Handsome and I are going through a good phase at the moment. Life is hopeful. We are getting along well and he continues to work hard on his recovery. I refer to this as a phase though because I know that the winds of change can come swiftly in this stage of our collective addiction/ betrayal recovery.
I try very hard to stay on an even keel. I avoid obsessing. I’m not really actively checking up on Handsome. I’m done looking into his APs other than to check their criminal records to see if they’ve been arrested recently where he works or where we live and to Google certain pertinent info just to make sure that the supposedly parallel lines aren’t crossing. I know I can’t undo the horrors already done. That said, my spider senses are on high alert. Always. I’m hyper-vigilant, but I prefer to say that I’m just more attuned to my surroundings, to be diplomatic.
So, when Handsome and I have an incredible evening together and all of a sudden he becomes quiet and sullen and wipes a tear from his normally dry eyes, I naturally feel a question coming on.
“What’s up?” (I try to keep it light…)
“Nothing.”
With that one word, I feel like I’m set back a dozen steps. I go from rational to nut job in a nanosecond. Outwardly, you might notice no change save, perhaps, for the tick I’ve developed in my left hand since DDay. Inside my head, however, I’m thinking (cue the crazy sirens):
“What is it he feels too guilty to tell me?”
“What lie is he keeping?”
“Is he acting out again?”
“Did one of the ho bags reach out to him?”
“Is he miserable that he’s with me?”
“Here we go… he doesn’t want to tell me that I’m too fat for him.”
“Wait, what happened to sharing our feelings?”
“What happened to building emotional intimacy?”
“He’s throwing in the towel on that already???”
“Asshole.”
All of those thoughts go through my head in WAY less than the time it took you to read them.
It’s exhausting, and I never thought that way prior to DDay #1. Just one more gift from the Infidelity Fairy that keeps on giving.
