Who killed Bambi’s mother

Journal Entry: January 9, 2015

We arrived Narita airport at approximately 2:30 this afternoon, Japan time. The flight was relatively uneventful. The stalker whore was not on the plane, not that I know of anyway. We exited the plane, quickly navigated immigration and customs, and headed to the Japan Rail office to change the train tickets we had purchased in the US at the foreigner exchange rate, into actual train passes we will use on our 11 day trip here in Japan. As I stood outside the office, in front of a Starbucks I remembered from my last trip here, nine years ago, I realized I was walking in the footsteps of my husband and Camilla. Anxiety and pain started to fill my body. I could feel the tears begin to flow and I was powerless to stop them. Of course I had walked these steps before too, but now I know. I know they have walked them since, and multiple times. The last time I was in Japan, it was February 2006. My husband, unbeknownst to me, had already cheated with three women and was almost a year into his intermittent affair with Camilla, but they had not traveled together. He had merely gone to her house a few times for “quickies.” At the end of 2007, she had given him an ultimatum, either she got more of his time, more than an hour, or she was out. She no longer wanted to be his unpaid whore, or she no longer wanted her house to feel like a brothel, because she was still his unpaid whore, his International unpaid whore—not only was she unpaid, but she was actually paying out of her own pocket to be with my husband! Paying her own way and I mean everything, everything right down to the last little train ticket and piece of sushi. I am not sure why she thought my husband’s feelings for her would change just because he was agreeing to spend more time having sex with her, but I guess she did.

In April 2008, my husband invited Camilla to travel with him on his business trip to Japan, as long as she followed all his rules. They were on two very long plane flights, were in Tokyo for a total of five nights, and Kyoto for two nights. She paid her own way, they were not seen together anywhere in the city, they did not go out to eat together. They purchased food items at a nearby convenience store, which they brought, separately, back to the room. My husband spent the vast majority of his time prepping for meetings and attending meetings and meals with clients. They did not sightsee together, and this was not a vacation. It is my understanding she was outrageously upset with the circumstances and became aggressive and violent, and verbally abusive. Upon returning home, they both swore never to see each other again. As I stood there waiting for my husband with tears streaming down my face, and people glancing at me in concern as they quickly passed by, I realized I would never truly be over “it.” It is impossible to just be “over” betrayal. When my husband saw me in the state I was in, he clearly did not know what to do. Even after nearly 12 months of facing it, he is still ill prepared for the sight of me, in trauma. He did not say anything. He took all the bags and ushered me to the boarding platform. We had a train to catch. I imagined that no matter what his affair partner threw at him, he behaved in exactly this manner, in denial. Once we had made it safely to the proper track, and the proper spot on the platform where we would board the car that held our reserved seats, he hugged me and apologized for all he has done. Wouldn’t it be nice, people, if a simple sweeping apology could wipe away the excruciating pain of years of betrayal? Yeah, it doesn’t. The last place I wanted to be was there, with him, on that platform.

Sitting in seat 5B on our way from Narita Airport to Tokyo Station, watching the Japanese countryside pass me by, an image from my childhood popped into my head. It is a vivid memory, possibly one of my oldest. When I was a little girl, maybe four years old, my mother took me to the big movie house near our neighborhood to see Bambi. I was so excited to get to see a real movie with my mom. I cozied up to her as the bright colors splashed across the screen. I was thrilled by the adorable baby deer and all his little friends. I remember sitting on the edge of my seat with anticipation, loving every minute of this huge, beautiful story playing out in front of me… that is, until Bambi’s mother was killed. Then, my little world came crashing down. I remember covering my face and turning away from the screen. Bambi’s mother had warned him about the dangers of the forest, but how could he have known that such horrible evil was waiting to take his mother away from him. He loved his mother. He needed his mother. Tears streamed down my face as I lost interest in the movie and asked my mother if we could leave. I distinctly remember her smiling at me and telling me, Kat, it’s okay. Bambi will be okay. It is just a movie. I was so sick. I was as horrified as a little four-year-old could be. Obviously the experience left a distinct impression, as I remember everything about this moment in time in my very young little life. Bambi would never be okay. For the rest of the movie I was curled up in a little ball in my seat, afraid of what horrible thing would happen next. No matter what they showed me on the screen, I would never believe Bambi was okay.

Years later, when The Pragmatist was a little boy, Disney released The Lion King in theaters, and it was everywhere. There were commercials on television, Lion King toys in the stores, kids were talking about the movie and they were bringing figurines to preschool and my little boy desperately wanted to see this movie. With my own Bambi experience always in the back of my mind, I researched The Lion King extensively and determined it was too adult, too mature, too dark, and too violent for my little man. But he begged, and begged. Other kids were talking about it and he wanted to go see it. I purchased the book on tape and we listened to it in the car, without the much larger than life visuals to go with it. I explained to him what was going to happen. We talked about it, he promised me he would be okay. He was four years old! It makes me cry typing this here right now in my journal. It took nearly a year, but my husband and I finally agreed that we would take him to the movie theater to see The Lion King. My family is very close and The Pragmatist was the first grandchild in our family. My parents, and my sister wanted to go with us to see the movie with the little man. His brother, The Peacemaker, would stay home with a babysitter. There was no way in hell I was taking a one year old to the movie theater to see The Lion King. I actually entertained the idea of staying home with The Peacemaker, but then I couldn’t imagine not being there when my son witnessed the violent death of a baby lion’s father by his own brother. WHY DID I EVER TAKE MY CHILD TO SEE THAT MOVIE???? The Pragmatist was beside himself with glee as he sat amongst all of us adults in the middle of the big theater. His eyes, like mine so many years before him, lit up with the big bright colors on the screen. He watched intently as the scenes played out… and then, as the murder scene develops and is splashed in front of our faces, bigger than life, my little man stands up in his seat and shouts “I NEED TO GO HOME NOW. I DON’T LIKE THIS MOVIE. I NEED TO GO HOME WITH MY BROTHER.” And I hated myself. I hate making parenting mistakes. I am a person who really does pay attention to those little lessons in life and absorbs them, feels them, and learns from them. At least I do most of the time. This day will go down as one of those times when I did not listen to my own instincts. It was at that point, that I picked up my child and walked out of the movie theater and the rest of my family followed. I can say, that my son has watched The Lion King now many more times than I was ever able to watch Bambi. My son has a different personality than I do. As he was closing out his college radio show a few months ago before graduating and leaving the school for good, he played the Circle of Life. I texted him asking if he remembered going to see that movie when he was barely four years old. He said he did not remember it, and I smiled. I know he was telling me the truth.

When my husband sat on our bed nearly a year ago, and said these words “I have been having an affair with this woman for many years, it was just sex… “ I was that little girl again. I was four years old and my mom was telling me about shit that happens in this world and even though it hurts and sometimes makes us feel bad, we’re going to be okay. In that case, it was just a movie. Well, guess what mom, sometimes things are not going to be okay, and I’ll tell you this, in my mind, fucking evil left Bambi an orphan, and fucking evil took my marriage away from me and some days, some days, I cannot just brush it off and say everything is going to be okay. There is a reason they never showed “man” in the Disney movie Bambi, because Man is a real son of a bitch sometimes.

It is so easy to say, “grow up, Kat.” It is so very easy to say, but not always so easy to do, and some days it feels nearly impossible.

7 thoughts on “Who killed Bambi’s mother

  1. I remember when my husband made some comment that I can’t even remember but the rose colored glasses fell off. I realized I had made up a person in my mind that was not him. That is when my real marriage began. I cannot imagine the horrible pain you must be going through trying to reconcile who you thought he was with who he is. I hope things work out for you. I hope he is able to recover from this. I assume you have to keep a lot of this secret. Especially from your family. I think blogs are wonderful ways to vent. Good luck

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  2. My mom took me to Bambi when I was 5. When Bambi’s mom was shot I ran from the theater screaming and crying…she was angry I wouldn’t go back inside and finish the movie. Bambi scarred me for life, as before that movie I didn’t realize my parents could suddenly die.

    I must say I agree with the above comment about it being suspicious that your husband had an affair for 8 years with the same woman…I wonder if he’s telling you the truth about having no feelings for her. Maybe he just used her for the sex, I don’t know, but 8 years is a really, really long time to use someone just for that, addiction or not. Either way, I wish you peace with whatever avenue you end up deciding to go in your marriage…you have been through so much and deserve to have a life without so much turmoil in it.

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    • Hi Violet, in the comment below to “let go”, I kind of address the eight year thing. Yes, the length of their relationship does bother me, a lot. At first I did obsess about how could it not have been more, but my husband and I have been over and over and over it. Since he wasn’t looking to replace me, we didn’t really have problems in our marriage and he loves me and the life we have built together and with our children, he was just feeding his addiction. I really am not just making excuses or living in fantasy land. We talk about this almost every day. I told him I would rather he had 80 women over 8 years. I would rather I had to pick him up at the police station for soliciting a prostitute than getting a call from the horrifying stalker whore. A big part of this puzzle is the other woman. She is sick, delusional, most probably has a personality disorder. She was willing to participate in a relationship like this because she is seriously broken. I am going to write my next post about this because it keeps coming up. I write from a really honest place (it is why I blog, to honestly evaluate my feelings because I never know how this thing is going to turn out), and this has been the biggest hurdle for me… his staying with one woman for eight years. He was grooming other women, but he is slow and methodical. Nothing had solidified. The problem is, normal women cannot believe that a woman would put up with what my husband did to them. It just doesn’t make sense, but this woman is not okay. I appreciate your comment. I have spent the past year contemplating the very same thing. A post is coming…

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  3. This piece is in no way a judgment of either of you. I just have questions because it appears that he had true relationships and it was my understanding that sex addicts just go from person to person to person to person because all they want is the sex. Your husband had long relationships and that is where my confusion lies. You say he was already addicted before he met you. If that is the case he must have been under duress constantly to keep his two lives separate. I do hope you find peace.

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    • I did not take offense at all to your comment. I am a really straight forward person and usually answer comments in that manner. There is a lot here on my blog that speaks to all your questions, but I realize it would take a long time to weed through it all. I am happy to converse. It actually helps me talk out my own feelings and experiences. There is no one way a sex addict behaves. Some men do lose everything. There is a really great book about sex addiction by Patrick Carnes named “Don’t Call it Love… ” It includes many stories detailing the verified pathologies of sex addicts. Actually, and ironically, in a wives’ group I briefly attended, the most distraught wives were the ones of porn addicts (no other women involved, at least not in real life). The men had been obsessively downloading porn and they had loaded child porn without realizing (or they just got in too deep). They had been arrested. One was a grandfather. One went into court mandated rehab and was no longer able to have contact with his eight year old daughter without supervision. There are some commonalities. Many are abused as children, and usually sexually abused. They learn to self medicate with masturbation at a young age. Now porn viewing is an epidemic with sex addicts, including my husband. They do a lot of it in secret, and obsessively. We were married 10 years before my husband started acting out with other women. He is very patient and feeds a lot off of the texting/sexting/sexual emailing. The actual sex act is at the end of his cycle. The first woman he slept with twice and then dumped her. The second woman was his secretary, who he had sex with at his office for a couple months then fired her. The way he talks about her, I don’t think he even liked her, but she had a lot to love, shall we say (huge breasts). The third woman seems to have a personality disorder. She was willing to give my husband sex when he asked for it, which was a handful of times A YEAR… not a day, or a week, or a month. Also, she is older, unattractive, a smoker, alcoholic, she hoards, and is aggressive. She was a sick drug. I can assure you, he has no loving feelings towards this woman. My husband constantly tried to manage his addiction, but when he was “in a cycle” he would obsessively masturbate, or he would call this woman and they would sext and email and talk on the phone (all sexual) until they finally met up for sex. When he traveled on business, if he was in his cycle, he would ask her to join him and because she does not think very highly of herself (and is a self professed nymphomaniac, I guess) she would go, but would get angry and violent every time because she realized she was just being used for sex. HELLO! She acts a lot like my borderline personality disorder sister. I am not being flippant here, this is now my reality. I should not even know this person. My husband brought her into our lives. She actually asked him once if he thought I would be okay with her MOVING IN WITH US… we could SHARE my husband??? She is crazy. He chose her because she would have sex with him whenever he wanted. To give you some perspective, my husband goes on approximately 40 business trips per year. In the five years she traveled with him (approx. 200 trips), she went on 11. ELEVEN! And she thinks she is his mistress. She was just an unpaid whore. I went on probably 75 trips, some he went alone, and most he went with our sales guys. She was a dirty little secret. In the eleven trips they were on, she coerced him into two half days of sightseeing with him, one in Japan, and one in Sweden. He stills seem scared and horrified when he talks about it. She obsessively tried to get pictures of them together, which he avoided most of the time. When they were in foreign countries, she would secretly follow him around and take pictures of him (buying tickets at the train station, getting a coffee, etc…). He asked her to stop doing it, it was creepy… and then she did it more. Crazy attracts crazy. Believe me, in my own mind I unhealthily create these scenarios where they are lovingly walking hand in hand, taking in the sights, going to dinner, etc… and even I cannot reconcile it. When my husband is not in his cycle, he is scared of this woman. She is large and very mean. My husband is sick. He is trying to get better. It is a long and painful process. I know, I am very wordy. Sorry.

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  4. Your comment made me cry. I had the exact same reaction to Bambi and I was four years old. Some things get imprinted in our brains never to be forgotten.
    If you are planning on continuing with your husband then I wish you well. If you cannot then I wish you peace. You notice the difference? One experience happened in front of you and you were comforted by your mother immediately. The other silently robbed you for years and there is no comfort. That is why I wish you peace.
    I was under the impression that true sex addicts lost jobs, families, homes etc. So…… what has your husband lost? You are not the only spouse blogging whose husband has this diagnosis. What are the criteria? It seems awfully fluid. Did his addiction steal time from his children? Did he lose his job? Why did he eventually tell you? Was it because she threatened, told etc? If so I assume he would have continued.

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    • Um, I don’t know how to answer you without writing a book here. I have addressed all your questions in previous posts on my blog, and I realize my blog now has dozens of entries, and it takes a long time to read through even one blog, much less many. I am also way behind on people I follow. Here are the “short” answers to your questions. My husband is a workaholic as well as a sexaholic, they were completely tied together. Most of his acting out was done while on work time or on work trips. My husband is a successful CEO of his own company. Addicts come in all shapes and sizes. There is no one pathology for a sex addict. Some addicts do lose their jobs, especially ones that make passes and or seduce members of the opposite sex at work or that view porn obsessively all day. My husband knows men like this from his 12 step group. My husband did neither of those things, but he is still a sex addict. He never lost a job because of his addiction. He did neglect me, his wife, and his children in order to pursue his drug, but he claimed he was always working. We had no idea. If I had left my husband instead of deciding to stick by him, he would have lost his family. My husband broke things off with his eight year intermittent sex partner summer 2013, but of course he was already grooming other women to take her place. She thought she meant more to him. She was pissed off. She called me obsessively and finally got ahold of me and told me about their “relationship.” I had no idea. Now she has decided to stalk me as punishment for her supposed loss. Because she cannot have my husband. She is crazy and delusional. My husband encouraged a very sick person in a very sick game. As I have said many times on my blog, my husband was a sex addict before I met him (and I met him almost 31 years ago), but I had no idea and even he had no idea what he suffered from actually had a name. I have addressed the currently recognized criteria for a sex addiction diagnosis in a couple of posts earlier on in my blog. Namely, my husband did not know why he did the things he did, but he was completely out of control. He hated who he was and the things he did that went against everything he believed in. He felt shame and remorse every day of his adult life. Yes, if his affair partner had not called me, my husband would still be acting out. Just like alcoholics drink to medicate themselves from painful feelings, sex addicts act out sexually, that is their drug. No question in my mind my husband would not have been able to stop himself from acting out again, but since she did “out” him, and he was diagnosed, he is on the path to recovery and that is why I stay. That path includes acknowledging what he has done, attending 12 step meetings regularly and working the steps, getting intensive therapy for his childhood wounds and addiction, and being brutally honest about all aspects of his life. None of this is easy, but my blog does help me get things out and followers have been really helpful too. Thanks for commenting.

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