A Holiday Gift....to Me

I really didn't think I'd get another post written before Christmas.  Is there any busier time of year?  I mean, it's supposed to be all festive and warm and fuzzy and ensconced in heart warming tradition.  All Norman Rockwell-esque.  But, holiday reality is a tad bit less serene, at least in my world.

Hectic Holidays are more my style.  I mean, I say Happy Holidays and I almost believe it, but most years Hectic overpowers Happy during December at my house.  I don't mean to get all Debbie Downer on you!  I still LOVE me some Christmas time!!  It's just that sitting here in front of my computer screen, pumped full of Tazo high-test Awake tea, fingers flying across the keyboard, with less than a fully-formed idea of what in the hell I'm gonna write about, the first words that transfer from my brain to my blog are usually exactly what I'm feeling in the moment and what I'm feeling this morning is....behind schedule.
Only 3 days until the jolly man that could benefit from a membership with the local Weight Watchers, in his fuzzy red suit, pays a visit to all the homes of the good girls and boys around the world in one miraculous night.  (You'd think with a schedule like that Santa would need to be in better shape.)  Santa is a tad behind in his (her) preparations this year.  OK...every year.

You probably wonder, if I'm that damned busy, why in the hell am I wasting precious minutes sitting on my tuches typing?  That would be an excellent question.  I love your questions!
My answer....this blog is my new Valium, my virtual Xanax, my current sedative of choice and Mama needs a fix!  This blog is NEVER a waste of time.

My last post, It's Always Something, has amassed numerous comments from my detractors, ample support from my faithful readers and a substantial collection of questions, which I mentioned previously that I adore.  All of the comments had merit, except for one or two anonymous ones that should be classified as "hit & run" remarks.  I do not let the chicken-shit writers of those posts dampen my enthusiasm for our conversations in the least.

So, in the spirit of the Holidays, hectic, happy and otherwise, I'm opening this blog to all of you!  I don't mean to make it sound like I'm giving you a present or anything.  I am not nearly so self-absorbed (contrary to what many of those aforementioned detractors believe) to think offering to answer any and all questions posed to be worthy of gift status.  Quite the opposite actually.

You, my dear readers, my travel companions on the Road to Happy, will be giving me a gift.  The gift of time.  You'll decide where this post leads us as we head into 2013.
Let me clarify.  The benefit of requesting all of you to contribute to this post means I didn't have to spend any time thinking about what to share with you today.  Didn't need to come up with any words of advice or pearls of hard earned wisdom. (I have very few of those, so I have to disperse them sparingly)  Or, to put it in the words of some of you that consider this blog to be no more than rehashing the past, I had no need to dredge up harsh details from two years previous and regurgitate it into prose.

We started an amazing interaction in the comments of my last post.  This time, let's bring it!  All issues can be addressed!  No subject is taboo!  I urge you to submit all thoughts and quandaries that you may have considered proposing in the past.  Anybody can ask anything and all of us should feel free to share answers, opinions and ideas even if, and possibly especially if, they challenge the majority.

Dear friends, by submitting your questions and topics for discussion, you are soooo covering my procrastinating patootie!!  Seriously, I am one harried Mama right now.  I gotta get rolling.

I hope all of you are able to find more happy than hectic or melancholy this Christmas, but if you find yourself struggling, come here.  Grab an eggnog, with some spiced rum of course, and be with us.  I feel the love & hope through the screen and I'm sending it all right back!!  Holiday Hope & Hugs!!!

It's Always Something.

For those of you old enough, as in...at least as ancient as me, to remember SNL when it was cool, you might recall the immortal words of Gilda Radner as the slightly annoying but immensely endearing, Roseanne Roseannadanna.  Week after week she shared a multitude of exasperating situations that had befallen her, or some specific incident that ranked way up there on the gross-out-o-meter!
Her monologues always included the words, "It's always something.  If it's not one thing it's another."
Can't you just hear her?  In that raspy voice?  See her huge head of frizzy hair that would never be tamed with any amount of recommended hair products?
I really loved her.  Gilda was a comic genius.

I have heard Rosanna's voice in my head a lot the past few months.  As my blog has progressed, from time to time, I've tried to convey where I am on my road to happy.  Some days, I feel confident that I have finally arrived at the glorious destination of HAPPY.  Most days, I just keep trudging along.  Many days, I'm whistling a happy tune on my journey.  Other days, I feel like I'm schlepping a hundred pound bag of bricks on my back and on the really rough days, I'm schlepping the bricks while slogging along, dragging my ever-so-tired ass up an incline that resembles Kilimanjaro, but those days grow few and far between and I am grateful.

I don't know when, if ever, the triggers abate.  Many have told me, this is a never ending ache, but that the ache will improve from chronic and acute to dull and intermittent.  I can live with that.  That's why I chose to stay with Richard.  Our marriage is worth learning to sustain my joy while enduring the intermittent, dull ache.

For the newbie readers:  I'm 2 years and 2 months post DDay.  I interrupt the continuation of my story with updates in real time once in a while.  This periodic status check gives me the opportunity to thoroughly contemplate where I am on my road to Happy and analyze what part of my marriage and my psyche still needs some attention. During this analytical pause, I've learned, "It's always something!"
And, I'm gonna have to learn to live with that.

There's something currently blocking my road to Happy and the undeniable fact is... I dumped the shit there!
I found a list of questions you should ask your wayward spouse right after DDay.  It's a good list.

http://www.ivillage.com/10-questions-ask-your-unfaithful-spouse-0/4-a-283611?p=1

Why, when or what brought this list to my attention is questionable.  In other words, I can't freakin' remember.  Most of the questions have been asked and answered at least once, but more than likely many times in a variety of ways.
But, because it's always something, I decided to pose a few of these to Richard again.  I emailed him.  Below are the questions in red with his answers in blue:
Got the response from him yesterday.

1.  What did you like about yourself during the affair? I felt young and wanted.  How were you different with her than me?  I was myself so not all that different. Perhaps more paternal with her; conversations were taken down to her level – her school, her boyfriend; perhaps a little more silly and carefree since we didn’t have the day to day issues that come with the responsibilities of having a family..

2.  How was this time different or similar to previous infidelities? I had feelings for her that were not just sex.

3.  What did you share with her about us? I told her you were a good wife and we had a good marriage.

4.  After the first time you had sex, did you feel guilty?  Yes. If so, how were you able to continue? The excitement and desire for the next time was more powerful than the guilt… like being a drug addict. I would feel bad driving home and walking in and seeing you  – especially the overnight at law enforcement dinner – but then I would quickly (within 24 hours??) look forward to the next time. We have talked about how I squared it up in my mind -- I deserved it because  I am an older,  successful man and lots of  successful men have mistresses.

Since receiving his short, but brutally honest answers, I've been trudging up Kilimanjaro with that bag of bricks I mentioned.  Last night, when I came home, I was quieter than usual, but we had a nice family TV night watching "The Voice."  We are rooting for the last girl standing, Cassadee Pope. (even though the way she spells her name makes me swallow hard!)  

Wise Richard knew I might be a little tender after reviewing his answers, as he is well versed in reading my moods. We did not discuss the email at all.  I asked the questions even though I knew most of the answers.  I opened the wound.  

Why did I need to ask about the affair AGAIN after all this time?  Because it's always gonna be something.  We will have brain worms forever and once in a while you're gonna need to feed the bastards.  The key is....you learn to feed them while keeping them under lock and key.  You learn to keep them at a distance.  You can see them.  You should acknowledge them, but they do not need to be set free to run amok.  

Here's my NEW something...as of this morning, I'm OK.  I read his response at work yesterday and my heart crumbled when I read the answer to question number 2.  My eyes are quite damp as I tell you about it.  However, a deep breath or two and I'm gonna get on with my day.  It's almost Christmas which gives a completely different meaning to it's always something!  I have way too much to accomplish today to dwell on what happened two years ago!  

This road to happy itinerary update gives me hope and I wanted to share it with you.  With each day that passes, I am getting stronger.   I can carry those miserable bricks up that mountain if I must because I know I'm one tough cookie.   The road to Happy is not a destination.  It's a journey.  All journeys have ups and downs.  

If there are obstacles on my road to Happy, so be it.  Well..I guess I should say WHEN there are obstacles because...Come on!  Say it with me...It's Always Something!

Manic Meltdown Part 2

The train to Crazy Town had pulled away from the station, chugged hard to make it up a wickedly steep hill and was now about to barrel down the reverse side of the incline with the brakes completely disengaged.  In short...it was about to get ugly.

Or...to be accurate...uglier.  Of all the times I lost it over the first year after DDay and as many of you are well aware, there is a plethora, a multitude, a vast quantity of incidents that involved me taking leave of my common sense, this is the meltdown that I regret the most.  You'd think I would care more about the meltdowns that impacted my loved ones, my family, my friends.  I do have remorse about most of those, too, but this day, in Richard's office, holds the gold medal for meltdowns and still causes me extreme discomfort as I describe it.

Eventually I'll share an additional meltdown moment in Jaymie's parents' church and you might wonder why this visit to Crazy Town penetrated my psyche deeper than that.  Here's why, in the church, I experienced the deepest of debilitating emotions, sorrow, heartbreak and anguish.  The pain was mine to bear.  This day, in Richard's office, I became a real threat to him, much more so than any other day.  I wanted to hurt him.  I wanted to leave permanent wounds, scars he would see everyday for the rest of his miserable, lying, cheating, adulterous life.  Not physical injury, psychological damage and public humiliation that would haunt him forever.
Come on....you know you've imagined ways you could 'out' your cheating spouse!  Billboards declaring him to be an adulterous pig or fliers with his scum-bag mug and a thorough description of the revolting details of his philandering escapades on every car windshield at the local mall on Black Friday!
Not to worry...those fantasies are good!  Acting out on them...not so much.

As loud as I had been in Richard's office, I was able to amp it up a notch.  He had closed the door, so I felt the need to bring my "A" game in the vocal decibels department.  He asked me to please keep my voice down.  Yeah, that wasn't gonna happen.
"Why? Everyone here already knows about Jaymie, right?  They witnessed your disgusting behavior first hand!  Who cares if they know I'm pissed?  How could they NOT know?"
"They don't know.  Only Michelle knows.  These are my employees.  Please."
"Are you really that stupid?  You think they didn't know?  Jaymie spent more time in this office than all of your staff combined!  You really think they don't know?  You're still lying!  Of course you know they know!  How could they miss you chasing after Jaymie?  They know alright.  But, just to be sure...I'll go ask."

Before Richard could even begin to process what I was about to do, I dashed out the door, all the way back down the hall, past Michelle's office, with the door still closed, past the front desk and the wide-eyed receptionist, straight into Sharon's office.  Sharon is the attorney that leases office space from Richard. and Jaymie's former employer.  She hired Jaymie on Richard's recommendation.  Why else would she hire a coffee shop waitress as her legal assistant?
Sharon was sitting behind her desk.  She looked up with a deer in the headlights expression and I blurted out my inquiry.  "Did you know Richard was fucking Jaymie?"  Her mouth dropped open so wide a bird could have flown in and set up house, and all she was capable of was a shake of her head and a barely audible, breathy no.

I didn't buy it.   I spun on my heels and marched toward the front desk.  The receptionist had been joined by one of the firm's attorneys, Lori.  Safety in numbers, I guess.  I barely paused but I looked right at Lori and in a voice that probably sounded to her like evil personified, I hissed, "It's on.  I'm gonna find out who knew what!"  Then, back past Michelle's office and into Richard's.  I slammed the door behind me and announced my intention.  "As soon as that client leaves, we're gonna have a little staff meeting.  We need to clarify who knew you were fucking Jaymie.  I want answers! They better not lie to me just to cover your ass!"

To Richard's credit, he didn't say we couldn't call such a meeting to order.  He merely suggested we sit for a minute and decide how it should be handled.  I was in no mood for sitting.  Pacing, stomping and flailing, that was working for me.  On the credenza, behind his desk, was the digital frame I gave him for Christmas, flashing photos of our family in 2010.  I gave him that to remind him of what he nearly lost, could still lose, forever.  I lunged for it, tried to yank it from it's cord. "Please don't take that!  I love it. I need it."
He was begging, almost crying.  It wouldn't pull out of the wall so I dropped it and grabbed an 8x10 photo of us and the kids skiing in Mammoth.  I shook the picture at him. "You don't deserve us!  We are too good for you!"
With the picture in my hand, I dashed back into the hall and to my astonishment...the place was empty.
All the staff had gone.  Sharon was missing, too.

"Where are they?  Where'd they go?  Did you tell them to leave?"
"I didn't have to tell them to go.  They couldn't get out fast enough.  They emailed me to say they were leaving and I was to let them know when you were gone."
"You get them back here!  Just lie to them like you lied to me!  Tell them I'm gone.  Do it, damn it!"

We went back and forth for nearly an hour.  It was obvious they weren't coming back. My throat was raw from yelling.  As my frustration mounted, the pounding in my head became excruciating!  Finally, I couldn't take anymore.  I was spent.  Anger of that magnitude is crippling.  I gabbed the car keys and made for the elevator.  I'd like to think I had a brief flash of sanity, but really, it had more to do with the level of anger I was able to maintain.  My rage tank was running on fumes.  I was close to collapse.  Time to go.

Down to the parking level with Richard right behind.  I burst into tears, wailing, "How could you do this?  You ruined everything!  You killed us!  You killed us!"  And, with that declaration, I hurled the framed photo to the ground.  The glass shattered on impact and flew into the air.
As I threw myself into the driver's seat, I heard Richard pleading with me to be careful while repeating his mantra of "I'm so sorry."
He began to pick up glass but he understood I wasn't waiting for him to move and I was leaving NOW.  He got the hell out of my way and watched as I did my best imitation of an Indy car driver burning rubber around the corner and out of the garage.
Whew.  It wasn't even noon yet.  This would be a very long day.

Manic Meltdown Part 1

While telling my story of lunacy after discovering Richard's infidelity, there are only a few instances that I will be able to provide you with the exact timeline, the precise date.  This post is a case in point.

The events of the day I'm about to relate were arguably me at my most imbalanced.
Oh, Holy Understatement, Batman...make that totally mental, psycho and destructive.  I know what day I flipped out,  Friday, January 28th, 108 days since DDay.  I know what time I lost my mind, very close to 10:00 am.  I also know where I took complete leave of my common sense.  The worst possible place.  Richard's office with all of his employees there to witness.  What I can't share with any certainty is WHY!  I have little recollection of what tripped my crazy trigger.  

As it was Friday, Richard and I had planned a date night.  We both had to work that day but we were able to go in a little later so we could share the ride and thus, only have one car to drive home.  Richard drove his car, the black Lexus that Jaymie had been in much more than I cared to imagine.  The plan was I would drop Richard off at his office and then head to my store to begin my work day.  I would pick him up later that afternoon and our date would commence.

Somewhere along the drive down the 15S to the 163S my madness boiled over.  It was like molten lava oozing up from the belly of the beast.  An eruption was imminent, but the timing and the force unpredictable.  I know the conversation in the car turned the switch on my composure from simmer to rapid boil, but for the life of me, I don't understand why then, what was so infuriating about that morning?  His words pushed me over the edge of self-control and yet, I can't recall many of them.

I hope I'm not making this part up.  I sort of/kind of remember talking about how it made me very sad that I couldn't go up to his office anymore.  Michelle had no interest in seeing me or even speaking with me.  I had ripped her a big, fat new one after I learned she had knowledge of Richard & Jaymie's affair and did little to put a stop to it.  (Yeah, yeah!  I know.  Not her job.  But, it made my life a tad easier to spread the blame around.)  Plus, I knew his whole staff saw it.  They all had front row seats to my husband's seduction of his baby whore.  You can surely imagine why I chose to avoid their pitying glances and whispered gossip.  Richard agreed it would be uncomfortable, but he hoped in the not too distant future, we would get back to normal.  To me, that meant, you can't go up to my office right now, which meant I was FOR SURE going up to his office right now.

Here is where the story becomes crystal clear.  With my adrenaline level off the charts,  I announced something like, "I'm going up to your office now.  I haven't seen Michelle for a while. It's time we talked."  Richard didn't think that was such a great plan.  Even though I can't be sure, I'd bet the ranch he slipped into panic mode after I declared my intent.  He protested the idea with numerous lame ass excuses, so when we were nearing his office, by Balboa Park, stopped at a light, I jumped out of the car and the meltdown was on!

I hit that sidewalk like a soldier charging into battle.  Lit a cigarette and I stormed..that's right...I STORMED 3 blocks toward his 3rd floor office.  Richard must have hauled ass to his parking spot, because he managed to catch up with me at the elevator.  He pleaded for me to be calm.  His last line of defense against this office invasion was trying to convince me that he understood my anger and he was so, so sorry.  SORRY!  I was soooo OVER that word!

Out of the elevator and straight into family law central.  Jaw and fists clenched as I rushed past the front desk, Richard right behind.  I caught a glimpse of the receptionist's face.  Obviously, she knew something was up but had yet to fathom what the issue could be.  She would grasp it all very shortly.  I was in no mood for subtleties.

As I headed for Richard's private work/Jaymie Love domain, at the end of the hall, I flew by Michelle's office and lucky for her, the door was closed which meant she was with a client.  I must have been graced by Divine Intervention because I managed a minuscule amount of restraint that prevented me from barging right on in, client be damned.

Not that the client wouldn't get an ear-full anyway.  Richard's office is just past Michelle's.  They share a common wall and as soon as I crossed the threshold into the space that had witnessed Richard and Jaymie together naked, my very loud tirade began.  Almost an out-of-body experience.  A meltdown of epic proportions that everyone in the office could hear.  Hell, probably everybody on the 3rd floor heard it and I could have cared less.

All Aboard!! Leaving Now for Crazy Town!

This is where it's gonna get uncomfortable for me.  From here on in, this story won't be about Richard's repugnant behavior.  It's gonna be a confessional, of sorts.  This is the pivotal point in my story that I'm sure will alienate many of my readers.
For the record, I will miss you.

A HUGE disclaimer is required here: Please don't do what I did!!  Please let the bitch-whore go!  My behavior made everything worse.  Not once did I feel better while touring Crazy Town.

Many days of 2011 brought me right to the edge of Crazy Town.  I mean, RIGHT to the edge, with my toe dipped in the icy water of the massive moat that surrounds Crazy Town.  Some days I dove right in and swam, full speed, like Michael Phelps, across the muddy moat with complete disregard of the potentially disastrous consequences waiting on the other side.

I am very grateful that I was only a frequent visitor in Crazy Town and although I got to know the local turf pretty well, I never became a permanent resident.  I must thank Dr. N with his magical bag of pharmaceuticals that calmed the rapid firing defective neurons in my brain and the lovely Dr. K for the hours she spent in a most sincere effort to shove a much needed reality check down my throat.

My level of crazy fluctuated from day to day.  Sometimes there was a trigger that propelled me deeper into the danger zone, but often I just woke up from a fitful sleep feeling nutso.
I beg a bit of compassion here.  Please remember, when I acted out, when I did some of the things I'm going to confess, I didn't think I was out of line at all.  Mostly, I was just so angry!  In a few fleeting moments when anguish replaced anger, I realized my behavior was not normal and often over the top, but that didn't mean I had the self control to throw on the brakes.

January 27th, 2011, was one of the mornings I woke up on the wrong side of sane.  I had already sent an email to Jaymie offering to trade the rest of the cash she had agreed to return to me for the ALL of the emails she shared with Richard.  She did not respond to my offer.  Being ignored was a HUGE trigger!  I sent this to Jaymie & her Daddy.

I would appreciate a response regarding my offer.  I want the emails or the money ASAP.   If you can afford to send the entire $400 in one check, we can avoid these emails in the future. If there are financial issues, let me know.  I'm sure we can work something out as I still want the emails.  A final note for Jaymie:  I am not at all surprised that you are having your father deal with the consequences of your poor choices.  Obviously, you are still too immature to handle such adult matters on your own.  You have a very tolerant father.  When our children reach your age, they will be responsible for cleaning up their own messes.  Jim:  If the check isn't at my store tomorrow, I will email you again.
 `shawn`

That got James in a snit!  I'm not sure which lit the bonfires of Crazy Town more...being ignored or being challenged like I was when I got this:

Please do not commentate on my family… you have enough troubles of your own.

Had it not been for a predatory person like your husband – this conversation will never take place.  You also have a strong personality (one that I am not afraid or intimidated of) – you can take your anger, bitterness, and attention elsewhere.

Go heal your own home and leave my family alone.

I will not respond to any of your conversations anymore. This is done. 

                   Jim 

Jim had no way of knowing he was throwing fuel on the bonfire!  I shot back:

                   
You don't get to dictate to me, but I understand your frustration.  Until I find complete closure, Richard AND Jaymie will deal with me.

They both owe me the opportunity to understand what happened and why.  

I am tending to my own issues, but you seem to forget your daughter's hand in the affair.  Choices were made.

Jaymie needs to own those choices.  You referred to Richard as a "predatory person".  Please....it's not like Jaymie is 12, for God's sake.

Far be it from me to defend him, but get a grip on reality.  Your daughter is no saint in this.

                            

`shawn` 

James didn't respond.  It seems he was a quick study and he learned right off that engaging me meant enraging me.  I was very angry as I typed my last response to him.  That anger simmered over the bonfire all day and night.  The next day, it boiled over big time.  I paraded my ass down the Main Street of Crazy Town on a huge, freakin' float!!  The parade ended in Richard's office.

Personal Revelations

From the beginning, when I first unraveled the mystery of how to blog last December, the main purpose of putting my fingertips to this keyboard was to encourage healing through purging, a feeble last resort to regain my sanity and happiness.  No one is more surprised than I that it appears to be working for me.  So far, it has taken me over eleven months to tell you about my life during the first three months after DDay.

Some of you may think I have been less than expedient with the total tale.  Richard has said, more than once, that the blog is becoming repetitive.  I can see that perspective, but I ain't writing this damn story for him.  I write BECAUSE of him, so he can kiss my blogging bootie.

As I search my memory for the emotions, the incidents, the confrontations, the actions, the reactions and the conversations, as I give my best effort to relate each specific component from my first year as a betrayed wife, there is almost always a personal epiphany hidden between the lines.  By the time I hit the "publish" button, I will have learned something about myself.  The revelations aren't always flattering, but they are all educational and valuable.  I am able to glean small tidbits from each post that are beginning to resemble a banquet of understanding and healing.  I'm not into meditation.  I don't seek enlightenment through religion.  Therapy always felt like a punishment.
So, I blog.

Example #1:  I've learned a substantial amount about transference.  I sent a dozen emails to Jaymie trying to get her to face me under the pretense of seeking answers that would help me heal, when what I really and truly wanted to do was squeeze Richard's nuts until they burst like ripe grapes.
That's a lesson learned!  Misdirected anger is nothing but a huge waste of energy, energy that comes at a premium when you find yourself severely depressed and possibly in shock.

Example #2:  When confronted, cheaters only confess to the bare minimum.  Trickle Truth is the norm, not the exception to the rule, and intuition is a God given self-preservation tool...utilize it!  Had I been privy to this fascinating fact, I would have saved myself additional layers of despair.  I would have girded my loins for the gradual influx of garbage that would continue to spill from Richard lying lips for weeks after DDay.

Example #3:  This one would have been a major game changer for me, and ties in with example numero dos.  The initial discovery of a cheating spouse deserves serious contemplation.  You will surely wonder how concentration of any kind can be achieved when your entire world is disintegrating.  This example of personal revelation might be intended only for those of superhuman emotional control.  As we know, that would NOT have included me, so for me it's merely a pie-in-the-sky wish, not really something I learned.  I wish I could have managed to breathe deep and pause to consider what options I had available.  There were a plethora of choices to be made.  I didn't think anything through.  Many missteps followed my visceral outbursts.  If only a calmer head had prevailed...like I said, it's a pipe dream.

So, contrary to what my critics believe, I don't blog seeking attention, I don't pour my guts into cyberspace for some sort of warped self-gratification.  This blog does not exist as a virtual wood shed to continue flogging  Richard for his behavior, I can do that quite nicely right here at home verbally, live and in person.
I blog to facilitate useful introspection needed to find my road back to happy.  These pages contain the narrative of my past as well as the map guiding me to my future.

If you have been joining me on this journey of personal revelation, you know sappy diatribe ain't my thing, so let me end with this, I hope with all of my broken but consistently mending heart that through this blog I am able to reach out to others that find themselves walking in the dark valley of infidelity.
Other betrayed spouses helped save me and I am all about payback.
The rest of my story will attest to that.

You Can't Scare Me

Halloween!  Time for all things spooky, scary, frightening and morbid!
Well...it's gonna take more than a rotting zombie, a blood sucking vampire or puke spewing possessed little girl with her head on backwards to phase me!
I'm hard core.  I'm a betrayed wife.

You can't scare me with mere decapitations or amputations executed by a lunatic in a battered hockey mask wielding a rusted machete.  I scoff at flying limbs.
Bring on the most antagonistic poltergeist!  Apparitions combined with lightening, fog, rattling chains and eerie organ music will never give me pause.
I survived infidelity.  I think I can handle lizard like aliens leaping out of intestinal tracts.

BEWARE!!!  I'm gonna share a REAL scary picture with you.  It was taken 10/31/10.
This poor woman had been transformed by mental torture so severe, only 2 short weeks after her heart had been ripped from her chest, she was totally brainwashed into believing Richard, the Liar, her husband that pledged to love her and only her forever.  Wicked Richard, the Liar, told her there were no more secrets, no more shocking revelations to cause her additional agony.  The Liar spun his tale of confession.  The story was that he had shared everything about his affair with a scrawny evil witch named Jaymie and he was beyond remorseful.
In her delusional state, she had come to nearly worship the man that cut out her heart.  Note how in her fool's paradise of denial she clings to the dastardly and deceptive victimizer, smiling all the while!
Shocking!  Alarming! The most outrageous scene in 30 years of marriage!

                                              OH,  THE  HUMANITY!

Are you scared yet??  Are you shaking uncontrollably??  You should be HORRIFIED!!

Not to worry, she cast off the bondage of delusional thought when she found the hidden letters that revealed Richard was truly in love with the evil witch.  She grew stronger through her discovery and waged a great war against Richard the Liar.  Although she was admittedly, stark raving mad for over a year, she persevered and is now firmly on the path to happy ever after.

Now you know why I'll never be scared by anything Freddy Krueger can dish out.
Happy Halloween, my frightful fiends!!
I hope you are gifted with far more Treats than Tricks!

Tick, Tick, Tick...BOOM!

January brought little to the table of recovery.  In fact, January was nothing but more of the same.  How much more crazy could I get?  My moods could be compared to a revolving door.  Don't like the one you see now?  Just wait a second.  Another will be along at any moment, however you may like the new arrival even less.

I was nothing more than a ticking time bomb. It was almost 3 months after DDay and I was seething inside, but working my ass off to put on a show for the world, excluding Richard.  The show was as much for me as for appearances.  Dear Lord, I needed a break!  Being crazy is completely debilitating!
It was like a little mental vacation when Toughie Pants took the wheel.

Only Richard was witness to my authentic agony, anger and agitation.  He was well aware that I was like highly unstable ammunition, one accidental jolt would cause me to detonate.  I was definitely NOT gonna be the poster patient for Lexapro anytime soon.

In the evenings, we would sit outside trying to decide when Richard would leave and how in the hell we were gonna pay for his new digs.  We still slept in the same bed and more often than not, would wake in the middle of the night and have sex, steamy, lustful sex.  I'd say make love, but it didn't feel like that.  Think about that level of crazy...checking Craig's List for low rent apartments after dinner, then later that same night, hours of hysterical bonding personified.

Are you sick of reading about how sick in the head I was?  I get that.  I was sick of myself.  I had to find an outlet to release some pressure.  Can you guess where I tossed that grenade?
Right at Jaymie.
Transference much?? Lucky, lucky Richard!
To aim at Richard alone was intolerable.  He would never have survived a direct singular attack from me.  I was acutely aware that I needed to distribute the carnage outside my home.  It was like an air assault.  You know when you open the hatch and drop the bomb, people are gonna get hurt, but you don't have to see first hand.

I relaunched my battle for the emails.  There were so many I hadn't seen.  It was like Jaymie was occupying territory that was rightfully mine and I set my sights on getting it all back.
My offensive began innocently, well...that's a little too kind....at first it was "controlled".
She had sent me the first check for $100 just after Christmas.  I decided to offer her a deal.
Surrender the emails and keep the rest of the money.  The rest of the money, $400, meant nothing to me. (remember just a couple of weeks ago, I HAD to get that money back!  Oh, the winds of war..)
The emails were invaluable.  I sent this:
Jaymie:

I called my store and they told me your first check had arrived.  Thank you.

I want to offer you a way to not pay back the rest of the money.

If you still have the emails you exchanged with Richard, I would take those over the money.

I want all of them.  You omitted many of the emails when you sent them to me the first time.

If you can send me all the emails AND the Victoria's Secret items AND the CDs, I will not ask for any more of the money. 

It must be difficult for you to come up with $500, so maybe this would be easier for you.  The emails will help me fully understand the relationship you shared with Richard.  He needs to understand it, too.  

In case you care, we are trying very hard to work past this.  I don't think we're doing a very good job of it.

But, we soldier on.  We hope for clarity and resolution.

I hope you take time and truly consider this offer.

Shawn

Funny. (funny weird, not funny haha)  I wrote this post before reading this old email.  Note I said "soldier" on.   Battle, bombs, soldiers...I thought I was just now figuring out the dynamics of my life after Dday.  Apparently, I knew I was waging war back then, too.
Acquiring the emails became my mission, my ultimate goal.
I was containing the ticking time bomb with mental deflection.
So much better than mental detonation!
Tick...Tick....Tick....

Should Auld Aquaintence be Forgot?

The end of 2010, the worst year of my life, was rapidly coming to a close.
The worst year?  Yea.  No doubt about it.  Thanks to my carnal craving husband.
Even though most of the year was filled with fun, whale watching in January, a great ski trip in February, my 50th birthday celebration with my dearest friends in Vegas in June, a trip with our kids to New York and a long over due family reunion in West Virginia in July...even with all of that being beyond wonderful, so many special memories that will last a lifetime... DDay on September 12th negated the lot.

Isn't that what happens?  You feel blessed with a lifetime of happy.  Lucky to have found the perfect mate to share the best years of your life, humming through your days in harmony...Then...WHAMMO!  A vicious reality check!  Your perfect spouse is really a nefarious liar!  I know I can't speak for all betrayed spouses.  Some had less than happy marriages before DDay, but even still..none of us thought we'd end up on the shitty end of the infidelity stick.  (EEWWWW.  I seem to have a severe case of potty mouth this morning!  Sorry.)

I said "perfect" mate.  I know no one's perfect, but damn...my life felt pretty effin' perfect until my head on collision with adultery.  2010 had been chock-full of fabulous!  Such a damn shame all the great got blown out of the water by my husband's choice to cheat.  How could I cherish the memories of my birthday in Vegas, when I now know he was texting her from every casino?  Why would I want to remember the New York City vacation with my kids?  That's when I noticed Richard had learned to use his camera phone.  I praised him for his technical advances!  The pictures were for Jaymie.  He wanted to include her in our sightseeing adventures.

Not where this post was supposed to go, but if my blog is part of your regular reading diet you understand I tend to loose focus.  I had intended to blog about the last days of 2010.  Let's see if I can get to it...

After I asked Richard for divorce, things calmed down at home.  Now that a decision had been made, we just had to devise a plan to get our new lives up and running.  There were many elements to consider, but finances and family were at the top of the to-do list.
Telling the family, especially our kids, was the scariest part of the proposition and would have to wait until we knew when Richard was leaving and where he would go.  That's a conversation you only wanna have once,  (well, preferably never, but wadda ya gonna do?) so it's best to get your details straight before the talk takes place.
Step One:  We needed to budget for two households.  We reviewed all our incoming and outgoing cash.  It was quickly apparent that some belt tightening would be required.  After we determined how much we could afford to spend on rent for Richard's solitary confinement, we started searching for places in our price range.  It was looking more and more like he would take up residence at the YMCA.

Weird that we did all this as a team.  We actually spent more time in casual conversation that weekend than anytime since DDay.  We even exchanged a few emails the following week that tended toward the light hearted.  A specific date for Richard to depart to accommodations unknown was never verbalized.  He didn't say a word because he didn't want to go.  If I wasn't gonna complain about him dragging his wayward feet, he certainly wasn't gonna mention it.  I didn't set a time frame because **Newsflash** I didn't want him to go either.
I say, "Get out!"
I mean, "Please don't leave me!"  UGH!
It was about me wanting him to think that I wanted him to leave...I think.

We rang in the New Year as a family having no idea if we would continue to be a family in 2011.
I remember hearing Auld Lang Syne at midnight.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,  
and never brought to mind?  (If her name is Jaymie...You bet your ass!)

I wished to God I could forget the last 3 months of my life.
Happy Freakin' New Year.

Infidelity Inquisition

I guess I had a bit of a flair for the dramatic that night, sipping wine while the huge California sun dipped beyond the horizon.  I managed to keep a straight face and gaze deeply into Richard's eyes, knowing full well I was gonna rock his world right after sunset and the potential Green Flash. (I have yet to witness a Green Flash, but good friends that I trust don't want to make me play the foolish tourist, assure me it exists.)

"I want a divorce."  Cool & calm as a judge issuing a death sentence.  How can I convey to you the look on Richard's face?  I doubt he could have looked any more shocked if I had whipped out a set of thumb screws and proceeded to attach them to his finger tips squishing them like grapes. There was a moment that felt like time had been frozen.  He almost looked through me, not at me.  Then, he began to nod.

"Wow.  You sure had me fooled.  I thought this night was supposed to help you heal."
I convinced Richard to take me on the Tour de Trauma by telling him that I needed to face these potential triggers in order to put them behind me.
What a frickin' crock.  No way I was ready to "Let it go" or "Get over it".  I could tell you that my intentions had been honorable when I spun my story for Richard.  With minimal effort, I might even fool myself into believing that I dreamed of reclaiming my life that night by fast forwarding through the time and places he was with Jaymie.
But if I wanna be able to look myself in the mirror later, I gotta say....the whole night was about torturing him, stretching him on the revenge ringer rack.  The tour was also about getting answers to the questions...what did he do with Jaymie?  Where did he take her?  What did they talk about?  Getting the answers, while subjecting Richard to mental torture was not a singular event.  Much of our lives evolved around the infidelity inquisition.

Funny word..inquisition.  It's good to be inquisitive, but an inquisition has nothing but negative connotations.  When I asked to see the places Richard spent time with Jaymie, I did so under the guise of being inquisitive.  I must now admit, once I strapped Richard in for a question and answer session, I became a member of the Catholic church hierarchy and he, a heretic.  When my morbid curiosity was in high gear, I would dare say, Richard would have preferred to be tied to the rack and stretched until his shoulders were separated from his arms.  Unfortunately for Richard, he had already admitted his guilt.  There were no good answers that would grant him freedom from the agony of an inquisition.

Like me, I'll bet you hoped and wished that getting one more answer to the million questions would surely place you on the fast track to recovery and reconciliation.  A few of you might be cut from the same vindictive cloth that covers my soul, but most of the betrayed spouses I have come to know, sincerely believe answers beget healing.  
Some disclosures will help you heal, but others may haunt you forever.
I know I repeat myself, but this is one crucial little factoid....we can not be expected to understand or even begin to comprehend what will lessen our pain after DDay.  But...when you ask questions...remember the tarnished golden rule:  Once you know it, you can't UN-know it.

Most of us will act out in some way as the distressing information becomes more available to us.  I was vengeful and uber-angry.  Others may remain despondent and deeply wounded for months.  
Hear ye...hear ye!  I declare any reaction to DDay to be A-OK.  Absolutely, positively hunky-dory under the circumstances.  I was as crazy and confused as James Carville at a pro-life rally, but I have made peace with my extraordinarily bad behavior, much I have yet to admit to you.  I just don't think any jury would convict me.  If there was ever a reason for an insanity plea to hold up, infidelity is surely it.

I knew my true intentions that night.  My plan was all about hurting him like he hurt me.  
Repetitious factoid number two: We can never hurt them the way they hurt us!  Lashing out, drawing blood feels good for a minute, maybe even an hour if you land a really vicious punch, but it will never compare to the blood letting caused on DDay.  Any wrong you do to him will always remain so much less than he deserves....so why waste the effort?

Nearly two years later, I've been taught a lot by generous souls that have come successfully out the other side of the black hole of adultery.  I'm trying to share some of these mighty epiphanies through this blog as I continue to absorb them myself.  Two big ones are above....here's another:  If your wayward spouse gives you as much as you need, regardless of your meteoric rise on the crazy meter, if he steps back and let's you run the freak show that has become your life...he might just deserve a another chance.  He might be worth forgiving.  Let him up off the rack.

Tour de Trauma

The end of 2010 was quickly approaching.  I dreamed of a fresh start in the new year, but I truly had no idea what that start would look like.  Sure, in our sessions with the lovely Dr. K my stance was abundantly clear...Richard needs to leave.  To find my way, to begin to process all the trauma, I must be on my own.

Imagine Richard's confusion...
Inhale & demand he start packing.  Profess nothing but disdain for him and his betrayal.
Exhale & wrap him up in me for hours of passionate love making while declaring I will love him always.  Yea...I was seriously mental.
My emotions were convoluted at best.  Richard only wanted to make me better, make my pain disappear.  I think he would have done anything I asked if I told him it would make me happy again.
He was all about atonement.

That gave me ANOTHER idea. (I was just over-flowing with ideas!  Most of them bad.) I told Richard I wanted to go on a tour of sorts.   I guided tour of "Places Richard Spent Time with Jaymie, the Bitch- Whore."  We'll just call it a date night.  Visit scenes of the crimes.  Soak up the ambiance of the places my husband romanced the skinny assed skank.  Doesn't that sound like LOADS of fun??
Maybe...if you're a masochist!  I guess I kind of was.

Because my man aimed to please, he agreed to my request.  Like I said, he may have been willing to gnaw off his arm to make me happy at this point.  I'll bet he would have preferred the taste of his own flesh to the night I had planned.

I knew about numerous locals they frequented during the affair.  They had walked, hand in hand, all around the hotel at Barona Casino after cocktails and coitus in their room.  They had enjoyed a shopping trip at Fashion Valley Mall.  Made purchases at Nordstrom and Victoria's Secret, apparently not concerned about strolling together in public.  Then, there was Jaymie's favorite rendezvous spot, doggie beach in Coronado.  She had a new puppy and as most little girls would, she wanted to spend lots of time spoiling her precious beast.

I chose to go to two other spots on the Tour de Trauma.
First:  Krakatoa Cafe in the Golden Hills section of San Diego.  Coffee, smoothies, sandwiches and Wifi.  What more does a young co-ed need?  Richard said he spent hours there with Jaymie, just holding hands and talking.  Don't you think the other 20-something patrons cringed a little seeing Jaymie cuddling up with my 60 year old husband??  It sure would creep me out!
We only spent a few minutes in there.  It was a dark little place, hidden in lots of shade trees.  Much too bohemian for my taste.  I walked around inside, paced the patio and headed back to our car.
Move on folks...nothing to see here.

Second: A vacation spot much more my speed, the Lowe's Coronado Resort.  This was where Richard had surprised Jaymie with an afternoon of jet-skiing, followed by lunch and a massage.  We walked to the dock where they had rented the jet ski.  We went inside the spa and took a fast peek at the pool.  Had a quick drink at the bar in the lobby. (by then, we both needed one real bad!) Then, back to the valet and into Richard's car.  Even his car was contaminated.  I knew Jaymie's sweating ass had been in that passenger seat many times.  I should have made him trade that car in or sterilize it at the very least before my butt had to touch the same leather as hers.
So much in my life had been corrupted.  Where would it end?

Maybe at the Hotel del Coronado.  Sitting on the beach watching the sunset.  That was our next stop.  I wanted to go there because, as far as I knew, he had never taken her there.
I couldn't tell you for certain what I had hoped to gain from this journey into infidelity memory lane.  I can only guess.  I think I was steeling my resolve.  I think I wanted Richard to have as much understanding as he possibly could about how my world was altered by his choices.  How he debased our marriage.
Probably, a lot of this was just to make him squirm with guilt.  Torture him for a few hours before I came in for the kill watching the beautiful, serene sunset over the Pacific, drinking a wonderful chardonnay.
Staring deeply into his eyes, with my hand on his knee...
"Richard, I want a divorce."
Take that, you cheating bastard.

My Greatest Fear

We survived Christmas.  We even managed to enjoy some of it.  Mom, Dad and Grandpa were here with us.  Mom still didn't know, but I'm fairly sure she knew something was up.  Of course, thanks to Richard, Dad knew, but Dad didn't know I knew he knew (That part of the ride was very twisted!), and anytime with my grandpa is time well spent.  It seemed like the kids were good, too.  Richard and I had done an admirable job of keeping up appearances.

We still went to our marriage counselor every week and to our individual therapists, too.  If you asked me today what we got out of all those hours of therapy, I'd be hard pressed to articulate it.  In most of the sessions, I was too angry to hear anything the professionals had to say.  I was never really honest with my emotions because I was much too afraid to face them.  Anger was my emotion of choice for such a long time.  If I wasn't angry, then I became vulnerable.  If those were my two choices, anger was the big winner.  Anger made me feel like I had power.  I had control.

Here's a tip for those of you fresh into the mess...You can't control the coaster.  At some point, you're gonna have to admit that to yourself.  It might help if you can swallow that jagged little pill sooner rather than later.  I fought that reality for over a year.  I couldn't face the fact that when your spouse cheats and you decide to try and work through it so you can stay married to the bastard, you can't avoid becoming vulnerable.  You can act all Toughie Pants, but right under that facade lies Vulnerable Vicki. She is scared shitless 24/7 and you shouldn't ignore her.

My Vicki wasn't a big wuss or anything, but she was no match for Toughie Pants.  She was actually the smartest of all my persona's.  She knew, and in turn that obviously means I knew, this marriage might already be beyond repair. We could just be spinning our wheels.  Our efforts might come to nothing.  Vicki knew all that, but she was willing to risk additional sorrow.

Underneath Toughie Pants,  under all my angry bravado, I was so scared.  I've never been so scared. How would my life look without Richard?  Toughie Pants was ready to find out.  At some point, during every hour of counseling, Toughie Pants announced that it was time for Richard to go.  Vicki kept silent.  Toughie Pants needed space.  Vicki needed a Xanax, a martini and a hug.

Vicki understood the ramifications of separation.  We call them "Trial" separations.  In this particular type of "Trial" the judge and jury are also the accused and the accuser.  That's messy.  Most "Trial" separations result in a divorce soon after.  That's a fact.  Look it up.  Vicki knew it and she kept it to herself.  She deferred to Toughie Pants who wanted Richard out.

Toughie Pants thought sending Richard away would make him understand how much he had damaged me, the true depth of my wounds.  He had to suffer the same egregious pain that he had wrought to be able to comprehend the consequences of his choice to love another.  Toughie Pants made the demands for Richard's departure to lash out, not to help me heal.  Vicki wanted me to heal, but I wasn't ready to let her yet.

I wish I had been smarter.  Hell, my brain function back then didn't set the bar very high, so I can say with great confidence now, I'm a freakin' Einstein compared to back then!  I'm smart enough to know this...I let Toughie Pants run the show even though I was terrified of being alone, because I was even more afraid to let myself be vulnerable.
You can't love without vulnerability, People.  It just ain't possible.

So, I guess I don't mean smarter.  I mean braver.  If I had been braver, I would have let Vicki have her moment.  Vicki should have been given her due.  She could have prevented what happened next.
Vicki never would have let me ask for a divorce.

F%#K Fantasy Football! Part 2

The first of the three lies/omissions came to light as Richard and my son sat at our dining room table working through the picks they hoped to make at the fantasy football draft the next day via a surrogate. The plan was to create a list of preferred players from 1 to 100.  Having no idea how this competition works, I decided to join in for a bit, show interest and appreciation for the effort being made to appease me.
Let's face it.  The change of plan was ONLY to appease me, to keep life pleasant in our humble home.

Richard didn't decide to stay away from Michelle and the draft party because he wanted to or even because he thought it was the right thing to do.  He just did not want to rock the boat.  At this point, I was fine with that!  I didn't think it through. (That's a phrase I've over used writing this blog!) I should have cared  A LOT that he was only doing it for me.  When he makes his decisions based only on what I want, it's gonna lead straight to more secretive behavior.  In fact, it already had.  I just didn't know it yet.

Back to Lie #1.  Discovery was made as follows:
Me: "What are you guys doing?  Working on draft stuff?"
Lukas: "Yep.  Picking our team."
Me: "I'm really glad you figured out a way to stay in the league.  I know you enjoyed it a lot last year.  How did you pick your team last year?  I mean, you were in this league before and you never went to the draft party.  How did it work then?"
Richard jumped in: "We had somebody else pick for us."
Lukas:  "Yea.  We had our other team member go to the draft."
Me: "Who was on your team last year?"
Lukas, glanced at dad and announced:  "Michelle was on our team last year."
Me, glaring at Richard: "Guess you neglected to share that little factoid with me.  Wonder why?"

In a split second I went from very grateful to Richard for compromising to appease me, to so damn angry that my head and gut hurt. Richard knew his goal of keeping a peaceful home was just torpedoed.  Damage control was needed, pronto!  As soon as the boys had completed their work selecting what they hoped would be a stellar team, Richard asked me to come outside and talk.

Me: "Another lie.  A year old lie! You are unbelievable!"
Richard: "It wasn't a lie.  I just didn't tell you.  It meant nothing."
There was lots of back and forth bullshit that boiled down to a huge impasse.  Me accusing him of not getting it. (another over used phrase)  A PURPOSEFUL omission is a lie!  He became increasingly defensive and it got ugly.  He was gonna rub my face in it.
Richard: "Go ahead.  Ask me what other things I haven't told you."
Of course I took him up on that!
Richard: "I hiked up the mountain with Marc when you were out of town working.  I was gonna tell you, but I didn't because I knew you'd make a big deal out of it."

You see where this is going, right?  I don't need to type out all the dialog.  It is just too damn predictable.  Lie #3 was in the lovely Dr. K's office.  Richard talked about things he really wanted to do and how he was becoming resentful that I was still holding him hostage. (not his words, but definitely his meaning)  He admitted to a happy hour with a new associate at his firm and Michelle.

And...Swing batter!  Strike Three!  You're OUT!  (Threw in baseball terminology because that is my sport of choice.  Football sucks.)

The days since then have been wickedly tense.  Seriously, I haven't felt this crappy in months.  The whole depressed, exhaustion feeling...oh, yea.  I got that.  Wanting to start sucking down vodka WAY before happy hour.  Yep.  It's only lunch time now and I'm thinking Kettle One and Tonic sounds awesome.  Scared shitless that Richard doesn't have it in him to do what I need to save our marriage.  Damn straight.  I'd be a fool not to face that.  He thinks I'm asking too much of him.  He says the length of punishment doesn't fit the crime, that I don't give him enough credit for how hard he has worked to save our marriage for nearly 2 years.

After  I finish this post, I'm gonna go back to blogging about months past.  I gotta get on with the story.  I need to let this setback settle.
Not to worry.  If anymore deceitful shit hits the fan.  You'll be the first to know.

F%#K Fantasy Football! Part 1

Fantasy football has become the bane of my existence.

Perhaps I need some kind of "Alert System" on my homepage for posts that switch from past tense to the present.  I'm sure my rambling needs clarification from time to time.   For today, I'll just type this: Head's up, Readers!  This post is about NOW, not 2 years ago.  Not two months ago.  My extreme animosity for the ritual fall activity began a few weeks ago.  Until then, it seemed like a harmless father & son bonding enterprise.

About a month ago, Richard mentioned that he and our son, Lukas, would be attending a "draft" party to select their team for this year's fantasy football league.
Hold on there, Cowboy!
"Isn't your partner, Michelle, in the same league?  It's run by her sister, right?  I have been VERY clear about you socializing with Michelle.  Did you really think I wouldn't have a problem with this?"
"It's only a couple of hours.  Lukas really wants to go!"  And...back peddling begins....
"Not that I'm saying I'm only going because of Lukas.  I mean, I wanna go, too.  I'm not trying to make you feel guilty about Lukas."

I was gettin' hot.  I felt my jaw tighten, my nails dug into my palms and I'd bet the fantasy football league entrance fee that my face was beet red.  I've written before about my preference for "fight' over 'flight'.  I'm a BIG fighter.  I sooo need to work on that!
I tried to reason with myself....you might be making too big a deal out of this.  It is evil antiversary month.  That has you on edge.  Just chill.
I got a grip on my anger and I think I handled myself with civility and repose.  Well, civil for me anyway.  It's all relative.
Exhale.....Deep Breath.  Do not let this become a huge deal.  "How did you do it last year?  You didn't go to the draft last year.  We can compromise here."
"We really wanna go.  It is so much easier than trying to do it over the phone or having someone else pick.  We want to participate in the whole process."
"Then, you need to find a different league.   You know there is no way I'm gonna be OK with you spending Labor Day with Michelle."
I left him with that.  I heard no more about it until the week before the draft.  Richard announced that I shouldn't forget he and Lukas would be gone part of Labor Day for the draft party.
And...that's when my contempt for Fantasy Football became resolute.

What do you do to your spouse when you're supremely pissed?  I barely look look at him.  I only speak to him if I must and he sure won't be getting ANY in the near future.  Richard does not handle the cold shoulder routine well at all.  So, by the Friday before the draft, he had conceded.  They wouldn't go.  They figured out an alternative plan.  I saw it it as a win/win!  They would still be in the league, but not attend the social gathering where I would not have been welcome.  Michelle and I will never be able to be in the same room again.  Let's just say I burned that freakin' bridge.

I wanted to believe he changed his mind because it was the right thing to do, but why would I kid myself?  I knew it was because of his aversion to confrontation.  He is the most conflict avoid-ent person I know.  Weird for a lawyer, right?  Maybe because his job is ridiculously conflict laden, he can not tolerate further combat after hours.  Whatever the reason, as you are all very well aware, problem avoidance can lead to betrayal. (attention! sarcasm ahead)
Got problems at home, but you just can't bring yourself to face up to them and talk to your spouse? Better not stir the pot.  Dealing with issues head on could make it very uncomfortable around the homestead.  Maybe you should just talk to the cute girl at work.  She'll make you feel better about everything and your wifey will be none the wiser!  Safe and satisfying!

I knew why he caved.  I wasn't happy about it.  As we talked about this, in the lovely Dr. K's office, day before yesterday (this required MC in a big way! 2 hours!) I benevolently referred to Richard's aversion to conflict as, "A huge lack of balls!"  I also referred to him as a moron.

In my defense, the name calling was not about fantasy football.  It wasn't about Michelle, either.  It was about the rage building inside me, yet again.  It was about the intense fear in my gut that Richard was not capable of the whole truth.  During one of our many heated discussions over this he yelled, "I'll never be able to be honest enough for you!"  What the fuck does that mean?  Truthful enough for me?  My God.  He really doesn't get it.  He may never get it.
The fantasy football debate exposed not one, not two, but three lies made by Richard in the past year.  For him, they were not lies, but merely omissions.
Has he not learned a damn thing in two years?
Why is complete honesty such a foreign concept to him?
I stand firmly by my use of the term MORON.

To be continued.....

2 Year Antiversary

September 7th, 2010.  2 years ago today, Richard turned his emotional affair with Jaymie into a physical affair.  They had sex in his office, on the chair, on the couch, on the floor.  Then, he came home to me with a smile, a kiss and images of HER in his head.
I hoped I wouldn't dwell on it, but that didn't work out.  I've been reading through all the emails they exchanged for the past hour. I hoped after 2 years I wouldn't feel like crying.  Once I started in on the damn emails, the box of tissue was required.

Hope didn't win out this time.  Still, I continue to hope for a little less pain everyday.  That's seems to be an attainable goal.

This topic was just discussed in the comments from my last post, Un-Happy Holidays.  Many betrayed spouses struggle over the holidays.  One reader called the days "Tainted".  That is exactly what Antiversary days are....tainted.  We have been wounded.  Wounds heal, but they leave scars.  Scars are reminders, but as time passes, not painful like the wound itself.  Even though I feel very sad today, I'm not out of mind with grief.  I'm not even grossly depressed.  My eyes are damp with tears, but I'm certainly not sobbing or gasping for breath.  I'm just sad.  Maybe on the 3 year Antiversary I'll merely be peeved or irritated.

I'm not looking to have a pity party.  My plan is to let my mind go to the dark side for a few hours, then go to work and get on with my day.  Get on with my life.
However...throwing Richard under the bus and allowing some of YOU to chastise him might be fun!!
So...here's some ammo!  One of his emails to her that, even 2 years later, makes me wanna hurl!

Richard to Jaymie

Can you be too much in love?

So much so that when you see her, you dash across the street in front of fast moving cars to take her in your arms and hoist her into the air;

That when you look at her, you are so in awe of her beauty that you can’t speak; she reduces you to an awkward seventh grader again;

That when you listen to her, her voice melts you into jelly and you notice you have no muscle, no bone;

That when she sings to you, you secretly know you will give her anything she wants;

That when you try to focus on the daily chores of your life, you can’t because pictures of her flood your mind and disable your ability to function;

That when you make love to her, you forget about yourself and want only to drink in every inch of her body and pleasure her with joy that she has never before experienced;

That when she touches you, you are paralyzed; she finds parts that no one has touched before;

That when you leave her, you are in a haze left by her love, a spell she casts, and you forget where you are;

That you have lost control of your life because she has consumed you altogether.

Can you be too much in love. No because when you kiss her you feel something you have never felt before, never knew you could feel and nothing else matters.

Un-Happy Holidays

It was almost Christmas.  Only a little over 2 months past DDay.  Nearly every minute was spent wondering how could my life change so drastically in such a short amount of time?  29 years of next to perfect, at the very least wonderful, then disaster.  How could my life have been turned upside down, backwards and sideways so fast?

HOW wasn't the right question.  I knew HOW.  What I needed to know was WHY?  Everything I'd done since discovering my husband's appalling, marriage killing behavior had been to analyze WHY.  So far, answers eluded me.  I was no Sherlock Holmes, no Sigmund Freud, but it wasn't due to lack of effort.

The effort was getting up everyday, taking care of my kids, going to work and trying to do my job.  Immense effort was required so as not to collapse into a whimpering, useless heap.
It was almost Christmas!  Life should be cheerful and festive!  Thanks to my mood altering drugs and a steady stream of vodka, (I also enjoyed a nice Pinot Grigio or Chardonnay from time to time when I thought I should cut back on the hard stuff.) my temperament hovered between jumping off a bridge and breaking into a boisterous chorus of "Deck the Halls" while making holiday cookies for friends and family.  I was just floating by, zombie like, doing what had to be done with very little hope for a happy new year.

I used up what little control I imagined I had.  Gave away my access to Jaymie, the naive, dimwit that I perceived as a font of knowledge.  This time, the control I relinquished was of my own doing.  I snort and snicker as I type that because now we all know, I was dimwitted as well.

Discovery of an affair will leave anyone, even the toughest, Type-A folks, feeling powerless.  By running the show after DDay, I was taking back my power, asserting my control.  I was driving the bus again, unfortunately my destination was no where near Happily Ever After.  I was on the fast-track to Crazy Town.

Nearly everyday I told Richard he was going to have to leave.  I didn't want him gone before the holidays, but after Christmas, I would require space.  With him in the house, I couldn't think straight.  I could barely breathe.  I had given away my punching bag, my venting surrogate, Jaymie.  If I lost it, Richard would be the recipient of my vengeance full force.  The thought of that terrified me.

I held it together through Christmas.  Put up all the decorations and the tree, not with my usual holiday zeal, but I got the job done.  Made my lists, purchased wrapped and shipped all necessary gifts but the thought put into selecting the token items was lack luster and the wrap was no where near my normal standards.  I think I even sent out Christmas cards.  I'll have to dig one of those out of storage.  I'd love to see the image I chose for that year.  What could I have ever found that felt appropriate??
I gave Richard an insulated coffee mug with pictures of our family smiling brightly before October.  The mug said "Happy memories from 2010".
Enjoy your daily java in that, you prick.
I was very clear I wanted NO gifts from him.  I basically dared him to try and appease me with a charity present.  I told him anything he wrapped would be considered a consolation prize.  I had no interest.  The compromise was he could fill my stocking with a few tiny treats so the kids would not find it empty on Christmas morning.  He thought he'd skirt my controlling Christmas gift giving rule by getting me a Hanukkah present instead.  We celebrate both holidays in our home. He bought me perfume, from Nordstrom.  The same place he bought Jaymie her fragrance of choice.  For a such smart man, I think we can all agree, my husband can be a gigantic moron.  Need more proof...here ya go:  The name of the putrid smelling perfume he selected for me....Gucci Guilty.  Unbelievable, right?
You can't make shit like that up.

In place of sugar plums, scenes that might allow me access to Jaymie again danced in my head.  Manipulations that might offer me some relief to my ever escalating compulsion for answers, revenge and control of my life became my charge.  This was not going to be a Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah or a Joyous New Year.  2011 was not looking like a fresh start.  It had all the characteristics of a bitter end.