More About Healing from a Partner's Multiple Affairs

 D-Day 1 let me in on my husband's secret affair. D-Day 2 filled in the questions unanswered after D-Day 1. It wasn't one affair but dozens. It wasn't one woman but many. It hadn't started a few years ago, it spanned our entire relationship.

You, more than most, can imagine my shock. 

Like those of you who responded to the post on multiple affairs, I thought I was married to a monster. Who could do such a thing? Who could build their entire marriage on a lie? What the hell had I got myself into and how was I going to get myself out? 

Nights were the worst. I had no names or faces to attach to these new affair partners and so I was left with some shadowy imaginings. Of course, they were all sexy, young, vibrant. (The truth, according to my husband, is that they were all sad, middle-aged and desperate.)

As I've explained before on this site, I stayed mostly because I lacked the energy to leave. I had three young children and if the marriage was over, I wanted to be sure it was TRULY over. I didn't want to disrupt their lives until I was sure. And I wasn't sure about much in those early days post D-Day. 

But what I want to say to those of you reeling from your own discovery of multiple partners is this: Though what your husband did seems monstrous, it helps you in absolutely no way to see him as a monster. In fact, if you're even considering trying to rebuild a marriage, it will help you much more to recognize that his monstrous behaviour is the outward expression of his own pain.

Yes, I know. Nobody wants to hear that. Our infidelity culture is built on the idea that only assholes cheat. That a good guy would never do such a thing. And I have taken many slings and arrows from the chump tribe who will not entertain the notion that, sometimes, good people do horrible things. 

And though I wanted to believe that, I knew it wasn't true. I had seen good people do bad things for much of my life. I had a mother with multiple addictions. I watched her get sober. And make amends for so much of the pain she'd caused. Did I owe her that second chance? No. I don't think any of us here on this site owe anyone a second chance. Second chances are gifts. Second chances are mercy. Writer Anne Lamott puts it this way: "...the beauty of living from your merciful heart instead of your ticker-tape brain — judgmental brain — is the way home. It’s the way to peace, the way to feeling safe and connected. It’s all the things we long for.”

The way home. The way to peace. The way to feeling safe and connected. Isn't that we're going for? It requires a radical change in how we see infidelity and those who cheat. It requires us to challenge the idea that this person who betrayed us so profoundly is a "monster". That he is beyond redemption.

Mercy – a second chance – is hard. And yet, I think we're hard-wired for it. Until we become brittle from bracing for hurt. 

Our challenge, and it is a formidable one, is to remain soft in the wake of the betrayal. To not just consider mercy for those who betray us but to absolutely ensure we give it to ourselves. That we forgive ourselves for not knowing. That we remind ourselves that we are and have always been enough. That we didn't deserve this. 

One commenter asks: "How do such monsters exist and in what world can I ever have the powers to get over such a betrayal?"

To which I reply: I see his actions as monstrous, his pain as monstrous but not him as monstrous. I suspect he too see his actions and pain as monstrous. I suspect he's as baffled as you about how he was able to betray you so deeply. And it is his job to determine how he did that and to ensure he learns tools that will prevent him from ever doing it again. The power to get over such a betrayal is within mercy. It was only when I could acknowledge my husband's pain that I could begin to view him with compassion instead of contempt. It was when I could view him with compassion that I could see myself with compassion. That I could forgive myself for not knowing better, for not choosing differently.

Mercy, as Lamott says, is the way home. 

Wednesday Word Hug

Wednesday Word Hug

Wednesday Word Hug: The Smallest Step

Pause for Thought

Guest Post: Making Peace With Childhood Pain: What's Sometimes Behind the Agony of Infidelity

by Lynn Less Pain

John Shedd said, “A ship in the harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.”

Elle wrote a post a few years ago in which she said that infidelity can be a catalyst for change. I read that and went wild. I fired back saying how much I disagreed with her opinion. It made me angry to think, this is the type of gut-wrenching pain that has to happen for change? Has she lost her mind? He needs to change not me. He needs to own it, find out his whys, not me. He needs to understand why he lied, not me. Catalyst can take a flying leap as far as I was concerned. 

It took me three years to see what the heck she was talking about. 

There came a phase in my healing (not in the first year but later) when I realized my marriage did suck. How did my marital state get that way? Looking at his contributions to a dysfunctional marriage was easy. Looking at my contributions was not so easy. He asked me to go to lunch, I was too busy. I forgot to call him when I said I would. When he talked about his job, I listened but I didn’t hear him. He wanted sex, I was thinking, if only he helped me with the housework, sorry, too tired for sex. Does any of this contribute to hubby having an affair? No. Does any of this justify an affair? No. I was looking at the surface of our marital status. I was the one who was wronged so that was as far as I could go with my contributions. So instead I concentrated on my self-esteem, self-care, self-compassion and self-healing 

All of this finally made sense to me yesterday when I went to therapy. I gave my therapist some examples of my husband’s behaviour. Is this normal behavior? I asked. The therapist told me that we are now in the new marriage phase. OK, did I hear that right? So, after D-day, after the plain of lethal flatness, so after the stay or go scenarios, after being stuck and after forgiveness, yes, my girlfriends, there is more.

This is the new marriage phase – he did this, is that normal? He said that, is that normal? I felt this way, is that normal? Here's what the therapist explained to me: Yes, all that is normal marriage stuff. I gave her so many examples of what he said or what I said. The therapist said, your expectations of a normal marriage are too high. She told me I have this Disneyland forever expectation, which is just not realistic. What my husband is doing and saying is completely normal. His actions and reactions are completely normal. I gave the therapist more examples. Yes, she said, all of that is normal.  

She said, “you grew up in an unstable family with little or no support from your family. No support during any traumatic event or situations. Your difficult childhood experience made you develop certain beliefs about how people think and how relationships work. You developed coping strategies that were not helpful in your adult life."

Those coping strategies which were not helpful in my adult life was my contribution to a dysfunctional marriage.

·      I felt very worried about being abandoned and I would do anything to stop that happening. 

·      I felt just plain empty. I felt like I was running on empty emotions, nothing left to give.

·      I felt like I was the only one who felt things deeply. 

·      I felt like I would go from very happy and confident in the morning and sad in the afternoon. 

·      I didn’t know who I was and I changed depending on who I was with.

·      I went through extremes on food, alcohol, shopping and planning a family event.

·      I believed I wasn’t good enough and didn’t deserve to be happy. Everything but my relationship had to be perfect. 

·      I viewed things in extreme: good or bad; black or white.

·      Any separation from anyone meant they really didn’t care about me. 

This was painful to explore. Talking about my childhood, timeline of emotions, past relationships and reactions to life was like eating food I already thrown up in my mouth.  Once I understood my unhealthy coping strategies, I learned to be kind to myself. Life can be different when you put in the work. Some days I forget what it feels like to be positive but I know that won’t last. I deserve to be happy and live a fulfilled life. I’m not about to let infidelity take that away from me but I had to look under the surface of the water before I could sail my ship out of that harbor called infidelity. I was so tangled up, there was no way I could sail away.

I have finally found that inner peace, I strived to find for so long. It had nothing to do with infidelity really. It had everything to do with me.