Betrayed Wives' Club

What My Daughter Learned by Being Late for School

2012-01-19T08:57:00.000-08:00

My 13-year-old was running late this morning, thanks to a head cold that has her in a brain fog, a school trip for which she must wear the "perfect" outfit and general disorganization.She usually takes the bus because she refuses to ride her bike like her "loser" siblings...and me.I returned home after biking with the other two kids, two minutes before the school bell would ring, to find her still at home. "Daddy said he'd drive me," she said.I bit my tongue. I refuse to drive my kids because I want them to take responsibility for getting themselves to school on time. However, if he wants to rescue her...not my business.
But then she started complaining that her father was going to make her late. My husband was, as per usual, stomping around the house looking for keys he couldn't find, a missing wallet, some skates that need sharpening for hockey and his golf shoes for a game today. In short, a typical morning for him.
I looked at my daughter and spoke words that I wish someone had said to me when I was 13: "Don't complain that the guy who's always late...is late." She cocked her head at me. "In other words," I said, "of course Daddy is late. That's who Daddy is. What made you think today would be different?"I didn't say it angrily, or accusatorily. I simply stated a fact. Daddy is late because Daddy's past indicates that he will be late in every situation. It's the old Dr. Phil adage: "When someone shows you who they, believe them."
It's advice that flies in the face of someone who's chosen to stay with a man who cheated on her. Or does it?
If there's one thing I've learned through all this, it's that my husband is who he is. If he's changed (and I think he has in very important ways; not so much in others), he's done it because he's made the choice to. NOT because I've demanded it, insisted on it, manipulated him into it, guilted him into it, shamed him into it or issued ultimatums. That's not to say I didn't try all those things. I did. Tried and tried and tried...my head still hurts from all those years of banging it against a brick wall.
What finally got him to change? Fear of losing me was likely the starting point...but even that wouldn't have been enough if he wasn't already sick of his own behaviour. And from there, he changed because as he put it, he wanted to actually be the man I had thought he was.
In other words, his change was inspired by his own desire to live differently.If he sees no problem with being late then he'll continue to be late. I've learned to no longer wait for him. It makes him angry to see me walk out the door if he's not ready (I do it to my children, too) or start eating dinner without him when he's late arriving home. But I've also noticed that he's less late than he used to be. And when he starts in with his apologies, I simply wave them off. He can show he's sorry with actions, not words.So THAT is what I hope my daughter learned from being late this morning. We can expect people to be different, we can guilt, bribe, shame, cajole, beg and plead. We can be angry, resentful and disappointed that they are who they are. We can assume that we're not important enough. Or valued enough. Or we can remind ourselves that their behaviour, really, has nothing to do with us.
The smartest thing we can do in life is take responsibility for our own behaviour and get ourselves where we want to go.

Feelings are Not Facts

2012-01-02T06:09:00.001-08:00

Feelings are like weather systems that provide fertile information for your life, but they are too changeable and impermanent to trust as a compass for what you are doing in your relationships. ~Wendy Strgar

Feelings are a minefield following the discovery of betrayal. They explode, unbidden, rendering us sobbing, screaming messes. They seem huge. Uncontrollable. And very, very real.
The thing is...they're not. Real, that is. Our feelings are the product of some sort of emotional alchemy that takes place in the environment that is us. They're not facts. And while facts can be wrestled into some sort of sense, feelings can continue to cripple us long after the facts have changed into something far more palatable.
It's a common, human problem.
We confuse feelings with facts.
Consider this:
Fact: A college boyfriend dumps us for another girl.
Feeling: I'm not pretty enough. Or smart enough. Or interesting enough.

Let's try another:
Fact: An idea we present to our boss gets rejected as impractical.
Feeling: We'll never get ahead. We won't get a raise. We're destined to spend eternity in low-level management.

See the difference? The fact is the event. The feelings are what we bring to the table. The same "fact" can occur in two people's lives – say the work scenario. But while one person concludes that she's doomed to failure, the other determines that, while her idea might not have succeeded, there's plenty more where that came from and she sets about presenting them. Same fact, different feelings.

This distinction becomes challenging when the "fact" is such an emotionally loaded one as betrayal. We believe the "fact" that our entire marriage is a sham, our spouse an asshole, our future bleak.
Taking the time to differentiate between facts and feelings, however, can give you a clarity desperately needed at a time like this.
Fact: My husband cheated.
Feeling: I'm hurt, angry, confused...but not drawing conclusions about my past or my future. That can come after I load my revolver and empty it into his head. (Kidding. Kidding.)

I have no illusion that this is easy. But it is critical. As Wendy Strgar notes in the quote posted above, feelings are too untrustworthy to make life choices based on them. Feel the feelings...but then try and let them wash away and focus on the facts. If the fact is that he's still seeing the Other Woman, then figure out how to change that fact or whether you need to change your situation (ie. leave or tell him to). If the fact is that he is a serial cheater, then figure out what you need to change in order to deal with that..or never have to deal with it again. But do your best to avoid the feelings, which look an awful lot like self-flagellation, that spring from the facts.

A Tough Time for the Betrayed

2012-01-01T18:52:00.000-08:00

This time of year can be tough for the betrayed. With the holidays – firmly focussed on Rockwellian family expectations – just past and focus on "new beginnings" just...well...beginning, we betrayed can find ourselves drowning in disappointment and terrified of expecting that life will somehow be better in the year to come.
Factor in the usual holiday insanity – too little sleep, too much booze and fat-laden treats, perhaps a maxed-out credit card – and you've got a passport to hell.
But...this is no time to make grand plans. Stick to a day-at-a-time (or minute-at-a-time, if that's all you can manage right now) philosophy and trust that, day by day, the betrayal will fade further in the rear-view mirror allowing you to start facing forward.
There's little I can say when the discovery of betrayal still stings. You're sure no-one has ever hurt like this.
But they have. We have.
And the sting will slowly become a dull ache. Then an ever duller ache. And eventually – honestly! – disappear altogether.
How do I know this? Because my husband and I kicked off 2012 with an argument. About how much I've been doing around the house (and with his toxic family!!) and how little he's helped.
And not ONCE until I began writing this post, did I think about how he'd cheated on me. That used to be top of mind. I would think to myself (and often say out loud to him), "it's not enough that you forgot to take out the garbage but YOU CHEATED ON ME WITH A TOTAL SKANK AND LIED TO ME ABOUT IT!" He couldn't chew his food too loud without me thinking to myself that not only was his chewing annoying BUT HE CHEATED ON ME WITH A TOTAL SKANK AND LIED TO ME ABOUT IT."
See what I mean?
And now...nothing. I was pissed off about him not helping me around the house. I wasn't pissed off that he cheated on my with a skank and lied to me about it. Why? Because it was a long time ago. And he's changed a lot since then. I've changed a lot since then.
So happy new year. Really. It's possible that this will be a happy new year for you. Think of it this way – it probably can't be worse unless you're still putting him with his cheating. In which case, it IS time for grand plans. Tell him the party's over and it's time for him to man up and be an honest husband to you...or get out.
Happy new year. Indeed.

Pain in the Neck: A Story with a Happy Ending

2011-12-16T08:18:00.000-08:00

My neck was a mess. It had kinks, muscle tightness and a dull pain.
This neck pain was, forgive the pun, a pain in the neck.
It got to the point when I could barely turn my neck to do a shoulder check when riding my bike in the summer.
So I began going to my massage therapist weekly in hopes of working it out. I have periodically visited a cranio-sacral massage therapist ever since she magically banished the migraines I was getting when I was pregnant with my first child. Generally, one or two visits eliminates whatever pain I might have for months.
But after about six weeks of regular visits, it didn't seem to be making any difference. So I asked a logical question: "Why isn't this working?"
To which she responded, "You have a lot of stress in your body. You carry it in your shoulders – the weight of the world. Until you deal with that, I can only offer up mild relief." Then she went further, suggesting I ask myself a question: Is it true that it isn't getting better?
To which I admitted that, well, I could now shoulder check quite easily, though it still ached at time when I sat at my desk.
"So," she said, "it's getting better."
"Yes."
"If it's getting better," she ventured, "then isn't it possible that it can continue to get better."
"Yes."
"And what might you need to do to help it continue to get better."
And so I admitted that I could stretch more, stand up from my desk more often and – here's the key – tell a different story.
This story, rather than focusing on this pain in the neck that won't abate, is about pain that is abating, albeit slowly. It's about letting go of the stress in my life that I don't need to take on (my father's grief over my mom's death, for example). It's about being responsible for my own "stuff" and letting others deal with their own. It's about not managing other's issues (ie. reading to my husband from books I've been reading on addiction in the hopes that he'll "see" the point) and letting them find their own way.
Lo and behold, my neck pain is improving. It even disappeared a few weeks ago.
Now I feel it creeping back but rather than look at it as a setback, I'm viewing it as an early warning system.
I'm taking on more than I should (holiday shopping, planning, mailing gifts – trying to create the "perfect" holiday for my family).
I'm building resentment over my husband's refusal to go to church with me and my kids. (This is fodder for another post but he was raised Catholic and marched into church every Sunday and has a strong visceral reaction to ANY church.)
I'm trying to tell myself a different story around that. I could stick with the script that if he loved me enough, he'd overcome his resistance and go because it's important to me and the kids.
Or I could tell myself that he has such trauma around church and his parents' doctrine of guilt and shame that church triggers trauma all over again (there's also the potential that he's repressing abuse...given his sex addiction). And that he'll either overcome it or not...as he chooses. In the meantime, I have the choice to either go alone with the kids, or not. My choice.
My story.
My healing.

What's yours? And can you reframe it in a way that gives you power?

Be Willing...

2011-12-13T09:01:00.000-08:00

December 10 marked the five-year anti-versary of D-Day.

And those who follow this site will note that I recently shared how far I've come since that day five years ago. That I, as much as anyone, was surprised to find myself healed and happy.

I've given some thought to the path I've walked this past five years. And while thinking about it, I happened upon a radio program about grudges featuring callers with grudges they've carried for decades. A few phoned in with grudges they've managed to let go. One man, whose father (!!!) carried on an affair with his wife (!!!) had managed to forgive both of them and move on with his life. He had relied on a 12-step program and a strong relationship with his "higher power" to heal. Another woman finally recognized, after a decade following a nasty break-up, that she was punishing herself by holding on to the grudge. She, too, let go and forgave.

It can be hard to even conceive of forgiveness in the early days of discovering such a betrayal. And forgiveness is such a fluid concept. It can mean different things to different people. To me, it reeked of absolution. And there was no way I was letting my husband off the hook. He was damn well going to regret what he did every minute of every day.

Until the day that didn't matter anymore. Until the time I was able to see that making him "pay" was only keeping both of us locked into an adversarial relationship based not on mutual respect and caring but on jailor and jailed. The power I felt was an illusion and kept my heart locked up.

What I'm suggesting to all of you – no matter where you are on the path to healing – is that you open yourselves to the possibility of healing. That you be willing to at least consider forgiveness – whatever forgiveness means to you. It doesn't (shouldn't!!) mean that you're saying what he did to you was okay. But how about being willing to forgive if it meant simply that you recognize his pain, even if he still can't recognize yours? It can seem impossible to acknowledge that cheating is a consequence, not just a cause, of pain. But no-one hurts another like that unless they're hurting too. Whether they seem cavalier about it or not, betrayal is borne of pain.

And forgiveness needn't (shouldn't!!) in any way indicate that you will continue to let anyone hurt you. Forgiveness of another doesn't mean abandoning yourself. Your first duty is to protect yourself, emotionally and physically.

But that duty to self must also include a willingness to open up to healing. And that can't happen when your heart is locked up tight.

It doesn't need to happen today. But consider opening up the teensiest bit. To be willing to consider the possibility of the miracle of healing (and believe me, it will feel like a miracle).

And while you're considering it, watch this video about miracles and what can happen when you're willing...

How Fearing Adultery Hurts All of Us

2011-12-07T19:21:00.001-08:00

I felt badly for Herman Cain's wife who, when news hit of her husband's 13-year affair, reportedly said, "Here we go again."
But it can't be ignored that it was news of his adultery that derailed his presidential nomination – NOT the reports of sexual harassment.
And this is, I think, part of the problem.
Sexual harassment is a crime. Adultery...is not. Adultery is hurtful absolutely. But it's not criminal.
Yet we live in a society that treats it as more serious...or at least a portion of society treats it as such. And by keeping it in the shadows, we don't talk about it, nor do we discuss how to deal with it if it happens.
Instead, we all pretend it only happens in bad marriages. Or is committed by people of poor character. While I'm not defending those who engage in adultery (though it might sound as if I am), I am saying that we can't tar all adulterers with the same brush (as tempting as it is to tar them with something...especially when you're the hurt party!!).
My overwhelming wish, having survived betrayal, is that society discuss this as something that can, and frequently does, happen in marriage. Even "good" marriages. But bringing it into the open, I'm convinced that, rather than make it more acceptable, we'll make it less attractive. By seeing the pain it causes in relationships, by having honest discussions about the impact and the long, rocky road to recovery, I would hope it would seem a whole lot less tempting.
What do you think? Does treating adultery like the scarlet letter make it more likely? Or less?
As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

"If Only You Were Different": Owning Up to Resentment

2011-11-19T16:23:00.001-08:00

I used to almost choke on my resentment.
I resented washing the dishes while my husband watched TV. I resented getting up for a 3 a.m. feeding while my husband slept. I resented having to shut down my computer in the midst of writing a chapter because a toddler woke up early from a nap. I resented my husband's family, who would arrive with nothing but subtle judgement about my home and children. I resented his freedom. I even resented his resentment.
Around the time I found myself resenting the fact that my husband was using up oxygen that I thought should be mine...I finally acknowledged that my marriage was in serious trouble.
I was about to learn exactly how serious.
By the time I suggested marital counselling, we'd both been simmering for years. Me choking back resentment. Him expressing it in the form of multiple affairs, which I "discovered" just a few weeks into our marital counselling. In hindsight, I'd suspected for months...but only trusted that intuition when I recognized that he was willing to try and save the marriage. But that's another post.
Unlike Kim Kardashian, most of us spend years in marital misery before we take steps to either end the misery by looking outside the marriage for what we need...or ending the marriage altogether.
Which is why so many marriage counsellors note that it's not the affair itself that determines whether or not a marriage is salvageable, but the state of marriage apart from that. It's possible, despite what so many of us previously thought, to view the affair as a symptom of marital distress, rather than the sole cause. But because an affair raises the stakes so dramatically, we tend to focus on it rather than what led to it. We also tend to resist focussing what led to it because it can seem, to those of us feeling "wronged" like we somehow "caused" the affair. We. Did. Not.
But...staying stuck in that victim mode of being wronged serves no-one, least of all ourselves.
So it's important to examine what our marriage was like. Honestly. Which is no easy task when our dreams are strewn around us like a toddler's toys.
I would have told you that my marriage was good. That we were good friends. Sure, we had our issues. But don't all couples?
A few weeks ago, I was able to finally admit to our marriage counsellor – within the context of why I wasn't more affectionate with my husband – that his touch used to infuriate me.
Why? Well...I had to think about it. Then I recalled how often he would hug me from behind when I was doing the dishes. And all I could think was "why aren't you helping me do the dishes rather than hugging me?" Or he would tell me I looked beautiful when I was breastfeeding one our kids...and I would think "why aren't you throwing in a load of laundry instead of staring at me?" And so on.
I had no idea how to ask for the help I needed. He was incapable of hearing any request I made as anything other than criticism (his mind-tape plays only one song: "You're doing it wrong. You're doing it wrong."). And so I was in my corner...and he in his.
And our resentment reached a boiling point.
It's hard to admit that I wasn't the lovely, warm wife I wanted to believe I was.
And he certainly deals with the shame that he was hardly the devoted husband.
But by looking at who we were in the marriage, we're able to more clearly decide who we want to be now...in this new marriage with the same spouse.
It has taken almost five years to get to this point. Five years of which I spent at least two determined to get him to admit that our marriage would have been wonderful if only...
If only he had spent less time at work.
If only he had helped me more.
If only...
If only we had both been capable of being different people. We couldn't then. But we can now.

Wanna go public?

2011-11-15T08:57:00.001-08:00

If you're interested in telling your story to a zillion viewers (can't disclose the network but it's one noted for sensitivity/compassion):

My name is Patrick Hartz and I'm a producer for True Entertainment in New York. We are currently producing a series that explores infidelity among couples.I'm very interested in hearing from any couples who have experienced infidelity and have been able to stay married and work past it. I'm also looking to speak with couples who have divorced as a result, but have been able to remain on decent terms.Please feel free to email me at Hartz@TrueEntertainment.net for more details and a link to a full episode of the show.

Happiness In the Wake of Betrayal

2011-11-14T12:06:00.001-08:00

There was a time I doubted it was possible. How could I ever – EVER! – get past what he did. I couldn't, I was sure. I resigned myself to a life half-lived, to gritting my teeth and sacrificing my own happiness so that my kids could remain in an intact home.
The truth is I felt trapped, afraid to actually take steps to end the marriage, and decided to assume the role of martyr. Blech.
In moments of candor I admitted that I believed marriage was a lifetime commitment (that's not to say I blame anyone for walking out of a marriage that kills their soul). And I desperately wanted my family to remain intact. I also, thanks to years of childhood training by alcoholic-turned-former-alcoholic parents, believed in the power of people to change. To become as wonderful as I always thought they could be. And though I'd learned the hard way that this change had to come from their desire not from my wishful thinking, old habits die hard.
I also kept working. As did my husband. On communicating. On healing. On creating true intimacy. On learning who each other really was. On accepting myself and him...just as we are.
It was hard. Exhausting. Demoralizing at times. Wonderful at others.
And, recently, I realized that I'm something I never thought I could be again. Happy.
I had thought I might achieve contentment. A sort of acceptance that life wasn't so bad. But I never expected to experience the joy I had in the "before" part of my life.
And it's not the same. I'm not sure I'll ever ride those highs again. But then again, perhaps I will. Because I'm well and truly happy. Not just content. But full of joy and hope and eager to watch the rest of my life unfold.
My marriage feels...solid. My husband is someone I'm falling in love with all over again. He's surprised me in ways that are miraculous after 15 years of marriage. He has become, as he promised me he would try, the "man you already believed I was."
To all those wondering if it's possible – wondering as I did if all those reports of a "marriage even better than before" was total Pollyanna BS – I'm happy to report it is indeed possible. Even, with a lot of hard work on both sides, probable.
I told my husband about a week ago that I really feel as if those horrible days/weeks/years following D-Day are now just part of the fabric of our life together. Not the predominant pattern, simply a part.
I'm on the other side.

Tracing Back Your Feelings to Regain Your Power

2011-11-03T12:48:00.000-07:00

I frequently hear women berate themselves for not knowing about their husband's affairs. "I was so stupid!" they rail. "The signs were all there...and I ignored them." "I should have known."
Please: Stop.
Hindsight isn't there to prompt self-flagellation. It's there to teach. And when the lesson is learned, we move on.
The anger, I think, comes from embarrassment. We beat ourselves up for not knowing something that we think others had already figured out. Or that another wife would have figured out if she'd been in our shoes.
However, anger, as I often note, is generally what therapists call a secondary emotion. It masks hurt and fear. And you're likely feeling a whole lot of both of those.
Once you peel the anger away – "I'm such an idiot" – and examine the feelings behind that, it's easier to manage. I, for one, was terrified that since I missed the signs the first time, it could easily happen again – or could be going on RIGHT NOW AND OHMYGOD WHY ISN'T HE HOME FROM THE GROCERY STORE I'M SUCH AN IDIOT AND I HATE HIM AND HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME AND AND AND...
It was easy for me to spiral down into total despair.
Our couples therapist recently asked my husband, whom I think has a lot of anger (which I HATE), to trace the feelings back. For example, my husband was furious that a water heater we'd installed didn't seem to be giving him hot water as quickly as he wanted it. So what? was my response. But he was really angry about it. I brought up what I perceive as his rather erratic anger at our session. As my husband traced the anger back, it quickly became clear that his anger stems from feelings that he screwed up. That he bought the wrong water heater, that he hadn't done enough research, that he was being ripped off by the company...that he had done something wrong. Which, if you trace back most of my husband's reactions to just about everything, is where you'll end up: I screwed up and I'm going to be in trouble. Which, if you trace it back further, pretty much sums up my husband's childhood.
It's a fascinating exercise but one that few of us do in the midst of reacting. Taking time, however, to slow down and put the reaction under something of a microscope reveals all the barely discernible micro-reactions taking place. All the split-second conversations we have with ourselves.
Shining a light on my fear – that this could/would happen again and I would be blind-sided and crippled by it – helped me understand that things were different now. I could remind myself that I wasn't as naive or trusting as I was and that I was more alert to signs of cheating. I could comfort myself with my Escape Plan, something I recommend all newly betrayed wives (or oldly betrayed wives) create. I could reassure myself that I would be fine. That I am capable of surviving betrayal and though it doesn't feel good, it won't kill me.
It most definitely won't kill me.

Why You Need An Escape Plan...Even If You Don't Plan to Leave

2011-10-27T10:12:00.000-07:00

Discovering a partner's infidelity can sometimes feel as if you're drowning. In despair. Confusion. Shock. Pain. Most of us experience all of the above and, consequently, an overwhelming feeling of powerlessness. This was done TO us...and now we're left dealing with the fallout.
Which is why it's crucial to have an Escape Plan. And Escape Plan is a realistic step-by-step plan of what you'll do if...
a) your husband refuses to end his affair or you have reason to believe he's lying about ending the affair
b) he engages in the crazy-making behaviour common to cheating husbands including but not limited to calling you hysterical, out-of-control, jealous, manipulative, or he otherwise makes YOU the problem
c) he uses Divorce as his trump card, as in, "If you can't just leave the past in the past then we should just get a divorce."
An Escape Plan is your chance to take back your life and put yourself in control of your future. And though you may never act on it, it's paramount to your healing (which includes healing your own battered self-esteem) to have a plan that focuses entirely (though not exclusively) on your well-being.

How do you create an Escape Plan?
•Start by figuring out where you would go if you needed short-term accommodation (ie. your husband refuses to leave/sleep on the couch). It might be your parents' house, a best friend, a neighbour. We're simply thinking short-term here, somewhere you could go to escape for a few days or a week, taking kids if necessary, in order to get your head straight. And allow your spouse to get his head straight and, perhaps, recognize that the New You isn't going to tolerate his bullshit.
•Figure out what logistics need to be in place: For example, if your short-term accommodation involves leaving town, how will this affect getting to your job or getting kids to school? Can you commute for a few days or weeks? Is there somewhere else the kids would need to stay during the week? Would a nearby hotel be a better option?
•What will you do for money? Do you have access to your own cash? A credit card that he can't put a stop on? What if your short-term turns into a month or so? Can you afford to pay for a hotel for that long?
•Meet with a lawyer to determine what your life would look like if you left the marriage. Again, this is just a dress rehearsal. It's a chance for you to take back the reins of your life and know that you will be okay, no matter what happens. And by okay, I mean that you'll be entitled to what is yours financially.

"But why, if I don't want to separate/divorce?"
Your Escape Plan is as much an insurance policy as an actual plan. It's something to have in place in case things go even more to hell. In case he cheats again. In case his affair never ended. In case the Other Woman announces she's pregnant. It's to ensure you're not blind-sided again. And it's to offer you some security that even if you don't get blind-sided again...you'd be prepared if you were.

Letter to a Newly Betrayed Wife

2011-10-06T10:32:00.000-07:00

A woman recently commented on an old post. She shared her story of her husband, who's involved emotionally (and likely physically) with a woman from work. This woman is also a friend of the family. The wife is hurt, bewildered, confused. Like so many of us, she simply can't fathom why her husband, whom she loves, will continue to hurt her like this despite begging him to stop.

I wrote this to her in response and thought it mighthelp other women who are just finding out. It's been almost five years since Ifound out, but hearing others' stories takes me back to that horribletime when simply breathing was painful. I wish I'd had someone to help me put one foot in front of another...

Dear Newly Betrayed Wife,

I'm so, so sorry for what you'regoing through. It's hell, I know.

Your husband is so far into the fog of an affair (whether emotional or physical) that he can barely register you except as an inconvenience. Affairs are selfish. They are about seeking something in another person that you can't find in yourself. But none of that is your concern, though you'll likely, after the dust has settled, want to determine what exactly your husband was seeking outside the marriage that he didn't think he could find within it.

You say this has been going on for 1 1/2 years? And though he's denying a physical affair, you've certainly got evidence of emotional betrayal. E-mailed "I love you"s certainly constitute betrayal and don't let him hide behind the "but we're not having sex" defense. Who cares! He's intimate with this woman, whether clothes are on or off. And you've asked him to stop because you perceive – correctly – that it threatens your marriage. That's all you need to know right now.

You've got to set some veryclear boundaries and – this is key – THAT YOU WILL ENFORCE. You're handingover your power to two people who clearly don't much care if you're being hurt.It's time to take it back. If you want your marriage – and it certainly soundsas if you do – you need to insist that your husband cut ties with this womanimmediately and start the hard work of earning back your trust and respect. That means NO CONTACT with thiswoman.

He'll likely continue gaslighting: "But I'm helping out a friend," he'll say. "She needs me right now more than you..." etc. DO NOT GET INTO IT WITH HIM.

And if he gets angry, don't engage. Anger is simply a countermove intended to get you to back down. Take a breath and restate your boundary: "You need to stop seeing her or you need to leave." Or whatever it is you determine is a consequence you will stick with. Decide: Does he leave? Will you leave? Does he sleep on the couch? Do youno longer give him the other privileges of having you in his life -- sex,comfort, companionship. It must be something you will follow through with or you're simply teaching him that you're making empty threats.

This is NOT about manipulating him, it's about takingcare of yourself and ensuring that you are treated with respect and dignity andhonesty. He won't treat you that way until you start treating yourself thatway. You do NOT deserve this. You are his wife and he made a commitment to youand he's violating that, whether there's sex involved or not (and braceyourself, because I'm guessing there is). 

He might walk out of the door. And you might desperately want to call him back and beg for his forgiveness. DO NOT. The only way for him to realize what he's missing by walking out is to...miss you. To truly face the consequences of his choice. If he keeps walking, then it was simply a matter of time before he left anyway. He's already been living with one foot out the door for 1 1/2 years. You either want him IN the marriage or OUT. He can't have it both ways.

You need to fight like hell for yourown dignity and fight like hell for your marriage. And that doesn't meanputting up with being treated like you don't matter.

 I would also advisegetting yourself over to survivinginfidelity.com and going into the "JustFound Out" section. You'll find lots of wonderful people who can give youadvice and coach you in real time.  

You will get through this, I promise.I hope your husband smartens up before you realize you're better off withouthim. You're stronger than you know. And we're here to tell you that wheneveryou need us. 

Elle

A Witness to the Pain of Infidelity

2011-10-05T07:41:00.000-07:00

There's much debate raging on another site regarding a post by Wendy Strgar of Good Clean Love, whom I've quoted here before. Wendy offers up much wisdom in her approach to creating solid happy relationships but, from what I know and from what she's revealed, she's never experienced a spouse's sexual betrayal.
As a result, as many commenters have pointed out, her post seems somewhat cavalier. As if getting over betrayal is simply a matter of perspective, of viewing the infidelity through a different lens. She calls an affair a "wake-up call". Yet most of us who've experienced it see it less as a wake-up call than repeated kicks to the head by someone wearing steel-toe boots.
And the commenters clearly do, too.
It's painfully clear which of those commenting are still raw from the incredible sting of betrayal. You can almost hear their wavering voices, angry at what they deem a thoughtless post that dismisses their pain and desperate for someone to acknowledge it.
And having someone acknowledge that pain is, I believe, a critical part of healing.
Like any tragedy in life, we need a witness. Someone who nods their head and agrees with us that, indeed, it happened. And it was terrible. But who also stands as a reminder that from tragedy can come triumph. That tragedy can, sometimes, be a wake-up call. Albeit an excruciating one.
The evolution of tragedy to triumph can only occur if we're willing to loosen our grip on the pain. To no longer hold on to it like a security blanket but to let it go and open ourselves to what comes next. It's a bizarre bit of human nature that we'll often hold on to negative emotion that's familiar than risk another emotion that's not. Healing can feel absolutely out of control. It's not a straight trajectory but rather a slow spiral upwards with occasional slips back. And it can be terrifying.
I've been aware lately that I'm holding my husband's betrayal in front of me like a shield. And behind that is a fear that if I let go of it (which feels uncomfortably like letting him "off the hook"), it'll happen again. As a result, I feel the need to constantly keep it front of mind because then I can control it. Well...guess again, Elle. That control is a total illusion. And it's keeping me locked in a position of defining myself by the tragedy not the triumph.
I'm ready to let go of it. While I refuse to acknowledge that it's ever the cheated-upon spouse's responsibility to keep the other faithful, I'm taking responsibility for my own healing. A healing that's hampered by holding on to the betrayal like a fun-house mirror, constantly reflecting back at my husband what a bastard he was and how lucky he is that I haven't tossed his sorry ass on the streets. Though I haven't said those exact words (at least, not in a long while), the sentiment is there, clear to both of us.
Tragedy to triumph. That's where we headed. And with each of us acknowledging the others' pain and giving all of us the freedom to move forward.

While this site, I believe, can play a role in each of us feeling less alone, I'm increasingly aware that we also need flesh-and-blood people in our lives to witness our pain. Well-intentioned friends who respond with hard-nosed advice ("kick him out" or "it's time to get over it") are generally not too helpful. Try and find someone – anyone – who can witness your pain: therapist, friend, pastor, support group, spouse. And please post your story here. It can help you loosen your grasp on the pain to get it out and onto paper.

Tend To the Wound: Your First Step to Healing

2011-09-27T10:21:00.000-07:00

I always love to receive e-mails from readers that thank me for "getting it" and for putting their pain into words. I love it because, if I can take what was total agony for me and turn it into something positive, something that helps other people feeling the same agony, then I can almost convince myself that it was worth it. And I love it because I'm so incredibly grateful when someone puts my pain or my experience into words. It makes it real. It makes me feel less alone. It makes me feel less crazy, which is no small thing.
So I was thrilled when I read this post from Bindu Wiles. Wiles is one of those magical writers that takes our messy world and distills it with words into a thing of beauty. In this post, she shares a story that works as a perfect parable, with the moral being we must truly tend to our wounds.
At no point in my life did I need this lesson more than when I first learned of my husband's affair(s). Instead, like so many of us, I focused on the marriage. I needed to save the marriage, I believed. I needed to protect my children. I needed to protect my husband, who was having to face the consequences of his actions at work. I did exactly the opposite of what Wiles recommends. Rather than tend to the arrow in my heart, I made sure that anyone who might even witness the arrow was told that they were imagining it. I was fine. I smiled at acquaintances at the grocery store, though later I couldn't recall a word I'd said. I chatted with my kids' teachers. I assured friends who cautiously asked if I was "alright" that yes, of course I was. Just a bit tired. And each night, I begged and pleaded with my husband to explain to me why he shot the arrow.
In hindsight, I should have closed out the world as best I could and tended to the arrow.
And though it's a lesson I didn't learn then, as fate would have it, I can learn it now. As our new marriage counsellor recently informed my husband and I, we haven't even begun our "recovery work."
For weeks now, we've sat in her office, me with an arrow in my heart, my husband holding the bow...and talked about anything but. We've talked about division of labor. We've talked about respect. We've talked about our renovations until my head was going to explode. And then last week, I brought up the arrow. And at that point she looked at both of us and said, "we haven't even begun..."
No surprise to me. The wound around the arrow has grown tough. But recently it has started to hurt again. I've felt hopeless and helpless. Wounded and weak.
I should have tended my wounds better back then.
But I can tend them now. And I will.
I hope you will, too.

Tee-Hee Tuesday: The Ex-Girlfriend Song

2011-09-20T11:42:00.000-07:00

Okay...so it's about an ex-girlfriend. But it's pretty easy to imagine your ex (or your not-ex-but-you-re-still-thinking-about-it-so-he'd-better-be-careful) in her place:

Guaranteed to make you giggle...

What do YOU wish on your ex (or your not-ex-but-you-re-still-thinking-about-it-so-he'd-better-be-careful)? Share your worst!

When I Knew...

2011-09-12T07:13:00.000-07:00

I recently came across an article in which an Other Woman insisted that wives inevitably know when their husbands are cheating. In this particular OW's view, the fact that we don't do anything about it is a sort of implicit acceptance, if not approval of the affair. It hearkens back to the day where it was assumed that men's appetites were simply different than women's...and if men discreetly satisfied those appetites elsewhere then no harm done. It reminds me far too much of the sense that women are almost grateful to not have to satisfy their husband's desires because, after all, we have laundry to do and children to raise.
Yeah...right.
But it did get me thinking about how much I knew...and how much I knew.
My case is perhaps different in that my husband's sex addiction pre-dated me. In other words, he came to me broken...he didn't break after I knew him.
So as the years rolled by, I didn't really notice a change in him, so long as he stuck to his standard method of operation, which generally included discreet, anonymous encounters long after I'd gone to sleep or when he was out of town. It was when he became involved with his assistant at work that I started to develop suspicions. But even those were easily pushed aside – after all, I believed with my whole heart that he loved me. People who love each other don't do that. At least not in my world, which also includes cheesecake that doesn't make you fat.
But despite the fact that I can now look back and see telltale signs throughout our marriage, like a popcorn trail that leads me to the truth only in hindsight, I only really knew right before I confronted him. And at that point, there was no talking me out of it – though he tried doggedly. I knew. And it was simply a matter of time before he admitted it. It was the difference between knowing something in my head – kind of an "if it looks like a duck" analysis – and knowing it in my heart which is a knowing that floods your body all at once.
What about you? Did you know before you felt you had enough evidence to confront? At what point did you know? And what advice do you have for others who think they know?

"Aren't you over that yet?": How to deal with those who think betrayal should be healed with a pedicure and a night on the town

2011-09-09T07:50:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in most betrayed wives' lives when someone gently or not-so asks "aren't you over that yet?"
Which is about the time many of us compound our emotional maelstrom by adding shame for not healing faster.
Sometimes these others don't put it quite so forthrightly. Instead, they might say, "are you still having trouble with that?" Or "don't you think it's time to put that behind you?" Or, in the case of our spouses, that perennial fave, "We can't move forward if you keep bringing up the past."
However it's phrased, the point is the same: Get over it, already. You're making me uncomfortable.
And that, of course, is the thing. You need to heal on your own timeline, which is likely a whole lot longer than anyone, including us, ever imagined it would be. But healing isn't a straight upward trajectory from total collapse to bright-eyed recovery. Sometimes you gallop along, sometimes you slide backward, sometimes you just sit and stew in your own pain.
But it's all valuable and part of the process. (Well, unless the stewing is becoming some sort of self-serving masochism. How can you tell? Time...that old healer. And the help of a good therapist/counsellor/friend.)
But it will make others uncomfortable. For some, it's the discomfort of seeing a friend in distress and not being able to "fix" things.
For others, it brings up uncomfortable feelings about their own relationship. If you're clearly dealing with the fallout of infidelity, it might conjure up anxiety about their own spouse. Or even guilt if they've committed adultery themselves. I had a friend, who'd left an unfaithful spouse, dismiss my healing because I chose to stay. If I wasn't going to take her advice and leave, went her thinking, well then I deserved what I got.
And, of course, for our spouses – or ex-spouses, as the case may be – it's a lot more complicated. Seeing in you the consequences of their actions can make even the scummiest adulterer feel at least pangs of guilt. And these guys hate to feel guilty. Quickest solution? Tell you to buck up and get over it, already.
Your challenge and it's a tough one given how fragile we are in the wake of betrayal is to stand up for yourself and your healing. You didn't invite this into your life. You're having a normal reaction to an extreme trust violation. And you will heal at your own pace.
It's not fun feeling like crap. You're not doing it to make a point (and if you are, stop!). You'd love, as much as anyone else, to just "get over it." But grieving doesn't work that way. The only way out of this misery is through it. And these others could help you a whole lot more by letting you process your pain surrounded by love and support. The quickest way out of pain is through it. Cramming it down simply makes it seep out of the cracks in your heart, which is a whole lot slower.
So next time someone asks "aren't you over that yet?", look them in the eye and tell them No. You're not.
But someday you will be and you'll be a whole lot more careful about who you let into your heart.

It's Not Enough to Profess Love...It Must Be Practised

2011-09-02T12:59:00.000-07:00

Brené Brown, a shame researcher, expert and author of The Gifts of Imperfection, has this to about infidelity:

I don't know if you can love someone and betray them or be cruel to them, but I do know that when you betray someone...you are not practicing love.

I once worked with a woman whose husband seemed like a dream mate. Her desk was constantly crowded with fresh flowers that he had delivered with notes professing his love. She told us stories of arriving home from work, tired and cranky, only to have him pour her a warm bath and massage her feet. I, unmarried at the time, thought her marriage sounded like heaven.
Turns out it was hell.
I found out years later, after she'd left this seeming wunderhusband, that he beat her. The flowers were apologies...and from the blooms on her desk, he clearly had a LOT of apologizing to do.
He told her constantly that he loved her.
But, reeling from his latest blow, what the hell difference did that make?
I'm still pondering Rabbi Gorman's recent post about betrayal as abuse.
It might not leave bruises on our cheek but who among us can say it didn't bruise our souls?
And yet, betrayal so often occurs in "loving" marriages.
My husband often told me he loved me. He still insists that he did, even when he was lining up his next encounter.
And what I can't seem to get him to understand is that professing love isn't enough. Even feeling it makes absolutely no difference. Practicing it, however, now that's something that counts.
Brené Brown is right. You can't practice love for a partner while you're with someone else. It simply doesn't compute – emotionally or intellectually. If loving someone includes a promise to be sexually and emotionally monogamous – to share intimacy only with that partner – then becoming intimate with another is a denial, or at the very least a neglect, of that love.
So while it's possible to love another and engage in extramarital affairs, it isn't possible to act loving within that context.
And I've spent far too many years accepting professions of love instead of insisting on practice.
How about you?

You're Getting Warmer...or Not

2011-08-18T23:57:00.000-07:00

Martha Beck advises those of us struggling to make tough decisions (like perhaps, whether to forgive a cheating spouse? whether to stay in the marriage? whether to tell people what's happening?) to treat life like a game of "you're getting hotter, you're getting colder..."
My seven-year-old daughter LOVES that game. Ya know the one where one of you think of something or hides something and, as you try and figure out what it is, the other player helps you along by advising you whether or not you're getting close (hotter) or further away (colder).
Beck's approach is a good one for those of us whose minds are so muddled by the shock and trauma of discovering that our lives aren't what we thought they were that we can barely decide what to make for dinner. If we can find someway and somewhere to get still, most of us can identify a physical response to various questions – a sort of internal "you're getting warmer..." reaction.
It will likely take practice. Once dealt the blow of betrayal, your internal radar can often malfunction. Post-trauma, you might find yourself reacting in extreme ways to benign circumstances. The dog barks suddenly, for example, and you respond with a heart-pumping, car-lifting adrenaline surge. Again, that's where you need to be still and get back in touch with your gut/intuition/wisdom/whatever-you-want-to-call-it. It's there. It might need dusting off from years of neglect. You might need to apologize to it for ignoring its sage guidance. But if you take the time to refamiliarize yourself, it will be more than happy to play the game with you.
Do I want to leave? How does that feel in your gut? Terrifying? Liberating? Terrifyingly liberating? If you picture yourself on your own, how does that feel?
Can I forgive him? Getting warmer? Colder? Can you picture a marriage (forget for the moment how you're going to achieve it) in which the two of you are happy and fulfilled? Or is your gut freezing up at the possibility?
Get the idea? Give it a try...and let us know what you find by posting here.

Dear Elle: A Letter to My Shattered Self on D-Day

2011-08-10T19:38:00.000-07:00

Dear Elle,
I. Am. So. Sorry. You've dealt with a lot of pain in your life...but nothing like this. You thought you'd found your safe place in the world. And I ache for you that you believe it's lost.
It's not. But your world has changed. You're right about that part. Years from now you still won't believe absolutely that you can trust another person. But I've got good news for you. You will learn through this how to trust yourself. And that's a gift that I'm not sure you could have received any other way.
The thing is you've spent your entire marriage trying to make him happy. To create a home that he wants to return to. To create a family that nourishes me. To be pretty. To be smart. To be fun and interesting and a perfect hostess and wife and friend and mother. And... And... And.
And it didn't work, did it? All that work, all those compromises you were making even though he didn't know you were making them. All the words you swallowed. All the dreams you put aside. None of it made a bit of difference, did it? And do you want to know why? Cause you were fine all along without having to try so damn hard. You were enough. You still are. He didn't cheat because you haven't lost that last 10 pounds of baby weight. He didn't cheat because you aren't a gourmet cook. He didn't cheat because you prefer to read over watching his favorite shows. Or because you prefer jeans over tailored suits. He cheated because he was looking for something in himself that's been missing for a long time. And you couldn't give it to him. And she couldn't give it to him. And the other "she" couldn't either. And that's because none of us have it to give to him. It's something only he can give to himself. And it's approval. And it only ever really fills that hole when it comes from within.
And that's the same lesson you need to learn. You don't need his approval. You never did. And even if he'd given it to you unequivocally (impossible for him because he couldn't even give it to himself), it wouldn't have mattered. Because you've never believed you were enough. Not pretty enough. Not skinny enough. Not smart enough, or interesting enough, or anything enough. Just. Not. Enough.
And so he sought that feeling in other women. And you sought it in him and in work and in toxic friendships and, too often, in alcohol.
So while this betrayal by him might seem like yet another kick when you've had so many. It might feel as though your heart is shattered beyond repair.
But when you begin to re-piece your life, you'll understand that this time it's truly going to be your life. On your terms. A life that's full with or without him in it. A life that's full because you're full. You. Alone. Are enough.
Perhaps there are easier ways to learn that lesson. But this is the lesson you've been given. You are your own safe place in the world. Learn it well and you'll never have to learn it again.
Enough.

Your Guide to the Classic Cheater...Caught

2011-08-08T11:24:00.000-07:00

At first, my husband told me I was just wrong when I said I thought something was "going on" with him and his assistant. I kept pressing. Over the course of the next 12 hours, my husband's confession went from a one-night-stand four years ago to a long-term affair that BEGAN four years ago and had continued up until the moment I confronted him. Six months later, more truth emerged. She wasn't the only partner he'd had -- he was receiving treatment for sex addiction and his acting out had began before I met him...and continued until the day I confronted him about his assistant.
Unfortunately, my husband's trickle truth isn't unusual. Most men, when confronted with their wive's suspicions, don't immediately confess. Instead, depending on how much evidence of their transgression they're faced with, reveal as little as possible. In some cases, they've been caught in flagrante delicto...and still try and convince their wives that they're innocent. It's a sad fact that the information you receive upon first confronting your spouse or upon just discovering their betrayal is generally only a tiny piece of the truth. It's important to demand the whole truth and insist that what they tell you up front had better be the whole story. It's so much worse to keep on finding out more and more with time...it's becomes like a nightmare that won't end.
Many men frequently turn to blame-shifting when confronted. Suddenly you're defending yourself against allegations of everything from being a lousy housekeeper to a workaholic. No matter that you haven't picked up a vacuum since the Clinton administration or that he needs to schedule an appointment with your assistant to see you for dinner. Before you get sucked into the blame-shifting for his affair, remind yourself as often as necessary that you will take inventory of your own contribution to a marriage in trouble...but that the affair is entirely HIS choice.
Gaslighting is another classic response. You're crazy, he suggests. You've got such an imagination. He's just being a good guy, offering support to a work colleague whose husband is abusive. Or he's just been really, really busy with...well...stuff. Before you know it, you're agreeing with him and laughing at how ridiculous you've been. After all, he would never do that. He loves you too much. Right?? Uh...no. Gaslighters are masters at convincing you that your reality isn't...real. That their perception is reality and that yours is crazy. Your memory is faulty. You're over-reacting. You're just stressed out and imagining things. You're determined to ruin a good thing. Except that you're not. You're just in the presence of a gaslighter.
Of course, not all accused men are guilty. And yet...when I look back at how much behaviour I dismissed and how frequently I accepted his gaslighting as reality because I so badly wanted it to be. I silenced that little voice in my head that insisted that something just wasn't right. Ask yourself honestly whether you are over-reacting or being unnecessarily jealous...or whether that little voice is trying to get your attention. And listen to yourself...not all his gas-lighting.

Guest Spouse: Infidelity is Abuse. Period.

2011-07-31T18:55:00.000-07:00

[Rabbi Sean Gorman and I met on this site here, where he commented to a betrayed wife that all cheating is abuse. I disagreed and our conversation began. Though I maintain that, in my case, the infidelity was not a form of abuse (though I can see aspects of it as such), I nonetheless appreciate the expertise and compassion that Rabbi Gorman brings to the issue and invited him to post here. I'm sure many of you will recognize your situation in what he describes...and I hope you'll find his views help clarify and strengthen your understanding. In any case, as always, I invite you to share your story and your thoughts.]

As a married man who has never gone astray and whose spouse has never gone astray, I feel a little out of place writing for betrayed wives. Elle, the owner of this blog, invited me to write here after we disagreed on another blog. The invitation is most flattering.

The disagreement that led to this article has to do with whether or not adultery is spousal abuse, specifically emotional abuse. I maintain that it is, in all cases. For now, we can certainly agree that flagrant adultery is.

What led to this conclusion? A friend had a husband who was a philanderer. He made no effort to hide the indiscretion. Cell phone records and e-mails stayed visible. Some of those phone calls took place during dinner. The lightning flash was when I realized it was abusive. After he physically attacked her, it became easier to point out the adultery as part of a picture of abuse.

What is abusive about adultery? Let us take a look at some of the blatant lies adultery attempts to present as truth:

1. The other one is better in bed.

2. What you give only to me, I can get anywhere.

3. You bore me.

4. You do not “put out” enough.

5. I will come to our bed when I am good and ready.

6. Being in someone else’s bed is more important and more meaningful than being in our own.

The constancy of those statements demoralizes and humiliates the target. The sneakiness of the tawdry behaviour leaves the betrayed spouse wondering if the perceived reality is correct. Such demoralization, such humiliation, and such wondering about reality are all constants in abusive situations.

We would not accept such statements in any other room of the house. We would not accept constant statements about our cooking or our driving. No matter what the subject, that type of statement is humiliating and demoralizing. Nothing has changed just because we are talking about sex. In fact, the statements are more insidious for being of that subject. No other piece of our marriages cuts as much to the very essence of who we are.

Furthermore, it is a violation of the one room of the house we share with no one else. We can have guests in the kitchen. People can sit in the living room. The marital bedroom has a lock on the door. No one else is allowed in. When one member of a couple unlocks that door, it states that the one part of our lives that is not for open consideration means nothing to the one who opened the door. Sacred intimacies (and more) are thus bared to the world.

When Elle asked me to write for this blog, she suggested that I write about how people recover. The first step to any recovery is to label the problem. Labeling adultery as abuse yields the immediate response. In a relationship that is physically abusive, the first step is to ascertain safety – stop the immediate abuse. The second step is accountability – appropriate apologies that mean something. The third step is taking actions that build trust and prevent future abuse.

It applies here. Stop the adultery. Make sure that the offending spouse admits guilt and understands the impact of what happened. Put rules – yes, marriage has rules – put rules in place that prevent it from happening again. Verify that those rules are being followed and that they are accomplishing what they need to accomplish.

A wise pastor once taught me that we should not confuse forgiveness with reconciliation. These are two separate steps. Forgiving a philandering spouse does not mean that all is better immediately. As betrayed wives, you should not feel pressured to reset the clock and clean the slate. That will take time. Trust is hard to build. It is even harder to rebuild. For your husbands to expect that everything will immediately go back to the way it was is naïve, as well as a continuation of the abuse. It is often difficult for an adulterer to understand that a shower and a couple of counseling sessions cannot wash away the scars of such an injury.

In any case of abuse, we do not blame the recipient. An abused spouse did not fail at various parts of the marital role, thus leading to the next outburst. Accepting blame for the actions of others is not appropriate here. Do not fall into the trap of accepting blame for actions you did not commit.

Rabbi Sean Gorman is the spiritual leader of Congregation Pride of Israel in Toronto. He is also a US Navy Chaplain attached to 218 MEFREL.

Who defines cheating? And should we care?

2011-07-24T18:30:00.000-07:00

There was much debate, the wake of Anthony Weiner's resignation, regarding whether what he did was, technically, cheating.
And it's a point that has, occasionally, raged here and in our own lives.
Many of us pre-D-Day, would have said that we were comfortable with our husbands having female friends but that any sex outside of our marriage, even a one-night-stand, was "a deal-breaker." Post D-Day, we've often reversed that view, discovering that it's not the sex that's so troublesome but the lying and the intimacy shared with another. Many of us discover that our husband's emotional affair – sharing dreams, hopes and, often, dissatisfaction with his marriage – is excruciating and hard to handle. Making it harder is sometimes the notion of others that "he didn't have sex", therefore he didn't technically break his marriage vows.
But there's nothing technical about healing from an affair. It's complicated and painful and doesn't follow prescribed rules. Most of us muddle through, hair unwashed and heart broken, until the day we feel a sliver of light shine through the dark and we realize that we just might survive this marital apocalypse.
And then comes the process of sifting through the rubble and trying to make sense of what happened...in the hope that if we understand it, we can protect ourselves from it happening to us again.
But I'm not sure, unless we've been tempted ourselves or are capable to truly putting ourselves in our spouse's shoes, we'll ever really understand it. So often I hear the familiar Nancy Reaganesque refrain of the betrayed – "He could have just said 'No'."
Sure he could have. But whether he didn't say "no" to actual sex or didn't say "no" to cyber sex or didn't say "no" to sharing intimate details of his life, all the analysis in the world isn't going to change that. And, oddly, it stops really mattering at some point whether he had actual sex, cyber sex or emotional intimacy. The point is he shared something private – that was supposed to be between you and him – with someone else. And that hurts like hell.
The only people who get caught up in the semantic gymnastics of what cheating really is are those looking for a loophole out of their own guilt...or those who've never had it done to them.

Say It Out Loud

2011-07-12T07:07:00.000-07:00

I have a framed print beside my bed with the infamous Emile Zola quote:

If you ask me what I came into this world to do

I will tell you:

I am here to live out loud.

It has always resonated with me. I tend toward the apologetic. The people-pleasing. The swallowing of true thoughts. And yet, I desire to live out loud.

Two days ago, I heard a radio documentary about domestic violence. It followed a young man who had been sentenced to community service and counselling following an incident in which he punched his wife. He was telling his story. And when he got to the part where he told the reporter his wife had called the police, he said that the reason was because he punched her. He exhaled audibly. "Wow," he said. "I just said that out loud."
He noted how, for years as their relationship got increasingly abusive, he allowed himself to believe that was how couples dealt with frustration and anger. His parents had. And his wife frequently let him off the hook, by apologizing for making him angry. By agreeing with him that she, too, lost her temper.
And yet, when he spoke the words out loud, all that changed. There was no more hiding the truth in the shadows.

It got me thinking about betrayal. And how frequently we don't speak the words out loud that we're thinking because we fear them being true.
When our friends note that our husbands seem to be working "a lot" and we defend their work ethic, though we feel a kick in our gut. When our parents point out that our husbands seem disengaged with the kids and we defend them, though we frequently feel alone in our parenting.
Not, of course, that workaholism and absent parenting means cheating. My point is simply that we frequently have a narrative in our heads that simply isn't the truth. And by not saying the truth out loud – by hiding it in the shadows of excuses – we lie not only to the world but more importantly to ourselves.

We see it all the time. The parent who refuses to acknowledge that her child's behaviour indicates a serious problem, dismissing it at a "phase". The woman who ignores the lump because she's sure it's "nothing." And the wife who defends her husband's emotional absence instead of saying – out loud – that he's checked out of the marriage.

I don't know what would have been different if I'd been able to say out loud what I feared. I tried. I said I didn't like the late dinners with his assistant. I pointed out that, if she was truly a loyal and valuable employee, she would want him home with his wife and kids. But I didn't say out loud what I truly feared because I also feared looking crazy, or jealous, or hysterical.

These days, I'm living life out loud. Which means talking about a whole lot of things that make me uncomfortable – from discussing STDs with my newly-teen daughter to talking stuff over with my husband.
But the alternative, hiding truth in darkness and silencing myself, is no longer an option.

How "It Could Be Worse" Keeps You Stuck

2011-06-27T10:31:00.000-07:00

I'm the queen of "it could be worse."
No matter how much my life sucks, I can always (and easily) come up with myriad ways in which it could be worse.
It's a long-held personal tradition.
My mom's in the psych hospital after attempting to kill her self? Well, it could be worse. She could have succeeded.
My dad's passed out most nights? Could be worse. He could be a drug addict. Or simply gone.
Best friend steals boyfriend? Could be worse. I could be dying of cancer.
And so on.
It was a great survival skill. I was like a Weeble who got knocked down but always ALWAYS popped back up, ready for another round.
And it's a skill I use still.
Kids driving me crazy? At least they're healthy enough to drive me crazy. They could be hooked up to machines in a hospital.
Dog poops on new Persian rug? At least I can afford a Persian rug.
Roof leaking? At least I have a roof over my head.
Husband cheats? At least my kids aren't dead (I trotted that one out a LOT. By all means, I told the universe, give me betrayal. But please don't take my children...as if I was bartering with Satan.)
Not that "it could be worse" is necessarily a bad thing. I'm the eternal optimist – always looking on the bright side of life.
The thing is, I'm learning – thanks to all the it-could-be-worse scenarios I've invented in the past few years, that it can also keep me stuck.
It's easy to stay in muck up to your knees when you tell yourself you're lucky it's not up to your neck.
And it's a great way to avoid getting out of the muck altogether.
And, I've decided, I want a muck-free life.
I'm learning (slowly...thanks to those survival skills which served me well as a kid...but now stand in the way) that it's absolutely my prerogative to say, "sure things could be worse...but they could be BETTER, too." Better might mean a husband who not only doesn't cheat on me, but also helps around the house and shares my values. Better might be a fixed roof. It might be a kids who behave more respectfully (let's remind ourselves...no-one will treat us respectfully until we treat ourselves respectfully). It might be a whole heap of things that could be worse...but that I don't want to tolerate any more.
I don't want the pendulum to swing totally the other way (those people are called pessimists/in-laws...and I avoid them the same way I avoid Tea Partiers and the Kardashians). I like seeing the glass as half-full. I'm just going to remind myself with a bit more regularity that, with some self-respect and determination and firm boundaries, the glass can be completely full...ideally with a nice Shiraz.

How Infidelity Messes With Your Mojo

2011-06-22T07:13:00.000-07:00

I loved sex. Though I came to the party a little late by some standards, when I got there, I discovered it was my kind o' party.
I fully embraced my sexuality. I believed I was sexy...without relying on stiletto heels and garters.
I had a few lovers – mostly long-term boyfriends with whom I enjoyed frequent and pretty awesome sex. I tried a one-night stand and it left me feeling kinda yucky. The way you feel after you finish a bag of chips you weren't sure you wanted in the first place.
I think my attitude about sex was healthy and open-minded – there were some things that didn't appeal to me (tied to my bedpost? Not for me) but if it turned other people on and was between two consenting adults?? Go for it.
And then...I met and began dating the guy who became my husband.
At first, everything was fine. Sex was fun and fulfilling.
But slowly, things got...weird.
He didn't like my underwear – my used-to-be-white-until-they-aged cotton briefs. He wanted garters and stilettos. I felt comfy in flannels and faded jeans.
I checked out Victoria's Secret and ordered a few things that looked wildly uncomfortable. They were.
I wore them anyway.
He was only mildly impressed.
And slowly, our sex life withered away. The frequency continued...but the fulfilling part had vanished. Or rather, it was physically fulfilling...but spiritually empty.
It was – simply – sex.
I was mystified. I read books. Tried talking to him. Cried a lot.
Things got worse.
What of course I didn't know through all this was that my husband had a sex addiction. Mixed in with a few longer-term but emotionally vacant affairs were a number of "hookups". Blow jobs in a parking lot.
In the meantime, I'd discovered it was easier to put my sex drive on ice.
I became pregnant. Then pregnant again. And again. (Clearly we were having sex...but it was more like scratching an itch than making love.) My body was preoccupied with either building babies or feeding babies.
By the time the babies no longer needed my body, I had lost touch with it. I certainly didn't feel sexy. And felt incredibly UNsexy to my husband. By then we were fighting a fair bit – mostly about how little he did with the kids. How little support I felt he gave me. How frequently he was absent from the dinner table.
As fate would have it, I met someone else. I found myself intrigued. For the first time in years, I felt desired. Sexy. Interesting.
At no point did I act on this attraction, though I was pretty sure it was mutual. I introduced him, jokingly, as my soon-to-be-second husband. But behind the joke was a desperate plea for someone to notice the pain I was in.
I finally told my husband that I thought our marriage was in trouble. (Ya think??? I'm a bit slow sometimes...). I told him we needed to get counselling to figure out how to reconnect.
So we did.
Two weeks later, it hit me like a brick – hard and painfully – that my husband was having an affair.
I confronted him. He read the customary cheating-husband script. (No I'm not. Well, sorta...but it was only one night. Well, okay it was more than that but it's over. Well, okay, it's not really over, but it didn't mean anything. Well, okay maybe it went on for a few years...blah blah lying blah.)
Fast forward four years and though, in some ways, our marriage is better than it ever was (we talk! we spend time together! his chair isn't empty at the dinner table! we laugh!), our sex life has quite literally died.
It's easier, I've discovered, to simply banish all desire for sex than to wade into the murky waters of sex with a formerly (will I ever truly trust?) unfaithful spouse.
It feels...scary. Terrifying, actually.
So we're starting slowly as per instructions from our truly incredible marriage counsellor.
With full body hugs...NOT leading to sex.
To simply get used to once again having full-body contact. To feel and hear his heart beat and remind myself that he's a human being who majorly messed up. But is doing what he can to make up for it.
To reawaken in myself the awareness that physical touch isn't always a gateway to emotional pain. It can – indeed should – heal.
I'm even starting to feel sexy again. I don't have the marathon-toned body I had when my husband and I started dating. It's got the marks of motherhood and age...which can be sexy in its own right.
A friend recently referred to a 40-plus year old woman, who would NOT be confused with a supermodel, as "juicy". And I loved it. She was juicy. She exuded a confidence and a sexuality that had nothing to do with size 0 jeans and perky breasts.
So I'm talking to myself a lot lately. Telling myself I'm "juicy". Telling myself that my husband isn't a sex addict because I wear cotton briefs. Reminding myself that sex isn't about gymnastics but pleasure.
Somewhere in the pain of emotional rejection and physical infidelity I lost my mojo...but I think I'm hot on its trail.

Wanting what's best...

2011-06-15T10:29:00.000-07:00

The Redbook article that I cited here continues to weigh on my mind. Though I've known about AshleyMadison.com and have written about it here and here and here, and though I've gained considerable insight into the psyche of cheaters, I nonetheless consoled myself with the belief that these guys were the exception, not the rule.
Now...I'm not so sure.

I've spent a lot of time trying to find the best in myself. When you're raised in a dysfunctional home (alcoholism was the dysfunction of choice in my family....but it, of course, spawns all sorts of others: neglect, abandonment, intimacy issues, for starters), you often feel "bad". As a child you believe that if you were good, then you would be treated well. There's such shame around dysfunction that you grow up convinced that you, too, are shameful.
I tried to get better. I spent years in therapy, struggling to understand what it was about me that made me put up with all manner of neglect, abuse, betrayal.
And then I met my husband. And, for the first time, I felt safe.
And we all know how that turned out for me.

The thing is, we all deserve to feel – indeed to be – safe. When we choose to commit to someone else in this life – whether that commitment looks like marriage or parenthood or friendship – we owe it to that person to provide a basis for their happiness. Not that it's our job to make them happy. But it is our job to want their happiness. And to not stand in the way of that.

Which is why the Redbook story has me feeling so sad. The men featured are themselves sad. And by that I don't mean pathetic, though they're a bit that, too. They feel cheated by life. Their wives aren't who they ultimately feel connected to (though, perhaps, that's because they're trolling sites to hook up with other women rather than actually listening to their wives thoughts and dreams). Their lives haven't measured up to their dreams. So they dip a toe into this fantasy world, where they're sexy and desirable and life is good and exciting.

But where they're so lost is not that they're putting their own happiness before their wives. Indeed, I think we owe it to ourselves to strive for our own happiness. But where they're lost is that they're actively standing in the way of their wives' happiness. How? By not giving their wives the truth about themselves.

We all deserve that truth. We deserve to know who it is we're married to because we deserve to make the choice about whether or not we want to be married to that person. I don't dispute another's right to have sex with whomever will have sex with them. What I object to is the lying and betrayal. If my husband loves me but feels he can't connect intellectually with me and therefore would like to forge a relationship with another woman, fair enough. But let me decide if that's okay with me.

A truly enlightened relationship operates on that level of honesty. I'm not sure I would consider "open marriages" in this category...but perhaps at least some of them are.

As for me, I want a relationship in which my husband wants the best for me. And respects me enough to be honest – which allows me to decide what that "best" is.

Tee-hee Tuesday: Shocker! It was Weiner's...ummm...ya know

2011-06-07T10:32:00.000-07:00

The scandals are piling as high as the bodies in a Shakespearean tragedy. John Edwards has been indicted for using campaign funds to hide his mistress, their child and his campaign assistant (along with who knows how many skeletons. Honestly, do they make closets this big?), Schwarzenasshole took his own family – the one we knew about – and hit "detonate", and Anthony Weiner, he of the just-so-giggly last name, fessed up that it was indeed his campaign member in the illicit photos.
Besides the incredible lack of judgement these men share, they're also big fat liars. Doesn't anybody, with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar, ever just take a deep breath and admit, "ya caught me"?
Consider this a plea...or rather a couple of pleas. For one, stop with the naked photos. Please. There's enough porn in the world that you don't need to add yours to the mix. You're not that hot. And secondly, when you get caught (because it seems you will, inevitably, get caught), just smile bashfully and nod so we can all get on with our lives.

The Scoop on Snooping

2011-06-06T19:17:00.000-07:00

A recent article in Redbook magazine offered up the experience of an undercover reporter who met up with men on AshleyMadison.com, the site that sells cheating by reminding us that "Life is short. Have an affair."
At the end of the piece – which basically details a bunch of men who insist that they're wives don't have a clue what they're up to – we're advised that we shouldn't snoop because marriage is about trust. No checking his BlackBerry, his web history for visits to AshleyMadison.com...or even looking for lipstick stains on his collar.
Instead, we are advised to talk to our husbands if we have any niggling suspicions about their...extracurriculars.
Which is, of course, a Catch-22. We generally have those suspicions because they're acting...well...suspicious. Like men who are having an affair. Which, if we're right, isn't generally going to elicit a fit of honesty. If they're like the vast majority of men who are, in fact, cheating, they'll generally deny. Like the guy who, caught in bed with another woman, insisted, "It's not what you think it is." Depending on our approach to our potentially cheating spouses, their level of guilt and their basic personality, we'll get any of a number of responses.
Self-righteous indignation: "I can't believe you think I would do that. What type of man do you think I am?"
Gentle reassurance: "I love you, sweetie. You have nothing to worry about."
Paranoid: "Do you need to know everything about me? Can't you just trust me? Wow...you sure don't think much of me, do you?"
Deflecting: "I'm amazed you bring this up because I've been wondering about you. You seem pretty flirty with your co-worker, Steve."
Etc.
What you likely won't get is, "yeah, in fact I have been thinking of having/am actually having an affair. I feel unappreciated and that life is passing me by and even though I know it's my own insecurity/mid-life crisis/insert-psychological-shortcoming-here, I think that having sex with someone and lying to you about it will distract me enough from own boredom/crises/fear of failure that I'm going to just go ahead and do it."
Ain't gonna happen.
And so...we snoop.
We check their Blackberry when they're not looking. We browse their Web history...or take note when it's wiped clean. We install keyloggers to monitor their online use (though beware, I think this is illegal without the person's consent). We slip recording devices beneath the seat of their car. We check VISA statements. We even follow them to see if they're going where they said they were...and with whom.
No, it's not pretty. And it's generally not our proudest moments.
But you likely wouldn't be reading this if your suspicions hadn't turned out to be true. I often remind readers that those gut feelings that something isn't right are worth paying attention to.
I never dreamed I would recommend snooping. I was one of those wives who thought it was pathetic. But then again, I was also one of those wives who never thought I'd be here.
Though it wasn't snooping that got me the truth, it certainly gave me a more complete picture of the affair than my husband initially gave.
And it just might give you the evidence you need to confront your husband...and know that his denial is total BS. And give you the information you need to protect yourself from STDs.
Snoop? I say that when you've got a gut feeling that won't go away and your husband won't give you a straight answer...yep.
What do you say?

Am I only a "betrayed wife" after I found out? Or was I one all along?

2011-05-29T19:31:00.000-07:00

I still, almost five years past D-Day #1, have trouble looking at photographs of "before". My children's babyhoods are now colored with the knowledge that, while I was home changing diapers and mopping up spit, my husband was peeling off panties and swapping spit.
How do I reconcile the past I thought I had with what was going on behind my back? How do I look back at wedding photos/family pictures/celebrations without that happiness-busting sense of "well...we might look happy". The point, of course, being that my reality wasn't...real. Or was it?
It's a sort of philosophical issue. If a tree falls in the forest but you don't know that tree is falling (or more to the point, that your husband is the one chopping it down), does it change the past? Or is your past still your past – memories intact – and it's only your future that's altered?
I'm no philosopher (clearly, given my convoluted example!). But I struggle with my sense of history now. My sense of self is shaky. Am I still the same person I was, even though my life was not what I thought it was?
Am I still the same person even though others' view of me was perhaps colored by information they had...but I didn't?
I want to believe the answer is yes. I am still I. And though my future is certainly altered by the knowledge of my husband's cheating, it doesn't change the mother I was, the wife I was, the daughter/friend/sister/writer I was. I need to stand firmly in my own self. And recognize that another's actions, while they affect me, needn't change me.

Country song come true: Shania Twain's comeback

2011-05-24T18:44:00.000-07:00

Ya gotta love those country music songs. All the cheatin', the lyin', the cryin'. Beloved country/pop star Shania Twain had plenty of all that. And now that she's through the darkness and back out into the light, she's ready to share her story with the world.
I haven't yet read her newly released autobiography From This Moment On. Part of me is tired of all the books on cheating I've read. Part of me is tired about hearing of cheating. Good Lord, doesn't any married man keep his damn pants on these days.
However, so much of what Shania has said about discovering the affair – "I really was completely shocked... I didn't want to kill myself, but I didn't want to live" – was exactly how I, and many others, felt. Nothing protected her from the pain – not her beauty, her career, her money. She, like so many of us, desperately wanted to fill in the blanks, something neither her husband nor her friend, with whom he was having the affair, would do. "By...not knowing the details," she explains, "your imagination is left to run wild."
I give Shania Twain credit for sharing her story with the world. It can only help those of us who know her pain intimately to feel part of a wider community of women with the strength to get past such betrayal.
Now, if only I could write a hit-making country song about it....

The Sperminator: Schwarzenegger admits infidelity...and fathering a child.

2011-05-17T07:40:00.000-07:00

So we have yet another high-profile couple that has split amid a confession of infidelity. By now you've no doubt heard that Maria Shriver and Arnold Schwarzenegger have separated...and that he admitted he fathered a child a decade ago (!!!) with a member of the household staff.
Wading into degrees of betrayal is like sloshing through mud...but surely keeping a woman in your home, and around your wife and your children when you've fathered her child ranks right up there with amongst the worst betrayal. Short of sleeping with your wife's mother/sister/brother/best friend, this one's truly sleazy. And I don't know how badly this woman needed the job...but...really??
I'm no longer even shocked at this stuff.
I remain, however, deeply saddened. Maria Shriver, for all her beauty and money and privilege, is a woman who loved her husband and her family. At the end of the day, it doesn't much matter what your last name is when you're heartbroken and humiliated by the person you trusted.
We all know that far too well...

What My Dog Has Taught Me About Trust

2011-05-14T21:05:00.000-07:00

My dog has a bit of an attitude problem. At least, that's the human assessment. He doesn't think he has a problem at all. There are just some dogs he doesn't like. And some people. But just the jerks.
How does he know they're jerks? He relies on instinct, something we humans long ago stopped trusting in favor of our heads and hearts (and Lord knows how they've got us in trouble!).
And it dawned on me the other day that I could learn a lot about healing from betrayal from my dog. He had been betrayed. By the people who first owned him. He was rescued by the sheriff after someone squealed about his living conditions. He was removed from the barn where he was found, malnourished and full of parasites. He had clearly suffered neglect...likely abuse.
And yet, he loves me unconditionally. He was willing to give people another chance. Not all people...but me.
And so...I offer up the lessons he's taught:
1. Give second chances. But not third. Or fourth.
2. Be fiercely loyal to those who deserve it.
3. Trust your instincts more than your training.
4. You're capable of great love. Don't be afraid to show it.
5. Don't be deceived by looks or words or even treats (though don't turn them down. Just don't let them change your mind about someone you don't like).
6. Be willing to treat each day like a new adventure, neither defined by the day before, nor a dress rehearsal for what might happen tomorrow.
7. When you're happy, wag that tail with all you've got.
8. When you're angry, don't be afraid to let them know you've got teeth...and you're not afraid to use them.
9. Protect what's yours ferociously.
10. Understand that looking someone else trying to make you look foolish (for example, putting reindeer antlers on your head for a Christmas card photo...) doesn't make you a fool. Trust in your own dignity.

Does Anyone Tell the Truth Any More?

2011-05-05T19:42:00.000-07:00

I'm an honest person. Sure I tell the occasional white lie (No really, that haircut looks great on you; Ya know, Sweetie, you're as talented as Picasso!) but I just can't – won't! – lie about things of consequence. It's tempting sometimes. To lie to save face. (Sorry, I'm late. The traffic was brutal.) To lie to get out of a commitment. (Turns out I can't find childcare.) To lie to ourselves. (My clothes must be shrinking. I haven't been eating much lately.)
But ever since I learned that the man I thought couldn't possibly lie had created a life of lies...well, let's just say I make it a matter of personal honor to tell the truth, even when it makes me look bad, incompetent, lazy or stupid. I'm convinced it's a matter of degree from bending the truth to doing origami with it.
However, I'm not sure society agrees with me.
Consider this example: I'm organizing an event in the city and had hoped a mutual friend could help me. I outlined what I was doing and asked for her assistance. She agreed that it was a wonderful idea and that she was so excited I'd contacted her. Then she said, "Now, I'd like to ask YOU a favor." Fair enough, I thought. And so I agreed to take on a task for free that I generally charge between $250 and $500 for (it falls under my freelance work).
Well, tomorrow I fulfill my part of the agreement. Her? Well...turns out that she's not available the day I needed her. She had booked a trip to New York. New York! Who the hell forgets that they've booked a trip to New York!
Can you tell I'm a bit steamed??
And this is where I start to wonder.
Am I making a big deal about this because of the lie upon lie I dealt with during my husband's infidelity? Or am I making a big deal about this because it's inherently wrong to deceive someone...whether they're your spouse or an acquaintance?
I think the latter. Sure I might be a bit more sensitive to the bending of truth than someone without my history...but I just can't stand lying.
Who's with me on this?

This might make you weep with joy...

2011-05-02T18:55:00.000-07:00

I subscribe to a "daily inspiration", which is usually just a line or two. But often those few words give me the strength or clarity that I need. Like a gentle push in the right direction. This one stopped me cold. I'd love to hear your thoughts:

The Thing Is

to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you've held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.

When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?

Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.

~ Ellen Bass

Trusting Yourself

2011-04-26T20:04:00.000-07:00

Just trust yourself,

then you will know how to live. ~Goethe

A month or so after D-Day #1, a friend, one of the few who knew of my husband's affair, gave me a bracelet with that quote inscribed in it.
I've rarely gone a day since without that silver bangle – and those words – circling my wrist.

How many times have I reminded myself, when conflicted, to simply trust myself.
And how often have I wished that I had been able to do that all along.

The thing is, most of us know what's good for us. We might struggle with the path...but we know the destination. How often, though, do we forget that? How often do we rely on others to make those decisions for us because what if...? What if we're wrong?

Just trust yourself.
That's not always easy to do. Especially if you've thought yourself wrong so often before.
Especially if you've been told, over and over, that you couldn't possibly know what's best. What's right.

I hadn't trusted myself. When my instincts were telling me that my husband, the one I thought absolutely couldn't – wouldn't! – cheat on me, was involved with another woman, I convinced myself that my instincts were wrong. When I felt that familiar panic each time he announced he would be home "late" because he had "work", I would talk myself out of it. When I finally knew, in spite of wanting desperately to not know, and confronted my husband, I ended up accepting his assurance that "nothing was going on."
At least until I couldn't anymore.

Finally, after the screaming in my head became too loud to ignore, I trusted myself. And when my husband again denied. And insisted I was wrong. And begged me to believe him, I did not. I trusted myself.

And I will never betray myself again.

Reach...

2011-04-19T07:51:00.000-07:00

This is how you get unstuck, Stuck. You reach. Not so you can walk away from the daughter you loved, but so you can live the life that is yours—the one that includes the sad loss of your daughter, but is not arrested by it. The one that eventually leads you to a place in which you not only grieve her, but also feel lucky to have had the privilege of loving her. That place of true healing is a fierce place. It’s a giant place. It’s a place of monstrous beauty and endless dark and glimmering light. And you have to work really, really, really fucking hard to get there, but you can do it, honey. You’re a woman who can travel that far. I know it. Your ability to get there is evident to me in every word of your bright shining grief star of a letter.

This is an excerpt from a letter from a woman struggling to get past the death of her young daughter. And though that's a pain I hope I never have to experience, the pain of betrayal can also leave us "stuck."
I felt that way for at least a couple of years after D-Day...maybe longer. I felt stripped of choice. I hadn't been the one who cheated...and yet I was stuck dealing with the consequences. If I left, I felt that I was tearing apart a family. If I stayed, I felt like a fraud, pretending to be a wife to a man I couldn't respect.
And so I stayed in that spot, resenting it – and my husband – with every pore of my being.
It's only in hindsight that I can see that the advice columnist – Sugar – is absolutely right. That place of "stuck" isn't really stuck at all. It's where the healing takes place. It's a dark place where you wrestle with the demons and, if you fight hard enough and long enough, triumph over them. You reach for healing and if it feels elusive, you reach a little further.
So that when you emerge from that place – and you will emerge eventually though never as soon as you think you should – you'll come out a different person. You'll have integrated the pain into the fabric of your being. But not just the pain, the healing too. You'll never again experience the world in quite the same way. If you're truly triumphed over the demons, you'll emerge more compassionate. You'll live your life with an honesty and integrity that, perhaps, you didn't always. You won't have the time or energy for bullshit anymore or for people who aren't honest with you. You won't feel anger towards those who create such drama so much as dismissal.
You'll smell the roses a bit more deeply, hug those you love a bit more thoroughly and love a lot more gratefully. You'll know that life can deliver pain for sure, but you'll also know that it can deliver such exquisite joy that you'll feel privileged to be alive. You'll know that those moments are what make life worth the struggle. And you'll know what to do if you ever feel stuck again. Fight like hell and reach...trusting that those of us who've also been there will pull you out.

Do you want to tell your story??

2011-04-11T10:57:00.000-07:00

I received this submission. I'm not involved in any way and don't know the producers. However, if you're interested in sharing your story with a television audience (and I wish we could ALL tell our stories without fear, shame, guilt, blah blah blah) then here's the info:

The company that brings you, A Baby Story, Whose Wedding is it Anyway,

Mystery Diagnosis… is now seeking Couples Willing to Share Their Stories

for a groundbreaking new show.

Coming soon to a major cable network, this new television series will

explore the psychology of infidelity. This is NOT a talk show; it is a

documentary series and will take an impartial approach to the content.

The show will use first person narrative and psychological input to educate

the viewers on the deep internal issues both parties deal with leading up to

an affair and after the revelation.  

We are currently looking for individuals who have dealt with a complex

instance of infidelity and would be interested in retelling their story on our

show. It's important to us that the couples are well past the initial hurt and

would be able to discuss their situation and resolution so others can learn

from it. If you are interested in hearing more about the project or have any

feedback please contact me at infidelity.casting@gmail.com and I’d love to

discuss everything in more detail.

The Rift that Keeps On Giving

2011-04-04T11:22:00.000-07:00

My husband likes to think that the rather painful episode of infidelity in our lives, also known as "Are you f&^#$%g kidding me?" is "over". As in, "aren't you over that?" And "besides what happened, what have I ever done wrong?"
And while I would love nothing more than for it to be "over", I'm increasingly recognizing that I'm not sure it ever will be.
The thing with infidelity – ie. a "trust violation" – is that it completely alters your world view. Irrevocably. So though you might be "over" the event – for example, you know longer cry in grocery stores or at the site of a certain late model Jeep Liberty – you're nonetheless never really over it.
Case in point:
My husband and I are currently suffering through the longest renovation project in history. I've been a pretty good sport about it, in light of the fact that I thought our house, except for the leaking roof, was just fine. But he wanted his dream house, blah blah blah. And so, here we all are, ousted from our bedrooms, sleeping on couches, breathing in drywall dust and basically living in what feels like a falling-down frat house.
I finally cracked, just like our plaster ceilings and pretty much everything else in our home, on Saturday. I had asked my husband to print off something I needed for a work project. He forgot. He remembered to do the reno stuff that day...but not the thing I had asked.
Roughly eight months of reno-resentment, together with the slowly receding resentment of his decade-long sex addiction, combined to create a nuclear-level explosion of anger.
He, as usual, was surprised when I pointed that it never, EVER seems as if my needs matter.
Though I didn't actually see his eyes roll, I could sense them.
And then, "when are you going to get over that?"
And I knew exactly what he meant.
When are we going to be able to live in a world in which those horrible years of emotional abandonment and physical disinterest no longer color everything that happens now? When am I going to be, quite simply, "over" it.
The short answer?
Never.
Not because I hang on to the pain. God knows, I've done everything I can possibly think of to move myself out that horrible dark place.
I've forgiven him in that I've come to a place of understanding how he was able to commit such marriage-killing acts and not actually think of them as such. I'm worked hard to try and understand that he used sex as self-medication.
But that doesn't mean that I can erase it from my memory. And whether or not he intended to hurt me doesn't mean a thing when the end result is pain. If you step on my toe accidentally, my toe doesn't hurt any less.
I'm trying. As he is.
But infidelity does indeed seem to the be the rift that keeps on giving...

Welcome to Crazy Town!

2011-04-01T01:46:00.000-07:00

"You're acting jealous!"
"She's just a friend who's going through a rough time."
"You're being ridiculous. I hate it when you act like this."
"If you believe I'm cheating, I might as well just go ahead and do it!"

Welcome to Crazy Town! Like a sign that notes population (there's a lot of us living there!), the above "slogans" are generally an indication that you've landed in Crazy Town. The problem with Crazy Town isn't that we so much arrive there all of a sudden, it's that we slip into it from a back route. We discover ourselves there after months or years of simply not consulting our internal GPS, the one that knows where we should be going...and therefore recognizes when we take a wrong turn. That voice that says, "please turn around and head left" or "I wouldn't recommend this route". It's the voice that gets drowned out by his voice, assuring us he'd "never do that." Or accusing us of cheating ourselves, based only on the fact that we're accusing him. Or it's the voice that sounds deceptively like our own, making excuses or assuming blame.
However, we get there, Crazy Town will only make you crazier the longer you stay there, until up is down, black is white, and everything that's ever gone wrong in his life is your fault.
The good news about Crazy Town is that it's possible to leave.
It starts with challenging the rules of the place.
Rules such as, "he wouldn't cheat if I was prettier/smarter/sexier/thinner/younger/insert-ridiculous-adjective-here". Rules such as "if I stop nagging/complaining/crying/accusing, he'll come back to me". Crazy rules that have little basis in truth, but pack plenty of emotional punch.
It often starts with a simple question (thanks to Byron Katie for this nugget of wisdom): Is it true?
We too often assume to know what another is thinking. Or why they're doing what they do. Or accept blame for something that, upon closer examination, can't possibly be our responsibility.
Is it true?:
Am I truly unlovable?
Am I to blame for someone else's lies and deception?
Is it my responsibility to keep someone faithful? Is it even possible to control another's choices?
Must I accept that men are programmed to cheat?
No, no, no, no and no.
And a funny thing happens when you start challenging these long-held (or sometimes short-held but deeply felt) beliefs, you start to recognize them as ridiculous. Not right away. But slowly, with increasing scrutiny, these "rules" start to sound like what they are: bullshit crazy talk.
No-one deserves to be lied to and deceived.
No-one deserves to have their own needs dismissed.
No-one deserves to be betrayed by the very person who promised not to.
And no-one deserves to be told they're crazy, unhinged, jealous, ridiculous, a nag, etc. by the very person whose actions are making them feel that way.
It's time to pack your bags and leave Crazy Town. With a simple passport consisting of three words – Is it true – you can begin to de-program yourself from your paralyzing beliefs.
And get the hell outta town.

Do You Want to Be Happy?

2011-03-18T19:55:00.000-07:00

Stupid question, right? Of course, you want to be happy. You were happy, until Mr. Couldn't-Keep-It-In-His-Pants ruined everything.
Now you're miserable. And hurt. And angry. And you can't even imagine a time when you'll ever feel happy again.
But ask yourself again, "Do I want to be happy?" If the answer is, truly, yes, then you've got some work to do. And beware, the answer might not be an unequivocal yes. In the post-D-Day haze, I might have thought I wanted to be happy. But my actions indicated that I wanted revenge. A pound of flesh, preferably from his "boy bits". Vindication. None of which – let's be honest – would have led to genuine happiness.
But if you're a slightly less vengeful person than I was, and happiness is top of your list, then you're going to have to let go of some of that pain and anger and bitterness that you've wrapped yourself in like a security blanket. You're going to have to look at it directly and be brutally honest about whether those emotions are actually moving you forward into a place of healing...or whether they're keeping you stuck in pain.
We can't change our emotions, as my therapist so frequently reminds me. But we can change our actions. And our actions will frequently then change our emotions.
Or, as Deepak Chopra puts it, "If you have a closet stuffed with junk, the best way to find room for new stuff is to clean the closet."
The junk, for those of you who are metaphor-challenged, is all those nasty emotions that get in the way of feeling good and believing your future is something to look forward to.
How?
Start by making a commitment to your happiness. By saying to yourself, and anyone else who will listen, "I deserve to be happy and I'm going to take steps to make myself happy." I suspect my 12-year-old daughter says this every morning, right before she leaves her wet towel on the bathroom floor and "borrows" my jewellery.
Then start to notice where happiness already exists in your life. Spring flowers poking through the melting snow. A request for "just one more kiss" from your young child. Your mother's support during this awful time. Discovering that the infidelity diet means you can fit into your favorite jeans once again.
It might all feel a bit...forced. At least at first. Happiness can be scarce when you're so mired in pain. But this was the only path out for me. The cloud didn't lift all of a sudden. And no matter the situation – whether we'd separated or our reconciliation had been fast-tracked – the feelings would have still been there. Which is why you have to feel them...and then make room for new ones.
Happiness isn't going to invite itself in...you're gonna have to seek it out.

Does Infidelity Breed Contempt?

2011-03-13T19:41:00.000-07:00

My husband and I met with a marriage counsellor last week.
She listened to the story – his, mine, ours. And then she said something thought-provoking. Sure, she said, there's been a lot of pain and disappointment but she believes we'll be okay. Why? There's no "contempt" in our marriage.
She's right. Now.
But it wasn't always a contempt-free relationship.
And that awareness humbled me.
Because long before I knew of any infidelity, I can remember looking at my husband with contempt. In fact, I specifically recall one awful moment when we were out with a group of people and my husband said something I considered unfunny. Or dumb. And this is the thought that went through my head.

I can't believe I agreed to spend the rest of my life with this asshole.

Yuck.
Not exactly a moment I'm proud of. But that's how contemptuous I felt. I thought he was lucky to be married to me.
Lucky to be married to someone who thought he was an asshole.
Thing is, at that point in our marriage, he was an asshole. He was deep into his affairs, encounters, lies, deceit. He had little time for me or our growing family (kinda hard to believe our family was growing, given the atmosphere of barely disguised contempt...but that's the power of hormones).
I offer up this unflattering portrait of my marriage to show you that, if we can somehow salvage our marriage, then anyone can. (Not everyone should, mind you. If there's abuse of any sort, save yourself and your children. Some marriages aren't meant to survive.)
And how surprising to realize that, four years after discovering my husband's infidelity, I like him more than I did before I knew.
I've always been cynical about reports I've read that proclaimed "my husband's affair was the best thing that happened to me", or accounts of how a marriage is far better than it ever was. Of course it is, I would scoff. He's not sleeping with other women anymore. Hard for it to get worse than it was.
But here I am. Poster girl for how my marriage – post-affair – is better than before.
That's not to say I recommend infidelity as the route to a better marriage. I would suggest the more conventional routes first – counselling, date nights, blah blah blah.
It is to say that an affair (or dozens!) isn't necessarily the death knell for your marriage. If you both want the marriage and are willing to do the hard work of slogging through the detritus of betrayal, it's possible to find yourself in a marriage that makes you forget you ever felt contempt for your spouse.
Contempt? you wonder, when a counsellor suggests it? Not at all. At least...not any more.

Women Cheaters: Is There a Double Standard?

2011-03-08T19:28:00.000-08:00

Tom Matlock, in The Good Men Project Web site, writes that there's a double standard when it comes to adultery. Men are vilified when they cheat, he argues, pointing to Tiger Woods, Jesse James, Spitzer et al. Women, on the other hand, are pretty much let off the hook, such as Tori Spelling, Leann Rimes, Jennifer Lopez. And most notably, he says, Elizabeth Gilbert, who admits to infidelity in her blockbuster bestseller Eat, Pray, Love.
I find myself somewhat stunned.
For starters, though I read Eat, Pray, Love before it became a household name, I somehow missed the part where she admitted to cheating. Sure, her subsequent relationship came pretty quickly on the heels of her marriage breakup...but it didn't occur to me that she'd cheated. Given that I was coping with my own...ummmm...stuff at the time, perhaps I just missed a few paragraphs through my tears.
And, in a fit of total irony, the Eat, Pray, Love that I'd loved because it gave a voice to that pervasive shame that so many women feel for not fitting into the mold morphed into the Eat, Pray, Love that I hated when Julia Roberts was cast at the main character. Why? Because Julia Roberts took great delight in taking husband Danny whats-his-name from his then-wife. And then rubbing the woman's face in it.
It was nasty and low and utterly childish.
So I loved the book by the author that admitted to infidelity...but hated the actress playing the author because she committed infidelity. Yeah, I'm confused too.
So...back to the original topic of this post: Double standard? Certainly not by me. And frankly, I judge cheating men less by their cheating than by their response to getting caught. Is there remorse? Is there some intention to at least allow both parties to maintain some dignity? Is there some desire to protect their spouse from further humiliation?
Which is why (don't hate me please!!), I didn't hate Tiger Woods. I felt sorry for him. Yeah, he was a scumbag for sleeping with not only the 8,000 pancake waitresses, but his neighbor's daughter (ugh!). But I still felt his remorse was real, his shame deep...and he went out of his way to allow his wife to handle the fallout in a way that allowed her privacy and dignity. Too little, too late...maybe. But still.
Jesse James, on the other hand, has revealed himself to be a total creep...with his public engagement blah blah blah.
It's not their gender that makes their adultery so repulsive...it's them.
On the female side, we've got Tori Spelling as the poster girl for vacuous adulterers. Off the hook? I don't think so. Most people I know think she's pathetic. Same for Leann Rimes. Jennifer Lopez? Well, perhaps she's off the hook simply because it's too hard to keep track.
Seriously, though, I know far too many guys who've cheated on their wives. And far too many wives who've cheated on their husbands. And I know that marriage is complicated and tough and that none of us on the outside of another's marriage can possibly know the whole story.
But a double standard? I really don't think so.
What do you think? Do men get roasted for their transgressions more than women? Do we let famous women off the hook when they engage in extracurriculars? Or are we a group of equal-opportunity dissers?? Would love to hear your thoughts.

Counselling: Do You Want Penance? Or Healing?

2011-03-07T19:49:00.000-08:00

When a couple seeks out therapy in the wake of infidelity there are often duelling motives.
The betrayer frequently seeks some sort of protective balm to keep him on the straight and narrow. And he can also be looking for someone to "protect" him from the onslaught of verbal abuse, the relentless questions and looking, perhaps, to hide behind a professional.
My husband, for example, kept insisting that our counsellor tell me that I can't keep asking the same questions over and over because it "keeps us stuck in the past and we need to move forward."
Unfortunately for my husband, our counsellor insisted that I needed to ask as long as I needed to ask. And that my husband's task was to be transparent and keep answering...though he did say my husband could insist on a "break" or to remove himself if he felt I was getting abusive.
The betrayed, too, can sometimes be looking for an ally – someone to acknowledge the pain caused (particularly if the spouse isn't doing a very good job of that) and a way to ensure that the betrayer "pays" for his mistake by sharing with an outsider and, hopefully, getting a stern talking to.
However, neither motive is likely to move the relationship forward toward healing, which is ostensibly the true purpose of seeking counselling.
And frankly, a good counsellor isn't there to pick sides. Which can be where the trouble starts.
No amount of finger-pointing and blame is going to make a remorseless spouse suddenly develop a conscience. Counselling is only going to work if both spouses are there to truly examine the relationship, be willing to face their own failings and give each other, as much as possible, the benefit of the doubt.
As long as you remain stuck in the "but it's his/her problem....that's the problem", then you've got a problem that no therapist is going to be able to fix.
If an ally is what you need, turn to a trusted friend who will agree with you when you call your husband unspeakable names...then forget you ever said it when you've decided to forgive.
A therapist is there to guide you both toward creating a marriage that speaks to both of your needs and helps you heal from the betrayal. Or, if reconciliation is off the table, then help you move toward an amicable divorce that leaves both of you with some dignity intact.
So, like so many situations, check your motives around marriage counselling. Ask yourself the tough questions of what you're truly hoping to achieve. Not easy...but the only way your time and money will truly be well spent.

How to Define "Deal-Breaker"...and What to Do If He Does

2011-02-28T19:11:00.000-08:00

I'm sure just about every one of us considered an affair a "deal-breaker". I even had a conversation with my husband when I was pregnant with my first child. I couldn't have been more clear:
Me: Having a baby is a big deal. We owe it to her to keep our marriage strong. We'll probably be tempted - maybe you already have – but let's promise each other we won't give in. And that we'll get help for our marriage if we find ourselves attracted to someone else. If our marriage can't be saved, then at least we won't have adultery to deal with.
Him: H'mmmm. [Which I interpreted as "Of course, darling! I would NEVER do that. And NEVER will.]
And, with that, I thought the matter was taken care of.
Oh, how wrong I was.

Fast forward roughly a decade and I was forced to eat my words. Well, not forced, actually. I willingly decided to sit down, pick up a knife and fork, and swallow then, word by excruciating word. And with that, I vowed that if he ever, EVER cheated on me again, it was a deal-breaker. "And I mean it this time!!!" I insisted.
And I do.
To be honest, however, if he had cheated on me again shortly after D-Day, I don't know that I would have been able to stick with my vow. Not because I didn't mean it. But simply because I was having trouble breathing. The idea of packing my bags, loading up three kids and finding somewhere to go was more than I could manage.
Which is why I think it's so important to have a plan in place – a sort of auto-pilot that you can turn to when your brain is mush and your heart is in pieces.
All the threats in the world mean nothing if you can't enforce with them consequences. So...before you start throwing those threats around, take some time to work out some meaningful boundaries and consequences.
For example, one BWC member, whose husband is a sex addict, made attending his 12-step meetings part of her non-negotiables when she opted to give him a second chance. If he doesn't attend regularly, any and all intimacy between the two of them comes to a grinding (no pun intended) stop. He moves to the guest room (or she will, if he refuses) and, after a certain period of time if he hasn't resumed his meetings, she begins the separation process. At that point, she figures, it's clear he's unwilling to hold up his end of the bargain...so she has no choice but to honor her own boundaries (that he attend meetings that support his recovery) and keep herself safe.
Sure, these guys can lie. They've done it before. But we're wiser now. We know what to look out for. If, at any time, we get that uneasy feeling in our gut, we enact our new mantra: trust, but verify. He says he was late at the office? Who else was there that you can check with? Will he show you his computer with the work he was doing? Why not install a keylogger on the computer to check any Web sites, e-mails, etc.? Check his cell phone so you can see all activity. Etc. Etc.
And have your pre-determined boundaries and consequences in place.
You, for example, find out he had contact with the OW? Well, what does that mean to you? What consequences are in place?: he moves to the couch? He moves out? You contact his family? You contact her family? Ensure that they're enforceable...and that they don't create additional problems for you. And ensure that you stick with them. As Barbara Coloroso, parenting guru, is forever reminding us, it isn't the severity of the consequence, it's the inevitability. You need to stick to boundaries/consequences that you will enforce. Not to punish him but to protect yourself.
And if you can state unequivocally that certain behaviour is a deal-breaker, then that's exactly what it is.

The Price of Working It Out

2011-02-22T09:13:00.000-08:00

To those who are in the middle of what I can only call a painful shit storm: You will laugh again. You will be better than before. You will be even more committed to your relationship if you go through a painful time together; you’re never going to forget what it cost you to work things out.
~Ruth Pennebaker, author of Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakthrough

What it cost, indeed.

If there's one area that frequently trips up those of us betrayed wives who decide to stay and work it out (or like me, decide to stay, hoping it'll work itself out. Hard-won wisdom: It won't. You're going to have to some heavy lifting), it's the notion that we feel as if we're weak or pathetic for not leaving. Far too many of us pay the price for staying in terms of shame and self-blame. If we were strong, we seem to think, we'd kick him out. We say, "the thing is I still love him" as if that's a character flaw, instead of a solid foundation on which to rebuild our crumbled marriage.
And there's the issue of the price. It feels to so many of us that we're the ones paying in dignity...and he's the one who's somehow saving face.
Which is unfair. No question about it.
And I'm not sure it ever gets easier.

When my kids accuse me of being "mean" to Daddy for, to give an example, being annoyed with him for coming home late for dinner (again!), I have to bite my tongue rather than make it clear that, actually, I've been exceedingly nice to their father and the least he could do is showupontimeforthegoddamneddinner.
Ahem.
When my father, who knows about the first OW, rhapsodizes about what a great guy my husband is I silence that inner voice that wants to say to my dad, "but you're supposed to be on my side"...and instead agree that my husband is, indeed, a great guy.
When my mother-in-law makes a snide judgement about me, my children, my pets...my life, I want to scream at her that I'm a freaking SAINT for putting up with the mess-of-a-person she raised.
And then, in my more transcendent moments, I recognize that the problem isn't what people out there think...it's what I think.
Would I be happier if the world knew about the betrayal and my commitment to move past it? Do I need to feel like a martyr in order to not feel like a wimp? Truth is, I'm neither saint nor sinner but, like everyone else, a combination of both.

Life is messy, or as Ruth Pennebaker puts it, sometimes serves up "painful shit storms". How we navigate those defines who we are, and matters only to us. We can't be defined by others' judgements – doormat, pathetic, saint – unless we choose to agree with them.
Challenge those statements next time you find yourself wondering if you're a coward for staying...or a martyr. Ask yourself the unanswerable but necessary question: What is the truth?
Or perhaps, more accurately, what are the truths? The truths, in my life, include a dedication to my family in all its imperfection. A loyalty to my husband in spite of his flaws. A profound love for my children. An abiding faith that if I just keep moving in the direction that feels right, moment by moment, day by day, I'll arrive at a place where it all makes sense.
And the cost? Worth it.

D-Day 101: Is he worth keeping?

2011-02-20T19:42:00.000-08:00

I've heard the stories from women who vowed to save their marriage and shake their husband back to sanity. Frankly, I couldn't do it. Though there's little doubt in my mind that a whole lotta these guys completely lose their minds in the midst of an affair, I don't think it's up to the betrayed wife to try and convince them to smarten up.

The way I see it, you likely don't have the energy or the motivation to bring him back from Crazyville. He hopped that train and it's up to him to find his way back.

Your only job is to figure out whether you want him back once he arrives. And most of them will arrive. Most of these guys weren't looking for a way out of their marriage...just out of their doldrums. Or their emotional isolation. Or their crappy childhoods. But that's for them to sort through with a good therapist.

Your simple task (beyond hauling your betrayed butt out of bed every morning and attempting to get through your day) is to really think about whether he's worth giving another chance. Some of 'em are. Plenty aren't.

How do you know? Well...you give him some tests, kinda like multiple choice, except there are no "guesses". This isn't about anger or revenge or "an eye for an eye." It's about treating yourself with respect...and demanding the same from him. Whether he can answer these things right away or he needs to sift through his own confusion doesn't necessarily indicate whether he's a good guy who screwed up or a total scumbag. Some of these guys have this ass backward. They figure that, 'if I had an affair, I must be unhappy with my wife'. When the truth is, they had an affair because they're unhappy with themselves. But it's so much more convenient to blame someone else. And it can take time to come to that unpleasant but ultimately true conclusion.

So...

Choice #1: Does he want his marriage or doesn't he? If he picks yes, then he's got some homework. Starting with a No Contact letter to his OW. No emotional good-byes. No "just one more meeting to let her down easy." No, "but she didn't know I was married. She got hurt, too." Simple, straightforward and vetted by you. Along the lines of "I made a terrible mistake getting involved with you and I've chosen to try and save my marriage. I will no longer have any contact with you. I insist that you respect his." You could ask that he threaten legal action if she violates this, but that might be unnecessarily inflammatory. Depends on just how stalkerish his OW is. His loyalty needs to be to you, right now. Your feelings are the ones that trump anyone else's.

Choice #2: Is he willing to accept responsibility for the pain and betrayal he's caused you. That's not to say responsibility for the fact that your marriage likely had its issues. But total responsibility for lying, deceiving you and potentially risking your physical health. If so...good. But he still needs to work with a counsellor to uncover why he made this choice...and put boundaries into place to ensure it doesn't happen again.

If not? Well...don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out, buddy.

Choice #3: Is he willing to offer complete transparency in order to regain your trust: access to any and all e-mail accounts, texts, cell phones, computer passwords, credit card bills and so on. Trust is tough to earn...and easy to lose. It's going to take time and steady proof that he's being honest with you. "Trust...but verify" is your new motto.

Choice #4: Is he willing to do whatever it takes to be the man you thought he was (assuming you thought he was a decent, loving husband. If you thought he was a total jerk even pre-D-Day, then your marriage has more issues than infidelity). This means answering your questions even if you've asked them a dozen times, holding you while you cry, listening while you scream...and supporting you through likely the most painful experience of your life.

Then – and only then – does he deserve his second chance.

The Politics of Public Shame

2011-02-14T10:44:00.000-08:00

The lesson is if you’re going to do dirt, do it anonymously. People cheat everyday, but only dumb people get caught.
~Anonymous woman on Craigslist who revealed Christopher Lee to gawker.com

Not exactly the advice I would give my children.
The above quote came from this interview here in which the woman who posted on Craigslist, was contacted by Congressman Christopher Lee and then told gawker.com shared her thoughts on what transpired...and offered up a few nuggets of wisdom on cheating men. Except her nuggets weren't particularly wise. Cynical, yes, which sometimes masquerades as wise. But ultimately bitter and judgemental (see above quote for evidence).
Lest you think I'm going soft on cheaters, let me assure you I'm not. There's just something so...vicious...about exposing people publicly.
Admittedly, public figures leave themselves vulnerable to public humiliation when they commit such transgressions.
But what are your thoughts? Did he get his just desserts? What about his wife? Does she deserve any consideration from this OW? Or his child? Or does considering them instead of outing public figures give the cheater a free pass he doesn't deserve?
This whole situation leaves me blech. And a bit confused.
Share your thoughts...and help me clarify my own.

Funny Friday: Another round of "Stupidest Things The Cheater Ever Said"

2011-02-11T07:56:00.000-08:00

A radio station in my city is having a Valentine's contest in which it's promoting the most romantic thing your partner/spouse has ever said.
I'm perhaps, the least romantic person on the planet and can't help but giggle at so many of these utterances. I honestly think if someone said these romantic things to me, I would die laughing. My husband has tried, former boyfriends have tried...and I've generally gone into hysterics (though I've tried to disguise my laughter by pretending I'm weeping with joy). Instead my husband I resort to showing affection to each other the way eight-year-old boys do – we hit each other in the arm, we tease each other mercilessly... and we laugh. A lot.
In fact, laughter is undoubtedly part of what gave me seconds of joy when I was at my darkest point. And much of that laughter came courtesy of my husband and the OW, who said such stupid things to me...and allowed me, for a brief period of cruel, un-enlightened time, to laugh, figuratively, in their faces. Felt rather empowering, come to think of it.
So...let's laugh.
I'm bringing back that perennial fave: What's the stupidest thing your partner/spouse/ex/OW said to you in the wake of the affair.
Some I've already heard include, "You'd really like her if you got to know her." And, "Under different circumstances, I think you two could really be friends."
My husband tossed out this little gem, in defence of his honesty: "I've never lied to my clients." Made it clear I should have put my business with him...just not my heart.
So...c'mon ladies. Give us your best, your funniest, your most shockingly stupid comments. And let's have a laugh!

Moment-by-Moment Survival Guide for the Heartbroken

2011-02-03T07:57:00.000-08:00

So often I hear of betrayed women feeling "stuck". They don't want to leave their marriages, at least not yet. But they just can't seem to move past their pain. And though I wish there was an easy fix for such "stuck-ness", I know of none. I do, however, know of a not-so-easy fix. At least it wasn't easy for me.
It's a matter of focusing on the "now".
It's perhaps no coincidence that, perusing the bookshelves for something – anything – that would help me cope with my maelstrom of pain, I picked up a little book called The Power of Now, by a guy named Eckhart Tolle. (This was in his pre-Oprah days and I'd never heard of him.)
I began reading through my tears. And though it's not a simple read, I managed to discern this: Pain comes from focussing on the past. And anxiety comes from focussing on the future.
Yet we live in the present. All we ever have is this precise moment.
Consider that so much of the pain surrounding betrayal is about focusing on what happened (the mind movies imagining the two of them together, the reading and re-reading of text messages and e-mails, the triggers that transport us back to the moment when we first discovered or that remind us of what was happening one week/month/year ago) or on what might happen (he could do it again, I could wind up destitute and alone, they could be laughing at me from their yacht...). In both cases, however, you're not focusing on the now. Right now, for example, you're reading this post. Whether or not he is or is not still having an affair isn't the point. You, right now, are okay.
That's not to say you're not hurting. Probably a lot.
But you're alive. You're breathing and functional and able to read. So, for all intents and purposes, you're okay. Stay focussed on that simple truth.
You are okay. I am okay.
And guess what? What happened is over. All the hand-wringing and finger-pointing in the world is not going to undo what's already occurred. And about what might happen? Well, you likely have a lot less control over that than you realize. You can control yourself. And that's about it. The rest, you have to take on faith.
It's not easy. Certainly not for a reform(ing) control freak like I. To give up the long-held notion that I can magically control those around me was tough. But the evidence that I couldn't – for all my best intents – was all around me.
I had "now". So I held on tight.

What Does Healing Look Like?

2011-02-01T06:56:00.000-08:00

A BWC member recently asked the question "How do you know when you've started to heal?"
It's a good question...and a tough one to answer.
I would guess healing might look different to each of us. I recognized my healing one day in particular when I was walking my dogs and noticed how pretty the snow looked sparkling in the bright sun. Prior to that moment, the world had looked utterly bleak – almost apocalyptic. I saw nothing but a ruined world and I, honestly, wished my children had never been born into such a world. (Clearly, I was in a pretty bad place. I also considered suicide, quite seriously. Which is when I finally acquiesced to anti-depressants.)
I was lucky enough to have a wise and compassionate friend who worked with survivors of childhood sexual abuse and she recognized what I'd been going through as post-trauma. She encouraged me to hold on to that moment of dog-walking in the sun and play it back in my head as a reminder that life was also capable of delivering beauty and peace, however fleeting right now.
She also encouraged me to look for more of those moments. Lying in bed reading to my children. Feeling their tiny hands in mine. Disappearing into a good book (that didn't have anything to do with adultery, sex addiction, forgiveness or any of the zillion other affair-related topics I had on my bedside table). Anything that I could hold on to. She even suggested I take photos of things that made me happy (she's an artist...and very visual. I never actually did this but it's still a great idea) and put them around the house to offer up visual reminders of joy.
But essentially, it was by paying attention to the slivers of joy in my life that helped open my world up to more.
So healing, for me, came in slices. Slowly, over a lot of time (three to five years as you're no doubt getting sick of hearing me say), I was able to put what happened in the past and open myself to the possibility that I could still have a good marriage. And that, no matter what, I could create a life that gave me joy. Healing wasn't so much an event as a process. One that could easily be missed because it happened incrementally. But could be sped up by simply noticing.
How about others? My commenter and I would both love to hear your stories of healing...even if you've only just begun, even if you're not sure you ever completely will. What's working for you? What's not working? Share your story...

Vulnerability is a Doorway to Happiness

2011-01-24T08:06:00.000-08:00

Lately I've become aware that, though I don't feel the heavy sadness I felt in the weeks and months following D-Day, I also don't feel that great joy I felt in my life pre-D-Day. Sure I knew my marriage had its share of problems. And I struggled with motherhood some days – particularly with my first child who was, in popular parlance, "spirited."
But most days – really! – I felt joyful.
Now? Not so much.
If I'm lucky, I get glimpses of contentment.
Most days, however, I feel...flat.
I've written before about the "plain of lethal flatness" or "The Dead Zone." It can be a welcome reprieve from the agony of D-Day, and excruciating highs and lows in the weeks that follow. But it's a place to catch your breath...not unpack your boxes and move in.
And yet. Here I am. Again. Four YEARS later.
Why? Well...if you believe Brené Brown (and, frankly, I do), it's because I've closed myself off from vulnerability. Afraid of feeling that searing pain of having my soul lit on fire (and NOT in a good way), I've chosen, on some level, to simply not feel at all.
Makes sense from a pain-avoidance stance. Not so much for a joy-seeking one.
I've attached Brené Brown's YouTube TedX talk. Watch it. You might just recognize yourself in her words. What's more, you might find within her words and within yourself, the courage to embrace your vulnerability again. To cast off shame and regret and, instead, to reclaim yourself from the detritus of your former life. I plan to try. Join me.

Bending Towards the Sun: When Is It Time to Leave?

2011-01-19T08:32:00.000-08:00

Kelly Diels, whose wonderful site Cleavage details the ups and downs of her creative and personal life, recently posted a blog entry about sticking with a tough relationship. Though she doesn't speak specifically to those who've been betrayed, she does note that, as a society, we tend toward the cut-and-run approach to long-term relationships rather than sticking it out.
I'm not entirely sure that's true. At least not in marriages. Sure the divorce rates hovers at about 50%, which doesn't exactly speak to stick-to-it-ness. On the other, close to three-quarters of relationships that have experienced infidelity will remain intact.
Of course, that doesn't tell us how healthy these remaining three-quarters of marriages are.
And it certainly doesn't offer us much help with the agonizing decision of whether to stick to it...or get the hell out.
I blame or credit (depending on my mood) emotional paralysis for the fact that I didn't walk out on D-Day. I had always been quite adamant that I would nevah, EVAH put up with a cheating spouse. But that, of course, was then...
So I stayed in large part because I didn't have anywhere to go. Didn't have the strength to pack my bags. Didn't have the emotional strength to tell my kids that I – or Daddy – was leaving. I was scared. Confused. Exhausted.
And I'd read, in one of the books I'd read on affairs, forgiveness, blah blah blah, that it makes sense to wait at least six months before making any big decisions. It takes that long, so the thinking goes, for all the initial anger and shock to wear off, to enable you to make a decision you can live with for the rest of your life, rather than a kneejerk response.
I was also confused. I figured clarity would eventually return and my course would suddenly light up like Vegas, making it clear which path I should follow.
I'm still waiting.
That's not to say I'm unhappy. It is to say that marriage is messy. Hell, LIFE is messy. And frankly, four years post D-Day #1, my marriage isn't much different in many ways than it was before (except for the rather crucial fact that my husband is no longer banging strangers). We have great times, we have tough times. We laugh, we argue. We cuddle, we retreat. In other words, our marriage is probably pretty normal.
Which brings me to the point of this post, which, as you'll note, I titled "Bending Towards the Sun."
Like anything alive, it's important to seek out that which helps us grow strong and healthy. Plants, to stick with my metaphor, bend toward the sun, in order to benefit most from the warmth and nourishment it provides.
When you're in the midst of the confusion and wonder if you can ever forgive and heal, or if you simply must get out, it really can boil down to a simple question:
"Does this relationship help me grow into my best self?" Or perhaps a more accurate question under the circumstances is, "Can I see a point where this relationship could help me grow into my best self?"
A big part of that equation, of course, comes down to your spouse's character. Was the betrayal evidence of a moral defect...or a poor choice? Is your spouse willing to examine how he came to make such a poor choice and do his best to ensure he never does again? Or is he casting blame and making excuses? Is he a good person who made a bad decision? Or someone you'd warn your daughter to stay away from if she was involved with a similar man?
Of course, there are life circumstances that can prevent leaving when you might want to – young children, economic issues, health concerns... Those likely won't alter your long-term course, but simply delay it.
In the end, you need to make a decision that enables you to bend toward the sun...wherever that may be.

TV Show Looking to Help Couples Coping with Infidelity

2011-01-14T07:32:00.000-08:00

I have no idea whether this show has integrity or not. But I thought I'd pass this along for anyone who's interested:

Looking for people who think their mate is cheating or has

cheated and want help getting their relationship back on track. A

new tv show on WEtv with world-renown licensed family therapist,

Dr. Tara Fields, (who's been on Oprah, CNN, Dr.Phil) wants to

help your family work through it. There is NO studio

audience...just one-on-one counseling at the family's home and

her office. Families will be paid an honorarium as a thank you

for their time commitment.

You can e-mail Michelle Kenner at WETv at: query-vyj@helpareporter.com

Looking Back on Crazy

2011-01-13T19:37:00.000-08:00

I had to do a reverse number lookup today to ensure that I had written down a number correctly. And suddenly I was transported back to a few weeks past D-Day, when my days were spent feverishly looking for evidence of my husband's affair. In spite of the fact that he had admitted to it, I kept looking for more. I dug up his cell phone bills, his VISA statements. I scrounged through dresser drawers for incriminating receipts (which I promptly shredded! He was NOT going to benefit on his tax return for cheating on me with his assistant). In other words, for a brief while, I lost my mind. It's not that I didn't have other things to do. Things like work. Raising my kids. Making beds. Doing laundry. Walking dogs. Planning dinner. Exercising. Showering! All those things still needed doing. But I ignored them so I could relentlessly, masochistically undertake my detective work to find evidence of something my husband had already confessed, in fair detail, to doing.
What the hell was that all about, anyway.
It seems strange to me today. To imagine that person was me.
She seems like a stranger.
Yet I still remember her raw pain like it was yesterday. I still get a catch in my throat when I recall her ache. Her bewilderment. Her deep abiding pain that came in waves, washing over and over her until she could barely surface long enough to breathe.
Yep, that was me, all right.
I'm not sure what happened to me. I do know that betrayal makes lots of us a wee bit (or perhaps a WHOLE LOT) crazy. It made me do things that the pre-betrayal me would never have dreamed of doing. It turned black to white, night to day. And it left me panting and exhausted by the effort of trying to make sense out of nonsense.
I have little advice for those caught in that craziness. Except please try and find someone to talk to. Or post your thoughts here. We've been there. We know how strong those urges are to call the OW. Or post on her Facebook wall. Or dig through your husband's drawers, his pockets, his files in hopes (or fears!) of finding...what? Evidence that all of this is just a bad dream? Or that everything you suspected (or that he's admitted to) is true?
Crazy seems a standard phase for most of us. I envy the betrayed woman who skips right past it (unless she's in denial. Another common stage for many of us. "My husband? He wouldn't do that...").
When I think back to the time I wasted digging up little more than the knowledge that – yep – that was definitely her phone number he called on December 9, 2006, I recognize that I probably would have been better served by taking that long, overdue shower.

A Banker's View of Forgiveness

2011-01-07T08:14:00.000-08:00

So many of us get tripped up at the prospect of "forgiving" our spouses – especially if we choose to stay with them. Somehow forgiveness becomes akin to letting him off the hook, dismissing what he did and basically letting him wipe his brow and say, "Whew, glad that's over!"

And because of that perception, many of us withhold forgiveness – or any thoughts of forgiveness because we feel it puts us into a position of powerlessness. As long as we're still holding that trump card, we feel as though we're strong.

But I recently came across a blog post in which the author, a survivor of childhood trauma, offers a really interesting take on forgiveness, based on her former career as a mortgage broker.

Using that model, she suggests we look at forgiveness the way a bank looks at a defaulted loan.

The bank, she points out, trusted the client and showed that trust in the form of loaned money.

Turns out, the client screwed up – whether once or serially, doesn't matter – and abused that trust (sound familiar?).

What does the bank do? Say, I "forgive" you and offer up more money? Of course not. But they don't necessarily withhold trust forever. Instead the bank takes steps to ensure that the client understands the consequences of their betrayal of trust. That they recognize how their actions will affect future credit history. Then they offer the client the chance to create a plan in order to make amends. If the client refuses, then trust, though not necessarily forgiveness, is withheld.

Applying a similar model to your own situation might mean that you insist that your husband take certain actions in order to make amends – perhaps that's allowing you to check cell phone messages or e-mails. Perhaps he has to give up "boy's night out", at least for awhile. It undoubtedly means that a "no contact" letter is sent to the OW. Like a bank, however, it's prudent to use discretion before you extend trust again – based on consistent evidence that he's cleaned up his act.

Forgiveness is never to be confused with meaning you have to extend trust. Forgiveness is acknowledging that the other person hurt you but that you're not going to hold their feet to the flames forever. Indeed, you're going to move forward knowing what they're capable of, but giving them the chance to show you – over and over – that they won't do it.

It's accepting you can't change the past, but that you'll no longer be hostage to it. And you're open to a different future.

It's not easy though it seems the important lessons in life never are. And, in my experience at least, forgiveness wasn't something that "arrived" or that I "decided" but rather something that grew organically over time, as I loosened my own hold on anger and opened myself up to hope. Not rainbows-and-unicorn hope, but the kind that arises when I trust my own place in the world and feel on solid ground. The kind that arises when, most of all, I forgive myself.

Putting Down Your Pain

2011-01-04T10:36:00.000-08:00

A friend gave me the most beautiful daybook over the holidays: The Book of Awakening by Mark Nepo. I'd never heard of him before, but already – on January 4th – he feels like an old friend.
On January 2nd, he tells the story of a friend who was preparing to paint a room in his house. He went to the store to buy the supplies – the paint, brushes, rollers, drop-cloths, etc. He returned home, then loaded it all up in his arms to carry it into his house. Of course, he reaches the door and has no hands free to open it. He refuses to put any of the stuff down and struggles to get the door open. He juggles, he twists. Eventually, of course, everything crashes to the ground, including him.
The lesson?
Sometimes we've got to put our stuff down to open the door.
It's a pretty straightforward metaphor. But how many of us do it? I know I'm guilty of carrying a whole lot more than I should. I somehow determined that the more I carry, the more I'm a martyr. And I've spent a lot of time over the years polishing my inner martyr until it's blinding.
The problem is that being a martyr doesn't really get you where you want to go. Which, in the face of betrayal, is beyond the pain – or, to stick with our metaphor, through the door. Being a martyr – you know the one who constantly reminds your spouse that you could "never" have done what he – keeps our hands full and our heart closed.
Holding on seems like the easier option. Or at least the safer one. To put everything – or even some things – down to open the door seems like more work. We think that we'll have to pick everything back up again.
But by putting down some of our "stuff" – our bruised ego, for example; our clenched fury – we're then free to pick and choose what we truly need. When it's all spread out in front of us, rather than piled in our arms, we can see what is useful to us and what is perhaps weighing us down.
It's hard, if not impossible, to walk through the door into healing when you're holding on to:
• blame (a favorite of mine was reminding my husband that he'd "ruined" me)
• ego (too frequently I reminded my husband that the OW was truly repulsive, comments that never failed to make me feel small and petty)
• fear (how could I ever be sure he wouldn't do this to me again? Truth is, I can't ever be sure)
• regret (how often did I wish I could turn back time and scream "Not in this lifetime!!" to the "do you take this man..." question)
• and on and on.
Once I could see how much all this was holding me back, it became easier to put it down. It became easier to focus on that which would take me through the door and prove useful to me once inside. Such things as compassion (for myself, as much as for him), patience (Good LORD, healing takes time...), faith (that I would continue to heal despite setbacks), and wisdom.
Is there anything you're holding on to that you could put down (like your 5th martini, for example? Or that Twinkie?) to help you through the door? Consider it. There's no prize for getting through without effort. The prize is simply getting through at all.

When the Going Gets Tough...the Tough Get a Plan

2010-12-29T08:13:00.000-08:00

Whether or not you're staying and working it out, headed straight for your divorce lawyer or are adopting a wait-and-see stance, chances are you're feeling pretty off-kilter right now. Even if you're 110% that you're doing the right thing for you, you'll no doubt be faced with some opposition from those around you who think that they – not you. definitely not you! – know what's best. And it's often in complete contrast to what YOU think is best.
Herewith your guide to surviving tough times and tough choices.

1. Don't expect it to feel good.
Sure I blab on about how you need to trust your instincts and blah blah honestly blah, but that doesn't mean it's going to feel good. You might recognize absolutely that your husband is incapable of honesty and commitment and that you simply can't get over his betrayal, but that doesn't mean you're going to skip out the door into a glorious new life. Chances are you'll weep. You'll wail. You'll rant and rage. Your in-laws might cast you as a demon. Your friends might criticize you for "giving up (especially those who feel stuck in miserable marriages!)." Your children might accuse you of ruining their life. And you might wonder if you really do know what's best for you.
Yes. You do. The right decision isn't always the easy decision. But it's still the right one. You'll know the difference deep down. Even if you doubt it now and then.

2. It's absolutely critical that you take care of yourself.
A diet of soda and crackers isn't going to give you the strength you need to stand up to the critics (even the critics that exist only in your head).
This is a tough one because so many of us view self-care as selfish. There's a big difference. Self-care insists that your needs are as important as everyone else's. Selfish insists that your needs are more important than everyone else's. Where it gets confusing is that sometimes we need to be selfish about self-care. We need to put everyone else's needs aside (help with homework, a drive to the mall, you get the idea....) in order to give ourselves what we need (a warm bath, a run, a dip into a good novel, coffee with a supportive friend...). Now, especially now, it's time to put self-care at the top of your to-do list. Treat yourself as kindly as would a friend going through a similar tough times.

3. A network of support can prop you up when you can't do it yourself.
Get thee to a 12-step group for spouses of sex addicts, join Surviving Infidelity (which in my estimation, is the best online support group, with moderation to keep comments in check), seek out a group for betrayed wives (or start one!), post here and join and the conversation. Confide in a trustworthy friend, get a good therapist, talk it over with your dog. You can't go this road alone without making it a whole lot longer and lonelier than it needs to be. The isolation associated with a spouse's betrayal was, for me, almost worst than the initial betrayal. I felt so desperately alone in my pain. You don't need to be. It's the main reason I started this site...

4. Know that this all takes time.
Three to five years is the generally accepted timeframe for healing from a spouse's betrayal. I can't emphasize enough how long this whole damn process takes. The good news is you won't feel lousy the whole time you're healing. You will feel better incrementally, with occasional steps backward just to keep you on your toes. Then one day you'll notice you haven't cried all day. Or for a few days. You'll notice that you don't jump at loud noises. That your stomach doesn't flip at the sight of certain vehicles, or the sounds of certain songs, or on certain days of the year.
You'll never forget this. It's woven into the story of your life. But it won't BE your life. That I promise.

And to all a good life...

2010-12-24T20:54:00.000-08:00

Just a quick post to let those of you still new to betrayal know that things will get better. I found out just before the holidays in 2006 and let me tell you that was one Christmas I'd like to forget!!
So hang in there. Don't get falling down drunk. Don't eat yourself into a Santa suit (though more likely you'll have a tough time choking down your turkey...and I'm not referring to your spouse!). And just remind yourself as often as possible: I am strong. I am valuable. I will heal...

Lucky? Why My Father is Wrong...

2010-12-21T01:16:00.000-08:00

My 82-year-old father is coming for the holidays. We talk daily, since my mom passed away 3 1/2 years ago. He simply stepped into her shoes, answering the phone each time I call and chatting about daily minutiae.
Every now and then, however, we talk about matters of more consequence. Like today, for instance. He mentioned that our family was "lucky" not to have been affected by divorce. My parents remained married, despite my father's emotional betrayal of my mom. My brother and his wife remain married, though I know of no problems. And my husband and I remain married.
But...lucky?
I felt my temper flare. My father knows only of the first OW – and nothing of my husband's sex addiction. A few days past D-Day #1, he chastised my husband with words to the effect of, "We're all allowed one mistake. Do it again and I'll break your legs..." Though Don Corleone, my father is not.
Now, however, that's all behind us, or so he'd like to think.
It's not the first time my father has minimized the impact of my husband's betrayal. Perhaps it allows him to assuage his own guilt or validate his own response to lying to my mother. He never did quite understand how devastated she was. Or why she didn't just "get over it". After all, he figured, he didn't really cheat.
And though I think I've forgiven my dad and am able to love him for his many good qualities, one thoughtless comment and I'm fuming again. On behalf of myself, my mom and all betrayed women.
"Lucky?" You've got to be kidding me.
Lucky to discover that my husband had been lying to me about where he was? Lucky to be home with children and a cold dinner because I believed my husband was working hard on his family's behalf? Lucky that he "picked" me over her? Lucky that he confessed to a sex addiction and years more betrayals?
Lucky that I didn't have the strength at first to leave? Lucky that I can no longer look at him as absolutely trustworthy? Lucky that my children will never know what hell I rode through so that they could wake up in a home with both their parents?
Lucky? Luck has absolutely nothing to do with it.
And I refuse to believe that those women who ultimately chose to end their marriage or were forced into divorce are UN-lucky.
In fact, I don't know a single betrayed woman, whether she remained married or not, who hasn't shown incredible courage. And conviction. And strength of character. Who hasn't wept with despair over what staying or leaving would do to their children. Who hasn't dealt with humiliation and pain and rage with dignity and determination.
Luck is for leprechauns and lottery winners. Not for betrayed wives.

Too Much Information? Or Not Enough...

2010-12-18T10:52:00.000-08:00

Years ago, I heard an interview with Will and Jada Smith in which she teased him for his "crush" on Beyonce. Many were a bit aghast. And admittedly, it's not too often we see a wife tease her husband for having a crush on another woman. Berate him, perhaps. Ridicule him. Act hurt by it. But a good-natured tease?
The couple explained that they have total honesty in their marriage (I know, I know. They live in Hollywood...but I'm withholding skepticism!). They talked about how, if they find themselves attracted to someone else, they talk about it.
I was conflicted, at the time. As far as I knew, my husband had never cheated. As far as I believed, he'd never found another woman as attractive as I. (It's almost embarrassing to write that. How naive was I???) And frankly, if my husband did find another woman attractive, I'm not sure I wanted to know about it. After all, I figured, what could be gained by knowing that?
Now, however, I see things a bit differently. And I would want to know. In fact, it's something my husband and I have talked about. And though it kinda makes me squirm (his taste in women is...well...surprising. If I was a man, I'm not sure I'd find the women he likes at ALL attractive. However...vive la difference), I confess I feel "safer" having had the discussion.
Plenty of marriage experts back me up. And plenty others disagree.
The two schools of thought are thus.
#1: No secrets: This school of thought purports that ANY secrets in a marriage can lead to trouble. Lying, or lying by omission, can include anything such as how much money you really spent on a pair of shoes or about whether you'd like to curl up with someone other than your spouse.
I confess I find this a bit drastic. I'm not convinced that my husband needs to know EVERY thought that goes through my head that might be construed as a potential threat...but perhaps it comes down to our own ability to recognize which notions are an actual threat...and which ones are harmless and should be kept under wraps. For example, I did confess to my husband that I was finding myself very attracted to another man. Ironically, that's what initially led us to couples counselling and THEN all the dirt about my husband's extracurriculars came out. But I knew that something was wrong in our marriage and I wasn't comfortable with how I was feeling about this other man...
#2: Judicious sharing: This school of thought maintains that there is such a thing as too much information. Sharing every time we're attracted to someone else can start to seem like manipulation or hurtful – a way to keep a spouse constantly off-balance. I've known couples who do this in the name of being "mature" and "open" but I've also been aware that on some level, it's really only one of them who's sharing the info and the other seems victimized. Perhaps it depends on the level of security both already feel in the relationship.
In any case, I do tend towards the first conviction – I'd rather err on the side of too much information than too little. Especially now that I know what I know...
What about you? If you remain married, do you want to hear every time your husband feels attracted to someone else? If your husband is a sex addict, do you want to know about it every time he feels a desire to act out? Or is that what sponsors and friends are for? Too much information? Or not enough...

Tee-hee Tuesday: Let "Bradley" Do Your Dirty Work

2010-12-14T11:56:00.000-08:00

Okay, so your husband is a scumbag cheater who isn't fit to lick your boots. You want to dump him...but just can't find the words to do it (yes, I know this scenario is far-fetched. I know of not ONE betrayed wife who wasn't VERY clear and articulate about how she felt about her cheating husband. However, stick with me here...).
idump4u.com is the brainchild of Bradley – which may or may not be his real name – an enterprising dude who's apparently well-versed in breaking hearts. For a fee, he will ditch the dirty dog for you. If you fear losing your nerve, you'll be bolstered by the more than two hundred others who've procured Bradley's services – from If you want to be kind about it, that might cost extra. Then again, if you're hiring a stranger to Dear John your spouse, kindness probably isn't high on your priority list.

D-Day or "Birth" Day

2010-12-10T08:29:00.000-08:00

I just received a birthday card. An e-card from a site that I read frequently and sometimes comment on. However, I comment as "Elle", my pseudonym that I also use on this site. I guess at some point, in order to log in, this site asked for my birthday. So I typed "December 10". Which is not my real birthday at all.
It is, however, the anniversary of D-Day #1, the day I confronted my husband and the truth came spilling out, changing...well...everything. Why did I put that down as my birthday? Haven't a clue. But now, four years later, I'm wondering if birthday is exactly what December 10 is.
December 10 certainly caused the death of the former me. The me that believed absolutely in my husband's loyalty. The me that thought I lived a charmed life in which things like cheating simply didn't happen. Accidents I could imagine happening. A deliberate act of betrayal? Inconceivable.
Or so the former me believed.
A new me was born on December 10, 2006. Like any birth, there was a fair bit of pain. I was pretty messy for awhile. I wondered what the hell the point of life was and my survival was my no means secure.
But I fought my way through. Kept on getting stronger, using any means possible. There were days when I didn't feel quite "alive" but I knew I wasn't dead. I thought I was just existing.
However, I can look back and see that, even when it looked like there was no growth, I was in fact, getting stronger. Stronger in the broken places. My heart was shattered but still beating.
And though, outwardly, I look the same (perhaps a few more wrinkles, a bit saggier around the middle), inside I'm, quite simply, not the same person that I was.
Though there were inevitable losses, there were incredible gains, too.
I don't take happiness for granted. I no longer think it's my birthright but rather something I work hard and steadily to maintain. In fact, I measure happiness differently – in moments rather than chapters or lifetimes. I find joy in odd places. Like time spent with our beloved dog, who recently lost his leg to bone cancer. He reminds me that I could focus on what's gone. Or, like him, I could choose instead to focus on what's gained...or at least preserved. The pleasure in a new snowfall. The delight in a warm bed. The love of family and friends who accept us, even with our missing pieces.
And so, I think I'll start looking at my D-Day anti-versary as a "birth" day. The day I started my new life.
Perhaps your D-Day signalled the start of your new life, even if you didn't truly emerge from the wreckage until long after.
Perhaps it's signalled a new single you – who, going forward, knows how to take care of her heart and keep it safe.
Perhaps it's brought forth a new marriage. One that withstood the storms or has been rebuilt, using pieces of the old, but a whole lot of new, better materials, too.
Whatever D-Day means to you, at least consider that it might have created some positive change in your life. It might take Herculean effort, but there's likely something that was born that day that's worth celebrating.
And, if so, share it with us here.
Happy "birth" day, indeed.

Tribute to Elizabeth Edwards: Betrayed Wife

2010-12-07T18:56:00.000-08:00

I never knew Elizabeth Edwards personally though many of us who've known betrayal feel as if we did. We certainly knew much of her pain.
And so many of us couldn't imagine how her pain was compounded. She'd already buried a son. Was battling cancer. And then to be so publicly betrayed. It all seemed far more than I could handle.
But she did handle it. Whatever her private battles, publicly she displayed grace and dignity. And by so doing, showed all of us what we, too, might be capable of.
If I had met her, I would have loved to have told her – on behalf of myself and so many betrayed wives who have abandoned hope – "thank-you."
Her last words were about hope and resilience. In a Facebook posting on December 6, 2010, she wrote:

I have been sustained throughout my life by three saving graces, my family, my friends, and a faith in the power of resilience and hope.... These graces have carried me through difficult times and they have brought more joy to the good times than I ever could have imagined. The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered...

There is little doubt that is her legacy to those who knew her intimately. And those of us who only felt as if we did.

Rest in peace, Elizabeth Edwards.

In Ourselves We Trust (Everyone else has to earn it!)

2010-12-06T19:45:00.000-08:00

"It's easy to write everyone else off, harder to be responsible for your own judgments about who is and isn't worthy of your trust. It's harder still to tolerate the uncertainty and vulnerability that come from making such moment-to-moment judgments."

The words above could easily have been written or said by me in the months, even years following D-Day. I had trusted and I'd been screwed. And not just by my husband's cheating. At the same time, I'd had a friend betray my trust. Then my mother, who had spent most of my adolescence in an alcoholic fog, went and died on me – just when she and I were finally learning to forgive each other. How dare he! How dare she! How dare all of them!
I was furious with the whole lot of them for letting me down. And it was far easier to direct my anger outward – look what you've done to me! – than really examine the truth, which was that I'd never been very good at protecting myself. That I had a lifetime of trusting people who showed me repeatedly that I shouldn't trust them. But I would simply ignore that part of them that wasn't trustworthy -- that part that I'd seen lie to other people. Or betray other people. Or even, in some cases, betray me. I would quiet that voice in me that pointed out that these people couldn't be trusted, couldn't be counted on. And instead, I would blindly believe in them.
And then? Well...you know the rest.
What's amazing to me about that opening quote is that it wasn't spoken by a betrayed wife or betrayed husband. It was uttered by a war veteran, dealing with post-traumatic stress disorder.
The thing with focusing our anger outward, at blaming everybody else for what happened, is that it defines us as victims. It takes away our power.
And it leaves us vulnerable to being betrayed again.
If we insist on others taking care of us, we relinquish responsibility for what happens to us.
We get betrayed? Well, what did we expect? People can't be trusted, we decide. Then we go ahead and trust them anyway. Or perhaps, we don't trust anyone. Either way, we're not discerning.
BUT. If we take responsibility, if we insist on only trusting those in our lives who have shown us repeatedly and over time that they can be trusted, we're far less likely to be blind-sided again. We're far less likely to "forgive" until we've seen hard evidence that the person seeking our forgiveness has done the tough work of figuring out why they hurt us in the first place. We're far less likely to overlook things that indicate untrustworthiness. He cheated on his last wife? He cheated on his taxes? He short-changed the store clerk? He lied to his children about why he was late for their birthday party? He makes excuses to his boss for late proposals. Each and every time someone indicates they aren't trustworthy, our radar should send a clear message to our brains...which should inform our hearts. As a friend of mine says, the distance between our brains and hearts can be the longest 18 inches there is. And we should protect ourselves until we see, clearly and consistently, that he's taking responsibility for his actions and that his word means something.
It's contrary to how most of us think. We tend to trust until we're shown evidence that he can't be trusted. Thing is, in hindsight, most of us were aware of evidence. We just chose to ignore it. Or downplay it. Or assume that it didn't apply to us. (I know he cheated on his girlfriend but what he and I have is special. M'mmm...right.)
If there's one thing almost all Betrayed Wives Club members agree on, it's that we wish we'd trusted ourselves.
But it's not to late to start.

It's the Most Difficult Time of the Year

2010-12-05T17:31:00.000-08:00

Ah the holidays.
What can I say about the...holidays. I live suspended somewhere between the fantasy of what I think they SHOULD look like. And my reality of what they've – with few exceptions – always been.
If something lousy was going to happen to me (and it usually did), it happened around the holidays, ensuring that my Christmas stockings were largely filled with bitterness, resentment and tears.
And somehow anything bad is magnified by the holidays. Because we expect everything to be wonderful, when it's not.... Like, for example, you just found out your husband has been shtoinking his assistant for...well...far too long to insist that it was a "mistake"...it seems sooo much worse.
And yet, this year, after a lifetime of disappointing holidays, still has me thinking it's going to be wonderful.
And the strange thing is, after my D-Day on December 10, 2006 which had me driving around the OW's neighborhood on Christmas morning – sobbing, incoherent, suicidal – the holidays have actually become better than they ever were.
Crazy, huh?
The thing about hitting bottom is that you've got nowhere to go but up.
So after that Black Christmas of 2006 (which was my last Christmas before my mom died, and I spent it barely functional), I let go of any expectations of ever having a greeting card Christmas. Ever. Indeed, I was ready to declare a moratorium on Christmas altogether.
My childhood holidays were notable for the drunken fights between various relatives, including my parents. My young adult holidays were notable for the dismissive way my boyfriend's family treated me. And my married holidays were notable for my husband's distinct lack of enthusiasm and my in-law's distinct rudeness.
So when D-Day came and went, I simply waved the white flag. I gave up. I decided, without telling a soul, that I would go through the motions for my children. But, as far as I was concerned, the holidays were just more days to mark off the calendar.
And that's when my own Christmas miracle occurred.
Christmas 2007 was...nice. I made sure that we marked D-Day by being together (I knew I'd be a mess if we were apart and my imagination was free to create an entire demon fantasy world) and going...Christmas shopping. Something we'd never done together. And since we were both surprised and grateful that we were still together after all the past year had held, it was...nice. Maybe not greeting card material. But nice. Even with my mom gone. Even with my father grieving.
Christmas 2008 was...better. By this time I'd freed myself of any obligations that did not serve myself or my marriage well. If my husband wanted to spend time with his dysfunctional family, that was fine with me. But I had decided that it only led to resentment and bitterness. And I was done with holidays defined by those two nasty elves.
Christmas 2009 was...better still. By this time, we had developed some of our own traditions based on what worked for us as a family. Based on what we felt fed our family's value system and definition of a great holiday.
This year? Well. Remains to be seen. We have a beloved dog battling cancer and a house undergoing SERIOUS renovations. The place, frankly, is a mess. So my love of a beautifully decorated house has had to give way to an acceptance of a sorta-decorated house.
But I can look back to four years ago, when I thought I would never again experience joy. And certainly NEVER peace.
Yet here I am. Joyful. And filled with peace.
D-Day is now woven into the fabric of holiday memories. Most bad. But some, more recently, quite...nice.

Playing the victim role is for actresses...not betrayed wives

2010-12-01T09:57:00.000-08:00

I've kept pretty silent about my husband's infidelity (well, except for this blog...). Few people in my "real" life know about it. And I prefer it that way.
Though I have days (especially close to D-Day, when I felt so raw) when I wish I could simply be totally honest about who I am, most of the time (especially now that I'm almost four years past D-Day #1) I'm glad I stayed quiet and told only those I could trust.
What kept me silent was my particular distaste for pity. I can't stand people feeling sorry for me. And though I was barely standing, I knew the day would come when I'd be back on my feet – and I didn't want to forever see a "that poor woman..." look in people's eyes.
Pity, I think, is sometimes a faux compassion to disguise a feeling of superiority. We tend to pity people we feel are somewhat hopeless. Who are pathetic. Who definitely are NOT us.
Which is why pitying ourselves and viewing ourselves as "victims" is incredibly unkind. It plays into the sense that we're helpless. And hopeless. And that we lack the power to do anything in our lives to stand tall again.
Which is absolutely and completely UNTRUE.
If your D-Day was in the recent past, you may not believe me. I can certainly recall moments (days, weeks...ack!) when I thought I was hopeless and helpless. When I couldn't imagine a day when this would be behind me. When the knot would disappear. When the pain would recede.
And it was in that stage that I embraced victimhood. "How could you have done this to me?" I would wail, even accusing my husband of "ruining" me.
Oh yes, the drama was high in those days.
Now? Not so much.
At a certain point, I felt as though I was performing a role. I'd be damned if I was going to let my husband forget what he'd done to me. So I put on my victim cloak and reminded him regularly of how pathetic I was, thanks to HIM. But slowly, it started feeling phoney. And I realized that my victimhood was victimizing me a second time. That it was holding me back from taking those tentative steps towards wholeness. Yes, this was done "to" me in the sense that I didn't know my husband's affairs were going on and they certainly weren't my choice. But staying there – believing that I was simply vulnerable to things being done to me – defined me as an object of pity. Hopeless. Helpless.
And I was most definitely NOT that.
Neither are you.
Shrug off the shroud of victimhood. Remind yourself that you do have choices, regardless of what was done "to" you in the past. You define your future. That's not to say you control every circumstance in your life. That little fantasy likely faded at the first hint of your spouse's infidelity, if not long before. But no matter what has happened to you in the past, you can stand again. With the knowledge you have now, the wisdom you have now, and, hopefully, the boundaries you have now, you will be the one who defines your future self.
And it certainly won't be victim.
Because victims are sources of pity. And pity is most definitely not for you.

Beware the "Bewares": The Difference Between "Can't" and "Don't Want To"

2010-11-24T09:22:00.000-08:00

A while back, I wrote a post in which I insisted that "the worst was over" – meaning that finding out was the lowest point and that there was nowhere to go but up (even if you spend some time mired in the darkness first). Some readers commented that might be the case for me, but not for them, which prompted me to write this post.
Clearly, there are some of us for whom the "worst" gets worse still. Who, even as they're reeling from the discovery of another woman, find out the Other Woman is pregnant. Or that they contracted an STD. Or, in my case, that there wasn't an Other Woman...but dozens.
However, it's critical for our own healing to recognize that much of what we say we "can't" deal with is more truthfully acknowledged as something we don't want to deal with.

Deepak Chopra (on this site here) tells us this:

In reality you can let go of any situation any time. “I can’t” really means, “I fear the emotional consequences if I do.” Your ego draws a line in the sand and insists that you will not survive the inner feelings that will arise if the line is crossed.

A powerful limitation is being self-imposed here, and at bottom it isn’t true. You will survive any emotion; indeed, whatever you consider to be too much fear, too much loss, too much humiliation, too much disapproval, too much rejection has already happened.

He's right, of course. "I can't", in my case, absolutely means, "I won't because it will hurt too much." Like someone who's been burned before, I don't even want to get close to the flames.
But I've realized lately how much that attitude is holding me back. Keeping me from taking chances because I fear the possible rejection.
Just the other morning, as my husband was getting ready to leave for work, I started to reach for him to give him a hug and a good-bye kiss. And in that split second I felt myself hesitate. Don't, whispered a voice inside. Don't let your guard down. Don't let your heart soften.
It was, perhaps, the first time I've really noticed that voice, though, if I painstakingly mine my memory bank, it has been whispering to me a lifetime of "bewares".
What's astonishing to me, and likely to anyone who hasn't dealt with betrayal, is that I'm almost four years from D-Day. Surely one would expect the fallout to be long over. For life to have resumed its normalcy.
And yet, that little voice is still whispering. Still trying to protect me from "worst".
I've been lamenting recently that I take little joy in life anymore. So, while I think I'm protecting myself from further pain, I'm also insulating myself to life's pleasures.
It's time, I think, to acknowledge that those "bewares" are holding me back from a life fully lived.

Have you managed to fight back the "bewares" and open your heart again? What did you do to ensure you didn't become hardened to life's joys? How long did it take you from D-Day? Share your story here.

What do you tell the kids?

2010-11-22T12:09:00.000-08:00

Wow.
Not only have you discovered your husband is an A-List A-hole, your kids know something is up. Your husband is begging you not to tell them because...well...because it makes him look bad. Like someone who cheats on his wife. Which, incidentally, he is. Or was. Depends who you ask.
And you are still in the stinky robe you put on three days ago, the one that has chicken noodle soup stains and smells like tomorrow's armpits.
But your kids are confused. So you need to muster up as much dignity as you can and tell them... What?

How old are your children?
Young children don't need to know the details. Please, please, PLEASE remember that children are the innocents in all this. They need protection and guidance and are NOT to be made pawns in a game of "make Daddy pay for this pain", however tempting that is.
However, young children (age 9 and under) likely sense a tension in the household. They may have heard fighting. Or know that Mommy is angry or sad or both. It's critical, I believe, to acknowledge what they're sensing. Check in with them and ask them if they're wondering what's up. Confirm what they suspect by being honest...to a point. They don't need to know that Daddy is dating the homewrecking whore at work. But acknowledging that Mommy and Daddy are having a tough time getting along – that even grownups sometimes struggle – is a good place to start. Reassure them that NONE of this is their fault. That Mommy and Daddy aren't angry with them. And, if it's true, reassure them that you're seeking help to learn to get along. And that, no matter what happens, their parents will always love them and spend time with them. At this age, their big concern is "what does this mean for me?" Simply assuring them that they'll be taken care of, and that the adults have matters well in hand (even if that's a bit of a stretch) can go a long way toward reducing their anxiety.
With older kids, it's a bit tougher. In some cases, they already know, thanks to neighborhood gossip. At 12, I spotted my friend's dad with his mistress who was definitely NOT my friend's mom. Long before the marriage finally dissolved in divorce. Again, let children take the lead and ask them what they know. If you can sit down as a couple, that's ideal. If the affair is over, it's important to let them know that. If your husband has taken responsibility for it and is working on ensuring it doesn't happen again, let them know that too. Don't focus on the sex aspect, which can be confusing for kids who are approaching (or immersed in) their own budding sexuality. Besides, affairs are far more frequently about escape than sex. Again, it's critical to assure kids that Mom and Dad are doing what they can to take care of themselves and, if it's true, the marriage. This frees kids to focus on being kids...instead of parenting the parents. If necessary or prudent, seek counselling for the kids. An objective listener can go a long way toward giving kids an outlet for their anxiety.

How honest should you be?
There's honesty. And then there's Too Much Information.
As noted, let them take the lead. Don't give them more information than they want. This can be enormously confusing for kids in part because it means discovering their hero has clay feet. They can feel conflicted about still loving this person who's hurt the other person they love. As much as you can, do NOT get them involved in what's happening between the two of you. Bite your tongue right off if you have to!
As a general rule, listen more than you talk.

Keep yourself okay (or as okay as possible)
Do your very best to keep yourself upright, sober and relatively functional. Watching Mommy fall apart is terrifying to a child – of any age. If you need to sob for a few hours, book a sitter and try to schedule it in. I generally managed to get my kids to school before falling apart. Then I'd wash my face and brush my teeth before picking them up. Scheduling in SOB-time (to sob over the S.O.B.) allowed me to buck up when the kids were around.

Again: This is NOT about picking sides
There's no right way to deal with this as there are so many variables. Is your husband still involved? Have your children met the Other Woman? Have you separated?
Though you can feel such rage toward your spouse, remember that your kids have a right – indeed it's healthy for them – to remain connected to and love your (ex)spouse. Even if he is a cheating bastard. Speak about him with respect, even if he doesn't deserve it. Don't make apologies or excuses for him. There's nothing wrong with letting your kids know that sometimes adults make choices that aren't the smartest, healthiest or kindest. But that, hopefully, we learn from them. Be dignified. Or as dignified as someone in a stinky bathrobe can be.

And finally? You'll all survive this. I promise.

Have you told your children? What did you way? What would you do differently if you had to (God forbid!) do it again? What worked? Or didn't?

Open Letter to the Other Woman

2010-11-19T08:22:00.000-08:00

Dear OW,

WTF?

Honestly, just what the f&$k were you thinking? You knew he was married. You knew he had children. You knew he slept beside me every night. And you knew that I knew nothing. Is that what made it so delicious? So tempting? That I appeared by his side at various events, utterly clueless to what was going on behind my back? Did you feel triumphant? That you'd beat me at something?
Okay, so I looked stupid, at least to you. Is the satisfaction of that worth sacrificing your own dignity? Because, really, how can you have any dignity when you're pulling on your panties as he races out the door to be home in time for dinner? How can you have any dignity when you're alone – again – on a Saturday night while he's watching Toy Story with his children and tucking them into bed?
And frankly, though I might have looked stupid, and perhaps pitiful, to you...and some less-than-compassionate others, I'll take stupid over sleazy and low and cruel any day of the week. No matter how awful it felt to be me when I found out, I'd still take that over being you. No matter that my eyes were practically swollen shut from crying, I could still look myself square in the mirror without shame.
Did you think it was simply a matter of time? That you would be appealing enough for him to walk away from the life he'd built? That all those fantasies you'd convinced yourself of – that I nagged, that I was lousy in bed, that I was boring and bitchy – were actually true? Did you really believe that any relationship based on deception would deliver you from your unhappiness?
My guess is, yes, you did. My guess is that very few Other Women honestly admit their role as an accomplice in the intentional hurting and decepition of another human being. Often another human being you don't know. Or barely know. Or perhaps, shockingly, know well. Instead, they sell themselves clichés. Something along the lines of "we're soulmates", "we couldn't help ourselves", "the chemistry was too powerful" or "you can't stop love." All of which, I suspect you recognize on some level, is total bullshit. All of which allows you to divorce your abhorrent actions from your intent. "We didn't mean to hurt anyone," you wail.
Oh. Yes. You. Did.
Because you knew. You knew that I was being hurt, even if I didn't yet know it. You knew I was being lied to. And betrayed. And you participated in that. Knowingly. Willingly. Perhaps even happily.
What's more, my children were being hurt. And though I don't expect you to take total responsibility for that (after all, HE was their father), you nonetheless contributed to the potential dissolution of their family.
And for what?
Was the sex that good? Were the feelings of superiority, if only for the brief time he was with you, so intoxicating that it made all the humiliating departures, all the embarrassment when you were caught, all the shame this no doubt triggered, worth it?
And if he left me for you? What would you have gained? Three emotionally damaged children every second weekend. A man who lies and cheats. A man who doesn't have the self-control to stop himself from doing something he knows to be wrong. To be hurtful. What a prize. Guess what? If he's not willing to become something better than that – he's all yours. At least until he meets another you sometime in the future and you become cast as the betrayed wife.
In our case, you were shocked when he, after being caught and given the choice between me or you, didn't hesitate. Not for a second. And, believe it or not, I felt sorry for you. Though I raged at you in my head, loathed the look of you, wanted to spit each time I said your name, and shower each time I imagined you two together, I nonetheless felt a sliver of pity for you. Because no-one does this unless they value themselves so little that they settle for another's scraps rather than demand respect and kindness. Or unless they're so delusional that they really believe that this is how true love manifests. Unless they've fallen for all that "star-crossed lovers" and "us against the world" crap.
It has been almost four years. December 11, 2006 - a date that's seared into my mental calendar. I have no idea where you are now. And though I still taste anger when I think back, I'm able to wish you, if not well, then at least better than what you had. If only to spare another woman the agony of finding out that you're sleeping with her husband.

Elle

Emotional Affairs are Still Affairs...and I Don't Care What Anyone Else Says!

2010-11-17T07:17:00.000-08:00

There's been quite a discussion taking place in the comments section over at Project Happily Ever After, following a post by a therapist on how to cope with an affair. Even I, who rarely has opinions on this sort of thing (cough, cough) weighed in.
But I'm astounded at the number of commenters, clearly in pain, who apologize for entering the debate because their husbands "only" had an emotional affair.
Only? Seriously??
My father "only" had an emotional affair, but it unmoored by formerly invincible mother enough to launch her into a decade-long alcoholic-and-prescription-drug stupor. He never could quite get why she was so affected by it. My mom and I talked a lot about it as adults because that one event, quite literally, altered the trajectory of our lives.
My mother, after a childhood of abandonment (father died at five, mother left her with various relatives, she started a new school every year of her childhood...) finally felt safe. My father adored her. And she him. So when he began lying (overtly and by omission) to spend time with a "friend" at work who was going through a tough time, it devastated her and destroyed her sense of safety.
And that, my friends, is what affairs do – whether they involve torrid sex, tepid sex or no sex at all. They are a trust violation, which is the worst form of betrayal.
My own husband had sex all over the place with all sorts of people. Yet it's the fact that he could lie to my face and that he was willing, on some level, to lose me that's been the hardest thing to overcome. Once I managed to get the mind movies out of my head (in which the sex was always anatomically impossible but wildly exciting, I was sure), I was left with the feeling of total fear. I no longer felt safe.
So to all those of you who are beating yourselves up for being completely unhinged by "only" an emotional affair, I say you need to look at the situation as a trust violation and recognize that such a betrayal is devastating, no matter the details.
And stop apologizing for your feelings. You can't control those. Actions, yes. You can definitely control those (though it may not feel like it in the early days following D-Day, when you find yourself shredding wedding photos, rifling through old receipts and doing other crazy things apparently without any control at all!) But your feelings simply are. And anyone with blood coursing in their veins is going to feel like hell when they discover an affair.

Is HE Worth Suffering For?

2010-11-14T19:26:00.000-08:00

In a great blog post about betrayal and suffering, Kelly Diels repeats Bob Marley's infamous line: Truth is everyone is going to hurt you; the trick is to find the ones worth suffering for.

Which got me to thinking. How do we know who's worth suffering for? Especially before we've actually suffered, which is ideally when we'd like to have that information. And does the fact that someone has betrayed us automatically render them ineligible to be worth suffering for? To hear the world tell it...hell yes! Once a cheater, always a cheater. He's shown you you can't trust him. And so on.
But what exactly is the point of suffering? Is it to escort us to the door where we bid betrayers an angry adieu and walk out into a world of people worth suffering for, but whom will never actually make us suffer? Or is it to shake us into a new way of seeing?
It's like the chicken and egg conundrum. Before I learned of my husband's...ummm...extracurriculars, I thought he was (almost!) the perfect man. Sure he worked too hard and helped around the house too little. Sure his mother was a dragon. But those weren't him, I was sure. He was wonderful. It was life that complicated things.
And then, well, it turned out it was actually HE who complicated things.
But now that I know all about him – those deep, dirty secrets that made him feel ashamed and disgusting and worthless, if he allowed himself to feel anything at all, well now I actually love him more deeply. Not as purely, perhaps. Definitely not as blindly. But more deeply. We've seen each others scars, even –especially – the ones we caused. And we don't turn away from their ugliness. Dare I say it, I've learned he's worth suffering for. The old him would have never cheated on me, or so I thought. The new him, I'm all too aware, is capable of cheating on me. He's done it, for gawd's sake. But this new him is also far more likely to talk to me about his feelings rather than deny them. He's far more likely to seek help when he's feeling like he might be going down the wrong path. And he's definitely more aware of the damage his choices can cause me. So though I know he's capable of cheating, strangely I feel...safer. It took me four LONG years to get to this point. But now that I'm here, I like the view. It's a view that sees all of him, not just the pretty parts. And it's a view that allows me choices based on knowledge, not on projection.
And, it's a view that sees him as worth suffering for. After all, what is suffering for but to make us rage and slay the demons that stand in our way.

Liann Rimes: Living Out a Country 'Cheatin' Song

2010-11-03T11:38:00.000-07:00

LiAnn Rimes recently told People Magazine that she's doesn't "regret" cheating on her husband and that it's only because she fell in love. She's not a cheater, she insists, even though she cheated. It's just not who she is. And if we can't understand what the hell she's talking about, it's only because we don't understand the circular logic (and I use the term "logic" generously) that cheaters use to justify...well...cheating. In a cheater's world, you can cheat...without being a cheater. Seriously.
All of which makes it abundantly clear that LiAnn has learned absolutely nothing from her experience. Sure, we all make mistakes (a point she stresses in her interview). But not all of us learn from them. And that's the difference between a cheater who's likely to cheat again...and one who isn't.

What's the difference?
A cheater who's likely to cheat again will often refer to their behaviour as if it was something that "happened" to him/her. "We couldn't help ourselves," they'll wail. "We just fell in love." As if falling in love is the same as falling down a flight of stairs, a product of gravity and high heels rather than choice and deception.
Another popular defence is the "soul-mates" version. Soul-mates, a cheater's logic purports, can't be held responsible for any pain caused to former soul-mates, spouses, friends, children, etc. etc. because soul-mates recognize each other and within minutes must be naked and coupling because, after all, that's what soul-mates do. The whole notion of wedding vows, commitment and "til death do us part" is alien when a soul-mate comes along. The thing is, soul-mates seem to come along frequently for many cheaters. They're kinda like spiritual buses that run on schedule.
Conversely, though many cheaters will initially offer up the "I couldn't help myself" and "It just happened" (that was the excuse provided by my husband's OW, as if the clothes just took themselves off) defences, those who ultimately recognize the devastation they've wrought and truly regret it will eventually come to recognize their cheating as a choice, a very poor one. Especially if, in the cold, hard light of reality, the affair seems cheap and tawdry, and the marriage looks maybe not so bad after all.
But even if their affair led them to exit a lousy marriage. Even if they are in love with their affair partner, those who really get what they've done will likely regret the cheating, if not the relationship. They recognize that, for gawd's sake, it wouldn't kill them to just file for divorce THEN jump into bed with the great love of their life. And it would likely leave them and their ex-spouse with dignity, generally good feelings towards each other and the respect of their friends, family and children. In other words, they wouldn't be branded a cheater.
And so that brings us back to LiAnn, our textbook cheater, voted most likely to reoffend. Rather than trouble herself with some soul-searching to determine why it was she looked outside her marriage rather than honor her "in good times and in bad" commitment (or perhaps, she struck that one from her vows). Rather than take responsibility for the pain and embarrassment she's caused her soon-to-be-ex-husband. Rather than consider that, just maybe, delayed gratification is the grown-up's way to live a life of dignity, she simply dismisses her cheating as "just not me." The thing is, LiAnn, it clearly is.

Tee-Hee Tuesday: Christine O'Donnell "Masturbation-is-Adultery-Advocate Loses Out

2010-11-02T17:44:00.000-07:00

In a way, I'll miss her bizarre postulations, now that Republican Christine O'Donnell has lost her race. Though perhaps, like many of her ilk, she'll continue to entertain from the fringes.
Regardless of which party we members of the betrayed wives club happen to support, I can't imagine there's a single one among us who thinks that masturbation is adultery. In fact, I firmly believe that ALL of us would rather our husbands made love with Palmala Handerson...than any of the...ahem...partners they chose.

Your "Story of Us": Don't Censor It

2010-10-28T08:35:00.000-07:00

"So how did you two meet?" a new friend asked me recently, about my husband and me.
My stomach clenched.
Of course I have my "Story of Us". Most of us do. It's the one we tell new friends. The one our kids love to hear, at least until they become teenagers at which point they'd prefer us not to speak at all. It's our time-worn, agreed-upon version of how two strangers came together...
Until one steps outside the marriage...and that story suddenly seems more like fiction. How can all that be true? we wonder. And this betrayal be true also? One truth seems to cancel the other out. In our versions of "us", most of us never considered a chapter where one partner violated trust in the worst possible way.
So, when asked, it can be tempting to leave out the painful bits. To give the world the Hollywood version, where even complications are simple and everyone pretty much lives happily ever after, the lighting is never bad and even women who've had three kids have abdomens you could bounce a quarter off.
And, frankly, that's pretty much the version I offer up...though it's clear to anyone looking at me that the abdomen bit is pure fantasy.
But there's a real danger is censoring the story we tell ourselves. In editing out the grief and shame and fear and agony because it just doesn't fit with the version we want.
We just want to get on with it, for goodness' sake. We don't want to keep tripping over the mess and it's so much easier to shove it aside.
Yet it's that mess that often is the soul of our lives.
Honesty can be a balm and a blessing. It can also be painful as hell. But the price we pay for not being honest with ourselves is a sort of half-life. A publicly acceptable life that belies a private hell.
Tell friends and strangers whatever you want and whatever feels safe and right.
But make sure you tell yourself the whole story. Your "Story of Us", especially if "Us" survives intact, just got a whole lot richer and grittier...and real.

Is the Affair the Problem? Or the Symptom...

2010-10-26T20:16:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, a friend of mine, Mary, left her husband for another guy, with whom she had only just started an affair. I was bewildered. Her husband was a good guy. I thought they were happy. This new guy was kinda...creepy. But, Mary insisted to me, she'd never been happier.
That is...until a few months ago. When she dumped this new guy, after a few years of emotional abuse that was inching its way toward physical abuse, I figured she'd be filled with regret. After all, her first husband was really nice guy. And they'd cobbled together a really good friendship, with their three kids as a common denominator. She must be sorry for the way she'd treated him. Sorry she'd left.
Right?
Nope. Not at all.
Mary's affair had really nothing to do with wanting IN to another relationship and everything to do with wanting OUT of the marriage she was in. She just didn't have the clarity or courage at the time to recognize that.
They're called "exit affairs". And they're basically the coward's way of getting out of a relationship. They're frequently the affair of choice for conflict-avoiders, people who don't have the guts to face their spouse and state what they want.
And, at one point in my life, I was one of those cowards.
I was 21 and in a relationship that was getting out of hand. I knew I wasn't happy. I knew it wasn't healthy. But tentative steps out the door resulted in threats of suicide or bitter recriminations. I lacked both the maturity and the sanity at that point to just keep walking.
Instead, I took up with an ex-boyfriend, knowing full well that my current boyfriend would find out. And that his pride simply wouldn't stand for being cheated upon. He, I knew, would dump me.
Which, though totally passive-aggressive, worked just fine for me.
Now though, through the lens of betrayal, I recognize how hurtful my actions were. How immature.

Within a marriage or committed relationship, and when there are children involved, the exit affair makes a painful proposition – the dissolution of a committed relationship and family – so much more painful. It makes a complicated situation so much more complicated. And it makes it far more likely that bitterness and acrimony play starring roles in the divorce proceedings.

Mary was lucky, if you could call it that. Her first husband was as unhappy as she was and, though he initially directed some anger and spite at my friend for her affair and subsequent departure, he ultimately recognized that he was somewhat relieved the marriage was over. He was able to move past his anger and develop a relationship with Mary based on their mutual love for and interest in their kids.

If you suspect your husband had an exit affair, ask yourself whether you think, honestly, the marriage is worth saving. Often by the time one of the spouses wants out, the marriage has actually been dead for awhile. That's not to say it can't be resurrected – and it's worth exploring that option if you genuinely see a future together, even if your spouse doesn't right now.
But some marriages are dead for a good reason. There is a such a thing as a bad fit, two people who, when it's all said and done, simply don't want to be together for any good reason (and no, money, prestige, laziness, fear of being alone, etc. etc. are NOT good reasons).

Was your spouse's affair the problem? Or was it simply a symptom of a dying marriage? Once you can answer that, the next step often seems a whole lot more clear. Either working damn hard to build a marriage that fills both of your souls...or pulling out your best self to work toward a dignified divorce.

Three to Five Years: There Are No Shortcuts...

2010-10-19T21:06:00.000-07:00

"There are no shortcuts to any place worth going," said Beverly Sills.
And ain't THAT the truth.
Still, we think we should get there faster. Whether "there" is getting over our husband's betrayal. Or, perhaps, "there" is no longer caring that he's with the other woman because you're separated. Perhaps "there" is feeling ready to date again. Or maybe "there" is no longer beating yourself up for something that was never your fault in the first place.
But wherever "there" is for you...you're likely not reaching it nearly as quickly as you think you should.
And, I believe, you won't.
It's gonna take a whole lot longer than you expect.
But that's okay. Because, if you take your time... if you really do the hard work necessary to peel back the layers of pain and really turn them all over in your mind and heart, when you do get there, you won't need to keep looking over your shoulder to make sure heartbreak isn't gaining on you.
Three to five years, say the experts. Three to five years!
Yep, I know it sounds like an eternity. I'm with you. For gawd's sake, I could have conceived and given birth to an entire basketball team in that time.
But – and I speak from experience here – I'm finally starting to feel as if I'm wearing my own skin again. And it has been – get ready for it! – two months shy of FOUR YEARS.
When I first heard the three- to five-year timeline – about one month after D-Day – I didn't believe it. Didn't want to. Figured that maybe it takes OTHER people that long. But I'll just fast-track this healing stuff and be back on my feet in a few months.
Uhhh...sure.
That was around the time I was face down on my bathroom floor, sobbing into my dog's neck (who, incidentally, was just diagnosed with bone cancer. Honestly, can't I catch a break?? Please??).
It was around the time I had lost 15 pounds without even trying (I'll be honest – the highlight of my day was stepping on the scales...then I'd go back to feeling miserable) and I didn't bother applying any makeup because it was just going to slide down my face by 9:15 a.m.
Still, THREE TO FIVE YEARS??
Yep.
You could probably reduce that time-frame if, unlike me, you manage to skip the whole self-loathing suicidal period, which lasted close to a year and forced me to face all sorts of childhood abandonment issues I thought I'd successfully drowned in copious amounts of wine when I was 15.
But though it seems like a long time (and it is!), the place you'll end up is really amazing.
Having to reassemble my heart took time and courage, but it also allowed me to step into myself fully – something I'd never done. It offered me a glimpse into how much of my heart was going into relationships (not just my marriage, but with friends, colleagues, hangers-on...) that drained me. I'm far better able to recognize these emotional vampires, and to protect myself. As a result, I'm less blurry around the edges. I know exactly where I end and someone else begins.
So, yeah, three to five years.
Sorry.
But you just might find, as I did, it's worth the trip.

I'll tell you my story, you tell me yours...

2010-10-17T17:37:00.000-07:00

I recently ran into a friend whom I hadn't seen in a few years. Last I'd heard, her divorce was final and she was dating a wonderful man, whom she adored.
However, she now filled me in. Her new man, thanks to a fling before the two of them got together, had fathered a child – a fact that came to light after my friend was completely in love and committed to this guy. And though her new love was eager for a relationship with his new son, the mother was using her child as leverage to try and extract some sort of relationship.
Which left my friend feeling constantly off-balance. And wounded. Full of fear. Full of "what-ifs".
I could offer little more than my sympathy.
"I'm in such pain," my friend confessed. "And I wonder if it'll ever go away."
I know the feeling. Well.
And so I said, "It might not. It might just be something you learn to live with." And, I suggested, leaving her beloved might remove the pain of his fatherhood and relationship with this other woman...but it will replace it with the pain of the loss of this man in her life.
She looked at me, surprised. And relieved.
Her friends had all pretty much told her to "get over it," she said. They thought she was making a big deal out of nothing.
Easy, I assume, for them to say.
And it drove home something of which I've become increasingly convinced.
Pain left unshared isolates us. It keeps us feeling alienated.
Yet pain shared connects us. It allows us to bear up beneath its weight and know that though we might not feel we can handle it, there are those who will carry us. If you take one step towards the gods, the saying goes, the gods will take ten steps towards you.
The need for connection is why I began this site. And why I'm so grateful for your comments, the ones that let me know how valuable you find it. The ones that tell me your story.
No matter the specific details, our stories, though ours alone, connect us. They remind us that we're not alone in our pain. Every crisis we face is a chance to step into our own greatness. And to share our story in order that we can help each other.

Getting Unstuck: Ask Your Body For Answers

2010-10-08T08:03:00.000-07:00

In many ways I envied the women who, upon learning of their spouse's infidelity, simply walked out the door with a breezy buh-bye over their shoulder. But even more than I envied what I believed to be the shiny new life they were walking into was their certainty.
I sometimes blame the fact that I'm a Gemini (on the one hand..., but on the other...) for my inability to simply, uncategorically make choices without second-guessing, regrets or what-ifs. But whether it's the stars or my parents or my second-grade teacher who's to blame for my wavering, I seem stuck with it. I can barely decide whether to buy the generic toilet paper or pay extra for the name-brand, let alone whether to stick with my unfaithful spouse and keep my family intact, or make for the hills.
Which is why I found the following (thanks to Martha Beck's Finding Your Own North Star) so interesting:

Your social self lives by what psychiatrist Alice Miller sees as the cardinal rule of all repressive social systems: "Thou shalt not be aware."... Don't know what you know, and don't feel what you feel.

Once you've learned to obey this rule, you can easily lose access to your own experience of joy and desire, loathing and revulsion... Since the only way to find lost feelings is to feel for them, the search for your own heart is always a blind one. Instead of any clear impulse, you register only flat nothingness, a hollow, yearning ache that doesn't lead you clearly in any direction at all.

Wow. Sounds a whole lot like me. And, likely, a lot like you if one of the ways you coped with your spouse's betrayal was to stop feeling.
Cutting yourself off from feeling can work in the short-term. It can get your kids to soccer practice. It can get you to your desk. It can get dinner on the table.
What it can't do is get you to your next step. At least not decisively.
It's taken me a few years of putting in time to realize this. Of not feeling and simply moving along in my life and marriage. Not so much deciding what I want in my life as letting life decide for me. Which isn't a bad thing for a period of time. It can make sense to simply bide your time until choices become clear. But they won't – can't – become clear if you're so divorced from your own feelings that you don't even feel them anymore.
What Beck suggests sounds rather odd. She maintains that the answers rest in your body. Literally. That by taking an inventory of your body parts and soliciting their opinions (I'm not kidding here!), you'll find your answer. She takes her view on this from Asian philosophy which, as she points out, insists that it's our bodies that hold the answers, not our minds, which bend and change to all sorts of untrustworthy beliefs.
It's an interesting exercise and one that I recommend, if only because it can't hurt and doesn't cost a thing.
How?
Get as relaxed as you can without the benefit of drugs/alcohol. Try and still the mind, which, if yours is as annoyingly toddler-like as mine, is no easy task. Then start paying attention to your body, starting with each toe. (Settle in, this is going to take awhile.) Ask yourself what it's feeling, Beck suggests. Hot, cold, itchy... "Don't think," she admonishes, "just describe." Again, if you're like me, you'll likely start to notice, if you don't on a regular basis, that certain parts of your body are...tense or tight. Beck advises us that there's likely a lot of information being stored in those parts.
Think of these tense parts as frozen. Try and breathe warmth into them and let them thaw.
This is where the exercise can get uncomfortable emotionally. Locking feelings up keeps us safe from them. And letting them out releases the capacity to once again feel pain. And as we all know far too well, pain sucks. A lot.
The thing is, NOT feeling pain doesn't serve us either. It keeps us alive...but not living.
The time will come when you have to let it out. Sadness, anger, hatred, fear. You have to allow the feelings to breathe...and within them to find your answers.
You'll also be surprised to discover that, rather than paralyzing you with pain (though it can be excruciating to feel them) these feelings will actually make things a whole lot clearer. You might not miraculously know what the rest of your life will look like, but you'll be far clearer about what you want it to look like. And therefore, what you should do to create it.
It's not magic. And it takes a certain conviction, not to mention suspension of judgement to undertake such an exercise.
But if you stick with it (even making it a daily practice, as Beck does), you just might find your answers aren't in the stars at all...but in your kidney.

More Danielle Laporte: How to Build Confidence

2010-10-02T18:40:00.000-07:00

Tummy trembles. Brain Fuzz. That discombobulating feeling that you’re not quite sure what you should be doing but you should be doing something to keep your act together. Think of it this way, beneath the butterflies in your stomach, behind the clouds in your mind…is your greater truth, and it’s trying to break on through. Whatever you want to call it, positive thinking, re-framing, self-encouragement, ra-ra-rah, this is where you need to step up to the plate, look at your fear head on and confront it with your truth. The truth being, that you manage to get through everyday whether with grace or grit; that fear will not kill you; that your God, or your friends, or your grandma in heaven will have your back; that you have risen above before, and that you will rise above again; that, it’s only life after all.

—Danielle Laporte, creator of The Firestarter Sessions

Read the whole interview on Girl Habits!

When "Worst" Gets Worse

2010-09-30T11:10:00.000-07:00

There were a couple of comments to The Worst Is Over post that gave me pause. Perhaps that's easy for me to say. Three-plus years from D-Day and the dust has pretty much settled. I'm able to see far more clearly that the worst is indeed over.
When you're still navigating the emotional debris wrought by the D-Day bomb, it's not always so clear.
And with the very real possibility that there's more D-Day bombs to follow (men rarely let it all out in one clean sweep. It's called the "trickle truth" because it trickles out, like a faulty faucet over days and weeks and sometimes months). Or the reality of a looming divorce. And when there are kids involved, sometimes the worst (finding out about your spouse's infidelity in the first place) pales in comparison to having to tell children that a divorce is inevitable.
I've dodged that bullet. Thus far, anyway.
Though my marriage is slowly being rebuilt, brick by back-breaking brick, the threat of divorce hangs like a storm cloud just on the horizon. And I know for me that would be the worst. Because it's something I can control – whether to leave or stay – and that it affects my children who wouldn't have a choice in the matter.
So, I'll be honest, there are degrees of worst.
There's the "worst" we can't control – the shocking, devastating news of betrayal. The STD we contracted. The "other child" that's born. The divorce we don't want.
And there's the "worst" we can control – the boundary setting that completely freaks us out because it seems so unnatural to relegate our husbands to the couch until they offer up full disclosure...and a clean bill of health. The "other child" we choose not to acknowledge. The divorce we do want.
Wherever your worst falls on the spectrum, acknowledge it...then let it pass. It won't last forever, even if it feels that way.
You will be able to say, sooner than you expect, that "the worst is over."

The Worst Is Over

2010-09-23T07:30:00.000-07:00

I recently came across this HuffPo post on dealing with the trauma of betrayal.
Betrayal trauma was a notion I resisted. I remembered all too well my response when a friend asked the hypothetical question, "what would you do if your husband cheated." Back then, I knew exactly what I'd do. Dump him. I was so sure that I'd kick him out the house, march straight to a divorce lawyer, wipe my hands clean of him and move forward into my life. At no point did I imagine trauma. Wasn't that for people who'd been raped? Or prisoners of war? Or abused? A cheating husband might lead to anger, I thought, but not trauma.
File that quaint notion under the "yeah, right" category.
Following D-Day, I couldn't sleep more than a couple of hours at a time, waking to panic. I felt powerless. Enraged. Terrified. One day I would feel numb but fine. The next, I couldn't get out of bed. I became a stranger to myself, entertaining thoughts of suicide. Anything to avoid this pain that I thought was endless.
Then a friend, who worked with adult survivors of sex abuse, suggested I was experiencing post-trauma.
She gently explained to me that betrayal is trauma. Her list of "symptoms" rang true.
I felt guilty, however, putting myself in the same list as rape victims. Or abuse survivors. I felt like my experience didn't warrant being traumatized. I should be able to get over this, I thought. I should be stronger.
But I wasn't.
I wish then that I'd heard those words:

The worst is over.

According to Judith Acosta, who wrote the HuffPo blog piece and a book entitled The Worst is Over, those are the most critical words a terrified and traumatized person needs to hear.
And, with the brilliance of hindsight, I know she's right.
Knowing that the worst is over – that gut-dropping, brain-scrambling discovery that what you thought was...wasn't won't ever be repeated because you'll never be caught so off-guard again – can help you breathe again. It can help you focus on what's ahead, instead of what's behind. It can give you the trust in yourself to know that you survived...and that the worst is, indeed, over.
If you can't believe that, then more trauma work is probably a good idea. If you find yourself hyper-vigilant for any signs of impending pain because you just don't think you could go through it again, find someone to hold your hand and your heart (a therapist is darn good at doing that!) while you heal.
But in the short-term just keep telling yourself the worst is over.
Because it's true.

Guest Blog: Heart broken? Here's how to heal...

2010-09-20T18:10:00.000-07:00

by Vikki Stark

[Editor's note: I came across this blog post on womenonthefence.com and thought it was insightful and compassionate and could help a lot of us betrayed wives. Vikki generously allowed me to reprint it here.]

The fall of 2006 should have been one of the happiest times of my life. My first book, My Sister, My Self, had just been published and I’d just completed a book tour speaking at bookstores and community centers across the United States about sister relationships, the subject of my book. Planning the trip, I’d envisioned how great it would be out there driving the open road alone, listening to local radio stations and getting the chance to talk with dozens of women about a topic dear to their hearts. Although the reality of driving three thousand miles across America proved to be much more challenging than I’d expected, at least I had backup. During our nightly phone calls, my husband of twenty-one years was cheering me on, telling me how proud he was, always encouraging me.

After three sometimes very lonely weeks on the road, I took the red-eye back east from California, stumbled off the plane and fell into my husband’s arms in tears. I was so relieved to be home, so happy to see him. There was only one more event on the book tour later that week, and it was the one I was most eagerly anticipating—my official book launch in Montreal where I live. All my friends were coming (some flying in from New York), as were the press, my colleagues and many of the women who participated in The Sisters Project that formed the basis of my book. We were expecting close to a hundred people. It was to be my triumphant return—the best day in my life!

When we returned from the airport, my husband dropped me at home and rushed right off to work, which I found a bit odd; usually he loved to stop for coffee and reconnect whenever one of us returned from a trip. I took a shower and noticed a long dark hair in the bathtub but thought little of it. Later, however, when I was on the phone with my longhaired daughter, I asked, as an afterthought, if she’d been at the house recently. She said no, not while I was away. Then I forgot about it.

I spent the day unwinding from the trip and enjoying the anticipation of the upcoming book launch. That evening, when my husband arrived home from work, I threaded my arm through his, gave him a squeeze and said, “I bought fish.” He looked at me rather strangely and said, “It’s over.” I stared at him and asked, “What’s over?” vaguely thinking that that was a weird way to say that he didn’t want to eat fish anymore. He answered, “The marriage. It’s over. I’m leaving you. I’m moving in with my girlfriend.” Horrified, I watched the words take shape in slow motion as they left his mouth and hang in the air before they crumbled. Pow! Shock! I’d spent twenty-three days on the road only to be hit by a Mack truck in my own living room.

My husband had never mentioned that he was unhappy or thinking of leaving me. During the previous months, he’d signed greeting cards with endearments like, “I love you with all of my heart,” “Thank you for the myriad joys you bring me” and “You are the rock of my life – then, now, always!” Until the moment of his revelation, I was deeply in love and believed him to be, too. Had you tapped me on the shoulder five minutes earlier and asked me to describe my marriage, my eyes would have misted up as I rhapsodized about how my husband was the most loving, attentive, and trustworthy man any woman had ever married and how lucky I was to have found him. In other words, I’d had no idea!

Although at the time I felt as though this bizarre event was unique to me, unfortunately, as time went on, I learned that Wife Abandonment Syndrome is reaching epidemic proportions. I started a study of this phenomenon and defined it as a pattern of behavior on the part of a husband who leaves his wife out-of-the-blue without ever having told her that he was unhappy in the marriage. Following his sudden departure, he replaces the caring he’d typically shown her with anger and aggression. He often moves directly in with a girlfriend, leaving his bewildered wife totally devastated. This will undoubtedly be the defining event in her life, and although recovery is a struggle, many women find that it forces them to reinvent themselves in positive and exciting new ways.

The moment of rupture starts an exhausting, painful process and it will take a very long time until life feels normal again. It will, but it will be a “new normal” – unrecognizable from the life you were living till now. In the early stages, you will be desperate to understand what happened and how the man you loved and believed loved you could morph overnight into an angry stranger. Your mind will be spinning relentlessly as you try to make sense of it all. But you can empower yourself to try to fight the negative self-defeating thoughts.

Harnessing your mind requires practice and a willingness to reach for happiness, even in the midst of your misery. Too often people wrap the victim label around themselves like a protective garment, reluctant to remove it. But if you can get in touch with the healthiest part inside of you, the one that knows you need to keep building a life for yourself, then you can boost your recovery from heartbreak. And this goes for any broken relationship.

No doubt, time is the best healer, but while we’re waiting, here are some tricks you can use to make it through the days if you or perhaps someone you know has been effected in this way:

Sweep, Sweep, Sweep

Imagine that your mind is a small, wooden-floored room that keeps getting all dusty and dirty with your negative thoughts. Now visualize a tiny, inch-high cleaning lady snoozing in the corner of the room, an old-fashioned twig broom leaning against her chair. When your thinking drifts back into dangerous territory, wake her up and urge her to “sweep, sweep, sweep” away those pesky thoughts! Imagine her working away furiously, tidying up the floor, sweeping all that unwanted muck out the door and making the place spic ‘n span.

Barking Dog

This simple but effective trick helps you separate yourself from intrusive thoughts.

Imagine that you’re walking down the street and you see a dog chained up to a fence next to the sidewalk, barking wildly at you. Continue on your way down the street knowing that the racket he’s making, which represents the cacophony of thoughts in your head, can’t hurt you. It’s just noise. Hold your head up and keep on walking.

Shake It Off

While we’re on the topic of canines, here’s another very simple option for breaking out of a bad mind-set. You know how a wet dog shakes from head to tail in that goofy way to dry himself off? Well, when you need to lift yourself out of a funk, stand up and literally shake it off. “Shake, shake, shake” from head to toe, good and hard. Waggle your arms, bobble your head (but remember to remove your glasses first!), jiggle your derrière! It’s guaranteed to break the spell at least a little bit. Try it now!

Paint the Wall

This technique enables you to manage those rotten bad feelings you walk around with. Picture yourself vigorously painting all those angry, hurt, pent-up feelings in strong colors on a great big wall. Use your whole body, jabbing and stroking until the wall is violent with color. Stand back and take a good look at the turmoil exteriorized. Then imagine grabbing a roller, dipping it in a tray of thick white paint and rolling it criss-cross and up and down until the wall is covered all over with a field of pure white. Stand back again and let yourself exhale. Then inhale and breathe in the clean paint smell!

Recovering relatively unscarred from the unwanted end of a relationship requires that you use all your positive energy to fight off those doom and gloom thoughts that hold you back. Happiness is a choice that we have to keep making for ourselves at every twist and turn in our lives – the choice to roll up our sleeves and do whatever it takes to keep moving forward – even if it means shaking from head to toe like a wet cocker spaniel.

– Vikki

I would love your thoughts. Have you been the victim of a runaway husband? Have you been abandoned by a spouse? Has your relationship ended without you truly understanding what went wrong? How have you been coping? I encourage you to share your stories, even anonymously.

***************************

Vikki Stark, M.S.W., is a family therapist and the author of Runaway Husbands: The Abandoned Wife’s Guide to Recovery and Renewal. The book is based both on Stark’s own experience as well as the Sudden Wife Abandonment Project in which she interviewed over 400 women worldwide.

Stark has brought women together through her website, www.RunawayHusbands.com, which is an active resource center for those who have experienced Wife Abandonment Syndrome. It has become a life raft for many women seeking support and counsel. Runaway Husbands is available through the website or from online booksellers.

The Myth of Closure

2010-09-17T07:31:00.000-07:00

"When will this be over?"
How many times have we asked ourselves that question, in the days, weeks, months...sometimes years following learning of our partners' betrayal? Particularly disheartening is the awareness that, after much hard work and healing, we can still be brought to our knees by a song on a radio. Or a glimpse of the OW at the grocery store. Or stumbling across an old credit card receipt that reminds us.... And suddenly the pain feels so raw it leaves us breathless.
And asking the universe – for the zillionth time – when will this be over.
The unfortunate answer is, likely, never.
We can do everything "right" according to the infidelity experts. We can sign off on the no-contact letter, create boundaries, redefine our relationships, even deal face-to-face with the OW and triumph.
But we're deluding ourselves if we think that we can somehow close the door on what happened. Tuck it away in some box and put it on a shelf where we don't have to think about it.
And, frankly, that wouldn't be wise.
"Pain engraves a deeper memory," says poet Anne Sexton.
Which is why, in spite of years of happiness, one act of betrayal can cut us to the bone.
And yet, pain is often where we find our most valuable lessons. It's where we find our truest selves.
Burying those lessons and the self held within only makes them more determined – and likely – to resurface.
Instead, though the idea of denial is an appealing one (just one more drink! A tiny pill to help me sleep! A new pair of shoes! Another piece of cake!), it's important to examine the pain. To see where life took that unexpected turn. To turn it over in our minds, not for the pain itself but for the lesson it holds.
When that lesson is revealed – we sacrifice too much then feel resentful, we ignore our gut feelings, we need to create firmer boundaries... – it's far less likely that the pain will have the same bite.
Closure? It's possible, I think, to create rituals that help us move forward in our life. Or to have the necessary conversation. Or burn the letters. Or whatever it is we think is necessary to heal. But to think that we can ever shut the door on betrayal is a myth. We are changed by it...from this day forward.

Are you nice? Or kind? It's NOT the same thing...

2010-09-15T19:17:00.000-07:00

I recently read a great post from Danielle Laporte, whose e-mails/blog posts I highly recommend for their thought-provoking and butt-kicking energy. Laporte is a champion of women and a hero to the betrayed -- in large part because of her take-no-prisoners approach to life, something most of us could emulate to move us from victimhood to triumph.
But one thing in particular stood out for me in her post. It was this:

"She knows that playing nice perpetuates irresponsibility, but that kindness is wildly fertile."

Wow.
I think I've spent far too much of my life being nice...and not nearly enough being kind. Especially to myself. Nice means remembering to send the thank-you note. Kind means only attending if I really want to.
Nice is writing the cheque. Kind is rolling up my sleeves and helping.
Nice is...lukewarm. And forgettable.
Kind is hot-chocolate warm. And memorable.

What does any of this have to do with betrayal?
I used betrayal...after I could manage to get myself out of bed, showered and functioning the real world, to take a long, hard look at my life and figure out what to keep and what to toss. And yes, my husband was up for debate.
Betrayal stripped me bare, which allowed me to start from scratch – rebuilding a life that served me. I figured I'd done enough to make other people happy. Now it was my turn...
The result? The "nice" me is nothing more than a bad memory. The kind me has taken her place.
It's not easy. The "nice" me still tries to jockey her way back into the lead. She whispers recriminations, like "the Parent Association not going to like it if you say "no" to their request". Or chastises me for telling my husband that, yes, I am too busy to pick up his dry-cleaning.
Kind-me, however, is quick (well, okay, sometimes not so quick. Sometimes she's snoozing...) to edge nice-me aside. Kind-me remembers how frustrated I felt by all the demands on my time. How powerless I felt. How desperately I thought I needed everyone's approval.
She remembers the lies I told myself to keep my world intact.
Kind-me knows that nice abdicates responsibility for my own happiness. It fears the type of just-dive-in commitment that creates an authentic life. Kind ensures my happiness is top of the list. Not anyone else's list but my own.
Which is as it should be.

For the newly betrayed...

2010-09-08T19:14:00.000-07:00

Though I'm more than three years out from D-Day #2, lately I've felt as if I'm dealing with it all over again. And though I know this happens (it's called "recycling", says my therapist, and it's NOT to be confused with regressing), it still frightens me that I'll never get past this.
And it reminds me of those first few weeks/months. Perhaps by outlining what happened to me in those hell-filled days, I can help someone else whose days seem too dark to ever see light again.

Sleep
Or rather lack thereof. Though I'm tossing and turning lately, immediately post D-Day I barely slept a wink. If I was able to fall asleep at all (thank-YOU Gravol!), I would awaken a few hours later with that horrible pit in my stomach and the tears would flow again.
Rest assured (ha!), you will sleep again someday. Melatonin can work wonders -- it's non-addictive, available in the vitamin section of your pharmacy and basically gets your adrenal system under control so that your body isn't sending shots of adrenaline to warn you that you're under attack. The attack is over. Now's time to figure out what the hell happened...

Eating
Though I suppose it's possible to turn to food for comfort, every BWC member I know couldn't touch a think – not even Brownie Fudge Meltdown with Skor bars sprinkled on top. The upside was a butt considerably smaller than pre-D-day. The down side was, well, the down side was that I felt like absolute crap, no matter that I looked awesome in skinny jeans.
Eat what you can – a small bowl of soup, a few bites of grilled cheese. Whatever you can get past that lump in your throat. Steer clear of junk food...and alcohol. Both contain the wrong kind of calories and can lead to increased self-loathing. Keep your loathing targeted where it belongs – at your husband.

Staying sane
I'm not exactly an expert on this one. I swear I'm nowhere near as sane as I once considered myself. However, I'm still standing and my children haven't been taken from me so I must be doing something right. The best advice I can give is to keep the focus on you. As much as you can, resist indulging in fantasies of what you'd say to the OW, given the chance. Or what you'd do to her. Or trolling Facebook to find out what she's saying. Or calling her cell phone to leave nasty messages. Or. Or. Or.
It might be a struggle (some days more than others) but focus on what YOU need: a warm bath, a good run, some new clothes, lunch with a trusted friend, a movie marathon... Whatever! Give it to yourself. And when you find yourself thinking of the OW or your husband with the OW, picture a huge STOP sign. Or put an elastic band around your wrist and give it a good snap when you shift focus off of you.
There's nothing you can do to change what's done. But you can treat yourself with the respect that everyone should treat you with. And, in the process, find your way back to sanity a whole lot faster.

Find help
I was more devastated by my husband's betrayal than I ever dreamed I would be. It, quite literally, killed my spirit and send me spiralling down. If, like me, you find yourself harbouring thoughts of suicide, run, don't walk, to your phone and call a suicide hotline or find yourself a therapist who can pull you back. For me at least, suicide looked like an escape hatch from seemingly insurmountable pain. But the pain is surmountable. It's an illusion that you won't get over it. You will. That I can promise.

Gather strength from those of us who've been there
There are some great online groups with plenty of wonderful, wise people who can assure you that life will get better. Survivinginfidelity.com is a great site, which saved me from total despair more than once. And please don't hesitate to share your story here (or just lurk, if that's all you're ready for!). We're a great bunch of women. Though the details of our betrayal might vary, we share a strength and a compassion. And a road back to happiness.