journal Entry: August 8, 2014
Things have been going pretty well since our anniversary. No real overly dramatic moments for me, although the PTSD still knocks me on my ass on a regular basis. Our older son visited for a few days last week and we all went out to our new beach property. My husband was able to set up a ritual with our sons that helped him connect with them in his new reality. He also made an apology to them for the years he chose his secret addictive life over them. He really loves his rituals, which include excerpts from his 12 step materials and other meditation sources, plus burning incense in a small fire on the beach, rock formations, water from the ocean, etc… All these things apparently help him feel grounded. This is certainly a different husband and father than we have grown accustomed to over the past few decades.
Earlier this week, however, I noticed my husband devolving. He started closing in on himself. He seemed angrier and more nervous. He was working diligently on his first step and I thought maybe that was what was causing all the stress. But that was not it.
Over the past few months, during some of the most disturbing disclosure conversations, I had threatened to pull his phone records for the past few years because I just could not make sense of his timelines and his cycle. I didn’t want to know what had been said between the two of them because I know it was all lies and sick fantasy talk. What I wanted to know was exactly how often he was communicating with Camilla. He had convinced himself that his addiction ran in cycles that were six months to even eighteen months apart and lasted for a couple weeks, both before and after trips or hookups. He promised me that he kept his two lives separate. That he texted and called her while he was at work or traveling. That our time was sacred. He would go for many months not speaking to her at all. I got the part about the cycles and him trying to manage it, I have read a lot about that, and I believe it, but when he was in his addictive cycle, I wanted to know just exactly how much his addiction invaded my life, our life together. I wanted to know how far he was willing to go, on my time, and in my presence in order to feed the addiction. He just could not remember details. but he said he would go for months, then he would feel the need to contact her again. Whether the business trip gave him the excuse to make contact, or whether he needed to make contact and that drove the business trip, who knows. He says he doesn’t remember. He would contact her about the trip, then obsessively fantasize about meeting up with her for sex. He said that he might contact her about a month before the trip or as soon as I had booked the plane flight for him. Then they would talk logistics prior to the trip and the week before, the texting would increase “a little,” in anticipation of seeing each other. Once they were done with the trip, she was so angry that he refused to give her more, that she knew she was going to be ignored for months, so the communication would end upon their return home. I figured if we pulled the phone records, he could better face his own reality (even though it was in the past, I still felt like he needed to OWN it) and I would know the truth, because I sure didn’t feel like I was getting it from him. I never did pull the phone records, but apparently he did.
As I was sitting in Chatty Kathy’s office yesterday, there was a knock on her door. I did give my therapist another chance and so far things have been progressing fine. I am too guarded with her now, and she is trying to be a better listener (so weird that she is a therapist and she still has to work on this) and I am not sure how long this is going to last, but I gave it another shot. Anyway, the knock on the door startled both of us. Apparently this just never happens. No one ever knocks on the door when she is in session. She got up and answered it. It was Blue Eyes, he handed her a bunch of paper and then left. On the top of the stack of papers was a note to me. It was the phone records my husband had requested and then printed out. He had to request the records from our Controller as the mobile phone he uses for all his communication is a business phone. Our Controller had to request the records from the service provider. Chatty Kathy asked if what Blue Eyes had delivered, what he thought was important enough to interrupt a private session, was something we should stop and address. I looked at the note, which basically said here are the phone records. I wanted to give them to you when you were with your therapist so you could discuss them with her in a “safe” environment. Using the “safe” environment excuse is becoming my husband’s newest and most pathetic way of deflecting the pressure off him. In other words, get your initial shock, anger, sadness, whatever out on someone else so I don’t have to deal with that. I told Chatty Kathy we didn’t need to discuss the phone records now, I would talk with her about it next week after Blue Eyes and I had gone over them.
I left my therapist’s office and went outside. Blue Eyes had actually dropped me off at Chatty Kathy’s and, of course, he was not there to pick me up on time. He is always late. I sat down on the stairs outside the big beautiful old victorian house and opened the phone records. My stomach immediately started to churn. My heart started to seize up and I felt that uncomfortable feeling that I was heading for a cliff with no way to stop myself from flying off the edge and into the abyss.
The phone records were for 2013 only and they were pages and pages and pages and pages long. The records included a list of all the incoming and outgoing texts and phone calls between Blue Eyes and Camilla. He had separated out all calls to and from his mobile phone that were to or from her home phone or her mobile and also all no caller id calls since we knew they were her too, especially after he ended their affair. There were hundreds of texts and dozens of calls. My head was swimming in dates, and numbers, and times. Blue Eyes pulled up in front of me, jumped out of his car, and presented me with a huge bouquet of flowers. He seemed incredibly nervous and I think he thought this was it. This is what was going to send me away. I just looked up at him and down at the phone records and I felt lost and alone.
We drove home in silence. I went into my office and set all the sheets of paper out on my desk. I am an incredibly organized person. I needed to make sense of it all. I needed to organize it so I could understand it. The reality turned out to be much worse than even I had suspected. Blue Eyes sat next to me as we took a look at his reality. From the phone records, I could see that not only had my husband misrepresented the way his communications with her played out, but the two times he was in contact with her last year, seemed as obsessive as ever, and lasted for weeks. The communications for 2013 began in March. He had called both her home phone and her mobile phone numerous times before she eventually called him back. He asked her to join him on a trip to New York City. He was scheduled to speak at a 2-day conference the first week of April. I had entertained the idea of going with him, but he had talked me out of it. It did end up being a whirlwind trip with long flights and a schedule where the only time he possibly could have spent with her (or me) was at night, which is all he wanted anyway, but he wanted it with her and his addiction, not with me. Leading up to the trip, for approximately three weeks, they both texted each other hundreds of messages. There were texts even while they were in NYC. There were texts the night they returned home. There were texts the next day (a Saturday) and for days after. They texted each other during a trip we took to visit Blue Eyes’ sister. The texting and calling stopped the day we left for a family spring break trip to Hawaii. Miraculously, all communication stopped… for three months, just like that, which makes me believe he had full control over all the communication. But then, he started everything back up again the day we returned from our trip to the coast after his hospital visit. And they texted and called each other numerous times during the week leading up to the “quickie” at her house. The most disturbing revelation to me, however, was the fact that my husband and I went on a business trip/anniversary celebration trip to Los Angeles from August 1 through August 5, and during that trip, they texted each other dozens of times. He had texted with her while he was sitting next to me in our hotel room. He had texted her while we were shopping for gifts for his niece at a toy store in Beverly Hills. He had somehow managed to have a 69 minute phone call with her during “our” time in Los Angeles. He continued to text and have phone calls with her almost nonstop until August 23, 2013. At which point, all communication from his end stopped. We left for a trip ourselves to New York City that day. She continued calling and texting, but he did not respond. He had previously told me the last time they spoke was August 14, 2013. When I showed him the phone records proving the communication had gone on for an additional nine days, he just looked defeated. Obviously they had texted thousands of times over the past few years, why lie about nine days. He could not give me an answer. As it turns out, for quite some time, he was speechless. I think he was waiting for me to tell him I wanted a divorce, and I honestly did contemplate it. Things had not really changed all that much, I always knew he was a liar. And he had, after all, delivered the phone records to me, I think to help fill in his own story. But then, nothing. No ability to say he was sorry.
This is the note I wrote to my husband this morning, a full twenty four hours after receiving the phone records. I am still waiting for him to say anything of substance to me, at all, about anything:
I am saddened by your inability to communicate with me. After all these months, you are still unable to acknowledge how sick you are. Or even help me make sense of YOUR behavior.
I know what I would say:
I would say I am going to spend the rest of my life living in reality and trying to make it up to you. I’m going to try to never let you down. I realize I have hurt you terribly and I feel horrible. Thank you for being honest with me and giving me another chance to prove to you how much I care about you and your feelings and how much I love you. I truly appreciate the sacrifices you have made and continue to make on my behalf. I truly appreciate the depth of your love for me and I appreciate your belief in my goodness.
But he sits silent. He says nothing. He acts as if my words mean nothing and my feelings have no value. I feel completely betrayed by his silence.