Tagged: wife Toggle Comment Threads | Keyboard Shortcuts

  • Adam 4:54 am on October 30, 2014 Permalink
    Tags: , , counseling, despair, destroyed, friendship, hate, , , sobbing, , wife   

    Revenge is a Dish Best not Served at all 

    In my many musings, I often would think of every worst case scenario. I thought of Carrie fucking everyone from my best friend to random female strangers and male strippers. I knew on some level that I had struck a huge blow by cheating and that she was not only hurt, but DEVASTATED.

    I’ve noticed this odd behavior of hers but couldn’t chalk it up to more than anger and grief. We finally went to our first session of couples counseling and it went as well as could be expected. There was tears and re-visiting everything that’s happened.

    Afterward, Carrie told me she had a confession. She’d slept with one of my friends. Not just any friend but a sad, depressed, wreck of a guy whom I had made great efforts to just bring back into my life. I won’t gossip on here with names in that manner. Suffice to say it struck a huge blow. She had ‘done it back to me’ the pain I suffered the hurt, it all came home for me.

    I felt a taste, a bitter pang of everything she must have felt when this happened. It made me hate myself a little, it made me hate her a little.

    I’m proud of myself. I took it well. I heard her out, I didn’t get angry or freak out. I simply told her that I had considered a possibility like this already, and already reached my conclusion. It doesn’t matter. I won’t let that derail me. I still love her, I still want to be with her. Meaningless, depressed, anger/revenge sex is just a shot across the bow. A bit of comfort, and a bit of fuck you too.

    On some level I think I deserve it. I hurt her so deeply that I can’t really point the finger back at her. She’s got me so soundly in a corner that all I can do is focus on the bigger picture. She’s my wife, she’s incredibly important to me, she’s the person I’d like to spend my life with. This too shall pass.

    I told her – “I still love you, I still want to make this work, and I don’t hate you” I told her how I understand how things like this happen, better than anyone – I understand. Reaching out in despair and sadness for sexual comfort is, after all, exactly how I got in this situation. I almost feel like maybe now she understands my sadness, how this could happen. I know how this can eat away at you and I told her I’m glad she was honest and I’m glad it’s off her chest.

    The next day the backlash hit me like a storm. One minute I’m driving the car, the next I’m sobbing like a child. The next I’m raging, screaming at the sky, the road, god, the devil. Why? Why do I deserve this? What have I done wrong? God it’s me being a hypocrite. But it still hurts, it still cuts so deep my heart is missing a huge piece.

    I felt empty, sad, out of steam, out of energy. Like I’ve tried so hard and had this thrown in my face after doing everything right, everything noble. Changing my life, facing my problems head-on while she drinks and fucks my friend and cries.

    I killed the friendship. I wrote him a simple short letter and said I can’t abide a friend who would do this. That our friendship is over. I don’t hate him, I know he’s just self-absorbed, damaged, depressed. But he’s not healthy, he’s a wreck and a wreck who will burn down his closest friends for a moment of comfort. I’m better off without him. Still I’m down another friend in this long road to redemption. If it ever comes.

    • The next day. My friend Jay told me that he’d talked to Carrie. That he thinks I’m barking up the wrong tree. That she flat-out doesn’t want to be in the relationship. That she wants to be single, hurt, damaged and irresponsible. I’m torn. I’m so torn right down the middle. I never ever want to abandon her. Despite the hurt I’ve caused I love her like I love my own soul. I will never let her fall if I can catch her. But she won’t let me.

    I ranted, screamed, hated, cried and cried again. But I did it all myself. I didn’t unload on her. I left it on a positive note. Then I scheduled our next couples therapy. All that’s left to find out, after all this. Is if she’ll go again. I’m beyond hoping for a quick fix, I’m past thinking this will be easy in any way whatsoever. I’m just moment to moment. Week to week.

    Tomorrow I’ll find out if she’s going to still try, if she’s willing to go again. It’s not an ultimatum. I’m just going to ask, to tell her. “I want this, I want you. Please go with me. ” and she will or she won’t.  My life has hung in the balance so many times, I’m too drained to hope. I’m too damned to pray. I’m just staying on my path. Being healthy, being whole. Trying to find my wife again, in this mess we call life.

     
  • Adam 6:30 pm on September 23, 2014 Permalink
    Tags: , , , happy, , , proposal, safe, , wife   

    Phase 4: Wedding Bells 

    There got to be a point where there was a lot of tension about our relationship. We had some major fights, some major make-ups. My weight came up a lot, my health did, and I deflected it. I was trying – I’d say – I was struggling. I wasn’t really, I was just frozen. I didn’t know how to eat better, to exercise, it all seemed so foreign. Like changing my life and my hobbies and my happiness for some idea that didn’t quite make sense to me. It just seemed like staring at the base of a mountain of change, and thinking, “I’d better not, it looks dangerous”.

    I remember intellectualizing everything. Turning it into a philosophical debate, and browbeating Carrie into seeing my own misguided point-of-view. Working out was dangerous for me, all I could do was ‘walk’. I needed a trainer, a professional. This is just the way I am. Any excuse I could come up with to not drastically change my life – I provided. I actually tore my knee ligament one time while camping and after that I had a pretty solid excuse to not work out because it wasn’t ‘safe’ I hid behind everything.

    Carrie could see deep down that I was afraid. I was afraid I would fail, I was afraid she wouldn’t love me if I did fail. I think she understood on a deeper level than I did what it was that motivated me at my core. That I desperately wanted to be loved as I was, even if I wasn’t perfect. I wanted to believe that I didn’t need to be any better than I was just now. In an effort to show me that and to give me the foundation that I could really trust. She proposed to me.

    I was shocked, she asked me to meet her in the park where we first started seeing each other. Some horrible part of me actually thought she was going to dump me. But she did it. She was brave. She dropped to one knee, told me that she would stick with me through whatever I needed to go through, to be the kind of person I needed to be. I accepted whole-heartedly. Even though I wasn’t the person I wanted to be, I knew deeply and instantly that she was the person I wanted to be with. I told myself I would earn this. I would deserve a love like this and that I would reach the mountain-tops with her by my side.

    That year flew by like a whirlwind, we planned the wedding, she was aching to fit into her wedding dress and she dieted and exercised and once again flew through the process that seemed so effortless to her and so insurmountable to me. By the time the date came around, I was heavier than ever.

    She was radiant. She was so beautiful it hurt my heart. I felt that if I had done something to deserve this creature, then I must be a pretty great guy. But I remember looking at our wedding photos and being ashamed.

    Each photo had an unflattering angle, showed some sign that I was not just overweight but obese. My hair was thinning and I was developing a bald spot. I couldn’t look at those photos and not feel a little bit disgusted with myself. Carrie looked like an angel and while I couldn’t have had a bigger smile on my face, it was a face surrounded by too much landscape to really see it.

    Soon it was over and we had some talks and really tried to adapt to a LIFE together. To forever. I went through some changes, my mind and my point of view changed.

    I had to wrap my head around what a marriage was. I always thought when I was young that people did it because they simply knew. Later in life and after I got to be a little more cynical, I thought that people did it because they wanted to have kids, or were afraid to be alone. I didn’t really know what marriage meant, to me, or anyone.

    I started thinking about ’till death do us part’ and to be honest, it didn’t scare me. I knew I loved her with all my heart and that forever with her wouldn’t be so bad. I never flinched at growing old with her.

    Some selfish part of me knew I might die young. That I would probably die when my Father did. Around mid-fifties. His crutch was booze and mine was food, and like peas in a pod we would both succumb to heart failure by 55. At times it was almost comforting. On some level I knew she would outlive me and then I would be gone and while she would suffer, and probably live a good long time afterward, that she was the strong one. She would pull it together like I never could. She would be OK.

     
  • Adam 6:24 pm on September 22, 2014 Permalink
    Tags: , , , her, , marriage, rose, the girl, the one, , wife   

    Phase 3: The Girl 

    When I was 15 I met Carrie. She was quirky and beautiful. She had just shaved her head to declare herself a pariah at school, which in its own weird way appealed to me. A shaved head didn’t affect how beautiful she was. She was a smiling, mysterious siren and I was instantly hooked.

    Like most sirens, it led to disaster. After two solid attempts to ask her out, each met with a gentle but firm denial, I determined that I was barking up the wrong tree. Because she was always so kind and so gentle I never quite gave up hope. I just liked her from afar. I used to bother her friends all the time asking about her. They knew I was fixated on her but they just rolled their eyes.

    I brought her a single rose when I asked her out. I think I felt, even then that she was special. I’ll always remember being that awkward kid holding a rose behind his back and waiting to hear that she liked me back.

    Eventually she moved away to Georgia for a few years and I just went on with my life. But I would always find myself thinking about her and wondering how she was doing.

    She came back eventually and somehow I got word. We probably never would have even started to hang out but her sister was intent on playing a match-maker.

    What’s a little odd is that she was IN a relationship when she came back. She was dating a guy who sounded like a wreck of a person. He was the manager of a small semi-successful band, he was gone all the time, he had hit her, he had been cruel to her. My heart went out to her and I wanted desperately to take her away from that. I didn’t really think she would just abandon her relationship for me. But it seems eventually he kind of dragged things to a stopping-point himself. Maybe me waiting in the wings helped her, maybe it made it harder. But I just tried to be kind, supportive and to help her regardless of whether or not it helped me. Which is a little odd for me.

    The breakup happened, this guy had a meltdown in a major way. I feel more empathy now for him. At the time all I could see is that he had hurt her, emotionally and physically on more than one occasion. I’m sure he was unhealthy for her and I’m glad it ended. Of course it opened the door for me as well so it may have been selfish too. Carrie turned to me for help. I did everything I could to cheer her up and make her see that she deserved better. Quietly, inward, I believed it was me, that she deserved.

    A few weeks later we were dating, and a few weeks after that we were moving in together. It’s the kind of quick rushed rebound that you would assume would blow up in everyone’s faces 100% of the time.

    We made it work. There was some difficulties, some doubts and some problems. I remember that I was heavy back then but not nearly where I’m at now. For a time, I was so in love and so happy with how it all worked out that I didn’t even care how I looked. If she liked me, loved me even, I looked good enough.

    Eventually when things slowed into a routine, I felt comfortable. Happy. We didn’t pay much attention to how we ate and she was very fit and could even afford to gain some weight and not be much the worse for wear. I remember several years in – her going on a diet – exercising, making an effort to step back from the reckless way we were both gaining weight. At the time I think I tried, made a few efforts and kind of lapsed back into just supporting her and not worrying about myself.

     
c
compose new post
j
next post/next comment
k
previous post/previous comment
r
reply
e
edit
o
show/hide comments
t
go to top
l
go to login
h
show/hide help
shift + esc
cancel