Three Hundred

No, not the film with Gerard Butler as a determined King Leonidas–though his example of integrity to his people is the stuff of legend. This mention of 300 is in reference to the number of days, the number of blogs I have penned since the end of February this year.

I began this effort on the third anniversary of my d-day in hope of sharing my path, my thoughts, with those out there that might gain some solace, some reassurance that they–that you are not alone. This post revelation of intimate betrayal is a lonely place to find oneself. Even if you are fortunate to have a bevy of friends and family around you, few if any have this betrayal experience in their life’s repertoire. Fewer understand the exquisite grief and disappointment in finding out that one’s marriage was a lie. To find out the you have been allegedly married to a stranger who could throw away your vows, safety, security and heart is truly the most emotionally painful experience this life can bring.

During this nearly year long blog writing path I have poured out the good the bad and the ugly of it. I’ve opened my chest and laid my heart out on the table for all readers to see/feel. I’ve been about as vulnerable as a human being can be. I’ve shared my grief, my tears, my astonishment at the unfairness of it as well as my struggle to regain my sense of beauty and gratitude for this amazing world we all live in. Thank God I have never lost my love for this time and place here on Earth. It has, in fact, been my anchor.

To choose to remain in the present and choose to see what is there everyday in front of us–these wonderful technical doorways into each other’s minds and hearts. My goodness, it still baffles me when I try to wrap my mind around the incredible potential reach each of us has who are blessed with this amazing internet connection. We can meet people we’d never have crossed paths with sans this platform. You can read, here on Christine Renewed, about a woman living in California who is wrestling with an all to common devastation—and still moving forward.

We, you and I, my friends—we have each other’s back even if only virtually. Just as the pages of books have upheld, educated, inspired and entertained people throughout the modern age, so this amazing access to one individual’s ‘blog’ can do likewise. In fact, long after you and I are gone, there will be these words, this heart still beating in the minds and hearts of any who might read about a woman in the early 21st century trying to come to terms with being betrayed by her husband.

Sadly, I see no end to the pain of the choice to turn one’s back on one’s spouse. People have been doing it for ages and will no doubt continue to make this devastating and life altering choice to abandon the person they swore to protect and uphold. We live in a broken world full of selfish self centered people.

That said, we also live among people of character and integrity. People who, like King Leonidas, would give their lives for others. Good and evil co exist–even within the same person. And so it is not impossible for the evil of infidelity to be redeemed through commitment and responsibility taking of the betrayer. It has yet to be in my personal experience. My UH still chooses himself over me and any us. But I do know it is possible for some, for many to repair this breech in relationship. I believe it can and does happen.

I wish, I pray it for you. God bless us all.

Top Twenty

I read a blog written by an APSAT therapist recently suggesting we betrayed make a list of twenty things we love to do. Then we are to do a minimum of three each day. We betrayed need to take care of ourselves–especially when our faux-spouse is not.

Here’s mine:

Twenty Things I Love to Do

snuggle with my Yorkie
drink decaf coffee/ tea
eat dark chocolate
eat macadamia nuts
enjoy a glass of wine
walking
sleeping enough
writing
reading
listening to music
Visiting my girlfriends
Going out to eat
Singing along with music
Sitting in the garden/gardening
Playing with/thinking about/looking at photos of my granddaughter
Cleaning/organizing
travel/travel planning/dreaming
baking
watching news/GMA/DWTS/This Is Us
cruising Facebook for cute memes/gifs

What are yours? Come on—write ’em down and start caring for you!

Hibernation

As a Seasonal Affective Disorder sufferer (“SAD”), this time of year lends itself to laying low, staying at home and peering out the window at the grey sky. I think it is also a function of being between Christmas and New Years. It’s always been a time off—from school, from work as a teacher and now from work as a caregiver because my client(s) are so often off visiting their families.

Early sunset puts me in the mood for early bedtime. The chill in the air and snuggle sweaters or blankets are perfect recipe for hibernation.

And so is infidelity/betrayal trauma.

One of the biggest challenges since d-day is to find a reason to carry on. As embarrassing as that is to admit, it is true. I have known no other existence since I was 18 years old, but to be with my spouse. We do nearly everything together. Our hobbies and interests nearly match. We were pretty much inseparable as college students. Most all our marriaed life he’d rush home to be with me…and then the kids. He’s never been a sports guy nor does he have drinking buddies. As time went on, he took to drinking after hours at home–in secret. Once the secret life began it blossomed, though he never allowed it to deprive us of his presence.

No, my UH committed his betrayal during business trips off hours. Perfect set up. Away from home for good cause of earning a living and put up at nice hotels by his company; his meals as well as any potential ‘candidate’s’ meals paid for by the company too. As a military and then corporate recruiter, all his expenses were taken care of and all his time ostensibly accounted for. No receipts with suspicious additions, no dipping into the family account or using the family credit card–all the ideal set up for his acting out without suspicion.

The consummate actor, he kept up the facade of loving husband, especially when any other ‘eyes’ were present. My friends nicknamed him ‘Letchy’ for his oft over-generous public displays of affection. I remember swatting him away at times. My daughter has interpreted this as me being ‘mean’ to him.

I was the perfect dupe. Totally fooled. Though not totally happy. He didn’t share his emotions with me. Talk was surface and/or fun. I was lonely for deeper connection which I found with my women teacher colleagues and friends. After all, no one person can fulfill all our needs. And he didn’t seem to know how or want to.

He was sexually demanding and shaming. Why he could not grasp that I need more attachment emotional connection to muster up desire, I don’t know. He simply expected me to be in the mood whenever he was, no matter how lonnng a day or week or month I’d had or how late at night it was. Pointed index finger in my back was his brand of foreplay invitation. Needless to say, it seldom worked. I was all in for other forms of physical affection, but felt somehow used or objectified as a sex partner. Little did I know this is the hallmark of being the spouse of a sex addict. Why would I even know such a thing exists? No one I knew had ever even mentioned this as an addiction. And he was so attentive in front of our friends.

I was fooled, but I am not a fool. I was used. I was duped. The only crime I am guilty of is being loving and trusting. And that is not a crime.

In these long days and nights of non-recovery for any hope of an ‘us’, it is best spent in hibernation of one form or another. I either read or write, meditate or pray. All this on my own. Requesting more interaction has been met with little follow through, so I do the only thing I can—take care of myself.

I read a blog written by an APSAT therapist suggesting we betrayed make a list of twenty things we love to do. Then we are to do a minimum of three each day. We betrayed need to take care of ourselves–especially when our faux-spouse is not. Save our energy, hoard it, replenish it whenever possible. Hibernate if needed.

As an introvert I naturally recharge in solitude, so in this season of betrayal trauma recovery I will extend myself huge amounts of grace…and time to be by myself, rest, recharge, even hibernate during these long winter nights.

*See “Nestivus: An Alternative Holiday for Introverts” at sweatpantsandcoffee.com

Be Kind

“There are three ways to ultimate success: The first way is to be kind. The second way is to be kind. The third way is to be kind.” – Fred Rogers

At first blush if you are reading this through the tear stained eyes of a betrayal, you may be asking yourself why your unfaithful did not think of this before he did something that would forever impact your lives. Why? —Understandable.

Thing is, the more I read and hear from unfaithful, the more I come to believe that so many of them have suffered at the hands of unkind people and situations in their lives, it has become second nature to be unkind to others and particularly to themselves. Their negative self talk through their lives has cut to the bone… Anything by self kindness.

Which reminds me of a meme I saw on Facebook recently:

“If you don’t heal what hurt you, you will bleed on people that didn’t cut you.”

Also

“Pain untransformed WILL BE transmitted.”

The pandemic of suffering caused by unthinking unkindness, but treating others as objects to an ends or as objects in the way to an ends, is sickly common. We live in a broken world filled with people who have been broken by others and/or situations they did not cause.

Pandemic.

I believe in the power of kindness. It is akin to love. It is the manifestation of love. It is love in action. It is the answer to brokenness. It is truly the salvation of the world.

And the salvation of the unfaithful. Be kind. Starting with self kindness. Reparenting, loving of self through forgiveness of the things done in brokenness. Self forgiveness.

For the betrayed, to understand that none of our unfaithful began life capable of the horrors of betrayal. They were formed, not born that way. Someone bled on them that they did not cut. And they learned to self hate, to be unkind to themselves as easily and as frequently as breathing. Self love has become as foreign to them as oil is to water.

At Christmas Eve service this year, the minister talked about the power of a baby that night; the story so strong in metaphor for our broken world. If we could just all see ourselves as God does–his babies. We were all born innocent babes. Some of us have had misfortune to have unkindness corrupt that innocent nature. We are all still perfectly imperfect beings that can bloom under the salve of kindness.

“There are three ways to ultimate success: The first way is to be kind. The second way is to be kind. The third way is to be kind.” Fred Rogers

Be kind.

Honor Yourself

Even though you have been dishonored by the one person in your life who swore to love, respect and honor you, it in no way reflects upon your worthiness. Your spouse was or is not an emotionally healthy person. There is nothing in the world you could have done or not done to be worthy of betrayal.

Honor yourself.

Just because another person, even your spouse, does not respect you in NO WAY diminishes you as a person worthy of love and respect. Your spouse was wrong—is wrong. Your spouse vowed before God, family, friends and you to put you before all others, to love and protect you. Your spouse is the one who choose actions of disrespect and therefore rightfully lost respectability.

You have never had any control over your spouse’s choices or actions. They behaved abominably. It is 100% on them and therefore in no way brings shame on you. You are every bit as honorable as you were before they decided to throw away their marriage vows.

Thing is—if they are still unwilling or unable to treat you with respect, it is up to you to care well for yourself. You deserve to honor yourself by caring for yourself. Set boundaries to protect yourself and fight like heck to regain your footing lost to someone else’s horrid behavior.

You have been abused. Your trust and love taken for granted and used to abuse you. You have had a crime committed against you. The contract you both signed on your wedding day was violated by your unfaithful spouse. Just because he did not honor you or place value in your marriage in no way diminishes YOUR value.

Honor yourself.

Don’t allow another’s poor behavior to destroy your life. You were and are worth so much better than the treatment you have received. You are worthy of respect and love.

A gold coin throw in the trash loses no value. A college diploma burnt in a fire loses no value…the degree earned is still intact. Though your marriage contract was made null and void by one of the two participants in no way devalues you, the party that upheld said contract. You retain your full honor.

Honor yourself.

Be kind to yourself as you would be to any victim of abuse. Honor yourself. Take care of you. Love you.

Box It Up, Boxing Day Blues

Photo by Ma Boîte A Photos on Pexels.com

It’s Boxing Day, ostensibly to box up all the old decor and new gifts to stash away in proper place. Not sure too many of us still do this so quickly after Christmas. I know in my Catholic upbringing, we were to wait until Epiphany to take down the holiday glitter and lights.

“Epiphany is a Christian feast day that commemorates principally the visit of the Magi to the Christ Child, and thus Jesus’ physical manifestation to the Gentiles. Monday, January 6, 2020, this coming year.”

In our modern day culture most of us wait until the new year to clean house. From the perspective of Christmas Day, there is another night of revelry right around the corner and for those of us who have already used our balance of expendable energy and income, the dropping of the ball in Times Square is met with bittersweet anticipation.

Are we glad, we betrayed spouses, that our D-days are further distant in the rear view mirror? Sure. Of course we wish there were never the need for a d-day; that our spouse had chosen to be faithful to us, as they promised. But if I have learned anything in this blistering reality, it is that there is no turning back. This is our shit-show to deal with.

Welcome to a new year of recovery. Another 365 days and nights to plow through searching for the illusive new and better version of ourselves that is promised by all the recovery gurus, should we do ‘the work’. …Another unfair situation. We were betrayed and now we have years of work to heal, hoisted on our shoulders.

Nobody ever (truthfully) claimed life to be fair. In that arena, I’d say this infidelity stuff is about as unfair as it gets.

Reality. Yup–I know. Gotta face it. Gotta somehow learn to love it. I find that if I shift my perspective just a bit…nudge it to the right and look at this self reflection, this introspection as an opportunity rather than a burden–a chance to get to know myself better and like myself, respect myself more; then it is a positive indeed.

Life is, after all, about learning and growing into our best selves. This trauma has forced the issue and accelerated the process into a depth and breadth we may never have reached without it.

“But I could have had a perfectly happy life without this horrid betrayal,” I hear you (and me) thinking. Yes–so true. It is however, speculation at its finest to think we may not have been dealt a different brand of bad. And if we had not, we may have remained forever naive, trusting without a thought and living in a cloud of simplicity without ever having know of what we are made. Our mettle never tested to this extent, we’d not have chiseled a rough shod respect for the adult we are when the worst of what life can throw at us happens. We are amazing, strong women (and betrayed men)–more than we would ever dream, without this heartbreak.

So as we face the last week of the year, I plan to metaphorically box up as much of the burdensome old rehash of my misfortune that pounces upon me like a cat on a rodent. Place those triggers in a box marked “Stop”. You are living in the present and those memories are of thing in the past. Unchangeable and not to be revisited again. Goodbye and good riddance.

May 2020 come in unlike its twentieth century counterpart, ‘the roaring twenties’, and be a decade of peace, growth in our hearts, serenity and wisdom hard fought.

Peace.

You Say Its My Birthday…

Yup. I’m a Christmas (eve) baby. This baby just qualified for medicare. If you are not American, that means I am turning sixty five.

This means I’m at the closing of…

And the answer to the question posed in the above song…no. At least as far as my UH is concerned. “Will you still need me, will you still feed me” Sadly, no–at least emotionally. But that is (and has been) the story for other blog entries.

Being a Christmas baby already places one squarely in the midst of the rush. Birthdays this week of the calendar, are a blur in most folk’s minds–except the birthday of Jesus, rightly so.

So we human babies tend to get lost in the shuffle.

I’d like to say I am used to it. But like being cheated on, it is something you never really forget or get over. In the case of a Christmas time birthday, no one’s fault. No one plans to have their Christmas celebrations interrupted by a trip to the maternity ward to deliver a baby. My mom never let me forget it–tongue in cheek.

So am I now officially ‘elderly’? There is a whole intellectual battle over what that word means and at what age it begins. If you are of the school that elderly means diminished mental and/or physical ability, I plead guilty. I notice maybe a two percent decline in mental acuity/memory and maybe five percent physical. It is harder to get up off the floor when scrubbing it–but hey, I am still doing it when needed. My balance is not as it was. That is weird, I must admit. Yoga “Tree pose”, a challenge.

So pardon me for doing something I have never done as it was not ‘my style’. Toot my own horn. It’s my birthday, darn it!

Am I giving up? Absolutely not. I continue stretching my mental muscles as well as my physical ones. I think this is the best any of us can do as the years tick by.

You say it’s your birthday
It’s my birthday too, yeah
They say it’s your birthday
We’re gonna have a good time
I’m glad it’s your birthday
Happy birthday to you

Yes we’re going to a party party
Yes we’re going to a party party
Yes we’re going to a party party

I would like you to dance, birthday
Take a cha-cha-cha-chance, birthday
I would like you to dance, birthday
Dance

You say it’s your birthday
Well it’s my birthday too, yeah
You say it’s your birthday
We’re gonna have a good time
I’m glad it’s your birthday
Happy birthday to you

The Helping Hand Strikes Again

I admit it. Sometimes I help—too much. When I see a mess or someone is really busy and hasn’t had time to fix dinner …yup, you guessed it. I step in and ‘help’.

This proclivity got me in a poop load of trouble the day after my granddaughter was born. My daughter and son in law would be released from the hospital that morning so I got out the vacuum, dust cloth and tidied up their room. Straightened the bed, put a vase of fresh flowers on the nightstand, emptied the kitty litter box.

Visions of mini HGTV reveal danced in my head. I really wanted them to feel welcome home.

Much to my surprise (and hurt feelings), instead of being pleased, they yelled at me for going into their bedroom. “Guests don’t go into their hosts bedroom. Were you just trying to look through our drawers?” Am I a ‘guest’?? or family. Guess I’m a guest.

What?

I was crushed, but didn’t want to stir the pot any more than it already was.

So next cross country flight for a visit, we rented an air BnB and a rental car so we did not have to risk treading on their toes. I wrote an email shortly after we got home from that first visit and apologized for crossing a line (I did not know existed). I reminded my daughter that cleaning help had always been welcome in the past, but that they were entitled to change their mind on what they wanted or appreciated–just let me know so I don’t inadvertently upset them. — No response except to say they did not want to hear a litany of excuses.

The helping hand struck again.

Never again.

I now err on the side of keeping to myself and assuming nothing. I buy all my own food when visiting and try to stay out of the way.

Too bad actually.

I’d love to have a mom still around who would lend a hand. But I am not them and they are entitled to their own rules and sensibilities.

Too bad it had to break my heart a little.

You Do Not Have to Earn Love

You came into this world an innocent babe. The world has molded you in many ways, some good, some painful. You’ve met the challenges as best you could given your maturity and resources. You’ve made mistakes. So you are not perfect. No one is.

Sometimes you are selfish, sometimes exhausted and at the end of your patience. You have done your best to move forward and accomplish something of which you can be proud.

Most of us have loved our spouse the best way we knew how. We have given of our time and hearts. We’ve supported our spouse’s dreams in career and personal life. We may have bore him children, loved and cared for those children through sickness and in health.

I know I did everything I could to avoid feeling I’d done a half baked job because I knew childhood was brief and so important to their future lives. I knew I had been given a great gift and I didn’t want to miss a moment. I decorated the birthday cakes, painted childhood scenes on their bedroom walls, found enrichment fun classes for them to take and made sure they got there and back. I fought for equity in their education. I remodeled and painted and saved and scrimped and laughed and cried through the years.

And thorough all this, I felt blessed. Overburdened with responsibilities and took on too many projects perhaps, but all done out of an unquenchable desire to make my husband and children’s lives as rich and full as they could be. Mine too. I didn’t want to miss a moment of it.

You know what? I didn’t miss a moment. I was 100% present and undistracted by addiction or frivolous pursuit. I lived every nuance of joy and exhaustion, of triumph and failure–all mine forever in my memory. I am blessed that I am not an addict or so broken that I felt drawn to betray–myself first. I am blessed.

And no matter how villainized I was or motives misunderstood, or deceived or how much he controlled my reality where he was concerned–he did not and could not control the reality of my motherhood, my homemaker joys and accomplishments, my career endeavors, my reading, learning, values or mind. All of me was real–is real. And there is nothing for which I need to feel ashamed, even my mistakes—because I am lovable just the way I am. Always have been. Always will be.

You are too.

Disease of Attitude

What a man thinks he becomes.

Oh my goodness, but this is true. When I think about my Uh’s acts of betrayal–in full technicolor of my mind’s eye, I am held hostage to the past. I feel abused, anxious and sad. So stop it, I tell myself. Change your frigg’in attitude.

You are now able to choose to distract your mind by filling it with more positive and forward looking images and thoughts. So do it, Christine. Just do it.

This was not true for months after d-day. I was in fact held hostage by my trauma. PTSD. Yes–the stuff you hear about of battlefields and carnage witnessed. Our brains, our lizard, primitive brains, do not know the difference between a real memory of holding our dead friend in our arms as result of war, and the images of our spouse having sex with another.

Trauma is trauma. Our brain reacts the same. Our bodies hold onto that past trauma and its images for months or years. It takes mighty work on self, learning relaxation techniques, meditation, maybe even antidepressant help to ever so slowly move out of the hair trigger blasts of anxiety and devastation that accompany PTSD event(s)/triggers/reminders.

All true. That said, when we do manage to reach a threshold of anxiety reduction and limbic system calming, we can begin to shift our attitude. YEs, we do have some control over our life via our will and our thoughts. We can train ourselves to choose to focus on gratitude, positive, calm, soothing thoughts.

If you have taken any psychology, you know that in order to extinguish a behavior/change a habit, you must exert self control to change whatever behavior or thoughts you have been so well practiced at using that have got you stuck in this unhealthy place. In other words, you must replace the unhealthy or harmful with new healthier thoughts and actions. It’s not much different than changing any habit or unwanted life pursuit. Fake it til you make it if you must. Whatever it takes to override that old destructive thinking/actions/inactions to forge a new neural pathway toward more acceptable and wanted thoughts/behaviors.

A metaphor that comes to mind is riding in a wagon along a well worn trail. Perhaps the wagon wheels have dug deep ruts and ridges into the dirt. The wagon wheels want to stay in those ruts. It takes keen control of the reins and traveling the new pathway many times to wear new ruts along which to travel. Practice, repetition as long as it takes to ingrain a new way.

Allow yourself to fall into those old well worn ruts and you become dis-eased again. Your old unwanted methods that caused such pain in your life, such dis ease with living can be fallen into again without gentle self reminders and practice to stay the course of positive attitude and health.

Stay the course. It will get easier over time and repetition. It may well become second nature as your old habits once were. The important factor is that it is totally within your control and choice. You choose.