Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I am an emotional person. I suffer from anxiety, while not formally diagnosed, I am not where I can't function or need medication. My husband's affair however, has notably caused my blood pressure to rise and did take my anxiety up a notch or two.
I don't know too much about anxiety, but I am aware of when mine is building and am conscientious of when I am going to experience an emotional explosion. I am also cognizant of the fact that once I reach that level, I am incapable of reining in my emotions, reaching the point of no return. And for some inexplicable reason, these emotional outbursts seem to occur more often than not on a Friday.
Last week I had been preparing for our time at the beach. I drove down earlier in the week to set up the house, planning to move the kids down either Friday night or Saturday morning. On Friday afternoon, my husband and I got into a conversation about the skank. Irritated by the discussion, he cut it short and left for an appointment. When he came home later, I was already in a mood, anxiety building, and questioning my ability to trust him. What if he was pretending things were OK in order to ease my mind? What if he planned on seeing the skank again when I was at the beach? Why did he keep saying go and enjoy myself at the beach? Why would she so blatantly taunt me? Maybe she knows something I don't? Maybe they were still contact with each other. Maybe I'm a fool to trust him. Maybe he's been pretending things are OK so I would have a false sense of security while he goes and fucks that whore again.
I told him I had that feeling that something wasn't right, that he was hiding something which in all honestly could have just been triggered by the same date of a year ago, the first night he stayed with her until 4am.
He said even if she contacted him, even if she was to show up on his office doorstep it didn't matter. He was not going down that road again. He was busy trying to catch up on his work and would tell her he was busy and didn't want to be bothered. He already told her they were through and he was committed to me and his family. Don't I have faith in him to take care of it?
He ate dinner but had work to complete in order for all of us to go to the beach together on Saturday, or possible late on Friday. As he was leaving, I tried to ask him for more specific plans. He was only staying a day or two and I needed to figure out what food to pick up for him at home. He knew I was upset and decided to brush off my questions, impatiently stating he needed to get into the office.
I went to my bedroom and tried to take a nap but instead I began replaying the timeframe of the affair, thinking of them together. I revisited those cell phone logs in my head. He would call her when he was on his way to see her. He'd call her when he arrived at her house and she would call him when he left. I knew when he got there and how long he stayed. As I lay in bed, my blood began to boil and my anxiety took on a life of its own. I got up and called his cell phone. Then I called the office. No answer. I called the cell phone again. No answer. I texted 'Dude, I'm going to the market and need to find out a couple of things so I know what food to leave at the house for you.' No response. I was furious and my anxiety and emotions could no longer be contained.
At that moment, I fully intended on driving to the market, but found myself on the road to his office instead. Twice en route I could have corrected course and completed my task. I didn't. I crossed that point of no return. It was not going to be pretty.
In the past 9 months after the affair was outed, I have never gone by his office or the skank's house to check up on him. Friday was the first time. He wasn't at his office. He wasn't answering his phone. I flipped out. I dictated a message that was a slightly incoherent run on sentence...
I actually debated in my head going to her house but then I said to myself, 'I can't live like that.' I drove home and started packing up my car like a crazy person while my sons were in their room doing some summer reading. My husband finally called. Twice. I didn't answer. By the time he called the third time, I was pretty well packed. After a brief terse back and forth, he said, "you want to know where I was?" I said I really didn't care, I was leaving for the beach. He said, "I was at my parent's house. I knew you were getting nuts so I left the phone in the car. I didn't want to answer while I was there. I started talking to them and ended up staying to watch the news."
Eventually he talked me down from my anxiety attack and called me Freaky Friday. He reminded me it had been a Friday a couple of weeks ago where I flipped out on him. He said he didn't know if he should call me 'Freaky Friday' or 'Sybil'. I actually laughed at that and started to calm down. He said to come by the office and pick him up and we'd drive down together. I still had a few things to retrieve at home and since he had two appointments on Saturday, we decided to drive up together in the late morning and I would drop him off to pick up his car at the office. He returned to the beach house on Saturday after his appointments and we spent a nice Sunday family day together.
This constant rollercoaster of ups and downs really sucks. Some days I feel like I'm bi-polar. In a two hour time frame, I went from believing he was with the skank and actively looking to catch them together, to having a wonderful weekend with my him and our sons. I need to find a successful strategy to stop the escalation of my anxiety to that no return point.
He says he doesn't know if he should call me Sybil or Freaky Friday. I'm kind of partial to Sybil. The fact that we can laugh about it is good, isn't it?
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