When I first discovered my husband’s affair 4 years ago, the devastation and shock left me hopelessly lost.

I was completely blindsided, completely unprepared for the pain in my heart, the unstoppable tears. Nothing made fucking sense.

Had I been deceived by this man for the past 20 years? Did I ever know him? It was like discovering being married to a stranger. Was he a serial killer, too? Maybe. Obviously I was too fucking thick to know who he REALLY was. He had managed to fool me for half my life.

What an affair does to your head is off the charts. You start questioning your sanity. Your judgement. Decisions, no matter how small, suddenly take longer to make. The mindfuck can last for a very long time.

Last month, I crossed the four year mark of discovering my husband’s affair.

I almost missed it.


To be honest, I don’t think about it much anymore.

Four years on, I am over the worst of it.

Back around the middle of the year, I was convinced my marriage was over. We lived separate lives, just under the same roof.

But I hung around. I had three young children to think about.

We’ve done the work. We’ve gone through couple’s therapy. We’ve had many a talk. He owned his mistakes. He apologised constantly for fucking up. I have passwords to anything I want to look at on his phone or computer, not that I’ve felt the need to look in ages.

While much better, life isn’t perfect. We still fight. I still get upset on nights when he doesn’t come to bed with me. I hate it when he’s doing something for too long on his phone.

For months now, I haven’t written anything. Everything I was going through seemed so transient. From one day to the next, my feelings changed. Things changed. I felt unstable.

But as 2017 comes to a close, I can look back with a little perspective.

Here’s my advice to you: if you’re not 100% sure about walking out, then don’t walk out. Sit on the fence for as long as you want. No-one is rushing you to make a decision. You may feel you need to make a decision, but the truth is, you don’t. It’s a self-imposed deadline. This is a life decision. Take your time. Months, years, whatever.

It’s your life.

A decision this big needs massive fucking consideration.

Nobody can tell you how long it will take to get over the devastation of an affair. I used to hear the figure “2 years” bandied about constantly.

But for me, two years came and went and it still fucking hurt. A LOT.

Three years was no better either.

But here I am at 4 years, and things look different from where I’m standing.

I am content.

And that’s good enough for now.