Sucker Punched

transitive verb. : to punch (a person) suddenly without warning and often without apparent provocation.

____________________________

This is the experience of so many of we betrayed. We either stumble across a receipt, a text, an image or catch our unfaithful in the very act of betrayal. Some of us even have our unfaithful announce to us out of the blue. *raises hand*. In my case, to purposely hurt me and put me in the place to be the bad guy–to push me over the edge of breaking it off with him so it could look like my fault.

It matters little the method of delivery. The news that the one person with whom we have invested our whole life and whom promised to protect us, has in an instant become the very source of our life’s implosion. Our protector turned into the perpetrator or our agony.

It reminds me of the sort of scene in a film where the doctor emerges into the waiting room, face dour and pasty. “Your child, husband, sister didn’t make it.”

In our case we often did not have even the setting defined as one where there could be life altering news delivered. Thus, the very definition of sucker punched.

“Without apparent provocation.”

Herein lies the deepest truth: there is nothing a betrayed spouse could have done to deserve being sexually betrayed. Nothing. All marriages have issues. Both spouses were in the same marriage, possibly both struggling, maybe not—yet only one cheated.

Only one was experiencing having the lifeblood of true intimacy draining from the relationship and being invested into an outsider. And he/she, the betrayed, remained faithful in spite of the bloodletting.

Sure, I knew, I recognized day in and day out that my spouse was not reliable. I had to ask him over and over again if he’d followed through with tasks he’d agreed to do. I figured it a combo of ADHD and laziness/busyness. Sometime I even imagined it was a form of passive aggressiveness. He simply did not want to do the things he’d agreed to and so he didn’t. He allowed lots of energy to flow elsewhere other than taking care of responsibilities. I thought into that flow went into recreation, or just wasting time.

Betrayal was a far shot from ever crossing my mind– that he was having sex with someone else–investing time, psychological and emotional disc space on her, rather than where it belonged–in his marriage. No wonder he was so unreliable.

Suckerpunched.

On the evening of February 29th 2016 the light of truth turned on and my feelings of being married turned off. Suckerpunched into the realty that in fact I had been manipulated into staying in a very one sided relationship–a one sided marriage in which only one of us was keeping our vows. In other words, not a marriage at all. It takes two people to keep a contractual agreement. Marriage is a legal contract. Broken the moment he stepped over the line in November 1989.

Too bad nobody sucker punched me then. Then, I would have had the human dignity and right to make my own life decisions. Sure…I may have decided to work on our marriage and waited for him to do his work to heal his addictions and childhood issues–in order to save my then young family with a three and five year old in it. I really don’t know. Speculation.

At least then I would have had my dad and mom still alive to be a safety net. I’d have had someone to rely on emotionally and financially. I’d still have the lion’s share of my life ahead of me.

Not so in 2016. I was totally blindsided. Alone.

Suckerpunched.

No provocation. No warning.

I knew he was addicted to alcohol and marijuana and that it was escalating. I knew he was blaming me for not approving. But I didn’t know about his 27 years of investment in her. So much stolen from me. So much I will never get back. Oh, the grief.

It also reminds me of stories of instant widowhood being thrust upon an unsuspecting wife. So very close in nature with intimate betrayal– with the exception that most widows are made that way through no doing on their husband’s part. He wanted to stick around. To live and remain his wife’s love.

In th film “P.S. I Love You” the main character is a young widow. Her husband died of brain cancer and her mother, a woman left by her husband years before, tries to help her daughter through the grief. In a moment of frustration the mother snaps “Oh so it is so much easier being left by choice.” A cold, but true, if sarcastically stated, fact.

When we lose a spouse to death it is hugely tragic. Most lost to death were not by choice and even if it was through suicide, it was the spouse’s emotional sickness that brought about his end. Not his purposeful rejection or betrayal.

My marriage is dead. Unilaterally killed by my faux spouse and then the reality hoist upon me via a sucker punch. Not something a person ever forgets.

I will forgive. I will put it behind me.

I will never forget the trauma of being sucker punched by the person I gave more love to than anyone else in my life.

Intimate Deception

I’ve been listening to the audio book, Intimate Deception by Dr Sheri Keffer, most of the day. I find it compelling, validating, compassionate and steeped in truth.

When a woman has been intimately betrayed it is so very easy to lose herself.

I too have been in grave danger of becoming lost, at times. Down the rabbit hole I went when the pain overtook me like the mountainous wave of a tsunami. The pain of the realization that one’s world has been a construct, a manipulation of another, is simply more than can be absorbed.

I don’t know exactly when I regained my footing. Perhaps it was hearing the insane accusations and justifications come out of my UH’s mouth. Maybe it is the dark and evil slant to his gaze, unable or unwilling to meet mine, as he chooses to remain in angry shame.

Whatever and whenever it was, there is no turning back. Just like the reality of his many, many betrayals, I can not unfeel the profound brokenness of him. I truly do not know if he will ever recover –at least not in this lifetime.

His efforts are weak and steeped in escape hatches. He chooses to use meeting attendance as the lion’s share of his alleged recovery. Since when did meetings become the recovery program?

Working the program through deep authentic action has always and will always be the antidote to the evil of addictive choices.

Addiction is not evil. It is a sickness. Choosing to remain addicted is. The work to dig oneself out of addiction seems overwhelmingly painful when in truth remaining in addiction is the sentence to hell.

“It is painful to watch someone kill themselves with alcohol (*insert any addiction here).” -Al anon

It is likewise equally painful to watch the person you thought you would grow old with–the person in whose arms you thought you could safely breathe you last breath–choose what they think is the less painful path of remaining in denial of the absolute vitalness of immersion in recovery work. And thus remain your biggest safety threat.

“Let go and let God.” -Al anon

Sooooo much easier said than done.

Letter, Never Sent to the Other Woman

To: The Other Woman

sel-fish

adjective

devoted to or caring only for oneself; concerned primarily with one’s own interests, benefits, welfare, regardless of others.

Post and Pillars

Sometimes in life we camp out. There is the need in a particular season. A resting place perhaps, or a place of growth as in four years at university. Circumstances require us to remain at our post for a time.

Such was the case in the season when first my UH crossed the line into infidelity. Young motherhood and all that entails. It was a time of enormous investment and enormous joy. It was exhausting and exhilarating. It was challenging and rewarding….for me. For my spouse, it was a tsunami of overwhelm.

My UH didn’t have the pillars to sustain himself through the inevitable sacrifices such a season demands. He fell under the weight of lack of strong values formation and investment. He valued too little, too little. He did not have the skills to weather the storm.

Like the parthenon in Greece, we ideally have numerous values, or pillars, in our life. Perhaps eight or ten. Not too few, not too many to overwhelm and spread us too thin. Things in which we invest and that support us in return. Children, work, a couple interests such as sports and gardening, friends, pets, extended family. You get the idea.

The point being, when one pillar is in need of repair, we have enough energy and support to put up scaffolding and do the work by relying on our other pillars for strength. If one crumbles–we lose a child, a job, a beloved pet; there are six or eight other pillars to support the weight of the loss. We have values in our lives that enable us to move onward. The weight of the loss can be distributed amongst other people, places and things.

When a person has grown up without reinforcing his values or never been taught them. If he has been abused, neglected; he hasn’t had the role models, the support, the maturity or the energy to shore up his pillars of values. His outlook becomes warped in self perseveration. He turns inward to save his life.

And that leaves a big hole in his ability to acquire strong pillars. He is stuck at an outpost in his life where he finds it necessary to hide, to lie, just to survive. He never gains the skills to deal with challenges through the use of values he only knows intellectually. Those he might know– widely known by society; he may even be able to recite them. But he has not the tools learned to actually use them. That pillar either was never constructed or it was built on sand.

This metaphor has helped me to come to terms and gain more compassionate understanding of the process of addiction formation. Those destructive addictions or compulsions are the immature attempt to soothe, to offset the stresses and strains of life because the skills to do it in healthy way have not formed.

Addicts and those that act out are not defective. They are deficient. They were not born that way. Their life was molded in deprivation of some sort. They may have had all the material things in the world, but no adult to have their back, teach and comfort them. As many formation of unhealthy coping skills exist, there are reasons for their lack.

The golden thread is that the life that broke the unfaithful was in some way deficient to support them into acquiring better skills, stronger reliances and alliances in health.

Compassion and forgiveness are intertwined. If I am unable to gain compassion for my UH, I am going to have a very hard time coming to forgive him. I think these two qualities walk hand in hand. Compassion and forgiveness.

I hope you search and find compassion for the one who broke your heart.

What are your value pillars? How do you reinforce and repair them?

No More Settling For Crumbs

“Until I saw thoughts, feelings and actions that were congruent with true change, I wouldn’t give him the time of day.” -Betrayed wife

Bravo, sister. I too am so tired of crumbs. Most of the time I don’t even get those. He’s taken to making meals, cleaning up dishes and cleaning up the dog poo from the back yard. Should I be overly excited? I think not. These things are part of what it takes to run a household and things he might have been taking upon himself as a beginning of parody in partnership. They are not recovery in any shape or form. He remains in distorted damaging thinking.

Not that I don’t appreciate these things he is doing. They are not what is needed to prove he is changing his thinking and life permanently for the good.

Thinking ahead. Treating me with thoughtfulness instead of like an object in the way of his desires. You know–emotional maturity. Demolition of impulsive, self gratification at other’s expense. Delay gratification like an adult.

“Fun fast and easy,” are what Brene Brown defines as the ways of a person lacking integrity–or the ability/willingness to use their emotions as messenger and not controllers. It is not that the addict is defective. He was not born this way. He was an innocent child. He is deficient in good emotional management. He allows his emotions to control him–rule the day. He is deficient in skills and commitment.

He did however, through a series of life events, fail to learn the skills to manage his emotions. Early in life he learned to hide and lie as a form of self protection. Those ‘skills’ that saved him as a child have not been extinguished. On the contrary, they have been strengthened over time through all the excuses of addictive thinking. The resentments, the blame shifting from self to others, the minimization, the distorted reality acted upon as if it were real, justifications etc. Practiced over and over and over.

I regret the necessity to have to set a stronger boundary. I am ready to get off this sick hamster wheel that is not changing. If he can not manage to learn the skills to control his emotions and reset the course of his life toward honesty, I will file for either legal separation or divorce. I will watch and wait until the fourth death-a-versary of D-day–five months from now, for evidence that he is in actual recovery, rather than false image management recovery.

I am so sad to be pushed to this. So sad that he has not chosen better. So sad.

I hope he will one day come to the place that he wants to recover for HIM. To get rid of his addictive thinking and get healthy. Maybe he will begin now, maybe not. I am done with crumbs.

I WILL move on.

In the meantime I work on my own strength and life. I love the new workshop I found at recoverynation.com , specifically for partners of addicts. I will grow and strengthen my values and life purposes– and look forward. Perhaps it is a God shot that I found this workshop now. I am grateful.

No more crumbs.

Putting Life Back Together

“Recognize that this isn’t your life falling apart; it has fallen apart. And you are now putting it back together again. Recognize that while your partner’s recovery is important — that managing it is his responsibility — as are the consequences. Recognize that your responsibility is to heal your own life — with the same focus and attention and energy as is given to recovery.” – Recovery Nation

“My responsibility is to heal my own life.”

I can’t even imagine having to live this sentence. Not when I was twenty three and in love and looking forward to an amazing adventurous life with my new husband. I thought he was my life. He was my life.

I suppose that was the naive magical mistake of youth talking…back then. My perfect life dreams. My dreams. Dreams that I had found that person who would love me forever and protect me. Care for me. Be there for me–no matter what. That guy who would carry me through life, past the passing of the only man who ever really protected me. Dad.

Daddy. How I miss you. How I miss the care and security and protection of you. You protect me still with all you taught me. With the home you left to me. With the love you left me. You were integrity and reliability–constantsy.

That dream is dead. Shattered on the alter of that young man’s brokenness and selfishness. No follow through. No reliability. No protection.

I’m on my own. That guy who I used to call husband is still here, but he is not here. Not the young man of the dreams. The one who I thought would always love me. Love, the verb. I am alone.

and “It is my responsibility to heal my own life.”

My shattered life that was full of dreams. I am left alone to find joy. My husband is dead. I am alone. I grieve.

Feeling Discouraged

Photo by Juan Pablo Arenas on Pexels.com

I tried to communicate my hurt and disappointment to my UH this morning, in reference to his lying over the weekend about where he was going via hiding and keeping it a secret. I cried and told him how unsafe I felt when he kept any kind of secret. How it robbed me of any ability to trust. How I feel like the other shoe could drop at any moment and I have no idea what that shoe might be.

Betrayal sucks. Keeping secrets is so destructive and disrespectful.

He reacted in anger, defensiveness, minimization and blame shifting. “Well this (reaction) is really helping.” he said in contemptuous sarcasm. “You are attacking me.” (making my hurt about him)

It is so discouraging when he choose this behavior. I ask myself, “Will he ever express empathy, compassion, kindness and remorse?” I don’t know how I can go on forever when it is HE who is attacking me with blaming me for my hurt reaction to his choices. Belittling me for being hurt and then accusing me of controlling him and somehow enjoying making HIM feel bad.

What?

He is still making me the villain. Still reinforcing me as the enemy, not a teammate or a partner. I am powerless over him and his lack of insight, but it sure hurts to be misjudged and treated so badly.

An Unfaithful Asks…

An Unfaithful wife recently asked on a recovery forum what she might do to help her betrayed husband heal.

“This is when he will heal….

You need to take his rage, his snarky comments, his quietness, his depression, his up and down moods, his triggers, so completely that he begins to grow tired of his reaction– he feels sorry for you! And it will take forever and it will be up and down as the Betrayed is suffering and living with PTSD. Betrayeds don’t get over PTSD any more than a war vet “gets over” PTSD. One lives with PTSD the rest of their life. We “manage” PTSD.

Think for a moment: What would YOU do if you had shot him? He’s lying on the ground bleeding out. YOU would call an ambulance. YOU would get him whatever help he needs. YOU would stop the bleeding while you waited for that help. YOU would hold his hand during the bleeding, pain, and suffering. YOU would NOT stand there and say, “Oh wow. My bad. That is not good. That must really hurt. You’re gonna need some help!” and walk away. (Or would you? Or do you?)

If he said something not really funny, you’d laugh. If he said something stupid, you’d say “It’s okay, Honey.” If he said something hurtful and angry, you’d smile tenderly and say “It’s OK.” If he screamed out in agony at what YOU did to him, you’d calmly, lovingly do whatever it takes to comfort him, to HELP him…right? In every way YOU would tell him and show him it’s going to be all right.

Well, YOU did this. To his heart. YOU Betrayers have set yourself up for a long, long haul. A forever haul. This will never, ever go away. YOU did it. This is grief. A death. Betrayeds don’t “get over” this anymore than one gets over the death of a loved one. The loved one can’t come back and what YOU did can’t be undone. Betrayeds aren’t living in the past. We’re living in the fallout of the Betrayed’s behavior. Saying you will never give up – if you mean that – means you and he will survive, when, had you made better choices in a bad time in your marriage, you’d be thriving.

It means YOU need to never forget that YOU did this to him (and you and your children if there are any), so he is better able to not remember what YOU did every moment of every day. No matter what he says, he will never look at you the same again and we Betrayeds think of it every day, several times a day. Who he thought you were is dead to him now. He will grieve that forever. No matter how many times in day-to-day moments he looks at you and thinks “This feels like US” he is reminded that the “US” you were isn’t what he thought it was. It was not real. You wouldn’t have done what you did if you were the person he thought you were.

For better for worse, for richer for poorer…The second it got “worse”, the Betrayer bailed. SAFE? Not at all. Will a Betrayed ever feel safe again? I don’t think it’s possible. We can say it. We can try to feel it. We can make the Betrayer feel we feel it. We can have the Betrayed doing all the things necessary to make us feel safe. But we felt safe before and we were so very wrong. What fool would feel safe again with these facts?

Even with a Betrayer who is working like a dog to make the Betrayed feel safe, we know – we KNOW – history tells us, when things were worse, YOU bailed on us. THIS is the “worst” of the “worse”! Why should we feel safe now? We felt safe then!! When he has flashes of you and the “you” he thought you were before the betrayal, he will be instantly reminded you are not the person he thought you were. So this person standing before him? We Betrayeds have a sort of, Who are you? moment every time. Who are you? Who did I marry?

It’s loads of fun. A living nightmare. But, this world is not my home. I am his best friend and he is the father of my children. For them, I love him and “us” and we will go on. He wants us to “grow old together” and “die in each other’s arms”.

So did I.

In some ways, it’s better, he is better, and in many ways, it will never be the same. And what really kills us, the Betrayed?

It didn’t have to be this way.”

Lies of Omission

This is, sadly, the go-to for my UH. Three and a half years out from intimate betrayal D-day and he is still omitting information–which means he is controlling the flow of information—which is the definition of betrayal. The keeping of secrets.

To take this personally means to see it as a blatant disregard for my personhood and human right to my own decisions. Without necessary information I can not make an informed decision. This is controlling, objectifying and dehumanizing. All in the name of his fear and self protection.

He tells himself a story in his mind that sharing said information will result in some level of conflict. He tells himself that because of this conflict HE will be controlled into doing things he does not want to do and feel feelings he does not want to feel. It is therefore MY fault that he HAS TO keep secrets.

Catch 22.

Totally unhealthy and abusive.

Totally addict stinking thinking.

Totally unsafe and a precursor to making increasingly harmful decisions/acting out. More betrayals, more pain, more damage.

But I am not supposed to take it personally. I am supposed to stay calm and understand/talk in therapist speak voice. I am supposed to extent compassion and empathy and grace for the poor broken little boy inside that still drives him to hide. I am supposed to be understanding and patient as he learns to change.

Except hiding is not changing. Choosing to hide IS acting out. Saying “I’m sorry” and then making excuses that include him feeling that I am always judgmental when it comes to any situation (with his family) is tantamount to admitting that he is unwilling to suck it up and tell the truth no matter what he tells himself are the consequences. Even worse case scenario story he makes up, is not an excuse to hide and lie via omission. Grow a pair.

This time it is about the sale of his mom’s family home and the communication around that process–a process that will enable him to claim his rightful inheritance that his mom wanted him to have, thus easing our family financial strain brought on by his overspending. But he judges I don’t need to know when he is having a meeting about aforesaid, or where it is being held or what the outcomes is. Then he goes to meet with his sister, sandwiching it between other (admitted and known) excursions. And I know he is supposed to talk to her, just not when or where. He chooses to keep the meeting a secret.

He manifests me as an outsider even though I have been part of his family for forty one years. I am part of the friggin’ family, but he treats me like an outsider by not giving me the dignity to have any information–therefore no opinions. I don’t want to make any of the decisions, as their inheritance is between the four siblings. I DO deserve to know how it is going. Keeping me in the dark is tantamount to silencing me and rejecting /abandoning me as a valued partner with a track record of thought out reason (unlike him). I just want and deserve to be in the loop, as he was during my parents end of life issues and trust dispersement.

You know– a team—partners—a couple.

Instead I am cut out, even of knowledge of a meeting, let alone a thumb nail sketch of how things are proceeding.

Beyond that and more vital is the continuing lying through omission. What I don’t know won’t hurt me. Where he goes and what he does is his business and not mine. He finds it acceptable to keep his whereabouts hidden if they involve anything HE judges to be potentially a conflict.

He lost this privilege when he betrayed me. Rigorous honesty and transparency is bottom line requirement. HE and his sponsor and his accountability partner agree. Truth and honesty is paramount.

This is no way to rebuild trust. On the contrary, it further erodes it. I can not trust him to let me know where he is or what he is doing. I feel enormously unsafe…and devalued.

And so it goes–three and a half years out from D-day.

…When I’m Sixty Four

I’ve always loved that old Beatles tune.

When I get older losing my hair
Many years from now
Will you still be sending me a Valentine
Birthday greetings bottle of wine

If I’d been out till quarter to three
Would you lock the door
Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I’m sixty-four

You’ll be older too
And if you say the word
I could stay with you

I could be handy, mending a fuse
When your lights have gone
You can knit a sweater by the fireside
Sunday mornings go for a ride
Doing the garden, digging the weeds
Who could ask for more

Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I’m sixty-four

Every summer we can rent a cottage
In the Isle of Wight, if it’s not too dear
We shall scrimp and save
Grandchildren on your knee
Vera, Chuck and Dave

Send me a postcard, drop me a line

stating point of view. Indicate precisely what you mean to say

You’re sincerely wasting away. Give me your answer. Fill in a form.

Mine forever more.

Will you still need me? Will you still feed me when I’m sixty four?

________________________

Well.. I AM sixty four and if it was me singing this to my UH I would say it is actually mostly true. He needs me, even if he fails to act as though he does. He’s spent his retirement. He has no roof over head sans mine. He has relied on me forever to run a tight ship that still manages to be warm and cozy. So yeah–I’d say that qualifies as ‘need’.

If it was him singing it to me…ha! Well…to be fair, perhaps he can be handy on occasion, though mending a fuse would be beyond his electrical capabilities or safety. Can you spell e-l-e-c-t-r-o-c-u-t-i-o-n? YEs–I do the garden and dig the weeds as I always have. Sunday drive to church–yes. Valentine cards have pre-d-day been in my purview to send as were birthday greetings to him and everyone else (he seldom remembers or is so inclined to do birthday cards) Post d-day–no Valentines. That was a lie and now a sadness trigger.

As for ‘out until quarter to three’?? Never. Not even when we were twenty four. Not night owls. Now nine p.m. is the new midnight. Zzzzzzzzzz…..

I’ve never knit, let alone a sweater–crewel sewing of intricate design, cross stitch, painting, photography, fair writer, but knitting—no. As for by the fireside–that would be out back at the round fire pit on the patio. Never do light the one in the house as it is in the front room–a lonely place seldom used, now his bedroom.

Losing his hair?? Yes, though the beard is thick and Santa white. Rather dashing actually offset by his olive complexion.

As for renting a cottage? Now doesn’t that sound romantic? He hasn’t a romantic bone in his body. If any renting or summer cottages were to be had, it would have to be me doing the scrimping and saving so it wouldn’t be ‘too dear’. He’s spent all the extra in secret, so scrimping and saving are not going out of style any time soon for me. Only when he did the finances (scrimping and saving=nonexistent)

Grandchildren on your knee? We have one. She lives 2500 miles away so not much bouncing on my knee. Once or twice a year. She is absolutely lovely and the apple of my eye–his too.

Feed me? Yes. No trouble rustling up some grub for either of us. HE’s taken to more assembling of meals though I still prepare most things more intricate than burgers or tacos.

“You’ll be older too”…that has taken on a whole new meaning with the trauma of betrayal. Really wears a person to a frazzle. Aged twenty years in the last three. Definitely NOT suggested as the fountain of youth.

That postcard, that line dropped happened August 26, 1978 in the chapel at our alma mater, where we swore to always have each other’s back. Been somewhat true with the exception of the forsaking all others. Thus his earned moniker as unfaithful husband. Honor? Cherish? Infidelity and those concepts are pretty incompatible. Hmmm…

“Mine forevermore” was true the first eleven years before he took a mistress. Not exactly forevermore. Actually quite a bit short of anticipated forevermore.

This when I’m sixty four thing is pretty old, raggedy and tarnished. Been beaten, bruised, bloodied and torn asunder too.

I still love the song though.