Having returned back to what is now solely his house, in order to pack, my daughter broke down in tears as soon as we walked through the door. This was our home after all, even if for a short time. We both sat in the living room just crying and crying for what felt like hours, devastated at the loss of what we saw to be our family. She deserves so much better than what I’ve been able to provide for her. She is the sweetest, strongest, and most pure hearted girl who, by no means, deserves to be going through such heart wrenching pain at such a young age. No child does. When I left her father I promised her we would have a happy, healthy life. H and I vowed to provide that life for both of our girls. They both deserve so much more then to see a second set of parents fall apart. All anyone wants is a family and I am so remorseful for my part in destroying both his and my families when we met. I am even more so for destroying the one that we were trying to build together.
I personally am sick to my stomach. I have been since New Year’s Day when he said he was resolute in his decision that we were done. I have lost 9 pounds in the last week from not being able to eat. Now being back here, in the home we shared, just amplifies all of my emotions tenfold. I can’t imagine what he is feeling, having to live here and seeing all my stuff on a regular basis. Does he care? Is he sad? Has he shut himself down so it doesn’t matter to him anymore? And a million other emotional questions swirl through my head.
Being here, in a brand new city, in a brand new state, in a brand new home- was supposed to be a whole new beginning for us. This was supposed to be our fresh start. We could’ve been anyone we want to be here, because nobody knew a single thing about us. They didn’t know who we were, where we came from, or anything about our past. Unfortunately, that’s that’s not what happened. You can’t run away from your past or your problems, no matter how far you go, it seems. I guess such is life. The whole first year he was here, alone, he denied me to everyone. Didn’t tell anybody that he was in a relationship, let alone had a little family, as my daughter and I saw it. When I first met his colleagues, each one individually asked me how I knew him. I was so unbelievably shocked, insulted, and angry from never having felt so disrespected before in my life that I made sure to announce I was his girlfriend. Something I should not have had to do if we were in a loving and stable relationship. At the time, we had been together for 8 years, yet he didn’t even tell people that I existed. Every stranger I met, on my end, knew that I not only had a boyfriend that I loved, but that I had every intention of marrying him and being a family with our two beautiful girls. But H, with people he sees and hangs out with every day, didn’t mentioning a word of me. How dare he, right. He will never get it. Never know how devoted I was and how much pain those actions caused. For me that is when everything started to go south and I began to loose hope. That is when I started losing all trust in him. Summer 2019. That is when I started loosing trust in the relationship. Why hide your girlfriend from people if you’re not out seeking attention from other women. Why if you love me, deny me to those who know nothing. Why if you were so sure you wanted to get married, not volunteer that you’re in a relationship to everyone who you converse with. One such example was at a bbq he threw in which a brunette woman who, when I FaceTimed, had no clue who I was.
H “say hi everyone”- telling his friends to say hi to me
Everyone “hi”
Brunette “who is that?”
H “it’s R”
Brunette “who?”
H “R!”
Brunette “WHO?!”
H “it’s R” as he turned his attention back to me.
Almost a decade of being together and he would not answer her question with “it’s my girlfriend”. Looking back I feel so blind. I knew in my gut something was wrong. Something was going on. Something had happened! But he swore and swore nothing happened. He called me crazy, jealous, and other such adjectives to try and convince me he was perfect and it was all in my head. H claimed he was scared what people would think of him if they knew about me and found out he was still legally married. How would they know if they weren’t told from his lips? Plus him and his wife had been separated for years at that point. He said “it never came up”, him being in a relationship. That is information you volunteer and I just gave an example of how it came up. They knew about his daughter and his ex, but not the “love of his life”. Me and my daughter weren’t worth a second of time to add to his life story while getting to know new people it felt. He had a million excuses to answer these questions, none of which I found even remotely credible but instead cowardly, disrespectful, and proof of his emotional unavailability. However, I still didn’t leave. My own unhealthy attachments, along with memories from the past, and my sights fixed on promise of the future kept me glued to his side.
I think I am at the anger stage of grief now. The thing that makes me so mad, above all else, is that he left me before he divorced his wife. The wife that he claimed to never love. The wife that he had 20 affairs while married to, all before he even met me. The wife that cheated on him as well, with who knows how many guys. Yet me, the one who was devoted, faithful, and “his soulmate” as he put it- me, he has no problem leaving. I am not perfect. I have a bad attitude and a short fused hot temper. I cant keep my mouth shut and I am a passionate outspoken overbearing woman. But I am loyal, kind hearted, selfless, and supportive. Kicking me out and walking away forever without so much a backwards glance, I don’t understand. He claimed I was the only person he ever let in his heart, who he swears he loved above all else. I feel like we never had a fair shot as he hid me for years from family and friends due to him being married for the entirety of our relationship. Me- he left in the dust, stranded in the desert, dehydrated and starving love. It feels like I was set up for failure in this moment. And I think I was. Failure to receive everything he ever promised. Failure to receive all of him, while he so willingly took all of me. Failure to be treated like an equal human being who deserves respect and basic communication on whatever is going on in his head and heart, as should be done in a healthy relationship. None of this had to happen this way. It’s like we found the worst possible route, the most torturous and unstable road, and picked that over the paved highway that yes- has its own speed bumps and traffic accidents, but would have been a smoother ride and gotten us to our desired destination in one piece in the end. I can’t help but believe right now that is was all a facade. That I was played a fool. That he was never going to see me as anything more than the other woman. That he never really had any intention of marrying me, but just enjoyed the sex and the long distance unwavering support. I feel used in the worst possible way. And I feel sure, in this moment, that he cheated on me many more times than he will ever admit. He only admitted to one in a cruel attempt to hurt me. Mission accomplished, as that is how we ended up here now. He would have no reason to admit to anything more, as there is no piece of me left to hurt. No piece left to feel any sort of pain as a matter of fact. So why can’t I hate him? Why can’t I hate this man who did me so wrong for so long and in the end completely betrayed me, kicked me out, and shattered ever ounce of my being into a million tiny unrecognizable pieces. I hate myself right now for allowing such action to be taken against me. For not seeing things more clearly sooner. Life really is a bitch.
I don’t hate him. I couldn’t even if I tried. I stuck by his side through cross country moves, medical school, deployment, a baby by another woman, lies, betrayal, half of medical residency, and him cheating. But I yell, from the pain he induced, and he leaves me. At this point I am mad at myself for even entering into the relationship, let alone staying as long as I did. There is so much to the story still to tell, with details that I am struggling to sort through based of my emotions. My heart and head seem to have two different versions on the past as I attempt to shine light on what exactly happened. Some new information has surfaced, from people who know him, and I am convinced more than ever that he carries far more secrets than I will ever know. I am also convinced that he was never actually going to marry me. He may have had the intent to or thought he would/could, but right now in my grief, I believe he was never going to end up pulling the trigger. All I wanted was him, but right now I don’t believe I was ever going to be enough.
He dragged both me and his wife on for a decade. Not devoted 100% to either of us and at the same time not letting us go free, in order to allow us to find partners that would be. I guess thats what he’s doing now though. He broke up with me and is finally divorcing her. Maybe I should be grateful. H asked me not to enroll my daughter in school when we first moved out here, had me turn down every job offer I received over the last two years, and even made sure I didn’t get rid of one set of dishes, pans, bedding sets that we no longer needed “just incase”. Such a weird remark that I am now just realizing. That I am now just listening to. Right now it feels like he was not ready and really didn’t want me with him. Like he was always planning on my leaving, always guarded just waiting for a bomb to drop so he could finally have reason to push me out. He seemed to care so much more about how others saw him and what they thought of him, instead of securing a stable foundation for our relationship so we could grow with trust, security and peace as he claimed he wanted. If he could have just been honest, forthcoming, and respectful, we wouldn’t be here now. I would have supported him through hell and back. He was my best friend! But truth is, now reflecting back, he pushed me out long ago. Constantly making comments that he is alone, and that he has no one. Those comments burned my skin as I reached out trying to hold his hand, in each moment, and he responded by forcefully slapped me away. I felt invisible during those conversations, like I was screaming at the top of my lungs “I’m right here!” while jumping up and down, but he saw and heard nothing. How blind am I? I wasn’t even trying to fix him in those moments, just be there for him, as I would have wanted him to be there for me. As he use to be there for me.
We both want a healthy relationship. For me being open and honest with each other, even if it may hurt the other person‘s feelings at times, is more important than anything- otherwise we’re hiding who we really are and therefore manipulating the other into thinking or believing something that may not be true. Not being cruel, but honesty. I thought we were secure enough to have that kind of vulnerable honesty. I was wrong. Honesty in a relationship, from my perspective, is more important than trying to feel good all the time or protecting the others emotions and feelings while being dragged down by your own. That is not healthy. If we were truly in love, a healthy, genuinely happy relationship, then the last people we should have to censor ourselves in front of is each other. We can’t be responsible for each other‘s emotions but we should be responsible for our own in the sense that if something is bothering us we don’t hold it inside. Nothing unsaid ever gets solved. We also cant get upset when one is hurt by the other and they react in a way that is uncharacteristic. You can not get angry when someone reacts to pain you consciously inflicted. Without conflict there can be no trust according to the book ‘The art of not giving a fuck’. Conflict shows us who really has our back and will be there no matter what, versus who is just around for the dog and pony show. I think that’s where things started going so wrong. When we stopped being honest in an attempt to shield the other from emotional distress, or to shield ourselves from assumed, and perceived potential, emotional distress. Either way we stopped being honest, stopped confiding in each other, stoped trusting each other and eventually stopped actually being friends. I believe that’s what lead to things becoming as toxic as they have. Do you value me? Do you value the relationship? What are your values? What are my values? Questions that were never asked and so never answered, left instead to fester into such putrid filled boils that they enveloped our souls with toxins so deadly that we could no longer seem to heal. Conflict tore us apart when he didn’t end up having my back over a colleges lies, and as a result I got volatile instead of walking away. That is when I changed. That is when a part of me died. When we tried to work through things we were so scared to hurt each other further, or to get hurt further ourselves, that we instead hid emotions until explosions of pain could no longer be masked or suppressed. We weren’t vulnerable and I for one became even more guarded than ever before. I didn’t believe a word he said, good or bad. I didn’t give a fuck about anything expect trying to protect myself in any way I could. Consequently, like a volcano I erupted- causing such devastation that I feel our relationship became frozen in time. Like Pompeii we didn’t seem to have the ability to grow, move, or revive what we once had. The dust is still settling on us. Unlike Pompeii, I hope we can one day brush off the ashes of our past and pain in order to restore… something. I just want my friend.
Here’s the thing, 100% blunt honesty from my heart and mind; if he would’ve told me about cheating right afterwards from an honest and genuinely remorseful place, we could have easily worked it out. He could’ve avoided all of the drama with the before mentioned college, and we could’ve been stronger than ever -as we were both in dark places at the time. If he would’ve confessed that he changed as a result of his betrayal, and was trying a new, we could’ve changed together, in sync with one another once again. We could’ve been on the same page for the first time in a long time because ironically I would’ve understood, more than he gives me any credit, and we could have started a whole new life together. But he didn’t. Because of my attitude and temper he kept everything bottled up and never gave me the benefit of the doubt on how I would react to his perspective. Some news, of course, I would flip out on, but he knew that’s who I was. I would have thought about it and calmed down into a logical and rational response like I always do. Other news I would’ve been supportive, he never understood that. It’s like he decided how I was going to act for me, instead of allowing me to make the decision on my own. Part of being in a healthy relationship is vulnerability, which includes giving your partner the chance to react in knowing you are secure. You should never have to hide who you really are from fear of your partners reaction. That is not healthy. You should never be worried or afraid of confrontation with your partner because that just means that you’re not strong together. You should be able to have whatever reactions you need and know that you still have the support of your partner and vice versa, they should be free to have whatever reactions and blunt honesty they need to, and know securely that you will forever be by their side. I thought that’s where we were. I thought I could 100% openly, honestly, and vulnerable be myself and felt that we were so secure I would never have to worry about him not being by my side or having my back. I thought I could be brutally honest in order for us to work through things because I would have supported him no matter what. My yelling was uncalled for, but I have never felt more pain in my life. I hid my feeling through drama to support him, and when the drama was over, the feelings came out far more than they would have if I didn’t compartmentalize them to begin with. That was my mistake. I should have left him to figure the drama out on his own. But he was my person, my soul mate, the love of my life. I would have followed him to the ends of the earth and back if it meant supporting him and caring for our family. Obviously he saw and felt things much different. Confessing recently that he is sensitive to words and my carelessness with mine are what ended up breaking him. My love language is acts of service, words are hallow to me, I need action. His love language is words of affirmation, words are everything to him. I wish he would have absorbed the words of endless admiration instead of those said out of blind agony.
I think I need someone more innocent, in regards to the amount and need of sexual partners, and stronger in regards to self assurance. I believe H needs someone less innocent in a weird way, yet nicer/ sweeter and more patient. I know we could’ve been those people for each other. I know we used to bring out the best in each other, just by being ourselves, and were those before mentioned people for each other. Through fights, anger, pain, resentment, and hostility on both sides we became guarded and lost who we were. Individually and as a couple. We lost who we had fallen in love with years ago. Somehow, we lost our connection. Loosing his friendship is the part that hurst most.
When I started to get hurt years ago, as my rose colored glasses began to crack, I became more and more careless with words with each new chip of the lens. I didn’t feel like he was willing to put in the work, always seemingly wanting to skip over the hard parts and just jump ahead to when everything‘s good. But you can’t reach paradise without first having to cross the unpredictable ocean, with its calm seas and volatile storms, first. He talked all the time about how he wanted to coparent so harmoniously with his ex that we could all go on vacations together, but he wasn’t willing to have the fights to be able to get to that point. You can’t just snap your fingers making everything magically be OK. He didn’t just wake up one morning as a doctor, he went through years and years of unbelievable hard work, sleepless nights, and dedication- seeing it through to the end and not giving up. I cannot, for the life of me, comprehend how he doesn’t realize all of life‘s journeys are exactly the same, including relationships.
When we first kissed I jokingly told him I’m a real bitch and he better not fall in love. He laughed in my face saying he wouldn’t. 9 years later, here we are. Me, still very much in love. H and I had old wounds that weren’t healed before we met. We covered each others wounds with love and support at first but in the end we broke instead of healed. Those broke pieces bled all over each other, causing such a mess of things that we lost our footing. It impressive how far we did make it though, looking back. Both so broken to begin with, and yet we were able to make it almost a decade. Years of love. Years of adventure. Years of memories I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. Memories that I lay my head down each night crying over, and wake up each day mourning.
Until you heal your wounds, you’re going to bleed all over people who didn’t cut you.
Today we are leaving this home forever. I woke up and looked at my daughter, realizing how truly blessed I am. Despite all of the drama and heartache, I still don’t hate H. I just lost sight of myself for a while and took it out on him in toxic ways. Boundaries are so important and I forgot mine in fear of loosing him. God knows I still love him with every ounce of my being. I am beginning to open my eyes now and see more clearly just how broken we really were, along with my part in it of desperately trying to fix him out of inpatients, instead of support and help heal him. The fun loving guy I fell in love with I saw for the first time in years on New Year’s Day as he did a soccer trick with our giant beer pong ball and danced to his own beat as we were walking around. I couldn’t help but realize how much I’ve missed that side of him. I loved his playfulness and athleticism. I will never forgive myself for my culpability in him feeling like he had to suppress that part of himself, the part that drew me to him to begin with. The parts that made me fall in love. The playful, fun parts I was jealous I haven’t been able to enjoy, unlike his friends, for far too long. In the moment, I am completely disinterested in a life without him in it. If one could die of heartache, then consider me dead. My only reason for living now is my daughter, and she deserves all the happiness in the world.
You-and-Me-Wine 