Journal Entry: March 1, 2014.
Last night and today have been rough. Before everything came out, before D-Day, he had made plans with an old high school friend and her husband. They were going to be in town and wanted to know if we wanted to go to a Jazz Concert with them. We planned to have dinner before the concert. They would stay through the weekend. We would spend some time on Saturday with them and another dinner was planned. At the time it sounded alright. Our life is always so busy, that I usually prefer to spend my weekends simply and quietly and I am not generally looking for new friendships. In my current state of trying to deal with my broken life, two days was completely unreasonable.
Acting like a normal person is destroying me.
I got through Saturday dinner and as we walked in the door late Saturday night, I lost it. All the strength I had gathered to hold it together for two days, to socialize with people I had never met, to pretend like I had a normal marriage, had taken its toll. There was just plainly nothing left. I cried uncontrollably. I cried for an hour straight. I cried myself to sleep with haunting thoughts of how my life is a lie, my marriage is a joke. I woke up feeling alone. Today I have vacillated between trance and depression. Unwanted visions overwhelm my thoughts, hourly. I long for the day when I can get through a four hour block of time without thoughts of my husband’s indiscretions.
I hate pretending like my life is normal, or even good. It will break me.
3 thoughts on “I hate pretending”
I know this is an older post, but how did your husband respond to your breakdowns? I’m literally reading through every post starting from the beginning. It’s like I’m reading my own thoughts and experiences in so many ways. I would never want anyone to have to go through this, but it I cannot express the relief I feel in knowing I’m not the only who feels this way or has felt this way. I need this validation! I need to know I’m not crazy and the problem isn’t because I can’t let go. There is so much crap out there that damages spouses even more! It’s like there is nowhere to turn because any attempt to get help for yourself ends up hurting more then to go home and be met with no compassion or empathy from the one who destroyed as they find new ways to destroy us further. I think most of us are seeking validation for all the hurt and hoping one person is willing to speak out in our defense and make us feel safe after our security has been taken from us.
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You, Christine, are not alone, and not crazy. There is a frightening number of women going through exactly what you are going through right now. It’s heartbreaking. When I started writing, I didn’t expect anyone to listen, I just felt better getting it out of me. I desperately sought out other wives of diagnosed sex addicts and didn’t find a lot. I’m glad I kept writing because it truly does feel like a sisterhood (well, fellowship, there are some husbands too). There really is so much out there that damages us and makes us feel bad because of what our husbands did. In my experience, I did not know he was off having secret sex. I honestly did not know. I didn’t know he was an addict. I didn’t know he was actually capable of lying so effectively. I wasn’t the only one fooled either. My husband lied to a lot of people. I had to learn that what he did and who he chose to do it with had nothing to do with me as a wife or as a person. I also don’t want to be shamed for staying with my husband. He has a disease and he is trying to beat it. It still hurts, but I give him credit for what he is doing… and I love him. Here on my blog, I will never chastise or belittle anyone who stays, nor anyone who leaves. This is a personal decision based solely on what you know of your life, your needs, your partnership, and your little family.
Back to your question. How my husband reacted to my breakdowns was one of the most frustrating aspects of my healing. I wanted him to go with me into that dark place that was sucking the life out of me. I wanted him to own it and make me feel better by being there with me. I didn’t want him to feel shame, I wanted him to just OWN IT. Tell me he understood how what he had done hurt me so desperately. But he didn’t. He couldn’t handle it. What he did do most of the time was stay by my side and put his arm around me or try to take care of me. I didn’t want a caretaker. I wanted him to admit what he had done to ruin my life and make me into this person who was no longer able to live life the way she wanted. The trauma was so overwhelming. Eventually, after I started healing, he became stronger and was able to acknowledge the level of pain he had caused, but usually not at the same time that I was feeling the pain. Now that my breakdowns are much more subtle and much fewer and farther between, he is able to really be with me and feel some of what I feel and he mourns with me. I don’t like to go that place. I never did. But when I did have to go there, I wanted him to go with me. I never really got that. It was too much for him back then. xx
Man, I remember these feelings!