...we took a vacation to Italy.
No that's not true. I had planned a vacation for three years. For the three years I worked on my MS I had planned a vacation because we hadn't been able to take one and as a graduation gift.
My husband, I note, gives me things in an effort to ease his conscience.
It was a wonderful vacation.
Now we're back.
During this vacation it was easy to slip into old ways. It has always been easy for me to pretend that what I don't know can't hurt me. That's why this blog is valuable. It reminds me of just how badly something I didn't want to know hurt me. It is so easy to slip back into the old ways now that we are home. I am supposed to believe everything he tells me. I am not supposed to pry into his email or Facebook. I am supposed to be happy. But I am not happy. I am not good.
One of the worst casualties of my husband's addiction is me. I hate what I have become. I understand that I do this out of self-preservation but I read his emails, I check his credit cards, I log into his Facebook and I question every contact and every message. I hate being a bitch. I could end this by leaving. I would never had to pry again. I will never, ever trust him. I don't think I will. What sane person want's to live this way?
03 June 2011
The Worst Pain a Man (or Woman) can Suffer: To have Insight into Much and Power Over Nothing
My husband and I went to dinner. The hostess asked his name because there was a waiting list. When he told her she said, "Oh! That's my Dad's name!" I thought that was humorous because my husband can be vain and just being equated with this attractive young woman's father can be annoying to him, so I asked him what he thought about it. He stated he didn't even notice.
I used to tease him, back when I thought this was a far-off possibility, that if he left me not to leave me for a 20-something Senior Airman but at least choose a mature woman. So I told him that if nothing else positive could be gained from this whole sordid event at least he had slept with a woman who was his age. This seemed to piss him off but I really didn't care. I'm done thinking about his feelings.
As we sat there and waited in silence a family walked by and one of the women had an extensive tattoo across her upper back. My husband commented on it and immediately I had a visual image of my husband's two tattoos. He has a badge from the British Special Forces on one upper arm and a picture of the cartoon "lil Devil" on the other. For some reason, while visiting his parents and apparently trying to impress his younger brother, he had my name added to the Devil tattoo so it read "XXXX's lil Devil."
I knew in that flash of a moment that Terri Cusic had run her hand across that tattoo and my name while they made love. At that moment the hostess called us and I could not stand up. I was frozen in place by this image of her, her hand over my name while my husband penetrated her. She had to see it. Was she filled with glee? Was she smug? Was it exciting to make love to man with his wife's name on his arm? I was sick to my stomach.
My husband looked back to me and asked me if I was alright. I stood and followed him to the table. What happened back there, he asked me. You don't want to know, I replied. I do, he said. And I told him. My eyes filled with tears I could not stop as I experienced the humiliation of his lover looking at my name while she fucked my husband.
The response from my husband was the way he would have responded before I found out about his addiction and affair. Before he went into counseling. He went on the offense. Why doesn't this ever end, he cried. Why does this happen when we sit down in a public place to eat? Because you caused this, I said. I can't control when the pain comes. We often eat at the same place and it is on the same street as the motel he took his lover to. This hurts me too but I never said anything until that moment.
He hung his head. He pouted. He cried that what was the use of all his work when I kept bringing up the past. Why? Because for me the past never ends. I live with the pain every single day. I never know when I will find out something new about him, like the fact that he said he met her once but in fact he met her four times. And he met another woman. Like when his Blackberry buzzes and I stiffen because he used to text her while we were shopping or eating.
Why can't he just accept that I hurt?
I used to tease him, back when I thought this was a far-off possibility, that if he left me not to leave me for a 20-something Senior Airman but at least choose a mature woman. So I told him that if nothing else positive could be gained from this whole sordid event at least he had slept with a woman who was his age. This seemed to piss him off but I really didn't care. I'm done thinking about his feelings.
As we sat there and waited in silence a family walked by and one of the women had an extensive tattoo across her upper back. My husband commented on it and immediately I had a visual image of my husband's two tattoos. He has a badge from the British Special Forces on one upper arm and a picture of the cartoon "lil Devil" on the other. For some reason, while visiting his parents and apparently trying to impress his younger brother, he had my name added to the Devil tattoo so it read "XXXX's lil Devil."
I knew in that flash of a moment that Terri Cusic had run her hand across that tattoo and my name while they made love. At that moment the hostess called us and I could not stand up. I was frozen in place by this image of her, her hand over my name while my husband penetrated her. She had to see it. Was she filled with glee? Was she smug? Was it exciting to make love to man with his wife's name on his arm? I was sick to my stomach.
My husband looked back to me and asked me if I was alright. I stood and followed him to the table. What happened back there, he asked me. You don't want to know, I replied. I do, he said. And I told him. My eyes filled with tears I could not stop as I experienced the humiliation of his lover looking at my name while she fucked my husband.
The response from my husband was the way he would have responded before I found out about his addiction and affair. Before he went into counseling. He went on the offense. Why doesn't this ever end, he cried. Why does this happen when we sit down in a public place to eat? Because you caused this, I said. I can't control when the pain comes. We often eat at the same place and it is on the same street as the motel he took his lover to. This hurts me too but I never said anything until that moment.
He hung his head. He pouted. He cried that what was the use of all his work when I kept bringing up the past. Why? Because for me the past never ends. I live with the pain every single day. I never know when I will find out something new about him, like the fact that he said he met her once but in fact he met her four times. And he met another woman. Like when his Blackberry buzzes and I stiffen because he used to text her while we were shopping or eating.
Why can't he just accept that I hurt?
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