condemned to be stuck in the past. We can celebrate our marriage and make it a priority, even if we didn’t in the past. If we were miserable and just hobbling along then there might be cause to ask, “Why celebrate?” But we’re not. We’re good. We’re better than we’ve been in years.

I think that’s the point of the quote I wrote about. You can keep dwelling on the past but that won’t help. In fact, it usually does damage. But if you resolve to make a better future and you do exactly that it doesn’t matter what happened in the past. If you focus on the future, and the future is happy, then there is no reason to confront the unhappy past over and over. Or to put it another way: You can choose to concentrate on the past and be unhappy. Or you can choose to concentrate on the future and be happy. I choose to be happy.

Present Day Sam Says:  I should have left his ass back then. I should have done exactly what I wrote about- told him it was over and I wanted a divorce. I wouldn’t have disrupted my kids lives. I wouldn’t have bought a new house. I wouldn’t have moved half way across the country for that disordered nitwit. I would be done with him by now. I would have been supported by all of my friends. I would have had a support network. But no! I had to fight for the damn relationship! I had to give him a choice!

The biggest irony is that I didn’t want to cause a scene for Rock Star that day back in 2013 after her birthday party and yet in 2015 I ended up telling her and her brother about our impending divorce right after a pool party she had at our house with her cheer teammates.

I think the saddest part of reading this, aside from the excuses I would make for the asshole, is how I had hope.  I was so busy putting a positive spin on all of this and convincing myself that the worst was behind me.  Oh, Sam, if you only knew how bad it was going to get in a few months.  I should have kicked his ass out after I found out about him and Harley the first time, even if it wasn’t a physical affair (and I do doubt that at times).  I should never have agreed to move across the country and disrupt my kids’ lives.  I should have told him the kids were settled and I didn’t want to go.  I made so many mistakes.  All I can do is do better from here on out.

Forgiveness After the Affair

September 2014

It’s too late versus it’s never too late. Hmmm. I suppose it’s a matter of, well, mind over matter. Can you forgive? Can you eat shit? Can you smile while eating said shit? Can you just decide it doesn’t matter and to forge a new beginning? Forget the bad and concentrate on the good? Or, do you say, “It’s just too late,”? Telling you what I need, or needed, and you doing it now, is pointless. That’s where I am with my in-laws. It’s too late. It may be a case of biting off my nose to spite my face but if I actually have to say, “Cut off all contact with the whore and tell her why! Stop complimenting her and talking about getting together with her!” then it’s pretty apparent they don’t think what she did was all that bad. Hell, I think it makes it perfectly clear that they support her. Maybe they even wished he had picked her over me. So why bother?

I know without a single doubt that if my son ever fucks up the way his dad did I would never continue a relationship with his whore. I would contact her once to let her know I knew what had transpired and that in light of that I couldn’t continue a relationship with her. I would let her know that it was much more important to me to have a relationship with my son and his entire family. And hopefully I will love my future daughter-in-law so I would also tell her that, and that I would never hurt or betray my daughter-in-law by continuing a relationship with her, the other woman.

I sometimes think my husband wants to pretend that none of this happened. He wants me to act like none of this bothers me and just forgive and forget. Wouldn’t that be nice? And oh so convenient for him and his family. No, what he really wants is to take the easy way out and to not have to confront his family. He could have ended this a year ago when I told him I didn’t like the fact that his stepfather commented on the whore’s picture and told her she was beautiful. He acted like his hands were tied. I can’t tell him what to post! No, but you could have a conversation with your mom and let her know that immediate family interacting with your whore was painful and upsetting to me, and if they truly wanted to ever see me again it would probably be wise to discontinue their relationship with the whore.

It’s hard to believe there is no contact when everyone he spends time with down there has a relationship with her. Even if he is actively avoiding her it’s easy to see how she could come up in conversation, even show up in person. Easy to see how information about her could be passed along, even if he’s not interested.

No, when you get down to the root of it, me forgiving his family and pretending like none of this ever happened would be for his benefit, not mine. It’s easier for him to try to guilt me into going where I don’t want to go and putting on a fake smile, than it is for him to tell his family that their continued involvement with his whore is resulting in him having to choose between his family of origin and his wife. And by choosing between the two rest assured I simply mean that I refuse to go with him. He wants to spend the holidays with them? He’s free to do so. I won’t be there, though. The kids can go with whomever they choose.

Present Day Sam Says: Folks, this is yet another excellent demonstration of what not to do when you’re reconciling. If this is what you’re dealing with, RUN! He (or she) isn’t sorry. Things won’t change. It’s quite possible you’ll face another D-Day. Get out now!

Everything I worried about happened. Since they never had a problem with her (or the two of them as a couple) to begin with they didn’t have a problem when they hooked up again. Hell, they encouraged it!

Don’t be as stupid and trusting as I was. If your spouse’s family is still in contact with the other person, RUN! I can’t stress it enough. You will never feel safe. You will never BE safe. The interloper will simply hang around and wait for the right time to pounce. Even better- the family will tell that person when the best time to pounce might be. Get out now. Save yourself. It will not end well.

The Best Way To Let Go Of The Pain & Anger

August 2014

Because honestly, the best way to let go of the pain and anger of an affair is to craft a happy future where there really is no need to look back. If both people can get to this place, the anger usually will naturally just start to abate.

Wise words, and yet…. This is very difficult for me. It’s hard to focus on being happy and ignore the wrongs done. It goes back to my thoughts on our anniversary. I HATE the fact that I was wrong when I thought, “If you think things are bad now just wait until she finds out you’re cheating on her.” It feels all kinds of wrong to me to think that by lying and cheating he now gets a wife that tries to eliminate all of her faults, one who is always “on” for him, who will have sex even when not in the mood, who does her best to please him and seduce him and be his “girlfriend”. I text him all the time because his whore did that and he liked it. And I hate it. I hate that he got what he wanted by lying and cheating and humiliating me. I have to spend the rest of my life with the knowledge that my husband stepped out on me. I have to live with the knowledge he believed he loved another. I have to live knowing he talked of marrying her. I have to live with the knowledge that even though he “chose” me he did admit to still missing her, or at least missing what she represented and having a connection to that side of the family. I have to deal with the fact he didn’t want to hurt her and that it seems like he was more concerned with her feelings than mine. I have to live with the fact his nephew knows he cheated on me and was prepared to leave me for another woman. I wonder if he’ll think I’m just some stupid, naive horrible wife who had no idea how close I came to being dumped. I have to live with the knowledge his sister and her husband know all about my humiliation, how I was such a lousy wife that my husband sought out another. And even better is the fact they know her and like her and embrace her. The same goes towards everyone he sees while home- his mom, his stepdad, his step aunt, his cousin. I am expected to face these people all the while knowing they know my husband cheated on me and I was such a loser that I accepted it, took him back, and immediately started making changes in myself.

Don’t get me wrong. I know I sound forlorn. It’s from reading this stupid discontinued blog by a man who cheated. He says he’s not excusing cheaters but his posts and comments make it apparent he is. To listen to him an affair only starts (Ok, I’ll be fair. He does say the majority of affairs and not all of them. P.S. Research shows him to be wrong.) because the betrayed spouse is neglecting her partner, making him feel insignificant, and probably isn’t putting out often enough. The way to reconcile is to recognize how you made your husband cheat, that the other woman is a saint, and to basically say, “Oh, honey, I sure hope you’ll take me back and forgive me for being a horrible wife. Rest assured, your Royal Highness, I’ll never ask you questions about your affair; I’ll never get mad about your affair (afterall, how could I? It was my own fault!). You just let me know how you want this recovery to go. Any time you’re feeling uncomfortable you tell me and we’ll stop because YOU are the MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN ALL OF THIS! No point in examining the past and your affair; we just need to focus on the future. Now pull your pants off so I can blow ya!” Yeah, sorry, he’s just really had my blood boiling this weekend and it hasn’t been good for me. At. All. And yet I keep reading.

OK, back to me. I do realize you need to concentrate on the future. I also think those that refuse to learn from past are doomed to repeat it. And you can’t learn from the past if you bury your head and refuse to examine it.

Anyway, while I say I hate all of the above I do recognize the positive changes in our relationship. I just hate that they came about because of her. It’s almost like I’m expected to thank her or be grateful to her for fooling around with my husband. And that I cannot do. Hell, at this point it would be a stretch to piss on her if she were on fire.

It is an eternal struggle. On one hand, he cheated. I hate that and all that entails. On the other hand we are doing better than ever. We are happier, more connected. I hate that his affair is the reason for that. It kills me. I feel like I should start a blog encouraging affairs to restore your marriage. And that of course feels all kinds of wrong.

It’s hard to reconcile the reality and what you feel should be. I feel like I should have left him. I feel like I should have outed him to everyone. I know how I would have done it. I would have made a list on FB of his friends and family so that only they could see this, and then I would have posted a picture of her on my page with the caption: Does anyone know who this (really debating adding “whore” right here) is? Apparently, she is my husband’s whore. (Ooh, got it in anyway!) I feel like I should have thrown all his stuff on the front yard and told him to get the Hell out. I feel like I should have told the kids we were getting a divorce because their dad was in love with someone else and he wanted to be married to her instead of me. That’s what I “feel like”.

The reality is I had a birthday party to throw and I cared more about my daughter’s happiness than I did my own betrayal and heartbreak. I could have become unhinged and maybe, if it had happened on a different day I would have. But, instead I calmly called him and demanded answers. And at the end I told him he needed to figure out what he wanted because I wasn’t going to go through this anymore. I deserved to be happy, too. He didn’t get to have his tawdry romance with his soul mate, investing everything into her while I sat by cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, and raising his kids, all the while being neglected and unloved. You want your little whore? Then you take her. But I get to find someone new as well. I always made it clear I wanted him to end it and I wanted to work things out. I never acted like I wasn’t sure if I would file for divorce or not. I never threatened a nasty custody battle. There was no yelling, no screaming, no tossing his clothes out, no outing him to everyone. We just quietly picked up the pieces and went on with our lives, focusing on us and what was wrong in our relationship. Hell, we were sexting and sending naughty pictures to each other less than a week after I found out. Divulging fantasies. We were on fire, albeit with me 1500 miles away (yeah, they had impeccable timing. I found out the day of my daughter’s birthday party and two days before I had to fly home for my step father’s memorial service). I spent very little time asking questions, compared to others. I never confronted her, although I did write back to her husband who was the one to involve me in the first place to let him know my husband assured me he had deleted all the nude pictures she had sent him. I did start up this page, using her picture and their texts and sometimes liking her comments or the same comments she had liked on my FIL’s page. And I did start to follow her on Pinterest, although I don’t think she’s ever on it. Aside from that, the worst thing I would do is check her Facebook page for new pictures and to see how my in-laws were betraying me.

Today, a year later, we are happy. I still, obviously, have a problem with how that was achieved. And for the record, I don’t hate having sex with my husband. I don’t hate texting him or trying to turn him on. I don’t hate talking to him or doing things with him. In fact, I like the fact that we are more apt to run mundane errands together now. I like the closeness and the touching and the fact he’s now invested in our family. But it’s hard for me to reconcile because I feel like I shouldn’t. There is an inner turmoil. Things are good but they got there a bad way and that doesn’t feel right. It’s almost the feeling you get when someone is forcing you to do something you don’t want to do. Even if you realize they’re right, even if you realize this thing benefits you, the fact it’s being forced upon you makes you bristle. It causes you to reject it.

So, I’m examining the quote above that started this long long post and trying to do just that, while I wonder if it will ever be completely possible.

Present Day Sam Says: In reading this now I look back and I think, “What a load of bullshit.” I should have dumped his ass the minute I found out about the whore. Instead I invested another 2 years in that relationship, moved across the country for him (coz he was sad!), took everything my kids loved away from them, and left my own friends, activities, and job possibilities behind. All for his ungrateful, whore loving, pathetic self.

Not Letting the OW Take Up Head Space

August 2014

I’m finally back and ready to discuss not giving the OW anymore headspace. And healing.

Here’s the funny part. I usually feel like I’m pretty well healed. It was a short affair. Even the most dire of the so-called experts say it takes anywhere from the length of the affair to twice the length of the affair to heal. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe some say 3-5 years. But really? For a 3 1/2 month long emotional affair where they supposedly never met up in person? Twice as long would be 7 months. 3x as long would be 10 1/2 months. But I digress. As I said I usually feel healed. I read other affair blogs and I see the pain so many of them are going through and I don’t have that pain.

Shawn’s blog was started a year after her D-Day and she likes to talk about her road to happiness. She advocates, after a year of insanity on her own part, focusing on your relationship and putting the other woman out of your mind. I wonder sometimes what that would feel like. I don’t check up on the whore that often anymore. Nothing new and even if there were I couldn’t see it. I do still check to see if she has commented on my in-laws’ page. I can’t seem to let the pain die. I tell myself it’s because it’s good to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Don’t let yourself be ambushed.

I wonder what it would be like to just forgive and forget. To pretend that seeing my mother-in-law tell my husband’s whore that she was sooooo pretty, knowing she was the whore that tried to break up my marriage, wasn’t painful. To pretend that his sister encouraging him to leave me for the whore was forgotten and completely understandable. Honestly, I don’t see that happening.

I wonder what it would be like to trust him 100%, to still be stupid and naive and believe he would never cheat on me. I hate the fact that I get jealous now. I don’t feel it’s a sign of a healthy relationship. I hate wondering if one of his female colleagues is going to catch his eye, or more likely, that they’ll strike up a friendly relationship and it will turn into something more. And when I tell myself all I have to do is blow his mind I get mad at myself. Isn’t that just manipulating through sex?

I tell myself to observe how he treats me now- the adoring texts, how he says he thinks about me constantly, he always wants me, the way he’s willing to give me anything I want. He’s made more effort to be involved with the kids and he’s gone away on vacation with us *three* times now since April. He compliments me. He says he wants to marry me again. And yet, look at the second paragraph. I still preface everything with supposedly, or, so he says, or, if he’s being truthful.

I would like to believe it whole heartedly. If I think back to how things were before he confessed the first time I would say that he definitely treats me better and I don’t think he’s still messing with her. But if I look at the second half, the actual longer part of their great love affair, I can’t tell. Because I thought things were getting better and the reality was he was still hot and heavy with her.

I don’t know that I will ever be able to leave it completely behind. Just today as I was reading a blog I started to feel very melancholy. The writer was questioning why her husband chose her after spending more than 2 years fucking her best friend. Why is he so sad now, thinking he may lose her. I can identify with that. He says he called her and ended it after getting off the phone with me. I had made it clear I wanted him to end it via text so he could show me. Instead I have her text which makes it sound like she ended it. I don’t have the satisfaction of seeing in black and white the words: It’s over. I choose my wife. I love her. You were a mistake. You’re not worth losing my wife and family. No, instead I remember him replying, “I know I don’t want to lose my kids,” when asked if she was worth losing his wife and kids. And his lame text where he’s basically agreeing with her instead of taking a stand.

How could he tell her he loved her and wanted to marry her and then just suddenly change his mind? How can he tell his sister our marriage is dead and Harley makes him happy and he loves her, and then say, “Oops! My bad! Turns out I love my wife after all,”? Intellectually I know it’s all about the affair fog and affairs not being real relationships. But emotionally I can still tell myself it’s because he really did love her and he’s only here for his kids.

So, this is what I wrestle with a year later, almost 2000 miles from where it happened, in a new house and him in a new office, not the one where they texted and sexted for months. I’m soon going to be driving a new car, one that no longer holds memories of me raging against him or his family. Do these things matter? No, not really. I could have happily lived in the house where it happened, had him go into work every day in the office in which it happened, and not felt a thing. The cars don’t bother me either, although I do need a new one. I suppose I just keep trudging along, healing a little bit more each day. I know I’m not ready to forgive and forget. I know I’m not ready to trust 100%. I’m not ready to completely kick the whore out of my headspace. And that’s all ok. I’m getting closer every day, and if this is as close as I get then I’m fine with that.

Added later: I forgot to add I still have all her pictures on my phone. I still have her picture listed in my contacts for all of Zack’s family. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to part with that.

Added about a month later: Rereading this brought up the concept of pain shopping. When I first heard the term I thought it referred to shopping, perhaps recklessly, to dull the pain. No, it refers to going back to or searching out things that will hurt you. Like going to the OW’s FB page. Or your in-laws’ FB pages. To see how they’re interacting with one another. I suppose that’s true. I’m sure my relationship, at least with his mom and stepdad, would be better if I had never read them fawning all over my husband’s whore. But, me not seeing it doesn’t stop it from happening. Do I really want to be played for the fool again? I’m all- Oh, we’re one big happy family. So glad we got past that nasty affair business. And they’re saying- Oh we are, too. We love you! All the while they’re buddy buddy with the whore and I’m just an idiot who thinks I mean something to these people who obviously prefer his whore to his wife. I would prefer to know. I don’t wish to be ambushed anymore. I’ve had enough holidays and special events ruined thanks to being clueless. I don’t wish to have superficial relationships with people who remain in contact with the whore. That’s like saying I would have been better off not knowing about the affair. I’m better off not knowing about the affair and my husband’s betrayal, and I’m better off not knowing that every fucking person in my husband’s family thinks the world of his whore. Yes, because living a life where I’m constantly being lied to and humiliated sounds dreamy.

A Year Ago Today (Or Rather Back in 2014)

The title is misleading. It’s referring to a date in May. This is August. However, I am just going in order with these and so far I am only up to entries from May of 2014. Enjoy!

Blast From the Past 40

May 2014

A year ago today my husband told me he had been texting other women. Lying to protect his precious whore. Acting like there were many and she was nothing special. A year ago today, the moment he admitted he knew one of them and he said her name I knew she was trouble. A year ago today my life began a downward spiral and it would end with me finding out my husband either continued his tawdry little affair, or searched her out again after a short period of time because “he missed her”. It would end with me finding out he had been lying to me for 3 1/2 months and that they really really liked each other, and they had talked of a future together and they told each other they loved one another. Eventually I would find out he bragged about marrying the bitch whore. It ended with me realizing how disloyal my husband’s family could be, even after almost 19 years of marriage, and with me distancing myself from his family. We may be doing better as a couple, but my relationship with his family will never be repaired. There are just some things you never recover from, and it’s too bad they don’t realize that until it’s too late. A year ago today he cried and told me he didn’t want a divorce. And then went behind my back soon after and started up with her again. A year ago today really sucked.

Present Day Sam Says:  Dear Sam, Just FYI, August 2015 is really going to suck hard, too! And you can pretty much write off the entire summer of 2016. Love, Future Sam

Facebook & TiVo- The Beginning of the End

I remember reading a Sidney Sheldon novel years ago.  I don’t remember the title but it dealt with three women who were all in medical school.  One of them had a brother who was working for the Mob and she became sort of a Mob doctor to pay his debt.  Anyway, that’s not the important part.  This is:  One of the male doctors was a real player and one of the three main characters was a very straight shooter.  There was a bet going on about whether or not the cad doctor could bed the good doctor.  The three female med students made some kind of a bet and the line at the end of the chapter was something like:  They didn’t realize it but they had just signed the death certificate for one of them.

Obviously, this has stuck with me.  It’s been well over 25 years since I read the book.  But that line comes up sometimes when you start to put two and two together and realize <here> was the moment it fell apart (or came together, if you are feeling positive).  For me, TiVo and Facebook were the precursors to the death certificate for my marriage.

Let’s begin with the seemingly benign TiVo.  I bought it for my husband one year for Christmas.  Couldn’t even tell you exactly when except that it was sometime after 2002 and before 2006.  Lost was airing, if that helps.  He loved it!  Loved being able to skip the commercials.  Loved being able to record things that he would miss otherwise.  Loved, loved, loved it.  As far as gifts go, it was a good one if the recipient’s joy is the only measure of a good gift. In looking back, however, I can see that it was the beginning of the end.

You see, when he got TiVo, television became more important than the family.  We used to eat together, even if we watched tv while doing so.  Once he got TiVo he ate his meals downstairs in the finished basement.  I would bring the kids downstairs to see him (and they were at most preschool and toddler age), perhaps even try to eat with him, but he would complain about how he couldn’t watch his shows because of the kids and the noise they made.  Shocker- toddlers and preschoolers make noise!  I remember several times he would pause the tv, look at me and say, “I’ve been trying to watch the last five minutes of this show for the last twenty minutes.  Do you think you can take them upstairs so I can finish this?”  Of course, Your Majesty!  Care for a quick blow job before I head upstairs?

The kids and I began to live our life on the main level, more and more, while he lived his life, alone, in the basement.  He even took to sleeping in the guest room downstairs so that I could have the queen sized bed with the kids, instead of continuing to sleep on a twin sized mattress and a trundle bed.  He slept down there, showered down there, took his meals down there (remember, I would fix his plate and bring it to him every night!), and lived his life down there, i.e. watched tv.

I cooked and cleaned and watched and interacted with the kids.  I fed them; I bathed them.  I got them ready for bed and I got them ready for preschool.  I didn’t watch any television until the kids were asleep because I didn’t have TiVo; I knew I would end up missing half of what was being said if I tried watching anything while they were awake.  My TV viewing didn’t begin until around 9:30.

In other words, I lived life with my kids while he was stuck in front of a TV.  I didn’t have a partner.  My kids didn’t have a father.  We had a live in roommate.  I did the adult stuff, the parent stuff, and he did whatever he wanted.  He says we grew apart after having kids.  I say, “Hell ya, we did!  He never grew up.  He just wanted to be one more person I took care of, instead of him stepping up and being an actual partner to me and helping out with the kids.”  To be fair (and I am nothing if not fair!) once I got our son ready for bed, Cousinfucker would rock him to sleep.

Things weren’t any better when we moved.  Instead of him hanging out in the basement, though, he now hung out in his bedroom.  He would come home, say hello and then head to the bedroom where he sat in the bed and watched television all night long.  I again brought him his damn dinner.  Even went in and collected his plate some nights, although to be fair, most nights he would venture out of the bedroom to put his plate in the sink. He did have a brief period where he would play on the Wii out in the living room, but then again, any time he showed any initiative he would get pissed if we didn’t immediately kiss his ass and thank him for his efforts.

This is how we lived.  And of course, by now we have Dish so we both had a DVR!  But again, I was out in the living room.  I was with the kids.  I was present.  I was running them to activities.  I was volunteering.  I watched a whole lot of Disney and Nickelodeon in my day!  Occasionally he would call one or all of us into the bedroom because there was something he wanted us to see, but then we were usually promptly dismissed, especially if the gathering ended up with us *talking* or *laughing*!

It’s hard to connect with someone who has made television his whole life, someone who has decided he’s going to live out his life in the bedroom.  But feel free to blame me and let me know how this is all my fault.  Because that’s his story.

Now, as if all of this isn’t bad enough along comes Facebook. I will preface this by saying there are an awful lot of good things about Facebook.  I have moved many times over the course of my life and it’s so nice to be able to stay in contact with people that I’ve met over the years.  I love seeing all the kids as they’ve grown.  I love seeing the baby pictures and the wedding announcements and all the achievements of my friends and of their kids.  I like the high school graduations and the kindergarten graduations and the puppy school graduations.  I like it all.  But as they taught us on The Facts of Life:  You take the good, you take the bad…  Facebook can be an amoral cesspool of infidelity.  This was my “She had unknowingly signed her own death certificate!”  Only in my case it was, “She had no way of knowing she had just led to the demise of her own marriage!”  For you see, it was I who created a Facebook page for my husband.  He didn’t want one, saw no need for one.  Who would be his friend?  I thought it would be funny to create one for him, propel him into the current century.  Oh, it was hilarious!  It didn’t take long for skanky ol’ Harley to become his “friend”.  Yes, I remember sitting there at Thanksgiving creating the page for him and by April, a mere five months later, they were “in luuuuurrrrrvvvvveeee!”  Ah yes, Little Miss My-Marriage-Isn’t-So-Rosy met up with Mr. I’m-Just-A-Handyman-And-A-Paycheck and it was a match made in Facebook hell.  All those furtive messages, longing to be together, knowing that only the two of them understood one another, the private agony they had both endured in their loveless, non-rosy marriages.  Ah, it was one soliloquy shy of Romeo and Juliet.  Facebook led to texting and texting led to sexting and that all led to phone calls and naked pictures and dreams of a life together.  Funny thing, they never counted on outraged children or spousal support.  Affairs are funny like that.

I got rid of her the first time.  Maybe I should have let her have him then.  It would have saved me and my kids some heartache.  I wouldn’t be living where I’m living.  I’d still be surrounded by a large network of support.  Nonetheless, the facts are the facts.  I got rid of her.  He supposedly chose me and our family.  But Facebook continued to let her have a ringside seat into our lives.  Thanks to everyone in his stupid family who didn’t see what the harm was in continuing a relationship with her she was able to observe us and swoop in.  Hell, his mother was the one who encouraged her to do so.  “He’s so sad!  Why don’t you get down on your knees and give him a nice blow job and make him feel all better!”  OK, quick disclaimer here.  I don’t know that she encouraged a blow job.  That’s entirely made up.  But, she did encourage the whore to call him.  Because he was so sad!  Because his wife (that’s me!) hadn’t completely forgotten about the events that had happened less than two years ago where he had betrayed her with a white trash whore. Because I hadn’t killed all those thoughts and buried them deep where no one could see them.  Because I still wondered and reflected on occasion.  Because I could still be triggered by certain events and names.  And because I still had a hard time forgiving his family for their support of Harley.  However, I had forgiven him.  I had stood by him.  I had fought for him and our marriage.  I had moved across the damn country for HIM and his dreams.  And once I was away from my entire support system and completely dependent on him, I got to deal with all of his issues- his supposed PTSD, his supposed anxiety, his supposed social issues that were magically reappearing, his driving issues.  Oh, and his drinking.  That was a new one.  But what I hadn’t done was I hadn’t forgotten, and let me tell you, that apparently was a deal breaker and worthy of him cheating on me AGAIN.

I know better than to blame TiVo or Facebook for the demise of my marriage.  But I can certainly say they both contributed to its decline. And as far as Facebook goes I did pretty much sign my own divorce decree when I signed him up.  I’m not sure she ever would have been able to get ahold of him otherwise.  Then again, if he’s so easily led astray do I really want him?  No!

Why Do I Feel Guilty Some Days?

I talked to someone who knows him the other day.  Serendipity.  She texted with some information and I ended up calling her and telling her the whole story.  Long story short:  She’s glad I got out.

I do still struggle with the idea that all of this is my fault and I sometimes feel like I need someone who is impartial to be able to tell me if I’m right or wrong. So, I have a therapist I see a few times a month and she’s helping me to work through those feelings of guilt.

This is how I blame myself.  I think:  Gee, if only I *had* focused on the future.  If only I had left well enough alone.  If only I had embraced his family after the huge betrayal and accepted the fact that they would never cut ties with her.  If only I had stopped snooping on her, stopped focusing on her.  If only I hadn’t lost my shit upon seeing my MIL tell the whore how pretty she was, knowing full well that they had had an inappropriate relationship.  That is what sparked the creation of the Facebook page which I used as a blog.  That, of course, leads to if only I hadn’t created that Facebook page.  If only I hadn’t used the name I used.  If I had kept it bland and generic instead of getting snarky I probably never would have been found.  As long as he believed that I was happy and had forgiven him things were good. Hell, I *had* forgiven him; I moved across the damn country for him!  I think it’s more appropriate to say that as long as he believed that I was 100% happy all the time and that I had completely forgotten any and everything having to do with his emotional affair then things were good.  Things were good as recently as Thanksgiving last year.  Hell, I really didn’t know there were problems until after Christmas.  If only I had let go of all the hurt and pain and concentrated only on the happy parts of life.  If only I had made more of an effort to acclimate to the new town.  If only… if only… if only…

I sometimes think that I drove him crazy, or at least to suicidal thoughts.  That if I had forgotten all about the whore and focused only on us and what was going well in our lives then none of this would have happened.

I wonder what would have happened if I had spoken up.  If I had approached the elephant in the room.  Would things have been different?  When should I have done this?  When he was hospitalized?  When he was home?  When he was crying?  When he was having a rare good day?  When?

Was it something I did?  Should I have given more?  Should I have sat upstairs with him in the bedroom? Should I have insisted he come downstairs and sit with me?  Should I have checked on him more?  Should I have been more adamant about him joining in on family activities?  Did I not love him enough?  Was I not sympathetic enough?  Did I not do enough when he was supposedly going through all of his anxiety issues and PTSD?  Was I not patient enough?  Was it my fault because I fell asleep on the couch even though I knew how important it suddenly was to him that I sleep in the same bed after years of being unwanted there because of my snoring?  Was I not available to him sexually enough?  Could I have saved our relationship somehow through plentiful sex?

I sometimes feel like I deserve this.  Or asked for this in some way.

And I know that’s all kinds of fucked up.  Cheaters cheat because they feel entitled to cheat.  They cheat because they have poor character.  They cheat because they are cowards.  I had said soon after the first affair ended that I worried about what would happen the next time he was feeling neglected.  Turns out I was right to be worried.  He did exactly what I feared.  Intellectually I know that no amount of sex would have kept him faithful. No amount of checking up on him or sitting with him while neglecting my kids would have kept him faithful.  Sleeping in the same bed every damn night no matter what wouldn’t have kept him faithful.

He cheated because she was a fresh start- someone who doesn’t see his faults, someone who promises to be everything to him that I’m not, someone who will “appreciate” everything he does for her.  He cheated because he was convinced that I hated him and I was going to leave him.  He was a coward with such poor character that he decided he would strike first and leave me for the mistake he made two years prior.  Why do the difficult work of rebuilding with your wife when there’s a whore willing and waiting?  Why risk having your wife leave you because she can’t pretend you never betrayed her?  Take the downgrade; you’ll never have to worry about her  throwing your affair in your face.  He cheated because he couldn’t face the facts and instead wanted to pretend that he had never done anything wrong with the whore- ever; he wanted to pretend the first affair never happened and that that period of time never existed.  No, scratch that.  He cheated because he wanted ME to pretend he had never done anything wrong.  He wanted ME to forget how he betrayed me.  And when he realized it wasn’t as easy as saying, “Oops!  My bad!” he took the low road.  He pouted and he stomped his wittle feet and he went crying boo hoo hoo to anyone who would listen because HOW DARE I NOT FORGET HE CHEATED? HOW DARE I NOT CONCENTRATE ON HOW INCREDIBLY LUCKY I WAS THAT HE CHOSE ME INSTEAD OF THE WHORE?  DIDN’T I REALIZE I SHOULD BE THANKFUL EVERY DAY THAT I STILL HAD AN INTACT MARRIAGE?  Hmmmph- he’ll just have to go find someone who does!

The truth of the matter is I doubt myself despite everything I have just written because if there is some *reason* he did this, if there is something I did or didn’t do to make him do this, then I could have fixed it, or at the very least I won’t have to worry about doing that same thing with someone else. Sadly, nothing would ever be enough. I know that.

I know he could have talked to me instead of talking to everyone who encouraged him to leave me.  That might have been difficult though and fair, delicate CF doesn’t do difficult.

Hell, he could have left instead of spiraling downward and then starting up yet another affair with the whore.  My 13 year old knows enough to know that’s the proper way to do things.  Leave.  Then start up a new relationship.  It’s not the other way around.

No, instead CF decided he was entitled to cheat on me.  He was entitled to get his new life up and running while I was still thinking we were married and committed.  Instead of telling me he was hurt or disappointed by what he saw, instead of asking me about any of it, he just found and fucked a whore.  And then turned around and gave her a whole bunch of money.  I think that may be the worst part because I knew at that point there was nothing left to salvage.

I’ll let you in on a little secret.  I pretend to be brave.  I know people say, “Oh, good for you for divorcing his lying, cheating ass!  Don’t put up with his crap.”  And I will tell people who ask or comment that yes, I marched my ass down to the lawyer’s office less than 48 hours after finding out, and filed for divorce not long after that.  The reality is I didn’t have a choice.  I had to file in order to protect myself and my kids; I was afraid that he was going to quit his job, take or blow all of our money, and leave the state to be with her.  I could see the writing on the wall.  The first time around they never met up, or if they did they had 2 chances since we lived so far apart.  He wasn’t funneling money to her.  He didn’t have a separate bank account.  This time around, though, he was meeting up with her- every weekend.  They were having sex.  He was giving her money and told her he would pay for her divorce.  He was meeting her kids and making them all sorts of promises of grandiose gifts and treasures.  He was cashing in stock and putting it into his new separate account.  Even if I wanted to stay and try to work things out I know he never would have agreed.  So I filed.  I wasn’t brave; I was practical.

He then turned around and accused me of stealing every dime he makes and told others that I only stayed for the money (Satan talks as though he has a healthy trust fund somewhere).  He once told me that he felt like nothing more than a wallet and a handyman. Well, he’s tossing money around like it’s candy.  He’s reducing himself to a wallet.  Maybe he realizes that’s the only thing he has to offer.