Fresh pain. New torment. An ache so deep it felt alive in my gut. I'd worked hard for it. I'd asked for it. I'd begged for it. Was I getting what I deserved? The emails were validation of my pain. I had not considered how hard it would be to read the words Richard wrote to Jaymie.
I only wanted answers to the unending questions. If I found answers in the lustful, fanciful, adoring words, the convulsions in my heart would be worth it.
Jaymie had been right. Son of a Bitch. I had to face it. Richard loved her. Maybe he still did. He could sugar coat it, call it something less than love, say he was out of control, tell me it was just a fantasy, he was seeking his lost youth through hers. Put it all in a pretty box and wrap it up with bows. No matter how he told his side, his story was a lie! ANOTHER LIE! Son of a bitch! I had a dozen emails that told the truth! All Richard had done since DDay was spin the story of his betrayal to keep the carnage to a minimum.
The level of love he wrote to her about was beyond anything I could ever have imagined he felt for me. I think I'm gonna start crying any second now. I'll never forget how much reading the emails ripped out my heart. Revisiting the emails has been more difficult than I expected. I have not read them in months except to pull one or two for the blog. Back then, it was an all encompassing obsession. I read them for hours. I memorized them all. Jaymie brought out a side of Richard I never knew, not in 30 years. Their affirmations of love for one another would have been truly beautiful had they been shared between two people that were not hiding from reality. Unique expressions of intense passion and their devotion to one another. The words were quite poetic.
When the emails spoke of particular days and locations, I gained vivid mental pictures that played over and over in my skull like a sickening, X-rated horror flick. The images were absolutely relentless. I saw them together regardless of what I was doing in my present reality. Load the dish washer while watching Richard rushing across a street to embrace Jaymie in Lemon Grove by the Big Lemon sign. Simultaneously fill up my car with gas and see Richard with his head between Jaymie's legs at Barona Casino Hotel. Even when I went to work, there was always, ALWAYS a section of my mind that harbored the constant reenactment of Richard Loves Jaymie.
It was 5 weeks post DDay when I started using my new drug of choice. I spent time with my stash daily. A lot of time. Richard called it "Emotional Cutting". That rang true. Reading the emails over and over did nothing for me but feed my addiction. I needed to feel the pain. I had to have validation for my torment. The emails owned me. I didn't know what else to do with myself. I thought if I dissected the emails thoroughly, I'd finally understand how my husband could do this to me, how he could love someone else. WHY did he need to love someone else? Those questions don't really have answers, but once again, I didn't know that yet. Emotional Cutting felt as necessary as air. Keep cutting and the whole nightmare will reveal itself.
I was barely present with my kids at home. At work, my partner held up our business. I was indisposed. I wallowed in my misery and nurtured my fury. If I let it go, even for an hour, I might start to forgive Richard and that was not gonna happen. He was in for a world of hurt! My stay in Sorrow Town was about take a turn into Rage City.