Yesterday, my psychiatrist asked me to put myself in my wife's shoes, as an "assignment," and let him know what I would do if I were her.
After the session, I became triggered and asked for clarification whether he was referring to the past or the present. After not hearing back from him, I emailed him and copied my wife—we both recently saw him for several sessions, and I needed to be honest with her. I wrote the following:
Thank you for seeing me this morning.
I'm copying M. with this email because I understand that marriage requires honesty and transparency.
Perhaps I’m overthinking your assignment, but I’m finding myself triggered and anxious. I’m uncertain whether you want me to put myself in M.'s shoes decades ago, when she began her infidelity, or today.
Concerning the former, if I found myself compelled to get into someone’s bed absent any contact with them anywhere other than at work—weeks before our wedding day—I would certainly not have proceeded with our "wedding." I would have honestly explained that I’m not ready to marry. Most importantly, I would never have proffered vows that were utter lies.
If I were to put myself in M.'s shoes today, I would recognize that the only way for my spouse to overcome and heal is with honesty. I would share the whole truth—not trickle truths and lies—to preserve "my dignity." I would accept that my choices have destroyed my spouse's life—and take immediate, responsible action to make things right today.
I’m trying to accept M.'s infidelity—living with her in the absence of trust. The days are challenging, and the nights are painful. It remains my hope that someday M. will put my need to hear a consistent, truthful narrative over her need to "bury" decades of betrayal and deceit that continues today.
Thank you for being there for me.
Well.... After not hearing my wife's thoughts on the email, I calmly asked what she thought. She stated, "That was one big dig!" Admittedly, I decompensated worse than I ever have, told her to get the F out of the house, punched the wall, and was ready to hang myself. I thought of my mother and my promise to turn to her first if I were ever not safe.
Fast-forward. My wife left the house, drove around overnight, and ultimately returned home. I apologized for my egregious comments and behavior.
Here's my dilemma. I shared the email with my psychiatrist, who just met with us, and my wife, because it was how I truly felt. I thought that modelling authentic, honest sharing of feelings might stimulate the same in her. Apparently, I was wrong.
I would welcome and appreciate your thoughts about this. Thank you, friends.
—Betrayed and trickled to death for over three decades.