Woman Asunder

Alright. The title of this post might seem negative, but I think it’s an important part of the healing process for me to write this down. This is my “saying it out loud” so I can process it.

I lean towards remembering all of the good parts about my marriage, and assuming the best about my ex’s intentions. I am not angry at him. In fact, I really like and respect him. The day-to-day of our relationship was really good. We are compatible – with similar humor, interests, and values. We got along, and liked spending time together. The sex was good. Actually, the fact that our marriage seemed easy and natural most of the time has been one of the hardest parts of the breakup. If this isn’t enough to want to be married, what is enough? What could I have done differently? Am I doomed to always be the one who loves more and gets left behind?

It is not as if our breakup is a total mystery to me. I can trace back to a lot of the small cracks (and big events) that led us to this outcome. We married young and established unhealthy communication habits from the get go. He was avoident, I was anxious, and we never really learned to fight fair, or to communicate our needs. We avoided and buried problems that would resurface again and again. I sometimes wonder if we’d known more about relationship dynamics, and/or sought help earlier, if we would have been able to change the trajectory. I can see how the help we did get along the way made the problems worse. I know that my husband losing his feelings for me and not being happy was a slow burn – after many years of trying to make it work. I know that he feels very bad about hurting me, and needing to move on. I simply don’t think he’s a bad person. He’s done shitty and hurtful things, but he’s not just an unfeeling asshole with no regard for other peoples feelings.

I apprecaite the support I receive from my inner circle, but I actually end up feeling very defensive of my ex when I confide in them. I still have the urge to protect and defend him. Overall, I think it’s our mutual respect and understanding for one another that will help us have a successful coparenting relationship and eventually, friendship. So, I don’t want to make him seem like the villan. The truth is, he’s got a good heart, and a lot of unresolved trauma of his own that he’s never worked through. There are things I am angry about. It is frustrating that he chose harmful coping mechanisms and has never really been willing to do the self-work he needs to do in order to be a healthy person and good partner. It doesn’t feel fair that I forgave so much, worked so hard to fight for our marriage, and still ended up being the one who was left. I feel under valued and taken for granted. I feel like he took the “easy” way out in a lot of ways. But – inspite of all of it – I want him to be happy, and don’t think it would have been right to “hold him captive” in a relationship he longer wished to be in.

See? I’m still giving disclaimers and trying to include his side of things. I guess I just want to make it clear that I do not hate him – in fact, I love him. Very much. But, I have to be more intentional about also acknowleding that he hurt me very badly – in ways that will take a very long time to heal from.

Frankly – despite feeling like “overall” I was happy in my marriage (due to the day-to-day compatibility and feelings of love), there were periods of my marriage when I was very unhappy. In fact, I think I have some trauma (maybe even PTSD) from this marriage. Mainly because I was lied to and cheated on – repeatedly.

The first affair was the hardest. I was young, and a new mom. I’d never been cheated on. That affair shattered my belief that I would always be loved and protected in my relationship. I never in a million years expected him to cheat. It was a shock. It was devestating. It was a huge blow to my self-esteem. My ex had never been with anyone else before me, so I had no warning signs. There were no red flags to indicate he would be an unfaithful partner. I trusted him so completely that I never once thought about setting healthy boundaries. He actually once spent time alone in our home with the woman he cheated with and I knew about it – approved it in advance – and didn’t even for a moment have a concern or worry. I never snooped, never checked his phone, or wondered where he was if he got home late. I never said no to him hanging out with friends without me. I was naive and inexperienced in adult relationships.

He told me it was a mistake, and that he wanted to stay married. I loved him, and was a scared, young, new mom. It never even occured to me to leave. I saw it as a one-time mistake that we’d work through and maybe even come out the otherside stronger. I went through all of the typical things that come with post-affair recovery: obsessing over the other woman, picturing them together, comparing myself to her, feeling on edge, grieving, needing an enormous amount of reassurance. It was a good two years before I really felt ok, and even then I would occasionally get triggered by things that would send me spiraling. We did go to counseling – but it wasn’t a qualified professional and it ended up doing more damage than good. In hindsight, I can see that I carried the burden of the recovery. I know that my husband felt like he was trying really hard and he was miserable with guilt, self-loathing, resentment, etc. (which is its own burden to cope with), but he didn’t really do any work to face his own demons and figure out why he cheated…he just shoved all the feelings down because dealing with them was too painful. He was young and immature. He felt he was being punished for his mistake and just wanted to put it behind us. Getting him to talk about things, go to counseling, etc. was a chore. He took no initiative on his own to get help, or improve our marriage. He just wanted to forget about it and move on. I protected him and his reputation by telling almost no one what had happened, and suffering in secret. Alone.

There was a long period between that affair and the “second affair” during which I thought we were in a good place. We really started putting down roots and planning for our future together. But at some point he started cheating again – this time mostly just talking to strangers online, occasionnally meeting up for a one-time hookup. No relationships. I didn’t know, or find out about this until after the second affair came out–because he only got honest about everything when he developed feelings for someone and wanted out of the marriage to pursue that relationship.

I won’t try to get into the psychology of this period of time – why he cheated, the reasons he kept it quiet, how he struggled to stop on his own, why I didn’t know it was happening, etc. I knew there were unhealthy things about our relationship. I can remember feeling misunderstood. I can remember being unhappy about certain aspects of our marriage, and feeling afraid to be honest because it would trigger his resentment and silence. I even basically caught him cheating, and chose to believe his excuses and write it off as paranoia.

When the second affair came out, it turned our life upside down. He lost his job, we lost our community, and I was very scared to potentially be stranded – a single mom in a city nowhere near my family. I truly thought we were getting divorced then – but when he later came to me and said he’d ended things with the other woman, still loved me, and wanted to actually do the work this time – I agreed. I was older, and had developed better boundaries by this point so I felt like I could tentatively move forward with the understanding that I wouldn’t be okay with slipping back into old patterns. And I guess I believed that we never really dealt with the issues properly the first time. We were so young, and the counseling had gone so poorly. Finally, he was taking the initiative – he signed up for therapy on his own, and started communicating in a way he never had. That lasted about 3 months before he started slipping back into old habits and he stopped going to therapy the moment it became uncomfortable. During that time we decided to move closer to my family – with the understanding that while it would be a fresh start for our family, we hadn’t really decided if we’d stay married. It was an attempt to give both of us a fresh start – me to be near family so that if and when we broke up I’d feel a little more secure, and him to build a new community away from the religious one he now felt judged and shunned by.

The fresh start did help. In fact, our relationship got a lot more honest and improved steadily over the next two years. We both emotionally and intellectually grew so much during this time that I started to believe we were actually going to make it. But the improved communication and honestly eventually led us to where we are today – with my husband admitting that he still wasn’t happy and hadn’t had feelings for me in a very long time. He still wanted out. Despite not really wanting a divorce myself, I basically had to be the one toforce the decision – to push him to be honest and reassure him that wanting a divorce was okay to admit. To tell him I didn’t want to be with someone who didn’t love me, or was only staying married out of obligation and guilt. Always trying to take care of him all the way to the end.

That’s the reader’s digest version of the road to our divorce. When I confide in people the story, I often feel concerned that I seem like I’m trying to claim I’m blameless (which is never the case) and I find myself going back and forth between being my ex’s advocate, and being like ‘no, actually – I worked really hard and forgave him repeatedly and we are getting divorced because he was too scared or too lazy to do the work himself.’ I want to be fair, but also – he did some shitty things. More damaging than the cheating was the lying, and the way my feelings and concerns were diminished. The first affair shattered my worldview and the trust in our relationship. The second affair (and all the cheating that proceeded it) validated my fears. By the time we got around to divorcing, I was fairly prepared (it had always been a possible outcome), and it didn’t sting as badly as it would have earlier in our marriage–but it still hurt me, and felt like a rejection. And it had some big emotional consequences.

Living in that marriage – with all of the lies and lack of validation for my feelings – scarred me. I no longer trust myself. When something feels off – I question whether it is my trauma making me see things that aren’t there, or if I should trust my gut. I often shut my own feelings down. I wonder if everyone person I love will lie, cheat, or leave.

I feel bad about myself. Like I wasn’t enough. Would he have not cheated if I’d been thinner, or if I’d set better boundaries?

I have anxiety, depression, and panic attacks that didn’t exist before this trauma.

I know the cheating wasn’t really about me (it never is). I daydream about being in a relationship with someone who makes me feel safe and loved – where I don’t have to question if the affection is genuine, or second guess my instincts.

But right now – I’m still pretty broken. And despite the empathy and compassion I feel for my ex – he is the one who broke me. I probably should have been the one to leave. There shouldn’t be a part of me that still hopes we end up together again someday. As much as I want him to be happy and capable of a healthy relationship, I would resent him doing the work and someone else getting to benefit from it when I supported him unconditionally for so many years. I know in some ways this is exactly what he’s trying to escape – that pressure to fix himself and deserve me. The fact that I was so forgiving has made the guilt of wanting to leave that much worse.

I can acknowledge all of those things – and still know deep in my being – that I deserved better than how he treated me. I deserve someone who isn’t afraid to admit and work on their issues. I deserve someone who doesn’t repeatedly hurt me and make me feel not good enough. I deserve someone who listens, communicates, and reassures. I deserve someone who tells me it’s just a fight, and we’ll always work through it. I DESERVE TO BE LOVED.

But is there anyone out there who is healthy and capable of loving me the way I deserve to be loved? Will I ever love anyone else the way I loved you? Will I always struggle to heal these scars you gave me?

I know you know all the ways you hurt me. And I know you’re sorry. But leaving was just one more painful cut that now needs to heal. I deserved better, and I am doing my best to fall out of love with you.