The subsequent three or so weeks after I outed his affair were horrendous. Divorce papers were served within a week, he was still in contact with the skank even though he said we had the opportunity to 'rebuild from the rubble'. I screamed at him to get out of my house and move in with his skank. He flat out refused to leave. He said I don't want to be with 'that woman'. He said he wasn't in love with her. He said she could have been anyone, he was feeling lonely and in his mind, other than the formal papers, we were done.
As I sit here and write, I can confess to feeling the same way. I spoke of divorce with my friends. Our financial situation was abysmal, even worse than I thought, as he had wined and dined that piece of trash with money that should have been used to pay health coverage and the mortgage, both which were in arrears. We couldn't afford to get divorced.
It was the Sunday on Columbus Day weekend that we decided to attempt a reconciliation. Unfortunately, my younger son began struggling with social issues stemming from the combination of his autism, puberty and middle school later this same month, stinting our efforts as the focus switched to him. Now, in addition to dealing with my husband's infidelity, I was also trying to navigate through the mental health system with my son who claimed the world would be a better place without him. I also had to combat his newly found habit of running out of school when he became overwhelmed. I lost 20 pounds in a six week period and felt my life spiraling out of control. I thought I was going to have a mental breakdown. Recognizing this, I called several psychiatrists to try and get an appointment, only to be told there was over a four month waiting period. And people wonder why the mental health system is broken down.
Adding to my unbearable stress, my husband initially refused to cut off complete communication with the skank, saying because we were working on our marriage, he had no desire to be with her romantically. It took three months for him to realize his decision was destructive to me and detrimental to rebuilding our marriage. He then told her the affair was not only over, but also the 30 year friendship was terminated as well. (As of this date, she has still been trying to contact him sporadically by phone and showing up at his office).
During this past year I have repeatedly tried walking in my husband's shoes in an attempt to understand why he did what he did. I empathize with his feelings of loneliness and despair, feeling the frustration of banging his head against a brick wall, unable to effectively communicate with me as the marriage deteriorated before our eyes. But on the other hand, having experienced those feelings first hand myself, I don't understand how he could betray me. If anyone was weaker, it would have been me. He was so moral, so upstanding, so fucking holier than thou. When push came to shove however, I held true to my moral fiber, to the understanding that having an affair would have profoundly hurt him and though we didn't like each other and we were watching our marriage die a slow death, ending it cleanly was the only option, even it it was not feasible at that time.
I also realize that had the events not unfolded the way they did, we most likely would be navigating the divorce process, if not already divorced. We may have just said fuck it, and gone our separate ways. Clearly, we had reached a communication impasse.
I cannot adequately express the acute disappointment in him that I experience on a daily basis. I also struggle with an intense disappointment in myself for placing such unwavering trust in him. I have been betrayed by those closest to me, my mother, sister and brother, and never expected to be betrayed by him. He's hurt me so deeply, the pain is so overwhelming at times that I pause to catch my breath.
He has been trying to make amends. He has been more considerate, more willing to talk rather than brushing me off. We don't allow a mistaken perception to morph into a major miscommunication. We don't make mountains out of molehills. We've both recognized our pattern of destructive behavior and conscientiously altered the same to be more respectful of each other's feelings. He does little things to make me feel secure in his love. Yes I acknowledge his efforts. But the pain of his betrayal simmers just beneath the surface. Do I dwell on it ? Not as much as in the beginning, but when the pain surfaces, it doesn't dull. I always trusted him implicitly. He will never have that unwavering trust ever again. We have moved forward. Our marriage is better than it's been in years. Things will never be the same which some will say is a good thing. We have the opportunity to build something new, something different, something stronger That may very well happen. However, my unconditional trust in him will never be restored. Rebuilding trust is possible, but it will never be the same. And I don't feel like that's a good thing...
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