Do You Want to Be Happy?

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.

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

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.