Today is three months since I discovered my husband was having an affair.
My husband says she wasn’t particularly pretty. Only that she listened. And that hurts. Because while I was trying to negotiate three children under 5, including a newborn, my selfish prick of a husband was only concerned about getting his needs met.
Who was listening to me? I didn’t get to go to work and interact with other adults. I didn’t have a life I could leave behind for 8 hours a day. I struggled through every fucking day. And what did I do about it? Nothing. What did my husband do? Went off and had an affair with zero fucking thought as to who was actually making the sacrifices needed to hold a family of 5 together. Me.
Some days I can barely function. I move my cart around the supermarket aisles with tears streaming down my face and I don’t care who sees me.
Other days I think I can get through this, that our marriage will be one of the lucky ones that survives.
It’s been a three month emotional rollercoaster ride.
I don’t know how strong I am, but I’m still here, figuring this out as I go.
I am sometimes hopeful, sometimes hopeless.
When does it stop hurting so much?