That's not to say any of us get off easy. Infidelity is excruciating. It is to say, however, that some of us are devastated. And others of us are absolutely crippled by it.
My own working theory is that, for those of us who brought certain wounds into our marriage, infidelity re-opens those wounds. And we all know that re-opened wounds take longer to heal.
In my case, having grown up with alcoholic parents in an emotionally unsafe home, marriage (specifically my husband) became my safe place. I believed that I'd created a safe zone in a highly unsafe world. I let my guard down. Whew.
And then...
Pow.
I wasn't safe at all, I found out. The guy I thought had my back was cheating behind my back. And all those feelings I thought had been exorcised – my anxiety, my shame, my fear of abandonment, my deep deep hurt from all those broken promises – came back with a vengeance. I couldn't trust anyone, I deduced. But underneath it all was that childhood conviction that I wasn't worth loving. I wasn't enough.
Turns out my working theory is supported by some pretty smart people. Shirley Glass, who can be credited with writing the definitive guide to affairs, Not Just Friends, has this to say about it:
Individuals who did not develop basic trust during childhood are especially vulnerable to deception by a loved one. Infidelity brings back all of those childhood wounds for a person who was lied to or whose parents made promises they didn't keep. Those who were physically, sexually, or emotionally abused in previous relationships may be retraumatized when someone they have counted on betrays their trust and dependency. Judith Herman writes, "Trauma forces the survivor to relive all her earlier struggles.... Traumatic life events, like other misfortunes, are especially merciless to those who are already troubled."Wow. And yeah.
We might have thought those wounds were healed but if we're so destroyed by infidelity that we immediately go the "we're not worthy" mindset, then we had just done a really good job of dressing those wounds up as healed.
Thanks to infidelity, they're once again exposed to us. And though they might have been healing, we might have been on our way to that magical place called "healed", infidelity rips them wide open and we're left, again, with evidence of our injury.
I had been in therapy. I thought I'd slain those particular dragons. Turns out, I'd kept the dragons at bay but there were very much alive. And at the first sign of a crack in my own armor, they were back, with their dragon eyes of judgement, and their dragon fire of shame and disgust.
The dragons, of course, are my own worst critics. The dragons, of course, are me.
My conversations with myself were more like indictments about everything I was doing wrong, from the careless remark I made at a cocktail party to the dust behind my refrigerator.
But I didn't recognize my own pain. I thought I'd healed.
I thought healed looked like a perfect marriage and well-behaved children and lots of friends and a busy social life. Add in a successful writing career to show the world how accomplished I was. Turns out "healed" looked an awful lot like perfection. And perfection, I've come to learn, looks an awful lot like a pretty band-aid over a festering wound of shame.
Perfection covered a need to prove to the world that "see, I am worthy! I am smart. I am pretty. I am successful." Thing is, if I'd actually believed those things, I wouldn't have needed to prove it to anyone.
There are gifts in betrayal, if we're willing to look for them. For me, the retrauma of infidelity revealed just how shaky my sense of worth was – a worth based on achievement. Consequently, learning how to be kind to myself, which was nothing I'd ever allowed myself before, has transformed me.
I now know that healed is compassion and kindness and lack of judgement. Healed is about giving myself permission to be who I am, flaws and all. More than that, it's about giving everyone else permission too. It's knowing that I'll never be fully healed and that's okay because none of us are.
It's about forgiveness. Of those who've hurt me. But mostly, it's about forgiveness of myself.
Which is pretty much the same thing.
I keep praying for strength. I keep praying that God will hear me and see my suffering and bring me out of this darkness. Thanks to everyone else who have shared their stories- it brings me comfort knowing I am not the only one dealing with this and helps me feel a bit 'normal' and not so much like a crazy person. When does the "crazy" end??
You're right that you're having to deal with the fallout from HIS choices. This absolutely isn't fair. And that notion of "fair" was what tripped me up so often in the early days. "But this isn't FAIR," I would scream, night and day. Nothing about betrayal is "fair" so the sooner you can stop obsessing about what you can't control, the sooner you can move on to what you can control, which is yourself.
Yes, you need to give yourself time. This has been a huge shock to your head, your heart...and the practical part of your life (bills, mortgage, how you spend your time...). You need to grieve the loss of the life you thought you had. Anger is a pretty standard emotion for what's happened. But I want you to think about what's behind that anger. Anger, as my therapist often reminded me, is a secondary emotion. It generally masks hurt and fear, and I would guess you're feeling both in spades. The thing is, hurt and fear make us feel vulnerable. Anger makes us feel powerful. It's an illusion though. Anger isn't power. And usually the only person we hurt with anger is ourselves. So exorcise it. Get it out. Punch a pillow, take kickboxing, go for a run, park your car somewhere in the country and scream until you're hoarse. Write a horrible scathing letter to your jerk husband and his icky girlfriend (don't send it).
And then...let it go. Do this as often as you need to. The anger won't disappear. But it will slowly dissipate. It will slowly give way to what's beneath it -- the deep hurt you feel from what you perceive as his rejection of you, and the fear of what's ahead. Both are legitimate emotions that all of us feel post-betrayal. But, I want you to know, you can get through this. We want to help you get through it without turning into a bitter shell of yourself.
Focus on you and take the focus on him and his "new" life. Nothing is as good as it appears on the surface. No matter how it looks on the outside, he has left his wife and his babies. That can't possibly feel good. He has chosen escape rather than facing his issues. Lots of people do, through affairs, addiction, distraction. It seems easier in the short term but will undoubtedly bite him in the ass as time moves on. No matter, that's his problem, not yours.
Figure out what you want going forward. You're going to lose parts of your life that you enjoyed, but you can gain things you never thought of. Make a list of all the things he did that drove you completely crazy...and take a moment of gratitude for no longer having to deal with it.
I would strongly urge you to find a therapist to help you process your grief and loss and guide you forward.
Your husband won't understand your pain but I assure you he isn't "happy" in the way you think he is. He has to live with himself as a liar and a cheat. If he's the kind of guy who thinks that's okay, then he's NOT the kind of guy you want in your life. He might regret it, he might not. But by the time he figures that out, you'll likely be able to see him for the half-man he is, who runs from his emotions rather than deals with them honestly and with integrity.
As so many of us discover, the karma bus will hit him...but we don't always get to be around to see it happen.
Please know that the darkness doesn't last forever. Begin to pay attention to those tiny slivers of light. The sound of your children's laughter. A friend's kindness. The taste of coffee in the morning. The women here who share your pain and want you to know that you'll get through this, wiser, stronger, more compassionate. That your children will benefit from your strength. That you'll teach them to keep their hearts open but share their hearts only with those who respect them and show them kindness and compassion.
"Crazy" will end the day you recognize that you're just fine. That you've always been fine. That even though you've experienced deep betrayal, you're fine. That even on days you thought you couldn't face on more minute, you're fine.
Him? Not so fine.
I think adulterers, those who never acknowledge or grow from their betrayal, do get what they deserve. Relationships devoid of true commitment. Never knowing the deep satisfaction of fighting through hell and coming out the other side or the peace that comes with integrity and self-respect. They settle for a life of always running – from commitment, from pain, from loss, from themselves. Sounds exhausting to me. Frankly, it sounds crazy.
Elle