Abuse. Cruel. Traumatic. Crushing. A deal breaker. The end.
What it’s not: glamorous, romantic, “meant to be”, a mistake, the betrayed spouse’s fault. It’s also not ever justifiable.
My DDay was just over two years ago, when I found out that my husband was in the midst of an affair. That time…my gosh, the agony! I have never, ever felt pain like that. Even so, I think it would have hurt less if he’d actually stabbed me in the back.
In the early days, I was sure I might die. Sometimes, it felt like dying would be easier. I told my husband it would have been so much kinder if he’d just left me – that I could understand if he’d simply stopped loving me and wanted a divorce. What I couldn’t understand was the deception, betrayal of his vows and of our marriage and family, and the utter desecration of his own word, his character, and his soul.
I no longer cry every day, but I still think about it every day. Probably every hour. Sometimes, still, many times each hour. Oh how I wish it could all be undone. And yet, here I am, learning to exist again in this new landscape, where so often, even joy is tinged with an inexorable sorrow that my world won’t ever be quite as special as it could have been.