I live in the house my parents loved… and left to me. I live in the space they occupied and loved for over thirty years of their sixty year marriage. It has become the heart of me, as it was for them. Yes, only a place, but it harbors the spirit, the love permeates its walls.
There is an 8X10 framed photograph perched on the high dresser of my bedroom. Taken in my senior year of college, it was cherished by my parents. It’s been in that same location ever since. Sun backlighting my blonde hair, casual knit zippered sweater and a smile of serenity, naivety, youth.
Why would you keep a portrait photograph of yourself, you might ask. I think it’s because it brings me back to me. That young woman so full of hope and life and dreams looks out at me with a serene expression. She knew not of the challenges, the losses, the wicked betrayal she’d live in for so many many years.
Yet during those years she was herself. She gave and loved. She remained that warm giving young woman in spite of the work, the sacrifice, the challenges. She stayed true to herself, her heart.
God bless the innocent. God protect the naive. God give them the strength to face the inevitable brokenness and setbacks life will surely deal them.
I no longer pray to change the past or control the present or influence the future.
I pray for strength.
God gave each of us free will. The price of that is to have the ability to choose poorly. To wound others. To turn from integrity and right. I know that my choices will not keep others from wounding me, not prevent betrayal, won’t ward of sickness, death, loss.
When I gaze upon my granddaughter’s face, I see my mother in law. Her dark hair and eyes are the stuff of that ancestry. The arch of her eyebrows tells a different tale. My grandma Myrtle, a Norwegian, had the same lilt and laughter to that feature.
When I see her chubby cheeks, I see my brother’s baby girl of forty years ago–so unlike the slender beauty she’s become, yet so charming in her infant hood.
Two small white teeth wink out from the lower center of her gummy smile. Merriment lights her eyes as I bounce her. Rapt attention to Sesame Street theme and clapping glee at the ding of a bell on a game show.
She is everything good and simple and pure about we humans. No one has written anything but love on the pages of the book of her life.
And I pray nothing evil her way will come.
I know I am powerless over the outcome of that wish. I’m quite certain my parents and grandparents wished the same for me when once my pale baby blues twinkled up at them. How can anyone in their right mind wish anything but love to such as these–the babes in arms.
Oh how the years, and the brokenness of the world does warp those who are unlucky enough to be its victim.
How sweet, how precious these months untouched by the wages of the world. Protected in the loving arms of her parents, her grandparents, she veritably bursts with promise, personality and wonder.
God bless my sweet granddaughter. Keep her safe. Keep her warm. Give her the strength to weather whatever storms may wail.
Nothing about being caught in the crosshairs of infidelity and deemed acceptable collateral damage will ever be fair.
The betrayed were never given a vote. No say as to the definition of their marriage. No one asks the woman watching the kids at home if she minds if her ‘husband’ screws the secretary at a hotel, while dear wife is making dinner for their kids.
FAIR
adjective,fair·er,fair·est.
free from bias, dishonesty, or injustice. Legitimately sought, pursued, done, given, etc.; proper under the rules.
Gallows humor is what comes to mind when I read this definition. It would be funny if someone didn’t die–the marriage. The marriage is terminated by the breaking of the legal contract. Problem is, it is done unilaterally and without consultation. Nothing fair about that.
That, dear friends, is manipulation at its grandest level. It raises unfair to the level of evil because it deprives another human being of their right to steer their own course, make their own decisions about their body and the manner in which they wish to live their life.
Thing is, once the die is cast, there is no taking it back. “God give me the serenity to accept the things I can not change.” Broken marriage vows are one of those things no one can change. I will never have a husband who has slept only with me. I can never say I’ve had a committed and faithful marriage.
When an institution, such a marriage, involves more than one person, it is open to being violated and terminated by only one. It is not open to being upheld and pure by only one. That takes two. And that makes it forever unfair. Marriage, by definition, is two.
That’s what we sign up for when we love. We take a chance. We put our heart on the chopping block and hope our partner/spouse will care for is tenderly. We have no control over how they decide to treat it.
“Forgiveness is the willingness to accept suffering for what someone else did.”
That is reality. The betrayed will suffer consequences whether or not he/she reconciles with wayward spouse. We betrayed are, at least initially, victims of our wayward’s selfish choices. Until we find out what our reality actually is, we have no choice. We were robbed. Once we are made aware we have been betrayed, it is 100% our decision what to do about our relationship with the wayward. The weight of the continuation or cessation of the relationship is transferred to us….and so is the pain.
Photo by Samir Belhamra @Grafixart_photo on Pexels.com
Many of us might remember the widely read and acclaimed book, Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus by Dr John Gray
“Classic guide to understanding the opposite sex, Dr. John Gray provides a practical and proven way for men and women to improve their communication by acknowledging the differences between their needs, desires, and behaviors.”
Irony that it was written during the height of my own UH’s acting out. He truly knew nothing of Venus, nor did he care to look. He was fully in self delusion and denial of his choices. A broken Martian.
That said, we use the phrase “Quick Trip To Mars?” as a way to communicate that he had, once again, disappeared from the room/house without goodbye or explanation. To this day, I sometimes turn around, in mid conversation, to an empty room.
In the process of recovery, I have learned that this is his way of avoidance. Uncomfortable? Don’t want to hear? Don’t want to think about what is being said? —Fein busyness and disappear. After all, isn’t putting the folded clothes away this instant more important?
Sure……not.
One of the most important skills to learn in recovery for the unfaithful/broken is mindfulness—presence. Taking a quick trip to mars is the antithesis of presence. It is full fledged escapism. It is the ode of the addict/broken individual who is well practiced at avoidance, running away, self medicating. So much so, they often do not recognize they are doing it.
STOP IT!
But then, that would require mindful presence and recognition that one is doing it. It could be a comedy routine if it weren’t so painfully true with such disastrous consequences.
His group works on exactly what healthier individuals have learned to do: remain realistic, base presence in reality, face challenges, be fully ‘there’.
As he, and others working on their ability to remain in reality, we who live with these folks are challenged to extend patience, yes–but also accountability. Much like the partner/friend/parent of an ADD person, we are challenged to accommodate for their weakness in presence and take measures to assure we are heard/understood. Hold them accountable for their presence.
It is the price of loving a person whose go-to is avoidance.
And isn’t that the very definition of love?? To remain in relationship in spite of our differences/weaknesses/flaws. To grow in love. To extend grace as we hope to have grace extended to us in our flaws. To forgive character defects/hurts. To tolerate…nay, to love.
I guess I have known for a long time that this dynamic existed within my marriage relationship. I chalked it up to the cost of being in relationship with a person suffering from Attention Deficit.
When my son exhibited the same characteristics of ADD, I became an honorary doctor of ADD. I read, researched, jumped ‘all in’ to the world of accommodations and support for persons with this ‘difference’. I realized full force it is what I’d been dealing with with my husband for the years before my son made it so glaringly apparent.
And it gave me an excuse, a reason, if you will, for spreading the breadcrumbs of recovery for both husband and son, for being their supporter. To my credit, I was not their protector. I held both accountable for their choices and actions. I held up the magnifying mirror to them so they could see what their choices caused or led to– on a case by case, age appropriate level. I knew in my gut that being an enabler was counterproductive and actually unhelpful toward their accountability and growth.
All that said, it is a narrow line to walk. I certainly crossed it, on occasion. Doing my best to support, I’m certain I made their way either too easy or too difficult at times. I did my best to be their cheerleader/supporter.
Codependent?
No.
My parents did not teach me that way of handling life. I was always held accountable for my choices, the mirror held up to me, by them. Sometimes a bit too harshly, but as I have gained insight, I know well the narrow line they too walked.
Some might say I was given the gift of an alcoholic/addict in my life to teach me to depend on myself and my higher power. After all, much as I hate it, all of we humans learn best through adversity, not ease.
And boy have I been served up a heaping helping of adversity. I should be a frick’in genius by now.
Alas, I am not. Nowhere near. I am still learning, growing, healing and practicing how to be loving/forgiving. I think we all can expect to walk the path of growth every day of our lives, should we choose not to hide from our challenges.
And isn’t that what sets the healthy apart from the addict? The choice to face reality and deal with it in healthy growing ways. No hiding.
I do not want another child who looks like the person I married. I will invest in how to separate myself from his reliance on me and walk this pathway of personal growth, while still remaining loving and supportive.
Didn’t I deserve to be loved, honored and cherished?
“Isn’t that what I deserved all along?”
Absolutely.
What the unfaithful deserve, as has metaphorically been said in reference to Christian admonition of adultery :
“Death.”
Anything other than death (yeah, they stoned adulterers) is Grace.
It is your choice which path you take/choose. Death–end the marriage. The unfaithful has 100% earned that.
OR Grace.
Grace, by definition, requires immense strength and sacrifice/forgiveness on the part of the person extending it. There is nothing ‘fair’ about grace. There was nothing fair about having an affair. That is precisely why extending grace and forgiveness is Godlike and so very difficult.
It stinks, plain and simple. It will never be fair. The adulterer will alway appear to have gotten off easier–as in so many ways he/she has–at least outwardly.
I believe to the repentant and healed/healing adulterer, he or she will always carry the weight of their past life.
Always.
Only now, as a clear thinking individual, they KNOW what they did and see/feel the consequences…”the wreckage of your life”, as AA puts it. They will forever be living a life of amends, if they are truly repentant and healthy.
Far too often I think that ‘expert’ is me. This phenomena is actually quite human. We think if we’ve lived ‘x’ number of years and had many experiences either personally of vicariously, surely we have the smarts to figure out just about anything.
This is actually the mindset of people suffering from addiction(s). They do what is called ‘staying in their head’. If there is a sure way to failure, that is it for an addict. After all, their best thinking got them into their present pickle. Their BEST thinking.
For we other mere mortals, our limitations keep us humble. Most of us realize we can not think of all the answers, come to all the proper conclusions, know precisely how to handle any given challenge.
Many of us Google it. Others of us ask a minster, a therapist, a friend.
Even then we are dealing with humanity–by definition, limited.
12 step would advice to turn it over to your higher power, how ever it is you see her/him/it. Some atheist addicts call that their recovery group..AA would be ‘my group of drunks’. The best healers are so often those who have experienced the same challenge and are meeting with some successes in their recovery. That is why former inmates counsel present inmates, former drug addicts counsel those presently using, etc.
“Turn your scars into stars” – Rev Robert Schuller
“Make your mess your success.” – Robin Roberts
It is why the revered AffairRecovery.com uses former unfaithful/betrayed exclusively as therapists, mentors, guides, leaders.
Wisdom- earned through the school of hard knocks.
So I implore you, dear reader…do NOT stay inside your head. No matter your challenge, someone has walked that path ahead of you. Someone has shed blood sweat and tears toward their own recovery. Someone has more suggestions/advice/wisdom/EMPATHY than you.
I am a large comfy well used sofa that sits in the heart of our home–the family room. I’m there whenever my UH needs a soft comfortable place to lie down. I, so familiar, sturdy, reliable and always there. Whenever life has dealt a blow, thrown out a new challenge, provided a new pathway to success, a new dream– the couch, me, is the anchor of convenience, support, relaxation, relief, amenity, contentment and satisfaction.
When the couch gets in the way, when my UH desires something outside the boundaries of the home, when he wants what he wants when he wants it, I am left in a cloud of hurried dismissal, shoved aside or closed off as the door slams behind him. I am disavowed, ignored, disrespected, dismissed…certainly not considered.
Sometimes, because I am so large, comfy, and formidable, I am seen as an obstacle. Then I have to be avoided, rejected, lied to, abandoned in quick order to reach for the ever allusive brass ring of the shiny trinket of the moment. Does he want to visit his aunts? Go Sailing? Add his mom’s house onto our insurance? Go swimming? — No problem. Either don’t mention it and pretend he is just going about his daily routine of full time recovery meetings and physical therapy, or wait until he’s already accomplished the mission and mention it as an afterthought or as though it is a gift of honesty for which he deserves praise.
Believe it or not–I like being a large comfy couch. It is my greatest joy and life passion to provide respite for the weary loved one, comfort, solace, support. I love giving my gifts of time, attention, listening ear, consolation, shared experience. I want to be seen as approachable, lovable, sturdy.
What I don’t want is to be used or taken for granted. I don’t want to be shoved aside for the bobble de jour.
Because I am not an inanimate object. I am not a sofa. I am a woman who lives, breathes, and has desires/needs and dreams of her own. Mostly my dreams are of my family, my home BUT don’t use me to have your cake and eat it too. I never gave permission to be used as a piece of furniture to stand on to reach for another woman, unearned praise and validation, stolen valor.
This sturdy woman supports those who use her gifts of time and care to advance themselves to do good in the world. She prays and dreams of her family reaching for the brass ring of earned integrity and honor. She supports her family in the pursuit of making this world a better place for us and others.
“You provoke her until she roars and then get angry at the monster YOU created.”
Hear me roar at the injustice of using me for evil. Shame on you for taking my love into your hands as an instrument for deception and lies and stealing. Yes–you are shamed based. Yes, I feel compassion for the awful circumstances that formed you to believe you were worthless and expendable. That does not change the fact that the way you chose to respond to that shame was to project it onto others and into shameful actions. YEs–you have EARNED this shame. Shame on you and any man or woman who uses their spouse’s trust and good heart to betray them. You have acted in a shameful manner.
I will no longer be your couch.
The onus is on you to regain dignity, respect and trust. Your choice. Your work to do, as it has been ever since you became an adult. You have ignored your work to do in favor of fast and easy.
Will I listen? Will I watch?
I am.
Because I believe in love and second and third and fourth chances toward redemption. God help me.
God help you.
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change. The courage to change the things I can. And the wisdom to know the difference.
And maybe be a supportive, beloved couch, undeterred by abuse and trauma.
Gosh, I brainstormed this title in a flood of ideas and now I find it really challenging.
My answer would change depending on the kind of day or hour I am experiencing. Yes, even over three years out from sexual infidelity D-day, I have that much rollercoaster-isms, guaranteed.
Why? you ask. Probably because my UH had failed to get to the point where he is willing or capable (or some combination of the two) to show me any empathy, validation, compassion or support. This fact has left me to my own devices–not an easy or pleasant place to be when all you wish for, all you desire is for your unfaithful spouse to fully ‘get it’. You know, act like a human being. A healthy human being who displays genuine understanding of the costs of his choices, (other than the costs to him), shows authentic remorse–actually sheds some tears for the mortal wound he has inflicted on my heart and our marriage. Acts in a way that is congruent with someone who has destroyed another emotionally– absolute honesty, ‘transparency’, as they call it in recovery circles. Does everything in his power to dig into the ‘why’s’. Prioritizes me and his/my healing. Spends time everyday without goading or reminders, on unearthing himself to himself so he has some chance of recognizing how he got to the place he could murder our marriage. Murder his integrity.
How does a person prevent future disastrous behavior? By doing an autopsy on past behavior. By getting to the place where he can explain in full detail his thought processes, his actions, his feelings. Thus he would be armed with knowledge, deep and pervasive self knowledge that he could recognize WHEN it rears its ugly head again. Notice I did not say “if”. WHEN. Guaranteed. Looking at: talk/justifications/minimizations/resentment stories he’s built and strengthened day in and day out for YEARS is going to take a whole lot of self awareness and intentionality to mitigate.
You don’t change a lifetime pattern of hiding and lying over night–even if you do recognize that you do it. It has become your go-to, your comfort zone. It’s like breathing, this self protection sh*t, at the expenses of others.
How does this feed into the question posed in the title? Simple, not easy. My UH MUST understand himself for me to consider anything but a surface relationship with him.
Will I be okay should he choose the easy path into relapse? YES. I can say that with full truthfulness and certainty — a testament to the work I have done over the last six years to regain my sense of strength, independence and value. I am now and have always been the stronger of the two of us. I have the brains, heart and hutspa to survive and thrive, even the loss of a forty-five year long intimate relationship.
I will survive and find a good life with meaning and joy.
I can not say the same of my UH should he choose the easy route.
the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, etc., without succumbing to fear; bravery.
Heal-
verb
to make healthy, whole, or sound; restore to health; free from ailment. To bring to an end or conclusion, as conflicts between people or groups, usually with the strong implication of restoring former amity; settle; reconcile. To free from evil; cleanse; purify.
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Will I ever be free from ailment? Probably not until I am six feet under. That said, I believe we can live a life full of hope and goodness and joy–no matter what other person’s have or have not done.
Yes, we can be ‘healthy’, whole and sound as we chose to mange our lens, our paradigm. The biggest battle here on earth is that which takes place between our ears. So very much is dependent on how you choose to view life’s circumstances.
” …for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. ” – Hamlet
That leave us choice. You and me and my UH and yours and every human being can choose the focus of his thoughts. Like good caretakers, we can minister to the wholesome, the positive, the forward bound. We can shun and disable the perseverative, downtrodden negatives that wish to steal from us our limited time here on this beautiful blue marble in space.
We can neglect the intrusive, the trigger, the evil.
Notice I did not say stop the negative.
Choose.
Choose to turn away from. Choose to focus on other. Choose not to dwell. Choose to distract, bemuse, bewilder, disturb, detract, fluster, mislead–all those awfulizing thoughts that clutter the pathways of our consciousness.
I will not succumb to fear. I choose to invest in brave things. brave thoughts; to face the difficulties in fighting off the painful reminders and destructive stories I can so easily tell myself.
Christine Renewed 