There is a lot of different layers to my infidelity story. I could never put it all in words. My story is still being written, a never ending story with lots of twist and turns.
Overall this has been the most challenging, exhausting and mentally draining situation I have been in. There is only one other scenario I can think of that would be worse and that is losing a child.
After researching this topic I found out that there is scientific evidence betrayal trauma wrecks the most havoc on the brain compared to other types of mental trauma. On a good note, this type of trauma also awakens a lot of people when it comes to spirituality, leading people down a path of inner peace and happiness.
Our whole relationship, 17 years married, I NEVER questioned his fidelity. His fidelity was something I would argue to the fullest when asked. There was a time my Mom asked me, “So you are sure you can trust him?” When I replied, “Yes.” She said, “You never know”. I remember being offended by her statement. I trusted him with every ounce of me.
My first Discovery Day (what we in the world of infidelity call it) was September 3, 2015. It was our daughters thirteenth birthday. Her birthday will never be the same for me. I wish it was another day, but we don’t get to choose things like this.
I had felt a strong disconnect from my husband the night before her birthday. This disconnected feeling was so strong I knew without a doubt I needed to figure out what was going on. My husband was being extra cautious about hiding his phone. One time that night I went out on the back patio to join him and he jumped. My intuition was hitting me on the head with a hammer and there was no ignoring it. I knew something was going on but did not know what it was. I assumed it was porn since I knew he hid that from me.
The next morning I got up earlier than him in hopes I could sneak a peek at his phone. To my surprise his phone was locked. He had never had his phone locked before (one of the signs). This confirmed a little bit of what my intuition was telling me. While I was at work and had some time between calls I took a peak at our cell phone bills. I found thousands of texts and calls to a number unknown to me. I knew what I was discovering. That deep down in the pit of my stomach sick feeling, I just knew. When I confronted my husband via text message and asked whose number it was he gave me a portion of the truth. He said it was a friend whom he had been reaching out to. He said he was just talking to her about how to help our marriage.
I immediately let my supervisor know I needed the rest of the day off. I spent time on the phone with my Mother-in-law and my best friend, they were both appalled. I ignored my husband’s calls and texts for the most part. I didn’t want to hear crap from him. I was sick to my stomach. There are no words that could accurately describe this pain. This was my first taste of what mental torture felt like. The loss was greater than losing a close family member. I had hoped to never feel this pain again.
I somehow managed to pull myself together enough to go and get my daughters birthday cake. I had planned on leaving the home for an undetermined amount of time after we celebrated her birthday. When my husband came home, I was all packed. I had warned the kids that I was going to leave for the night and not to worry. I let them know this was something I had to do and assured them I would be back.
We finished the birthday celebration and I headed off to the hotel. My husband begging me to stay the whole way to the car. I got to the hotel and felt calm and at ease. To this day I have no idea how I maintained my composure. I got on the phone with my best friend and talked about how I was doing. She was concerned for my safety. My husband was trying to call me and was sending texts begging me to come back. After getting off the phone with my friend I sent a message to my husband letting him know my whereabouts and he could come talk to me. He came to the hotel and we talked for a long time. I will never forget the look on his face when he first entered the room. It was a look of complete devastation. If not for that look on his face, I would have never given him another minute. At that point in time he was showing true remorse.
That was my first Discovery Day. Over the next year more and more facts came out. He had an emotional and sexual affair with a lady whom I had never met but was familiar with. It took months for him to admit it was more than just texts. Months that were stolen from me when it came to healing. Just a little over a year ago I found out there was more than just the one.
I worked hard on healing myself from the trauma and PTSD. It was debilitating. For months I barely left bed. When I did leave bed it was to take a bath. The bed and bathtub were the only places I could find comfort. I stopped eating. I lost 50 pounds within the first year. I developed stomach problems and was put on medication for 2 years. I got professional help 6 months after d-day. Our kids lost the mom they knew. I have never and will never be the same person I was. I did extensive therapy using the EMDR method. Everyday I wished I was dead. Two years, eight months, fourteen days to be exact. By the time the third year was almost up I had 95% of the original trust back in my husband.
During those three years of recovering my husband joined a motorcycle club. I stuck by his side the whole time even though it was something I would not have chosen. I turned into a “biker chick” and loved it. I would spend every Friday night at his clubhouse. I went on as many trips as I could. It was fun and romantic. The motorcycle helped me lead a different life and forget about how things used to be. It was a form of therapy for us, or so I thought.
Three years after the date of my first discovery, on August 26th, 2018, I found out he had been cheating on me. He had a relapse after a little over a year (during the 345 days he was a prospect for the motorcycle club he did not cheat.)
All those years of recovering and rebuilding he was still cheating. This time it was worse! Dozens of women. It didn’t matter how much I was with him or how much I supported him, he still cheated. Some of the woman I knew, some just random Tinder and Plenty of Fish hookups. On top of his betrayal I felt betrayed by the brothers and sisters in the motorcycle club. They had promised me (before my husband joined) they would punch his eye out if he were to be unfaithful again. I was also promised the other woman would get handled too. I am still waiting for his eye to get socked and all the woman to be on a missing person’s report. I can dream, right? What did the motorcycle club do? They kicked him out and repossessed his bike. The day he was kicked out and dropped off at home I was mad. I waved my arms in the air yelling “What am I supposed to do with him?” They left me with this broken and abusive man.
So there I was freshly dealing with infidelity recovery all over again. This time it was worse. The triggers about triggers I dealt with the time before. There was more woman, more people I know, more involvement in the community, the embarrassment was worse. In the first weeks after this discovery my husband gave me information that I would never want to know and I would not ask for. At first, he was proud of himself and went around bragging about it right in front of me making everyone uncomfortable. He was proud of all the women he slept with. He had no regard for my feelings. The behavior from those first weeks more than doubled the pain that I felt before. I was now dealing with CPTSD. I was shaking uncontrollably most of the time. I would forget the steps in taking a shower, putting on makeup or clothes. It was bad! The first couple of months of dealing with this second go round felt as though I was watching my own reality show instead of being in it. I was able to detach myself from the emotions. I lost more weight. The hyper vigilance I experienced was intense and exhausting. My heart was always racing. To top it all off we were losing our house and moving into a camper with our three children. This was the lowest of the lowest time in my life and there was very little I could do.
We started living in the camper November 1st, 2018. By the time March rolled around I had reached my limit. The abuse was too much. It took a gun being put to my head several times for me to start making a plan. Enough was enough and I needed to run! In April 2019 I ran.
This is where I am going to cut the story short. But I will tell you this. We are all in a better place then we were.
I am proud of what I have accomplished. I was seeing a therapist and she let me go. I didn’t need her anymore. I have very little trauma symptoms. I have learned all the secrets to true happiness!
My story still continues but this time I am in charge of what happens.
I created this blog to share my stories, a place to vent, find similar betrayed persons and to share advice on coping and recovering. I hope you never find yourself in this situation and if you do, I sincerely hope the information on this blog provides you with something positive no matter how minuscule. Please reach out to me if you need to talk or need assistance. I will not turn you away.
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