What type of jack ass would want to be away from his family? Whatever, I have to just deal with it if I’m going to keep this man in my life for the kid’s sake. It is what is it, the only thing I can do is ask myself in this moment, “What can I do to make myself happy?”.Right now, I have to clean the damn bathroom because that will make me feel better. I don’t clean the bathroom enough.
One week, I travelled for work and the husband told my mom all of a sudden he too had a trip coming up even though he knew I was travelling. That didn’t sit well with me. I asked him if he was having an affair and of course he said no. Whatever, I told myself fuck it. If I’m supposed to find something out this time, I will. The work trip was fine, my mom watched the kids for the husband at the last moment and he was able to make that trip like he wanted to. Looking back it’s shit like this that pisses me off the most. The bullshit lies about work needs and then thinking that he likely lied to his job about family needs.
The lies can be so infuriating if I let them. Sometimes I let them. Like the days of coming home late from work to the point of not seeing our daughter at night because she goes to bed early. Fuck you husband. Fuck you for being selfish and lying. Sometimes I’m better about this than others. Perhaps dear reader after I get this all out in some sort of quasi coherent manner, it will help me to TRULY let it go. It feels like if I don’t let it go, this lesson is going to keep coming up harder and bigger. (Ha ha sick heads who interpreted that last sentence in a sexual way. Glad I could amuse you while I’m writing about an extra marital affair. And yes, dear reader, I understand that the fact that I just wrote that means it is entirely possible that I too had that same thought run through my mind.)
I sometimes wonder what people must wonder about me giving him a second chance and it happening again in such a hard core way. What are they too afraid to ask me about? How could I let it happen? How could I be so stupid? How could I not know? Valid questions. I have asked them of myself many times and some of the answers are much more profound than others. I was checked out. My spirit and soul checked out of being truly in the moment and knowing what my body and other queues were trying to tell me. I had to stop caring or worrying about it because I wanted to avoid touching the wounds, ripping open scars. Sometimes it’s easier to be numb. Sometimes it’s easier to just focus on the kids and work. Sometimes “give a fuck” falters. My “give a fuck” faltered.
Until “he” emailed me at work. The anonymous, email man. “He” emailed me at my work on my birthday, 40th birthday to tell me my husband was a cheater. That very same morning I wrote the husband a note thanking him for all of the things he does for our family because I felt like I wasn’t showing him enough effort, and that I should try to overtly show more effort. Internally, I felt like a raging fucking bull bat shit ball of effort, but apparently that didn’t translate into any feeling or recognition of effort once it appeared in my husband’s life.
So, here I am at work and reading this email after celebrating my 40th in a big way for me. Party, limo, etc. My first thought was that it was interesting and I was curious if someone looked up the husband’s name on the Ashley Madison leak. Because of course, he was in that database in some form or fashion, perhaps and most likely with a fake name and email, prepaid credit card. My second thought was that it was affair #1 or her husband feeling board and needing to create some drama.
Of course, like a trusting open person I am, I told him about it and shared a screen shot of the email address. Of COURSE I did that. Seriously, sometimes I have to edit out a super judgey comment I’m about to type about myself. I’m trying to heal myself from this shit and talking badly about myself doesn’t propel the healing into high gear. Let us end here for today. Speak kindly to yourself damnit!