D-Day Plus 457: My First Post

D-Day Plus 457: My First Post

Yesterday my soon-to-be-ex-husband sent me the hardship letter that he composed for the short sale of our house. There it was, in black and white, depicting our separation and the impending divorce. Only it wasn't exactly right. As in "correct". It was so watered down, missing all the true elements of what really happened. What really got us here. And it hurt and made me mad, all over again.

Anger is new to me. I've always sucked at it. And in my marriage I just gave anger up altogether because it wasn't worth the effort. I felt worse afterwards instead of better. So I swallowed it. The problem is, when you deny yourself anger, I think you deny yourself other feelings too - the extreme feelings are blocked and you end up just allowing and experiencing the "safe" feelings. Not a good thing. Not something I recommend.

Anyway, D-Day for me was November 28, 2008. Four hundred and fifty-seven days ago. Two days after Thanksgiving. The day my husband told me that he had "feelings" for his best friend's wife. The two had a connection. And he wanted my permission to "explore" that connection. He said he still loved me, and that this was something that he wanted to develop as well. When I asked him what he meant by that, he said he thought we could decide this together.

I was in shock. And tremendous pain. Actual, physical pain. How could this happen? How did this happen? Get me out of this!!!! As you can imagine, I said no. I told him (through tears and hiccups and snot) that if this was what he needed, then he would have to explore it without me. He hugged me and said that it was fine.

The betrayal was immense. This woman he had developed a connection with was a friend of mine. Our families spent the weekends together. Our children were friends who played sports together. And all the while, behind my back, there was a "connection" being developed. So when I received an email from her inviting us to her son's birthday party, I asked my husband if he wanted me to tell her that we weren't going or if he wanted to do it. He couldn't believe that I didn't want to go. That I didn't want to spend any more time with these people. And then he became furious. That fury, combined with the betrayal, was the beginning of our end.

With this blog, I plan to tell the real story of what happened. The hardship letter being used for the short sale is a pitiful version. It is a lie. And the truth needs to be told. I've been silent and mild-mannered for too long. So, even though my wings have been broken, I'm picking up a broomstick and flying forward.