Four Questions You Should Ask After His Affair

I'm in North Carolina at the My Heartbreak, My Rules, My Healing weekend so I may be offline for  bit. I apologize if it takes some time before I can moderate comments. 

Last week I wrote a post about the questions we're so often plagued by after discovering a partner's infidelity. Questions that undermine our healing.
And then, over the weekend, I got thinking about the questions we should be asking ourselves.

1. What does he need to do to convince me he's worth a second chance?
It's one of betrayal's ironies that right when we should be utterly outraged at our partner's lies and deception, we are, instead, terrified that he'll leave. Not all of us, of course. Many of us throw his clothes on the front lawn, call his mother or sister or boss, text him to not bother coming home. But some of us, like me, have such a deep fear of abandonment that all I could think about was being left. Scratch that. It wasn't thinking about being left, it was deeper than that: It was feeling the terror of being left.
And so I gave my husband a blow-job. Sure I berated him for the pain I was in but I didn't kick him out. I didn't throw him on the couch. I did a few things right, like demand that he remove her from his office and never EVER have contact with her again. Like insist on access to his phone and computer. Like demand that he be home every single night to help me with our three children as I was falling to pieces.
And as my husband responded to my demands, as he struggled to convince me he was worth a second chance, it worked. I saw how hard he was working. I watched him fight like hell to understand how he could do such a thing and risk a family he loved.
What is your husband doing? If he's not fighting like hell, why not? If he's still on the fence about whether or not he'll give up the OW, what are you waiting for?
This is your time to figure out whether this guy is worth the ridiculously hard work of rebuilding a marriage after betrayal. So many of us question our own worthiness in the wake of betrayal -- wondering what's wrong with us that he cheated. There's nothing wrong with us. Him? Well, he's a cheater so that's one strike against him. Let's just see whether he's worth fighting for. 

2. What can I give to myself to help me heal from this?
You cannot control your husband, as if that isn't painfully clear at this point. But we forget that, don't we? We think if only he cuts off contact, re-dedicates himself to his family, reminds us why he doesn't want to lose us that we'll magically feel better. But it doesn't work that way. Betrayal is a wound that remains even if your husband is the most remorseful ever. Even if he does everything right (after doing a HUGE wrong).
But you can control yourself, which is the only thing you've ever been able to control. Which means...your healing is your responsibility but also your salvation. Therapy, loyal friends, time alone, time together, journalling, retreats...whatever you need, find a way to give it to yourself. Maybe you're realizing that you got lost a long time before he cheated. Maybe you cheated yourself before he did. Out of an education you wanted. A career you hoped for. A family you dreamed of. Get to know yourself again and then give that wounded woman what she needs to heal from this.

3. When/where have I violated my own boundaries in my marriage?
In other words, what behaviour have I tolerated that made me feel unvalued and unsafe, emotionally or physically? And remember, it's not always a clear-cut thing. My boundaries had always been so fuzzy that I was only vaguely aware of when they were being violated. It didn't show up in my consciousness as a "hell no! you can't do that!" so much as a simmering resentment, a knot in my stomach, a muffled anger. For instance, I routinely allowed my husband's work to be considered more important than my work. Yes, he earned more money, though there's little doubt that was partly the result of a dynamic that gave him more time/energy to devote to his career than I was able to devote to mine. And, I would tell myself, it was my choice to want to be home with my children. But that was just a way of rationalizing the lack of consideration I was getting in my marriage. It was a way of justifying that my marriage didn't feel fair.
Healing from his betrayal and rebuilding a marriage worth staying for meant taking a hard look at the ways in which I had allowed my own wants and needs to become secondary. Not rocking the boat became more important than advocating for myself. That's an unhealthy dynamic and one that needed fixing if I was going to stay in my marriage.

4. Do I believe myself worthy of love and respect?
This is a tough one because most of will automatically respond with "of course". Of course, we believe ourselves worthy. Who wouldn't? And yet, looking closely at the way we treat ourselves, or the way we allow ourselves to be treated can sometimes reveal the lie beneath that. We believe ourselves worthy of love and respect and yet we don't insist that our partners share in the labor around the home. We believe ourselves worthy of love and respect and yet we tolerate our husbands "teasing" us about our weight gain. Or making fun of our dream of going back to school.
Pay attention to those insidious ways in which we disrespect ourselves. Notice the times when his joke is at our expense, or his wants/needs are automatically assumed to take priority.
And, perhaps most importantly, pay attention to how we talk to ourselves. That internal critic, the one that shames us for thick thighs, or crow's feet, or a burned dinner, or a thoughtless remark, can be relentlessly cruel. My own inner critic, despite years of trying to silence her, still shows up to point out that my career isn't as great as another writer I know. Or reminds me, daily, that my body is showing its age. And that's just the beginning.
Pay attention. Remind yourself that you are worthy of love and respect and, I promise, you will begin to believe it. And then you will accept nothing less from those around you.

Wednesday Word Hug

Dealing with a Child of the Affair?

A visitor to this site recently noted that she hasn't found much info on this site related to dealing with a child of the affair. That's largely because it wasn't my experience so I don't have much to offer. And it's SUCH a difficult situation that I can scarcely imagine how painful it is. However, Phoenix often weighs in with what's happening in her life and has articulated so beautifully her struggle to manage her pain while not poisoning her own children against their half-brother. 

You there Phoenix?

Anyone else with thoughts related to this? 

Thanks, as always, for any light you can shine for one of our secret sisters. 

Guest Post: Life After

by Laura S., founder of Infidelity Counseling Network

I did not stay in my marriage. I am still married.

How can that be true?

The answer lies in the term “stay.” A simple word but a deceptive one. After my husband’s affair, we decided to try to mend our relationship. Mending a relationship is a journey of healing (always), pain (unfortunately), honesty (ouch), hard work, vulnerability, more hard work, more honesty, and partnership. Staying in a relationship is something completely different. If you stayed in your marriage but still feel wounded, you know exactly what I mean.

You cannot mend your marriage all by yourself. It takes both partners, fully invested in recovering from the infidelity and the destruction that betrayal pours everywhere, like seeping poison. And if your partner is not remotely interested in mending, then you have a choice: you can end the relationship or you can “stay” in it, knowing that it is injured and cracked.

So what did we do? Oh, there are zillions of books and articles and websites that give the seemingly magic recipe but truly it’s an individual path like any type of personal growth. We went to couples’ therapy. We went to individual therapy. We attended a healing weekend retreat. We learned about communication. He explored the reasons for his betrayal. I explored my own self. He tried to figure out why he hurt me. We read “The Monogamy Myth” by Peggy Vaughan and “Mating in Captivity” by Esther Perel. He saw my pain, he shared my pain, he grieved over my pain. He worked through his issues and I threw things (okay, that didn’t help). I broke things (ditto). We yelled. We cried. We yelled again. We committed to brutal honesty. We lied. We told the truth.

And above all, we agreed that we did not want only to “stay”. We wanted a healed relationship or nothing at all. I wanted his integrity or nothing at all.

I do want to be careful here about seeming holier-than-thou. Some may interpret my story this way. But the infidelity conversation has to allow for good people making hurtful choices, just as it allows for bad people making hurtful choices. And why did we try to mend? Eight years later, I can barely remember. It was a complex reason having to do with love, kids, finances, shame (if we get divorced, what will our families think?), stubbornness, hope, and 23 years of history together (good times and awful times) that were not ready to be stored away.

Three months later, we could be tentative friends again. Seven months later, he moved back in. Two years later, we had recovered our marriage. Eight years later, my friends say, “I bet you guys never fight.” Are they kidding?  Of course we do. We are imperfect. Our marriage has ups and downs, just like everyone’s.

I don’t mean to imply that some paths are better than others. There are many valid reasons to stay, just as there are valid reasons to end it or mend it. I just want to be careful about the language we use. Recovery from betrayal is both powerful and exhausting, whether by yourself or with your partner, and in that shared pain we somehow, eventually, survive.

Infidelity Counseling Network offers peer mentoring (on a sliding scale) for anyone dealing with betrayal. 

Beware the Resistance: Five Questions To Stop Asking

This has nothing to do with questions but black cats are the best.

Sure the circumstances of our betrayal vary. For some, the OW was a friend (extra ouch!). For others, their partner confessed. For me, the affair I learned about was the gateway to a hell of many many others that I hadn't a clue about.
However you find yourself here, you want help. The pain feels endless, each excruciating day rolling into another with no discernible hope. He keeps saying stupid hurtful things, or refusing to say anything at all. Your friends, the few whom you've confided in, are growing weary of your need, or they're exasperated that you're not taking their advice to leave, or they're fuelling the drama.
And you've got this nagging fear that's keeping you stuck, this script that won't let up. What if you made the wrong choice? What if he cheats again? What if you're giving up your chance to be happy for the sake of...what exactly? Avoiding conflict? Preserving your family? Fear of the unknown?
I've been there. It has been said that depression is an inability to release the past and anxiety is an inability to release the future. I lived between those two states. Profoundly depressed at how wrong I'd been about my marriage and profoundly anxious about being wrong again. What if...? What if...?What if...?
But most of it boiled down to five questions that I couldn't shake. Questions that woke me up and kept me up. Questions that chased me through my days.
You too? Well...you're not alone.
But here's how to slay those questions and, hopefully, put them to rest for good:
Question #1: Did he cheat because there's something wrong with me?
No, he cheated because there's something wrong with him. Sure there are guys who say they cheated because their wife gained weight. Or lost interest in sex. Or nagged too much. But though they might actually even believe that's true, it's not. Not entirely.
Cause here's the thing. He could have talked to you. He could have shared how he was feeling. Tough? Absolutely. But not nearly as horrible as cheating on someone.
Far more often, though, a guy cheats because he's unhappy with himself. Maybe he's unhappy that he's not more successful at this age. Or because he's getting older. Or because he drinks too much. Or because he knows how resentful his wife is that he's never around. SO MUCH EASIER to blame you for his unhappiness than take responsibility for it.
And, again, if he's truly unhappy with you, with his marriage, then he can share that crucial tidbit of info. And ask for counselling or a divorce. You know...the grown-up way.

Question #2: By staying, aren't I letting him off the hook?
Nope. I hear this one all the time. I FELT this one all the time.
But what, exactly, is "off the hook"? Is it "off the hook" if your husband must attend a 12-step group to deal with his addiction issues? Is it "off the hook" if your husband must hand over any/all passwords, e-mail addresses? Is it "off the hook" if he checks in with you about where he is? By "off the hook", do we mean couples counselling? Reading books about healing from infidelity? Giving up boys' weekends? We don't ask those things of our husbands to punish them for transgressing but to help us heal, to help rebuild trust.
I don't know a single guy who would consider having to look in their wife's eyes and seeing the world of pain there as "off the hook". Rather, by staying and facing the damage caused by cheating, these guys are constantly on the hook. They've chosen that hook, knowing full-well that they put themselves there.

Question #3: What if he cheats again? Or is still cheating?
Well, then, you give some thought to what you'll do if you discover he's still cheating or cheats again in the future. SOME thought. Not daily obsessing. If he cheats again, then I will file for divorce. If he cheats again, I will pack up the children and go to my sister's. Fill it in yourself: If he cheats again, I will...  The key is to have your plan in place so that if you discover he's cheating again or still, you don't have to rely on your brain to formulate rational thought. You can rely on your plan. You can even include others in it. Tell your best friend. Your sister. Him. And then do it.
In the meantime, put conditions in place so that he can show you (or not) that he deserves this second chance. And then, as best you can (and I KNOW how hard it is), let it go. You can only control yourself. Not him. Ever.

Question #4: Does staying make me a doormat?
A loud "hell no". Staying requires an incredible amount of courage and faith and hard work and I don't give a shit what our culture says about women who don't kick him out, nor do I give a flying f#%k about the "once a cheater" crowd who shame women who choose to stay.
But.
But if you are staying because you are afraid of rocking the boat or his anger, then you are absolutely NOT a doormat but you are likely in an abusive relationship. You are likely accustomed to settling for crumbs. And it will take a whole lot of healing and tapping into the strength that's there, buried, in order to realize your own worthiness. It's only when we feel worthy of leaving that we can truly choose to stay.

Question #5: Will our marriage ever be the same?
NO!! At least, I sure as hell hope not. Too often we look back at our "old" life through a distorted lens. Our marriage was perfect, we were soul-mates, he was my best friend. While that might be true, to a point, your marriage wasn't what you thought it was. He wasn't who you thought he was. Hell, he probably wasn't even who HE thought he was. And that's kinda scary, huh? That the people we think we know absolutely can turn out to be...kinda strangers. This person you think you know so well, that you could predict everything about him, has facets that you didn't know. Longings you didn't know about. Fears you didn't know about. Darkness you didn't know about.
So...yeah. Scary.
But, also, interesting. Because you probably have longings you don't know about (or haven't shared). Fears you don't know about (or haven't shared). Darkness you don't know about (or haven't shared). And this crisis, this crack in your marriage is an invitation to explore that – for each of you to explore that and talk about it and get to know each other more deeply. It can be horribly uncomfortable. We don't like to look at people's darkness. But a refusal to allow others to be fully themselves is the opposite of love. A resistance to another's full humanity is an act of aggression, of silencing, or erasure.
I remember once lamenting to my therapist that my eldest daughter, who was behaving in ways that I didn't like, "wasn't herself". My therapist called me out on it. Of course she's herself, she told me. Who else is she? She's just not someone I liked very much at that point. She was making choices I didn't want her making. And so I told myself that she wasn't herself. In this case, my daughter became unhappy with her own choices and began to choose differently. But that doesn't mean it wasn't "herself" who made those earlier choices.
Our husbands were themselves when they chose to cheat. And we can (and I sure as hell do) HATE that choice. But that was him. He can choose differently. And I hope he will.
Let us hope that your marriage will never be the same. That you both will continue to grow and shift and share that growth with each other, even when it's uncomfortable and squirmy and makes us want to avert our eyes.

Wednesday Word Hug

"Alternative Facts": When We're Told We're Crazy for Seeing What's in Front of Us

As I write this, there's yet another political scandal, this time involving a nominee for a lifetime Supreme Court appointment.
The Internet is practically on fire with people on both sides but along with my outrage I'm struck by how familiar this all feels. Familiar too, I suspect, for you.
We live in a culture in which women's reality is constantly challenged. Not just women, of course. People who are poor. People who are ethnic minorities. People of color. But living in this culture, in which we are constantly questioning and being questioned about our objective reality is crazy-making.
And it grooms us, to some extent for what is pejoratively (and unironically) called "alternative facts":
"She's just a friend."
"We haven't even met in person."
"Why were you even looking at my phone?"
"What...are you following me now?"
"You're acting crazy."
"I can't talk to you when you're so hysterical."
Etcetera.
Etcetera.
We will find ourselves on the defensive. Forget that you've just presented credible evidence that he's cheating on you, YOU will be the one being challenged.
"Your phone was right there. The message flashed."
"I'm not hysterical. I'm just upset."
"I didn't follow you! I saw your car in a strange driveway."
Etcetera.
Etcetera.
Our culture grooms us for this from childhood. We're too sensitive (for pointing out that people say and do incredibly insensitive things.) We have such an imagination (when we point out something that people would prefer remained hidden).
We're hysterical.
We're crazy.
We're emotional.
We're hormonal.
We're jealous.
But the danger of our culture dismissing us grows more dangerous when we begin gaslighting ourselves. When we agree that we're not credible witnesses.
Consider the ways in which your reality has been challenged throughout your life. Those of us who grew up with addiction or neglect or abuse will have a long list of ways in which we denied reality to not rock the boat.
But even those of you in relatively healthy homes can likely recall incidents in which you were subtly or not-so-subtley told to keep quiet because you won't be believed. It's what our culture does to women. Be quiet about the teacher putting his hand on your knee. You don't want to be responsible for him losing his job, after all, he has a wife and kids. Don't make a fuss about the date who was convinced you wanted it. Instead, question your own conduct – after all, what were you wearing? Why out so late? And you were drinking?
My 15-year-old was waiting on a busy street Friday night to be picked up from a theatre program she's involved in. She mentioned yesterday that some guys were hollering at her from across the street. As she told me this, it was as though she was running it through some cultural brain filter in order to make sense of it. It seemed that she was talking less to me than herself. "I was wearing a long t-shirt over a pair of shorts," she mused, wondering aloud that cultural question: What did I do to invite this unwanted attention?
My heart sank. This is a girl who has been told her entire life that her story matters. That her truth matters. That she's believable.
And she's doubting herself.
For all of you out there being told that your suspicions are somehow "crazy", that what you know in your gut is happening isn't happening, that you're just "jealous", I'm with you.
You're not crazy. You're not a hysterical wife.
Far more likely, you are picking up a zillion tiny clues indicating that something's not right here. As best you can, be still. Pay attention to those clues. Collect evidence, if only to remind yourself that your reality is, in fact, reality.
And brace yourself for the gaslighting. For the pushback. For the minimizing.
There's an army of us behind you who believe every word you're saying. Because it's true.