I think a lot about coming here, and then I find a reason not to. I’m not really sure why. Maybe because I’m not skipping through the daisies all happily ever after. Or perhaps because I don’t like to dwell or whine. More than likely it’s a combination.
It’s been about a year since my life was blown to hell, not that it was good before…cuz it wasn’t. It all rather sucked and I was planning my escape. Nothing can prepare one to find out their spouse has been unfaithful. The manner of the betrayal isn’t nearly as painful as the betrayal itself.
My trust in my husband was complete. It sounds silly now. How we enter into a contract with another person and give them everything in a basket, topped with an elaborate bow. In a mere mortal. A flesh and blood human with all the wonder and flaw that makes us so completely frustrating creatures. Starry-eyed and in love it never occurs how completely venerable we are.
Trust is hard won and so easily destroyed. At this point forgiveness isn’t at issue. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t forgiven him. The trust? Now that’s fragile, a paper thin sliver of glass. Full of promise and hope as easy to fracture as spun sugar. I wish I could say, it’s over, I’m good, we’re good, but I just can’t. And the up coming anniversary has me very shaken.
The world before; he would never do anything close to cheating on me.
The world after; it happened. The unthinkable happened, and my view of the world will never be the same.
How could it? Do I think he’ll repeat the behavior? No, I don’t. The wound is still there. Healing ever so slowly it stretches the limits of my patience to places I didn’t think they could go. It isn’t about him anymore. It’s about healing me. And you know what? I suck at it.
I’m doing the best I know how and the going is so slow. I suppose I’m holding myself to some unachievable standard by comparing my situation to other people I know. And that’s pretty damned stupid. One can never judge one’s insides by another’s outsides. We never really know what burdens those around us carry.
So, if you’re in a similar situation and you still hurt (not a constant stab or ache) a once in awhile, oh my God, I wish this would stop kind of hurt. I’m starting to think it’s normal. At least I hope so.
Chronicles of a Dying Marriage 