DDay #2 was one week ago today. I cannot begin to articulate the feeling of finding out that my husband was juggling as many as four other women at once. In addition to me, of course… the ever present, always faithful, committed and supportive wife. Where else would I be, right? I honored my vows even as they were being torn apart.
There were a few severe comments to my last post that I did not – just could not – approve. More than one suggested that I “must have known.” I did not. I had absolutely no idea prior to DDay#1 that Handsome was in the midst of a three-year affair, let alone that there were multiple other women. He carried on the vast majority of his deceit away from me, our house, and our kids (thank heavens for the latter). His other life and my life intersected in only two ways that I know of over the last few years: he brought Angel Baby to our home last Summer when I was away, and he used his work weekends at our Summer home in Massachusetts to call, text, and sext these other women, defiling it in the process. Of course, I recognize all too well that time and money spent on the skanks means less for me and the kids. But I only know of those things now. We got the leftovers after he satisfied himself. I did not know that at the time.
Addicts are world class liars, and Handsome is no different. For the most part, I was on the receiving end of lies of omission. He didn’t tell me that he had a second phone or that Angel Baby was in our house or that he was in touch with the Flame, among other things. Those are material omissions, to be sure. But he also convinced himself that I wasn’t really in love with him and that he was isolated from the kids and from me. Even when he was with us, he has said he felt terribly alone and without worth. My previous three years were lived in relative bliss, whereas he lived in torment, even when he was surrounded by people who really loved him. Every day was a crisis that was soothed and released through this inappropriate contact with these worthless women. He shut us out, and told himself Oscar-worthy lies to justify his wrongdoing.
Handsome’s self-professed sobriety date for SA is December 7, 2017. He passed three months of sobriety a few days ago. I am glad for him and relieved that he is taking affirmative steps to fix his brokenness. He is attending 12 step meetings and going to therapy. Dr. Minwalla’s 8 day intensive for men is next on the horizon if we can get it scheduled. Handsome agreed to a polygraph which will take place in about a week. He is supposed to write a letter to the Flame and officially, formally end that contact. All steps forward, all on the horizon.
And yet as I stand in the background cheering on Team Handsome, being the ever dutiful wife, I’m wondering when it’s my turn to heal. I’m wondering when attention will be paid to the harm caused to me. Handsome texted me earlier and said “I have no idea how to apologize sufficiently.” That’s for sure, but it’s because words cannot undo actions. They just can’t. I’m tired of hearing “I’m sorry” because the words mean little to nothing in comparison to the gravity of Handsome’s conduct and the devastation wrought. I appreciate that he’s sorry and that he is willing to try to say so. It just seems rather pointless at the moment, just one week after DDay #2.