Proceed with caution. Things are about to get real.
I had a nice visit with a friend this morning. We talked and ate peanut butter crackers, and watched Carl walk everywhere and visited. It was great. Then we talked about the men in our lives.
I’m so close to my divorce I can taste it (if divorce had a taste :P). And that’s pretty great. In 11-26 days I will be completely free of this weight that has been pulling me down. However that doesn’t take away the scars. I’ve known women who stayed with men who cheated on them. I’ve listened sympathetically and thought “man, that sucks” or “that poor unfortunate woman” and in the back of my mind I wondered what it was they had messed up in their marriage for that to happen to them. That’s pretty terrible right? I know it is.
People cheat. It’s a fact. Most people cheat in one way or another long before the actual physical act and I knew I had been cheated on emotionally, and abandoned, and treated like something to be thrown away but I never wanted to deal with the reality that I had been physically cheated on. I wasn’t always as faithful as I could have been. I wasn’t always a great wife. I mothered too much. None of those things makes the rest of it OK. The reality of knowing that someone that was supposed to love me strung me along and did something so intimate with another woman, a woman that claimed to be my friend, is a mind fuck. Every memory is tainted by it. Every good gesture is up for questioning, every moment I have with my friend gets revisited in my mind so that I can drive myself crazy trying to figure out how I ignored this for so long.
I’m lucky. I know I’m lucky. I have a good life. I’m happy. I have the best part of what turned out to be a pretty shitty human. None of that changes the hurt I’m dealing with. Knowing that someone did that to you makes you question everything. My friend told me that it stays with you your whole life. Unfortunately she has been in the same boat. I hope it doesn’t stay with me. I hope given enough time and distance I can trust another human not to completely abandon me. I hope because I made the decision to break away, to run as far and as fast as I could from that particular bit of toxic sludge that it can be different for me. I hope that my little boy grows up respecting women as something more than sex objects, knowing what he has when he has it, and doesn’t think he is too old for his mother to embarrass if he is ever this much of a douche.