Every day, there are new voices here. Voices of pain and bewilderment and rage and confusion. Voices that sound so much like my own so many years ago. Yesterday, I read a letter from a woman whose husband spiralled into a twisted, dangerous relationship. His story sounded a lot like my husband's. One of shame and addiction, compartmentalization and pain.
At the end of her story, she asked me, all of us, "How do we do this? How do I do this?" It's the question, isn't it? It's the question at the heart of our pain, no matter what actions we take – stay, go, figure it out minute by minute: How do we do this?
And it's a question I feel that I can answer. But I did do this. And I've been part of thousand and thousands of other stories, a witness to how you do this.
And so, here's my answer. I wanted to share it because, although her situation is specific to her, her pain and confusion is something we all know. I share it in the hopes that it might help another:
You ask "how do we do this...how do I do this?" You're doing it. You're doing it right now. When you're crying and when you're not crying. When you're tucking your kids into bed. When you're having better sex than you've had before. When you're afraid and when you think 'hey maybe I've got this'. You're doing it.
And that's how you'll get all the way through this. You will continue to prioritize yourself. You will continue to interrogate how you betrayed yourself and why, how you kept trying long after it was clear that he was hurting you. And you will learn from that. You will discover a reservoir of strength you never imagined you had and you will continue to draw from that. And each day, you will ask yourself -- either loudly or quietly -- is he continuing to deserve this second chance?And if the day comes that you decide that you simply cannot remain in this marriage -- no matter how "good" he's being -- then you will honor yourself and get out. But if you discover that time and hard hard work is helping you both build a stronger marriage, then you will honor yourself by staying.
You have already endured the worst pain any of us can imagine – the loss of a child. I promise you that you will get through this too. Feel the pain because it's the only way I know to get through this. Bottling up the bad stuff only means we bottle up the good stuff too. Life is all of it. You are going through the pandemic and all the misery and anxiety that provokes while also experiencing the agony of betrayal. But here you are! Doing it. Loving your children. Extending grace to the guy who broke your heart.
As for the AP, she is not even worth the energy it takes to think of her. She is so damaged. An empty shell. Her punishment is being her. With her kids who see through her, her husband who discarded her, her career that she uses to prey on others. Yuck.
Your husband? I have empathy for him. I think he made a horrible horrible choice when he crossed that line with this woman but I see it not unlike someone handing him meth for the first time. He's responsible for himself, of course. He's not a victim. But his own pain blinded him to anything else. Hurt people hurt people. His job is to redeem himself. To become the man you always believed him to be. To be the father he wasn't for too many years. If he's anything like my own husband, his punishment is the knowledge that he hurt the people he loved and who loved him most in the world. I personally wouldn't want to live with that knowledge. It takes guts to face that, to live every day facing the pain in his family's eyes and still show up and do better. He's no hero, of course. He's human. And he made a horrible mistake.
You're going to be okay. I promise you that. Your gratitude for what you have will keep your head above water and your ability to nonetheless feel the pain and grief for all you lost will keep your heart soft.
