I know I haven’t written much this year.
I haven’t felt I had much to say, to be honest.
Life has slowly rolled along. We bought a new place. We moved. Work was the same old, same old.
Then November came around.
Five years since D-Day.
And I just fucking lost it.
I just felt myself being angry all of the time.
I took out on husband because, cheater.
As justified as it feels taking it out on the whores they fucked around with, the sad truth is that it all sits with them.
They made the decision to cheat.
Real men don’t cheat.
But these cunts we ended up with, for better or for worse, fucked us over for something they weren’t getting in the marriage.
Needy little boys having tantrums. I deserve it. I only live once. Whatever they tell themselves to justify an affair sounds outwardly pathetic to the screwed over wife.
So I found myself snapping at my husband in a way that even surprised me.
Gosh, I turned into the bitch from hell.
That eventually eased and I even found myself feeling a bit sorry for him having to cop all this shit from me.
But he told me he understood where the hate was coming from and he sucked it up.
So here we are, living in our new house, with unpacked boxes still everywhere, and three kids causing constant havoc!
Aside from the tirade the annual November anniversary still sets off in me, we’ve actually been OK.
We still sleep together, have sex (when we’re not exhausted), go out, and try to enjoy life.
I’m not oblivious to the fact that most men who cheat once will likely cheat again in the future, so I do think about that a fair bit.
What will I do next time?
Who the fuck knows.
All I know is that for now, we’re progressing OK – not fabulously – not OK.
I can live with that.
Five years sounds like a long time, but I only have to think about that night where I discovered those life-altering messages on his phone, and I’m thrown back to 2013 and the nightmare begins again.
I practice mindfulness to keep me in the present and that’s been my saving grace.
Or I head outside and jump on the trampoline for 10 minutes and feel the wind in my hair and the exhilaration of flying up.
The aftermath of an affair never leaves you.
But I’ve found a way to move past it and not let it dominate my day-to-day thoughts.
I wish the same for you.