Affair

(This is the first in a series of blogs detailing an event that happened in November, 2015.)

PREFACE: You know me, dear readers, there’s always more to the story, especially when I’m authoring it. I hope you see these blogs for what they are; a beautiful and inspiring story that sprang from the most craptastic of circumstances.

I’ll ask that you not judge, harass or belittle anyone I’ve written about for that is not what I am, or this is, about. In fact, I believe they deserve your respect as much growth has happened because of the parts they played.

I have chronicled my journey through these deeply painful emotional waters and intensely private events for a few reasons:

1. Writing has always been my catharsis. It helps me heal.
2. If I can help just one person heal by sharing my experiences, then I will gladly do so.
3. I am no different from any of you. I suffer, I cry, I survive. Many of you see me professionally and would never guess that I have huge lessons to learn/deliver, just as you do.
4. I’m ready. I’m finally ready.

I started the first two blogs in January but it was still too acutely painful for me to remember. Months passed, a lifetime really, and now I feel differently.

A recent vacation freed me up to do something just for me. I needed to get my story on paper. I needed to write. So far I have spent about 74 hours writing, editing, and reading these blogs. They consume me, just like reading a Stephen King novel. I started out with a vision of 3 blogs and maybe 4000 words; I have written 5 with over 9,000 words.

Some parts of my story have caused my heart to constrict again but the memories are softening. Some parts have allowed me to look back and realize how far I’ve come; how far my husband and I have come. For that, I am grateful as it aides in my processing and healing.

Writing is a passion of mine and it soothes me. It has often been suggested, even from the grave by my revered deceased dad, to write a book.  There is much I tried not to write about but after reviewing each days writings, I found it needed to be said.  These blogs have turned into a healing opus.  I broke them into a series so you weren’t overwhelmed, but in the end, it’s nothing short of a novella.

Please know that this version is a true recollection of what I remember. There is more to write about as our story is still being written, but for now, this is what’s ready to be told.

I am a writer. I am an intuitive. I am a healer.  I am a teacher.

When they first met, he spoke of her “can do” and “hands on” attitude. My husband would often jokingly say she was the female version of him. I found her endearing, engaging and very likeable.

My intuitive spidey sense tingled upon meeting her but I told myself it was all in my head. When this sense grew stronger, I shared my concerns with my husband who reassured me there was no truth to them. I was calmed by this. I believed him for several reasons but most of all I had resounding and unequivocal trust in my husband.

When weeks turned into months, their professional detachment changed to comfortable comradery. I began to watch them closely. There was never anything I could put my finger on, nothing I could physically see, but there was something….my intuition told me so.

The number of times she and my husband would work late increased. She, on his request, would come into work on a Saturday or Sunday. There were lunches, dinners and out of town trips together.  When I voiced my concerns, my husband would say he felt a little sorry for her, that he could relate to her pain and that he wanted to help her out. I bought into all of this and why shouldn’t I? My husband genuinely and sincerely believed what he was saying. I trusted him; I had no reason to do otherwise.

One night, I sat at the supper table waiting for their work in our downstairs office to end. I watched as he walked her to our back door, stood closely by her side and whisper-smiled “Bye” in a way that was strangely personal and intimate. I felt as if I had intruded upon two lovers.

She hung her head, mumbled a good bye, reached for the door handle and left. My husband turned towards me and with narrowed eyes I snorted, “Jesus Christ! I thought you were going to kiss her!”  He laughed, denied this and said he cared about her and what was going on in her messed-up life but that was all. He said she was one of the guys. His energy though, his energy was a lot like when we first started dating; he was giddy and impish. I looked at him through squinted eyes for a few more seconds and then life moved on. I chose to believe his words even though his energy belied them.

I never, not in a million, trillion, gazillion years, thought my beloved soul mate husband would cheat on me. We both felt we had a fantastic marriage. This marriage was born out of the desire to succeed by learning from past marital mistakes. But he did cheat. He had an emotional affair with someone I genuinely liked, someone who came into our home every workday and someone who easily met my eyes.

For the last three years, I had been trying to do everything, fulfill almost every role. My husband became self-employed four years ago and things changed in our household. He worked nights, he worked weekends, he didn’t have much down time. His job was both his passion and his pain. It was his stress and his calm. His business was growing more quickly than he anticipated and he was drowning in work.

We had a one year old and I had a busy part-time job in addition to my full-time job which was wife, mother, house-keeper, grocery shopper, team supporter, snow shoveler, laundress, lawn mower, food preparer, bath giver, boo-boo kisser, etc.  I was essentially a single mom as I couldn’t count on my husband to be home or to help with the dishes or give our dolly a bath. It was a role I was originally pissed off and resentful about but then I realized nothing was going to change on his end so I had just better deal. I went into survival mode.

I put on my big girl panties, jumped in and did it, all of it, because my beloved husband was completely overwhelmed and I wanted to support him the best way I knew. Interestingly, I found I became much less resentful of all of his time away, time at work or time on his phone/computer when I took on this new role. It was now all my responsibility so I no longer felt let down/resentful/angry when I didn’t get help.

I would use my voice and tell him I didn’t feel seen or appreciated. He would, at times, become angry with me and tell me we both agreed the first five years of him being self-employed would be tough. He would say there was no way out of this; he was swamped and I needed to hang in there. He would say when he hired employees (or more employees) things would smooth out. I would tell him they wouldn’t because he would just add more to his plate.

I would tell him my love language was no longer being spoken. I would tell him what I needed in order to feel loved. He would, at times, get huffy and say he didn’t have time to speak my love language. I would tell him I wasn’t asking for much, but I needed to feel loved again and then I could keep going. He would sigh in a placating way and say, “I’ll try.”

To him, and unbeknownst to me, what I was asking for felt like I was trying to control him and manipulate him. To him, it felt like I was telling him what to do. Being told what to do was something he despised and he would childishly do the opposite of. His “you’re not the boss of me” attitude was a role he was, unfortunately, very comfortable playing.

Before we married, we both agreed divorce was not an option. We agreed we would work through everything and be far better for it. We both had a starter marriage under our belt and neither of us was anxious to repeat the hell that is divorce. We also believed that people came together to help heal and therefore, there might be extremely painful situations.

My husband took a work trip in October and several of his crew went along. He met his non-blood sister at a local bar. She has known him since high school and has a keen, innate sense when it comes to him. She told me she was struck by something she saw in his eyes. She couldn’t explain it but she did ask me questions. Were “we” OK? What was going on at home? What was going on with his family?

I did my best to answer her. I told her he was working too much, drinking too much, was often angry and was very, very stressed.  She said what she saw/felt was deeper than that. It scared her so much, in fact, that she got on a plane the very next week to visit with him in person.

She had done a little background work with me and she asked my husband the same questions. Where was I? (I’m stressed, tired, overwhelmed and resentful). Was I considering divorce? (No, never. We’d been through worse; we’d get through this). Was I having an affair? (Oh my GOD, as IF! NO! I adore my husband!) Was Trinity? (No! When would he have time?!)

After his soul sister’s visit, he was stand-offish towards me, almost angry. I felt it simmering beneath the surface. His detachment, drinking, working and avoidance reached a new level. He wasn’t ready to talk to me about what they had discussed. I accepted that and gave him space.

I was still confident our relationship was solid, even though there was rarely any “us” time. We tried to carve out time to visit about our day and whatever was going on in our life. We still sincerely said, “I love you” and kissed each other goodbye every morning. He was still my best friend, that certain someone I couldn’t wait to tell about some idiotic thing that had happened. Somewhere along the way though, I stopped being his.

He continued with his old, outdated patterns.  Instead of dealing with the maelstrom that was heading his way, he looked for a way out and he found it.

This is the first in a series of 5 blogs:
Part 1; Affair / Part 2; Betrayal / Part 3; Revelation / Part 4; Aftermath / Part 5; Healing

~ For more background pertaining to this blog, here’s my: “Fate (part I)” “Fate (part II)” and “Wounds” blogs.