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Wednesday Word Hug

To My Betrayed Soul-Warriors

I know how exhausted you are. I know how your mind races from panic to fury to confusion. I know how you wish you could just go back to bed only to find that, when it's time to go to bed, you dread the silence and the darkness and loneliness. How, you wonder, am I going to make it til morning? And then, in the morning, how am I going to make it til bedtime?
I know because that was my life too.  
In one horrible phone call, my suspicions were confirmed. And nothing was ever going to be the same.
I had three young children. I had work deadlines. I had volunteer commitments. I had a life. A life shattered by the discovery that my husband, the guy I thought would always have my back, had been cheating behind it. Had been endangering my physical health. Had been damaging my emotional and psychological health. Had threatened the stability of our entire family.
What the hell are we supposed to do with that information, right? 
I could have kicked him out, which is what every made-for-TV drama would have told me to do. I could have looked the other way, convinced myself of something along the lines of "men will be men". What I did was fall apart, at least some of the time. I managed to pull it together for my children and their friends and teachers. I managed to put on a mask for trips to the grocery store and the occasional get-together with friends. For months, I was publicly fine while privately a mess.
My husband was the same. Though he had a messy work situation to deal with, thanks to his idiotic choice to cheat with his assistant, for the most part the mess was dealt with privately. And he had clients and meetings and something of an escape from me for eight hours a day.
I had enough work to distract me briefly but not so much that I didn't have time to simply sob or stare blankly at a computer, wondering what the hell I was going to do. 
My mother, literally, saved me. Each day, we would talk and she would remind me, as often as I needed it, that I was strong enough, brave enough. I was enough. This was his failure, not mine. 
I believed her enough. 
And then, six months after D-Day #1 when I learned of the affair came D-Day #2 when I learned of all the others. And, three weeks after that, my mother, who guarded my heart, died suddenly.
I don't know how I made it through, only that I did. I held on to every word of wisdom and strength my mother had armed me with. I surrounded myself with the very few friends who knew what I was dealing with and who were fierce in their love for me.
I smiled for the camera and the interviewers and the crowds as I promoted my latest book. I tucked a bottle of anti-anxiety pills my doctor had prescribed for me into my bag, as I was increasingly panicked at the idea of showing up and pretending to be together and successful. I rarely took them. Having them was enough. 
And I followed so many of the rules I espouse here. I was gentle with myself. I took care of myself. I learned to set boundaries to keep myself safe. I gave myself all the time I needed to figure out my next right step. When I fell apart – and I did – I picked myself up and forgave myself. I didn't know these rules on D-Day #1. I figured them out as I navigated my pain. 
And you will too, my betrayed soul-warriors. If you believe in this truth: You are enough. Have always been. This is his failure, not yours. 
And each morning that you awake to face the same demons that challenged you the night before, know this: I see how brave you are. 

Time Conceals All Wounds: Why Waiting Out the Pain Isn't Enough

Over on the Multiple Affairs thread, there's a common story. A husband cheated, "I forgave him" and now, here she is again. It's chilling to those of us who've chosen to give our husband's a second chance. It feeds our fear that he'll cheat again and we'll have nobody to blame but our stupid selves for trusting him.
But here's the thing. The "I forgave him" narrative rarely includes the blood, sweat and buckets of tears that we know needs to precede forgiveness. Forgiveness isn't a willingness to pretend the betrayal never happened. It's a decision to no longer let that betrayal hold us hostage.
It can be tempting, if your husband is of the "I'm sorry. It won't happen again. But I can't live with you constantly harping about my affair" variety, to let time work magic. Sure there might be a pit in your stomach when he comes home late and, sure, you may have nagging fears, but those feelings are manageable. They're not that I-can't-breathe down on your knees agony of first finding out. Time hasn't so much healed your pain but concealed it. Tucking our pain away allows us to function in our lives. It can mimic healing in a way that fools even us.
My heart still thuds when I remember the agonizing gut-punch of D-Day. It felt crippling. Our impulse is to run from pain. To make promises, to rush to forgiveness, to minimize – anything to reduce the heartbreak, anything to make the pain even slightly more bearable.
But pain will hide in the shadows. It will show up as irritability. It will show up as headaches, stomach issues, chronic illness. It will show up as self-harm. Too much drinking. Too much eating. Too much exercise. Too much Facebook. Too little gentleness or kindness with yourself. Too little stillness. Too little consideration for your own wants and needs.
We need to avoid that impulse to rush toward healing. We need to keep our pain somewhere we can continue to chip away at it. To let ourselves really feel it. To trust that our pain has something important to teach us about our worth, our boundaries, our hearts and that, if we'll let it, it can also show us the way forward.
When we look at the stories of our lives – stories that include heartbreak of all kinds: illnesses, losses, betrayals – we discover that within those times of being broken open, we reinvent ourselves. We draw clearer lines around what we want in our lives, we re-examine behaviour patterns that are no longer serving us, we reconsider the people we surround ourselves with and become more discerning.
Time is no magical elixir without a willingness to go deep into it in order to emerge stronger.
Don't fear the darkness because without it, you wouldn't be able to see the light ahead calling you forward. 

How do we go on?

"You go on by doing the best you can. You go on by being generous. You go on by being true. You go on by offering comfort to others who can't go on. You go on by allowing the unbearable days to pass and allowing the pleasure in other days."
~Cheryl Strayed, from "The Obliterated Place" in Tiny Beautiful Things

The first person I called was my mother. I don't remember the words I used to tell her I'd just found out my husband was having an affair. But I do remember asking her how to go on. How to go on when I'd just found out the person I'd built my life with was a liar. How to go on when my entire world felt shattered. How to go on when I couldn't imagine getting through the next five minutes, let alone the next week, or month, or year, or lifetime.
So many of you arrive here, on the shores of the Betrayed Wives Club with that same question: How to go on. So many of us are surprised by the depth of our pain. We might have imagined anger. We might have anticipated hurt. But this existential agony? This inability to imagine a future for ourselves free of pain? How does one prepare for that?
We cling to the experts who tell us that it takes anywhere from three to five years to heal from betrayal. We remind ourselves of the stages of grief. We look to those ahead of us who promise us that healing will come. But still...how? How to go on?
Strayed's advice is wise. "You go on by doing the best you can." Some days that "best" might be pulling the covers over your head. It might be sitting in your car sobbing after work. But other days...other days it might be noticing that the birds have returned outside your window. It might be laughing at something your child said and realizing that you had a split second where you weren't consumed with fear of what's next.
"You go on by being generous. You go on by being true." We can let betrayal make us bitter. It's all too easy to allow our anger to consume us and color the whole world black. But anger is hurt and fear wearing false armor. Anger needs your attention, absolutely. But we go on by acknowledging the hurt and fear we feel...and then being our better selves. Being generous with ourselves and those around us. Being true to ourselves and those around us.
"You go on by offering comfort to others who can't go on." This site, this "club" of me-too warriors of betrayal, has given me so much. Every day I'm struck by the kindness of all of you, the compassion with which you respond to each others' pain. By extending that hand to another, we strengthen ourselves too. By comforting each other, we heal ourselves.
"You go on by allowing the unbearable days to pass and allowing the pleasure in other days." Feelings are not facts. None of us will feel this pain forever if we take the steps to heal. We can endure the pain, knowing that it will pass.
How to go on? We go on by trusting in our ability to get through this. We go on by knowing that we don't deserve this but that many of us face pain in our lives we don't deserve. We go on because the alternative is to not go on and that's a permanent response to temporary pain.
We go on because life is beautiful and exquisite and pain is part of that. And pain can be forged into healing that contributes to our wisdom and our compassion and our own beauty.
We go on.

Warrior Post: Smart Advice for the Newly Betrayed

"Anonymous" posted this awhile back on the Feeling Stuck forum and I asked for her permission to re-post it. Her experience is similar to many others on this site. As we often say, the exact details might be different but the feelings created by the betrayal tend to be universal. I think Anonymous has some really good advice here. She's careful to stress that her husband's affair was absolutely not her fault. That was his choice. But she outlines how she re-evaluated her whole marriage. Affairs do not have to be the death knell for a marriage. If both partners are willing to work hard to rebuild, it's possible. That's not the right path for everyone and we each get to decide how to move forward after betrayal. For some, reconciliation isn't on the table and that's absolutely okay. But no matter how we respond, healing is our ultimate goal:

1. Hi ladies. I am 22 months out from my D-day. I've been lurking on this site for a long time. The kindness and support here has been amazing and has helped me tremendously even though I haven't shared my story until now. I can feel all the hurt on the site and wanted to share my story that things can and do get better. It's true what the other survivors say, it just takes time and effort on both parties.
   My H's OW was a sales rep for a company that his did business with. A few client dinners, with mutual attraction in the air and you can guess the rest. I found out by seeing a text come through when his phone was on the kitchen counter.
   I went crazy. CRAZY. Called her, she hung up after realizing it wasn't him. I then proceeded to fill up her entire voicemail box with message after message about what I thought of her. I got her email from her phone. I blew that up as well with some nasty messages containing disgusting words I didn't even know that I knew! I raged at him. Tried to kick him out, told him he'd never see our children, etc... Looking back, I'm not proud of my initial reactions, although I do think they were justified.
   I learned it was a physical affair (PA). Been going on for 6+ months at the point I found out. She lived 4 hours away from us, thankfully. I don't know that I could have or could bear the chance of running into her.
   He had no hidden addictions. The reason behind the affair boiled down to his freaking ego. This woman made him feel desired, attractive, manly, a sexual God (YES, I AM ROLLING MY EYES!)... I've had to accept it in my mind that he was craving the feeling of being wanted. Doesn't excuse the PA but it is a human thing to crave that. I did some soul searching and had to reassess what our marriage had come to. I honestly couldn't remember the last nice thing I had said to him. I acted like sex was a complete and total bother and obligation. We were basically roommates; roommates that didn’t even seem to particularly like each other.
   I want to say therapy was key to our recovery. Get yourself into any that you can. We couldn't afford to go long-term, unfortunately, but we really did learn some tools in how to speak to each other with the sessions we had. Not to say we didn’t have blow outs but there was an effort by both of us to be kinder before things escalated into madness. No matter how horrible things were, every night as we got into bed we both reaffirmed to each other that we were committed to moving forward. Although, some nights, it was just lip service! But we said it every single night.
   An affair is inexcusable. But when I came to terms with the cause, it did help us become stronger together. I do not blame myself (thanks to this site!), but I do now see things I did that had him feeling unwanted. This gave me the chance to change and show him how I really felt about him. He fed off the change in me and did a complete 180 himself. Now there are little silly love notes, texts for no reason – all these little things we do to show we care and it truly does make all the difference to us now. The PA isn't and never will be forgotten by me, but I can now say it is forgiven. What a weight to be lifted.

   As far as the OW, I know many of us get obsessed with her. I did too. It truly wasn't until I let her go that I could start to even slowly move forward with him. I realized with almost a bolt of lightning one day in the third month after D-day that I was blaming her MORE THAN HIM. I was letting HIM off the hook because I was so focused on her. How could I blame her more than or even as much as HIM? She was a stranger to me. HE was the one who stood in front of friends, family and God and vowed to be true to me. HE was the one who fathered my children. HE was the one who used to whisper sweet promises to me about how HE'D never hurt me, etc... Maybe some will disagree, but I wanted to share that it helped me in my healing to let her go. I couldn't let her control my mind any longer. I had to take back that power from her. Trust me, I hold her responsible to an extent and I'm not going to be inviting her to my Bunco team or anything!!! But, focusing on what I determined to be the real problem - HIM - was so helpful to me. Carrying hate, hurt and anger towards one person is enough. Carrying it against two was truly drowning me. She never responded to any of my communications (if you classify my screaming incoherently with every other word needing to beeped out as communications!) so we never had any nasty confrontation. She didn't contact us, didn't stalk us, nothing. She went underground. I am thankful to her for that now. I don’t know how I would have reacted if she had and I know some of you have some truly horrendous things to deal with when it comes to the OW in your situations. Oh, but I will say he is no longer “allowed” to do client dinners by himself. His business partner has taken on the bulk of that task, or else both of them must go together if it’s absolutely necessary that my husband must attend. That may change but it’s a compromise that we made for now and it’s been working.  
   The fights still happen, but they are more infrequent. The OW is truly a distant memory in my mind. The good times outweigh the bad. Finally!
   Hang in there ladies. There are going to be fights. There are going to be very ugly things found out about the affair. Horrible things will be said by both of you. It’s true – we didn't deserve any of this that has happened to us. But, unfortunately, it did happen. Try to learn from it, it's all we can do. Big hugs to you all and hopes for a truly happy year coming your way. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, no matter what route you take. Life goes on, make sure you take an active role in living it! We are strong women and we define ourselves. We aren’t defined by what has happened to us. Bless you all and keep up your tremendous support for each other. 

How to Heal Tip #1

Welcome to the Betrayed Wives Club

If you've found your way to this site, chances are you typed "how do I know my husband has cheated" into Google. Or maybe it was "I hate my husband after he cheated" or "how to forget the other woman." Some of you typed "increased sex after his affair" and found my blog post on hysterical bonding.
Tens of thousands of you found your way to my Open Letter to the Other Woman, which led many to my Second Letter to the Other Woman (they're oldies but goodies. Frankly, I don't give the Other Woman any thought these days).
The absolutely most-read post is my Seven Lies We Believe After A Spouse's Affair. I ache for the women who come to this site full of pain and a deep conviction that if they were somehow...better...their spouse would have remained faithful. My main purpose with this site is to convince each and every one of you that you are enough. He did not cheat because there's something wrong with you, he cheated because there's something wrong with him. Steam reminded all of us that you did nothing to deserve this.

It has been nine years since the Christmas from Hell when I learned of my husband's affair. Though I never imagined I'd ever feel anyone but grief and misery, here I am almost a decade later with a life that I love. Dare I say that my husband's affair led me on a path that has deepened my joy? Being so far out from those excruciating feelings, however, I began to wonder this past year if it was time to give up this blog. I worried that I was becoming detached from those wretched early days. I worried that I had less to offer. What's more, reading each comment and, often, responding takes a lot of time and energy and I have three children, a husband (the same one but new! And improved! And whore-free!), and a freelance career and volunteer activities and...and...and.... But when I imagined walking away, I didn't feel relief, I felt sadness. Thing is, I love you BWC warrior-sisters who come here. I love your kindness and your wisdom. I love your vulnerability and your honesty. I love your awesomeness and compassion. We rarely have the vitriol or the unkindness or the dismissal that I see on other sites. Almost without fail, the women on this site, even in the midst of their own worst pain, extend such warmth and compassion and support to each other that it makes me smile (sometimes through tears). You BWC warrior-sisters inspire me, every time I log on, to bring my absolute best self to this site. To continue to share what I'm learning. To revisit the ways in which I haven't been my best self in the hopes that I can spare you the same mistakes. To try and inspire you back. To remind each of you, as often as you need to be told, that you will survive this. And that it's possible to triumph over it and emerge with a stronger sense of your own worth. To use this horrible experience as the launch pad for a different way of showing up in this world, one that insists on respect and decency and honesty. To unlearn so much of the unhealthy stuff and gain some new lessons that will serve us better.
In June, after some consideration and consultation (thanks Steam!), I decided to add a Donate button. I don't ever want anyone to think they need to donate in order to feel welcome here. But please know that I'm incredibly grateful for and humbled by the women who've contributed. This site, of course, benefits hugely from those who've contributed with their comments, their support and their loyalty too.
However you found this site, please know you've discovered a place of support. I hate that so many of us need to be here. But I'm so incredibly grateful that we've found each other.

Tuesday Truth Hug