It isn’t simply that I am eating misery, and little else, for breakfast, lunch and dinner these days, but also that it is eating me.
From the moment I gain consciousness in the morning, the awareness that the fact that the life I had been living so happily is over, gone for good, forces itself down my neck and I snack on that revolting bile in a day-long venture in hell. I keep waiting for it to slack off, but that hasn’t started happening yet, and although somedays are less densely packed with anguish and anxiety, many come with the full force of the first minutes.
I am more able to see the weak links in my husband that led to his total and complete betrayal, but remain baffled by the turnaround, its speed and its cruelty, and my lack of understanding may be part of what is blocking my healing.
The “How could he do this to me and our family?” question haunts on a minute-to-minute basis, and although on some level I realize that his horrid choices and worse behavior have nothing to do with me, it’s seems only womanly to attempt to find some blame to carry on my shoulders.
What it is about us, the females of our species, that needs to claim faults not ours, to apologize for foibles merely human, to gather guilt over the fact that humans age and occasionally lose focus and are sometimes not in the chipperest of mind sets? Where does it come into our consciousness that it is our responsibility to keep the ship afloat, to be ever-vigilant, to anticipate every reaction to any action; then to look inwards for our failure when our men decide that all their thinking will be done with their little heads, not their big heads, and that nothing else matters in any case?
Because Mark was so good at giving the impression that he was the happiest married man on earth, wedded to his best friend, continually conversing on every topic … except, of course, the one that was mattering the most to him at the time; how to keep his girlfriend happy … I am still reeling from the shock of my supposedly solid ground suddenly falling away.
Should I have seen this coming, even though he freely admits that he gave no hints, no clues, no reason for suspicion? Or is this just another way I beat myself up?
I know that it’s grief I’m dealing with and that there is no short road away from it. Getting on with my life, moving along, adjusting, are all goals, but it is consuming, from the hole in my heart, to the steady diet of regrets, to the loss of so much hope and so many dreams, I can’t yet see what will be left of me.
A collection of my short stories:
I'm in this one, too ...
And I'm in here, as well ...
Paradise Preoccupied 
Broken promises and dashed hopes and dreams aren’t easily fixed. My heart goes out to you.
Remember, all you need to do right now is breathe. Just breathe. The rest will come in time.
I think one of the hardest parts of getting past this is trying to figure out how you could have prevented being blindsided so that you are not blindsided in the future. When you trusted so deeply and completely, how can you risk trusting again? How could your intuition have been that “off”?
I don’t have the answers. I am just glad to see you writing about your feelings and facing them rather than stuffing them down inside. I am so, so sorry that you are going through this.
Hang in there.
– Faith
Sandra,
As a female I feel the need to reach out and offer a shoulder, an ear and this case my eyes to read your words so eloquently conveying your grief. I have no idea how I would cope with this situation. I sympathize.
A wise friend and holocaust survivor said that when we are down, really down, we must reach out to help someone else, and we will rise up with them.
Sending you lots of love, as usual.
Lisa S.
Sandra,
I had the need to find my blame in the situation also. As though my blame would give me a better understanding of why he did what he did. So I ended up apologizing for driving him to do those horrible things. How messed up is that? I was out of my mind with the grief at the time and that’s the excuse I’m sticking to.
I believe the cruelty is a defensive action – instead of feeling the shame and guilt, it’s easier to keep striking the injured party. When Mark comes out of his testosterone induced insanity, he’ll forever regret his actions and the way he handled this situation. He may even turn to you to be comforted and for forgiveness. Won’t that be interesting?
Like Lisa said, breathe. Strange how we can forget to do that when we are in so much pain. And drink water!
Keep moving, keep writing and this pain will pass by.
– Jo
Sandra,
I cannot think of anything to say because honestly when you are in the black hole of grief, there isn’t much you can hear nor is advice really much needed.
Hugs, many hugs; find those places where you can breathe and where the bottom doesn’t seem so close.
We are all here for you and listening.
It sucks!
Romee
Hi Sandra
I know how you are feeling. Its good you can talk to your gfs. There isn’t much in the way of support in the Seychelles. Its just the way things are.
Chin up. He isn’t worth it. It hurts like hell right now but in time it will hurt less.
Take care
Lisa
Sandra:
Cheer up! Stop looking at yourself for now. I can feel your pain, but this experience is only going to bring the best side of you. There is plenty in life you have not seen yet, it is time to be yourself, courageous and realize life is too precious to be wasted away in any grief.
Take heart, tomorrow will be better.
Ash
Sandra,
I only recently stumbled on to reading what you have been going through, being away from the online world for several months myself.
All that I can say is that I am indeed very sorry to hear it.
Sandra – I have so been there & there’s really no way you’re ever going to explain this to yourself or make sense of it, believe me. The best you can do is find a way to let go and move on. 15 years later it still makes me crazy if I stop and think about, but overall I know I’m better off. All the best
Sandra,
I just stopped in today to see if you were blogging again and have just finished catching up. I’m so sorry for your pain. I’ve been there and it is indescribable. I still happen to be married to my previously philandering husband. Healing has taken a long time, but I must say that our marriage has survived intact–not perfect by any means, but fairly healthy. I know you are very strong and will make it through this and your children will be okay because they have an awesome strong momma. Thinking of you!
Sandra, even in pain you write beautifully. I know that your words will help others to heal through their similar experiences. Your strength is amazing! Even if you cannot see it, it is there, you are strong, and you are inspiring even through your grief.
Hang in there life will get better!
I felt tremendously guilty when my first husband left me for another woman. I had been emotionally distant–I’d spent the past year mourning the death of my father and my best friend. I was not concentrating on my husband and, though he believed himself to be a supportive partner (and had me thoroughly convinced that he was), my inattention was ultimately intolerable to him.
I say this because I agree that guilt is a predictably female reaction to betrayal, although I’m not sure why this should be. Mark betrayed you, as my husband did me; anger and contempt are probably more apt responses. A lot of women are bad at anger, although you strike me as someone strong enough to manage it.
Sandra, I really just write to say how terribly, terribly sorry I am for this deep, wretched disappointment. I am sorry for the worry, the anguish, the anxiety, the ways you are being forced to revise your view of things you thought you could believe in. Many of us share this experience and while it is ultimately survivable, I am sorry that you have to think in survival terms. They suck.
I have admired you and your writing since I started reading your older parenting blog on the adoption.com (I think) website. You kindly answered some questions I had about adopting from Cambodia (I’m in the US, so can’t). I’m still slogging along trying to become a parent, and I admire very much your commitment to your young (and grown) children, and to the cause of children in need in general.
I really hope you are taking notes or keeping a journal during this horrible time–I would love to see you write about this experience someday. You bring such lucid intelligence and such decency to your writing–I know your account of this experience (some version of which so many of us have lived through) would be full of rich insights and candor and wisdom. I say this as a way of encouraging you to look toward the future, when things will be better.
I hope you have access to resources (like antidepressants or a therapist) on your island. If not, perhaps you would consider spending a couple months back in the US where such things (and your older children) are readily accessible. Would a change of scenery be welcome?
Thinking of you with affection,
Sheila
Stand tall and straight…take pride in your recovery. You are doing everything it takes and more to overcome this tragedy. Feel the tremendous love and support from your friends. We hold you up when you are suffering. We applaud you and feel so proud of every shaky step you take toward surviving and wellness. It may not seem like it to you, but you have made incredible progess. I can’t tell you how much it means to us all to see you write and share your feelings. And as JulieC mentioned, you write beautifully, even in your pain. Your sense of humor has survived too…and if you can still see and feel humor, then you can make it through this.
May you find something to laugh at today. One little chuckle can do so much. My thoughts and love are with you.
{{{{{Sandra }}}}
I have been here and done this after 14 years with my first husband and with every tear I promise you–this will make you stronger in the end….
My adult daughter is dealing with the same issues after being with her boyfriend for 6-years (since prom night) and it is devastating…
I have no idea what it is about some men… they just don’t know what they have when they have it–and toss away something they can never get again… Too bad for them…
I shall be sending my hope that the flea’s of a thousand camels infest his armpits!
My heart goes out to you…
I hate that you are going through this. I have been through similar times, though not with the impact of your loss. Mourning will take some time. There’s no easy way through it. I have found solace in good books, so many times, when I had to distract myself from the grief. With children underfoot that may be hard to do, but try to read if you can.
My favorite books are the Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon – lots of history, adventure, mystery, time travel, romance, etc. I’d be happy to send you the first book.
Hang in there!
Dee
Thanks, Dee, but my concentration is so scattered at this point that my usual voracious appetite for books … one that had me going through at least 4 or 5 a week … has been reduced to me MAYBE managing a page or two before dropping off at night.
The series sounds fab, though, and I’d be happy to have a starter.
I read the Outlander series and loved it….especially the first few books!
🙂