On another thread, I encountered BWs who, like me, lost a child in the years preceding our betrayals. We agreed that as much as those losses hurt, an A is worse. The death of a child is an unpreventable twist of fate. An A is chosen by a WS who should have protected you.
Betrayal is like a death, requiring the same amount of grief and pain and loss and work to recover from. Or maybe it’s worse. It’s like a whole series of deaths, all at once. And each loss requires its own grief. So I started tallying up what I have lost:
My husband. My rock. My lover and my friend. That great guy I was so in love with, who I was going to grow old with. He was not perfect by any means, but he was funny and smart and stable and at the end of the day, he loved me and would always have my back. That guy, it turns out, was only a figment of my imagination. I miss him so much.
My marriage. Again, it was not perfect. It had flaws. But it was a warm, solid foundation for my life. Twenty three years of laughter and tears and work and companionship and lust and joy and sorrow and family and shared experience, all turned to ashes, burned to the ground because my selfish WH felt entitled to a sleazy A. Even if we stay together, that marriage is gone forever.
My home. My house used to be a safe haven, a place to retreat from the world. I had confidence that every person in it loved me and would protect me as fiercely as I protected them. Now it is haunted by the ghost of the OW I found my bed. I threw out the rug and the beds that they f*ed on. I reclaimed my bedroom with new paint and furniture and linens, things I love that WH doesn’t. It helps a lot, but I still feel the loss of my safe place.
Trust. I miss being able to let my guard down sometimes. I miss the certainty of knowing that some people in my life were good and true and would never, ever hurt me. I will never feel that way again, about anyone. Semper vigilans.
Sex. It used to be effortless and fun, freeing and enjoyable. An expression of true love given and received. Now it’s fraught with the baggage of the As: uncertainly about what it means and if it’s real. Triggers and mind movies. Having to talk myself into it, or feeling used and sad afterward. And wondering – if I D and start over – will I ever find another partner, or will it be gone forever, like trust.
Myself. I am not the same person I used to be. Where is the funny, confident woman who made my friends laugh? The energetic, involved mom with the super-fun summer plans? The organized, conscientious counselor who went above and beyond for my needy students? The devoted daughter who called and visited regularly? Gone. Just…gone. I despise who I am now: suspicious, vindictive, uncertain, defeated, weepy and angry. Always angry. I want that other me back again. I can only hope she has not abandoned me altogether.
What have you lost? Peace to all of us as we navigate this sorrow.
[This message edited by krsplat at 3:58 PM, July 28th (Monday)]
