Warning, this is long!
Hm, well, I've tried to put this down in words a few times, but I've failed before. I'll try again. It's easy for me to say now that "I demanded the truth until I got it", but the reality was nowhere near that clean. I'm still not 100% certain I know everything, but I know enough. For the first two months, I assumed he was telling the truth every time he said, "That's the whole story". I believed and trusted him so much that it was a complete, gut-wrenching, baffling shock every time I found out he wasn't. Finally I realized I'd better just assume he was lying all the time.
The actual process was more like this: I made a mental list of things I thought an honest person would do in this situation, and how someone who was being totally transparent would behave when confronted with this crap. Then I measured how WH was behaving against that list. Usually, he would tell me some new element of this mess, and I would feel better, and he would feel better, and we'd hug, and he'd say "that's all, I swear," and for a few days everything would be great. I'd tell myself that I finally had the whole story, that we could finally start repairing. Then, a week later, we'd get into a conversation about another aspect of his affairs and he'd say something that didn't add up, or I'd notice that he was still behaving in ways that didn't match my "honest people meter", and I would start demanding the whole story again, and I'd keep demanding until I got it. There was always more. Sometimes I wasn't sure there was more, but I learned to trust myself. If I thought there was more, there was, and I would just not listen to any of his "no, really, that's it!" stuff until he confessed.
What I finally realized was that the only way to get a real sense if he was still lying or not was to judge his behavior towards me, his attitude towards what he did, and his attitude towards his own actions. Before someone can accept the reality of what they've done to someone else, they have to admit the reality of what they've done to themselves. Tallying up your own sins is not easy, many people can't do it when they've screwed up that badly.
Here are some of the ways I determined if he was lying (I was almost always right when my spidey-sense started tingling):
- The easiest way: after seeing him lie so damn much, I started noticing some physical tells he had when he told a lie. I noted these down in my own head. He didn't always use these, though, but when he did, he was definitely lying.
- I started listening VERY carefully to his language and the words he used. When he is lying, he would masterfully construct vague answers that seemed like they had addressed my question, but they hadn't. He would avoid detailed specifics like the plague. He still lied using specifics when his back was against the wall and I was nailing him to it, but the amount of vagueness and avoidant language he used up until that point would clue me in that there was more going on there.
- "I don't remember" is almost never true. Period.
- I realized that people's habits are people's habits: he will have carried his core, unconscious habits and day-to-day behaviors into these relationships with other people. Though it feels like you don't know him at all right now, in some ways you know him better than he thinks you do, so if he says he did something that doesn't seem like something he'd do, you're probably right. For example, my WH lied for several months about whether or not he slept with the main OW in our bed. I asked no less than 50 times. He always swore he didn't. I asked what happened when she slept at the house. He said they were drinking, and then she got up and walked into the bedroom without asking him, and crawled into bed. He was angry that she had "invaded his marriage bed" (PUH-LEASE, he's the one who brought her over!), so he didn't follow her into the bedroom, and he went to sleep on the couch alone. If you knew my husband, that is totally not like him at all. I told him that sounded like total bull, he would definitely have gone in the room with her. After a few months, he finally admitted it: yes, he followed her in there, and yes, they slept together in our bed. But he lied so, so many times about that so convincingly, I almost believed him. I just knew him too well to really buy that.
- Lies will get stuck in your craw. You can't stop thinking about the answers. They seem... off. You won't know why. I once asked WH if OW had ever been over to our house. He'd been saying "no" for a month. One day, I was telling a friend of mine over coffee, "At least OW has never been to our house!" and right then I realized, "Why do I believe that? Of course she has. My WH loves the comfort of our home and I've been out of town twice recently." I just knew. No proof. But I knew. I was right.
- He would try to convince me that illogical things were logical. They're not. They never are. Example: on one occasion, he told me that when OW slept over at our house, they had done some light drugs and he was a little buzzed but not that high. On another occasion, I asked him if they had sex in our bed that night, and he said he couldn't remember. I stopped him and asked him which one it was, because he was either so high and taking such serious drugs with OW that he literally lost 2 hours of his memory, or he did remember and didn't want to tell me. No one forgets an entire sex act while relatively sober. His response, "You're so binary! Why do things always have to be one way or the other with you? Why can't you accept the third possibility, that I wasn't very high and I also just don't remember?" I couldn't accept it because it's totally illogical - I've never just an entire sex act before. I knew then that he was lying, and he was.
- Tiny details of stories would change. Really tiny details that are easy to convince yourself you just misheard last time, or that you misunderstood - but you didn't. I'd make him walk me through detailed accounts of something I could stand to hear. Pay close attention to minor details, and ask a ton of questions - I tend to find that a liar has their own story straight in their own head, but they don't have the story straight as it relates to answers to unexpected questions you might ask them. A few weeks later, I'd ask him to tell the same story again, with all the specifics. And guess what? Tiny details would change.
Here are some of the ways I think an honest, good person would behave (I'm not a psychologist, this is just the baseline I used for WH):
- If an honest person is accused of lying, they will go out of their way to prove they're not. They will actually stick on the topic longer than the asker. They won't just try to get off the topic as fast as possible, they are willing to offer explore an issue a bit more because there's nothing there to hide. If someone says to me, 'You're lying!" when I'm not, I will usually offer MORE information, offer to be MORE open. I might respond, "No, I'm not lying. How can I prove it to you? You wanna see phone records? You want me to take a polygraph? I will." WH never said this stuff until the very end.
- Honest people can talk about a situation in-depth, with specifics. They will volunteer more information than you asked for, if that's what you want. They will not confine their answers to the smallest possible satisfactory vector.
- Someone who's done lying has their mind freed up for other things, like taking responsibility for what they've done. Once the whole truth is out, they're not spending mental energy focused on keeping parts of themselves secret. They can focus outwards - on you, on the situation - they have nothing to fear from poking and prodding.
- The pieces add up neatly, and you can see the humanity in the build-up of the problem. Example: when I first found out, WH told me the cheating started 6 months previously. But the sheer audacity and level of the cheating was so outrageous, I just kept thinking how weird it was that someone who had been faithful and happy and honest our whole marriage had just snapped one day and decided to throw his entire moral code to the wind and start screwing everyone on the block. How does that even happen? Seemed so abrupt and sudden? When I found out later that he'd been cheating our whole marriage, it made way, way more sense. A slow, small build up of lies and secrets until the problem got so outrageous it took over his life, which is when I found out.
How I determined I had the whole truth:
- WH started taking even more responsibility for what he did. Every day, he reads a list of the wrongs he did to me to himself. He says he's determined to make up for everything on the list, one by one. The list is 70 bullet-points long. I don't push him or monitor him on this at all.
- WH started gaining empathy for those around him, because he wasn't so focused on his own bull.
- WH volunteers information, constantly offers to talk to me about anything I need to know (only got this one after the whole truth came out). I'm not saying it's comfortable for WH to talk about what he did, he hates it, but he absolutely will. And when I ask him a question, it's not just "yes" or "no" answers, he answers fully, to the best of his ability.
- WH is self-determined in fixing the problem, he doesn't sit around waiting for me to demand things from him.
It didn't happen all at once, it happened in increments: tell more of the truth, behave a little better. More of the truth, behave a little better. And the more truth he told, the better he behaved. Again, I'm not a poster child for having the perfect WH. We're 6 months into this and he's not living with me: I asked him to work on his Recovery Nation program from a rental house a few minutes away, and I see him once a week. But for the last month he has consistently, daily, non-stop worked his ass off. No more anger, no more whining, no more complaints. So that's what makes me think I have the whole truth, at the very least.
[This message edited by Thessalian at 10:08 AM, February 20th (Thursday)]