He Passed!

That is a sarcastic exclamation point, if you must know.

I mean Jesus Christ, I still can’t believe I am married to someone I feel I must have polygraph tested. It’s such major fucking bullshit.

So The Player passed the polygraph in February. The polygrapher called me immediately when he was done and said The Player passed with “flying colors,” but he mentioned something that The Player “remembered” and came clean about.

I know you’ll be surprised to know that The Player remembered he told me a lie about meeting “Christi” at that bar and them having such a short conversation she didn’t even sit down. A lot of partners in the Afterlife of Infidelity have firsthand accounts about this phenomenon called “Parking Lot Confessions.” The Player told the polygrapher before the test started he wanted to clear the air before the test because he didn’t want testing to show his deceit. Apparently, as the story is told now, Christi did sit down at the bar, so the visit wasn’t so much so a “quick visit” as much as it was, “she sat down long enough to have a beer visit” and that my friends, is an example of The Player not wanting to deal with the discussions that would ensue because of his actions.

That is fucking not cool. That is however, being A Dick, and that is one type of person I am strongly against being married to. You know, now that I have a choice. Here’s the thing, is this how it’s going to be now, “little” white lies to navigate? I’ve asked that several times and he’s maintained that is a thing of the past, that he’s strong enough to have hard discussions with me, even when I disagree with him. He’s “solid” in recovery and even as the CSAT calls me “formidable” because I am healthy, know what I want, and am insightful and not afraid to speak my truth, The Player says he can now deal with things head on.

He has been wanting to avoid these types of conversations (this would be the third lie he has come clean to me since New Year’s Eve) because we were doing well, and I had turned the corner out of the trauma. In these three cases, he omitted the truth to cover the appearance or hint of impropriety. The polygraph test revealed what he has been saying for months, he has not tried, in any form, to begin a relationship of any kind with a woman. Even with Christi.

The real kick in the face has come with the conversations surrounding the bar incident since the bar incident. He has been steadfast that the entire situation was fine, that he was never at risk of losing his sobriety. We’ve talked about that for three fucking months. I am not okay with him giving any women (outside of work) his phone number and especially women he wants to help.

This is not negotiable. It won’t ever be negotiable if The Player would like to stay married to me.* I had to state this again recently to The Player and his CSAT because something must keep being lost in translation from betrayed to asshole speak. The Player recently had an epiphany about the situation, yay him. This fucking Christi incident keeps coming up for me though, it is not buried yet. The CSAT asked me why it wasn’t dead yet, why, The Played, why!? I’ve thought a lot about that the last two weeks and I finally know why.

Stay tuned.

*The Player signed a boundaries agreement with me in December and has agreed to this stipulation so I feel safe. There have been many conversations about this general philosophy. 



Is progress really just not having flashes any longer of a woman and your husband kissing in an elevator on the way up to his hotel room right after he tells you goodnight and he loves you on a business trip?

Maybe progress is your cheating, lying, sex and “love” addict husband passing his second polygraph in a row! Well, to be fair, it was only his second polygraph of two so, I guess we could say he’s passed them all!

I guess progress could be not feeling traumatized any longer by the disclosure and months after that you kept learning one awful and more awful thing.

I have made significant progress. I don’t connect it to him. I’ve been in some form of self care for two years and in many instances I’ve done several things at a time. I feel like hypnosis brought it all together and peace washed over me.

The Player has made significant, real progress and I’m happy for him. Finally, I think, he’s turned the corner and the insightfulness is oozing out of him. We’ve talked about that a lot because it’s his way of showing he’s changing and growing (in absence of working 12 step) because he knows measurements are important to me. He went on new medication for depression and it’s like the light turned on. Since September he’s been able to work on very hard issues and keep his head up instead of spiraling into darkness.

He’s recently said even though he was trying to work on the marriage last year, he realizes now that he was doing it without really understanding why he is the way he is, that he was trying to have a new marriage with the old him. 

His inability to deal with my pain was why I would pull back all the time and he’d pull me back in out of fear of losing me. Over the last several weeks we’ve made a lot of progress because of his hard work and my willingness to listen. I’ve been willing to listen because I’m past the trauma. I’m no where near healed and our marriage sure as fuck isn’t, but we’re moving in the right direction. For now. I guess. 

So. Progress. I’m all “meh, whatever,” which is odd, right? Or maybe this is it. The new normal. 

Self-Esteem and the Betrayed

I was talking to a friend yesterday whose husband cheated on her for a little over a year and she mentioned her self-esteem is still taking a hit.

I was like, “What? Good lord, why?”

I explained that since this began, there was just a short time at the beginning that I believed it was me who caused The Player to cheat (remember, just thought it was one affair and a one night stand at that time) because he basically told me that. I was a mother who didn’t understand her kids, I was fat and I didn’t have any common interests with him. It being about me lasted maybe just a month. As his behavior (gaslighting, lying, reaching back out to last whore) continued, I realized it was all about him. It was his problem, his deficiencies, his shame, his lack of insight and morality, his, his, his.

I said these things aloud to my friend yesterday and I meant every word.

I’m fucking awesome. I’m still as awesome as I ever was.

The Player’s self esteem should be hit, not mine.

He feels lucky to be in the home. Better yet, he IS lucky to be in the home after what he has done.

It would be easier on me to break up than recover, this shit is hard.

I have been able to mother well under extremely hard circumstances.

I told her he is privileged to be speaking to me, for me giving him a real chance to recover and heal our marriage. He is privileged that I am working my ass off to heal myself and hopefully the marriage, fully, someday.

I am an amazing person for surviving what I have the last couple of years even though the pain was caused by someone else’s choices.

I am a thoughtful, loving and caring mother to want to preserve my kids’ family. The thing that probably gives me the most self-esteem in all of this mess is that I’m  showing another human – one who betrayed me for 20 years – a generous amount of grace by allowing him time in our home to recover during the worst time in his life. He abuses these privileges and opportunities, it’s on him, not me. I can live with myself and my behavior.

So yes, my self-esteem is just fine. And yours should be, too.



Where am I?

I had a friend who texts me frequently and not always about The Player and his shenanigans. Sometimes we text about the mundane, sometimes about our kids, our work, our stay-at-home life and television. She benigningly texted the words, “Where are you?” and I knew she didn’t mean that I was sitting at my desk in my home office. It had been a while since we had spoken about “it,” the absolute most fucked up thing in my life and that quite possibly might ever be the most fucked up thing in my life. Hopefully, anyway.

I was silent for a bit before she wrote, “?” to which I replied that I was a little bit here and there, meaning I’m okay, I’m so-so, I’m happy, I’m sad, I’m meh. I told her I wouldn’t say I’m all over the place because I don’t feel out of control like I was over a year ago after full disclosure, or even three months ago before hypnosis. It isn’t like it was over two years ago and my world was falling apart right before someone close to me died. No, I am definitely more stable. I’m even calm and at peace a lot of the time, if I’m honest. I’m not always those things when I’m in therapy with The Player or he is out of town and has to be in the same space as one of the whores, but even then, I’m not losing sleep anymore. Not really for anything he is doing or not doing because I am in control of me and my world.

There is beauty in being in control of yourself.

All is (mostly) calm, but don’t get me wrong, he can still piss me off. Recently The CSAT and The Player were surprised to get an update from me that included me telling them about my hypnosis and how it is working for me and how I am coming to a place of peace with what IS and not focusing on WHAT WAS or WHAT CAN BE. Let’s face it, odds are against The Player, as much as he believes and I want to believe he can remain monogamous, the stats aren’t good. It was maybe not so much of a challenge for one short affair and a one night stand, but for two decades’ worth of emotional and sexual affairs? Not looking great. He is, however, doing mostly everything right at this point in progressing to awareness and understanding and that is all good. Empathy and 12-step work? Not so much good there and so that is sort of blah.

An overarching theme for us is The Player’s lack of empathy, which I believe leads to poor decisions on his part (like the recent bar and phone number debacle). He will tell you he just can’t communicate empathy but that he has it for me and he brought up a couple of examples and he’s right, those were instances of empathy. It’s interesting though that the examples he brought up to show historic empathy on his part were for situations he wasn’t a part of, meaning it wasn’t pain he had a hand in causing. It sort of made us both say, “hummm” to each other. The CSAT took note of that as well. A few days later when I asked him about it, he said he realized he was going to have to analyze that and figure out why.

That’s the thing, there is a fucking long line of analyzing both on his part and my part. I had to analyze myself and my motives for staying to make sure I wasn’t staying out of fear of being alone. I’m not. I still spend some time analyzing if what he is doing is enough. I explained to The Player and the CSAT that for now, what is going on, is enough. Or rather I have recently come to peace with that through hypnosis.

I said that after we talked about the lack of 12-step work and empathy. We discussed that I am constantly trying to find the balance to be in the marriage for recovery as well as be at a place that serves to protect me. The Player doesn’t like that I say, “for now,” after some of my sentences for obvious reasons.

What you are doing is enough. For now.

I am okay with your progress in recovery. For now. 

I am okay with things the way they are. For now. 

I am okay with no step work. For now. 

Long term, I have concerns I will not be able to recover fully without The Player doing 12-step work or similar program-like work that he and the CSAT come up with. It’s the measurables  I am missing. He knows this. I question if I am capable of staying under any circumstances that do not involve some kind of program work.

That’s my truth. That said, I do believe you can recover from addiction without a 12-step program. There are people that do it everyday. The success rates are higher with a program, that is well documented. I just think the odds of me recovering fully in the marriage are lower without that type of work on his part, but that is his choice. I can’t change it or control it.

There’s peace in that knowledge, like I said. There’s peace in knowing my limits and needs. There’s sadness too, in that truth.


The Middle of a Very Big Lake

Is this what the middle looks like?

I feel like I’m out of crisis (thank the ever-loving hell out of that fact) but I’m not yet where I’ll be when the dust settles, in whatever way that looks like in my future. Right now, I’m settling for NOT FUCKING TRAUMATIZED and NOT FUCKING CRYING all the damn time.

I finally feel like I am swimming. A little endlessly, but swimming above water. I’m somewhere in the middle of a huge lake and I can see the shore on both sides but I am not clear on which shore I will eventually land. I’m past the two year mark – two really shitty, shitty years – of knowing The Player was a cheater, but because The Player is a cheater and a liar, he decided to withhold some other 19 years of cheating information from me, because, well, in addition to a liar he was also a dick.

It took another year for him to face the truth and tell me he cheated on me the entire marriage. The first year after “D-day” was a waste of time because he didn’t come clean and we weren’t in true reconciliation. I don’t have one thing I can tell you that was positive that I gained from that year of being hidden from the truth. Because I knew there was more – I knew intuitively – there was no progress on my part of healing and there was no progress on The Player’s part of being less of a dick. It was a complete waste of a year. It also happened to be a year I lost someone very close to me unexpectedly and the grief from learning my marriage was a lie and my husband was a dick made it impossible for me to grieve properly for my loved one. He royalty fucked up my life, then made sure that I couldn’t heal from it nor heal from the loss of someone important to me for many more months and probably still there is residual grief that is fermenting inside me.

Of course, resentment has settled in me like someone unwanted who has stayed too long and very unwelcome. I suppose not all people would hang onto the resentments like I have but I had my reasons. One, he really fucked things up for me and for us and for our children. He did it over and over. Then he did it more. He also decided when and how the information THAT I DESERVED TO KNOW was delivered to me.

I resent him. Resentment, as my sister stated many times, would only hurt me and I knew this but I also knew I couldn’t let it go until I was ready. I’ve worked hard to analyze the pain and resentment and tried to figure out how to navigate this world that no one thinks they will have to navigate when they are holding the hands of the person they love and exchanging marriage vows. Promises.

In search of peace I’ve done therapy. I’ve pulled back and distanced myself from The Player. I’ve walked. I’ve cried. I wrote and I write. I had more therapy. Guided meditation. I’ve talked until I needed to with understanding friends and other betrayed spouses, both women and men. I’ve read a slew of articles and forums and books. I’ve watched videos. All of those things helped me understand that my feelings are normal, that the trauma was real and that no matter what happened I would always be scarred by what The Player did. All of that reading and soul-searching has given me a good idea of what I needed FOR ME.

I figured out what I require of him for the privilege of him staying in our home and staying married to me. Also the privilege of being an in-home dad instead of dinner and weekend dad. These are all privileges that he enjoys and the price of admission for these privileges is working on himself and being able to share his knowledge of self awareness with me. It’s imperative The Player continue to grow, however that is, but he cannot stop growing. He cannot stop being connected to other sex addicts for friendship and fellowship and he cannot stop answering my questions. He can’t be defensive. He has to be open and willing to talk and do new things that can help me heal and our marriage heal. He has a lot to do and I have a lot to do in order to stay with him (least of which is change my entire perspective of my life, ugh), and I have found what I have to do wholly mutherfucking unfair (hence, the resentment).

My goal is to stay in the marriage for the kids and I know I don’t want to do that if I’m going to be miserable. If I have made the decision to stay – and I have – I figured I had to find a way to live better, right now. I wanted to quit putting that shit off.

The Player has done enough damage to my soul and I’m tired of the bloodletting and I wanted it to stop. It needed to stop and not because of changed behavior in him, but because I am the only person I can control. I will not stay and be unhappy. I will not stay and make his life miserable. I will not live in fear of him doing it again, because he will never ever be able to obliterate my life again no matter what he does. He does not have that power over me and in fact, he never has. I already know what I will do if it happens again (leave) and so there is power and peace in that knowledge.

I wish I could tell you I came to this knowledge alone but I had help. I’ve started seeing a hypnotist. I know, I know. But hear me out. I was looking for ways to address my inability to move on and let go of the pain that was blocking me. I’ve only had two visits with the guy (only slated for 6 total) and listening to the sessions daily and I have to say, I feel at peace. It has helped me take in the knowledge in my subconscious of a couple of things, not just intellectually know them. One, I have a plan if The Player cheats on me again and two, I don’t need answers to some of the questions I had about timing of the affairs (if he was fucking people on actual days like our anniversary and during a personal crisis at home while he was out traveling and “working for the family”) because it doesn’t matter that I know. I won’t do anything different with the knowledge.

It’s like the guy said, for someone who has a fear of flying, them worrying on the flight and having a stressful, horrible flight won’t stop the plane from crashing, so why ruin the flight.

The hypnosis isn’t even for us. It was for me. To find more peace. I’m going to fucking rock my life, with him or without him. I’m going to do MY life, my way. I’m going to make my life matter and I’m going to keep putting my kids first. I do know one thing for certain: The Player is going to have to keep up with me, not the other way around.

Emotional Response to an Unemotional Person

Over the last 25 years – before I knew he was a fucking liar and cheater – The Player wasn’t overly mushy. He’d say the regular I love yous but he wasn’t overly communicative about his feelings. Every anniversary, birthday and holiday (mostly) he would give me a card (which he saw as a lot of pressure to pick out, whatthefuckever) and he would write 1-3 sentences. Nothing lengthy but very nearly the same in tone and feeling. I can recite a few of his sentiments because he repeated himself.

“Thank you for being in my life and loving me.”

“I am lucky to have you in my life.” 

“Thank you for helping me be a better person.” (cough cough)

“I love you. I can’t imagine my life without you.” 

My personal favorite: “I know I don’t tell you enough how much you mean to me and how much I love you, but I hope my actions everyday tell you how much you mean to me.”

Like I said, not overly emotional or lovey dovey, which I was absolutely fine with because, wait for it… he showed me in his actions everyday. This morning I had to explain to The Player that since I don’t have that anymore (his actions said something but it wasn’t love for me) and I have to depend on other emotional connections from him and I’m not feeling it. I told him his regular old way of telling me and um, “showing” me isn’t working for me. It’s not complicated actually. I want him to be more emotionally communicative and more physically comforting, I want him to be in tune with me when I am struggling and provide comfort both in holding me and reassuring me with words. I had to fucking spell it out. I need more.

I explained over and over what I need. I was clear. I was very, very specific. I then followed up with how I think maybe with the revealing of his destructive behaviors against me and our marriage and the fact that I no longer view or value him as a person of character and integrity that I am looking for other ways he can tell me and show me.

He always goes back to all the work his is doing, which he does reminds me quite often, as if to think he had to tell me because I don’t notice the total of 10 hours during four days a week he’s at therapy and group and 12-step meetings and dinners with sex addict friends. As if I don’t know he’s missing dinner,or putting more household work and child care on me. I told him I was done hearing that. I told him each day I am here or each week I am here, I don’t remind him that I’m still here and still hanging on despite his best efforts early on after asshole discovery to fucking break us to smithereens. I figure he can see that because I. AM. STILL. HERE.

The thing I finally spoke to try to communicate what it is that is lacking in his emotional connection with me, was to talk about his last affair partner and his behavior with her. I read thousands of text messages of his courting, I watched him try to break up with her multiple times, only to find out he “couldn’t let her go” and that he “still wanted her, badly” and how he would find a way “to be with her somehow, someway.”(side note: I know it wasn’t about her but the fantasy). I asked him if he remembers one of the break ups (2nd? 3rd?) where he did it and sat on our bed and wept. I sat with him because I knew it wasn’t her. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t anything but the fantasy he was sad he had to let go of. It turned out there were a few more break ups he I would have to endure until it finally took place for sure, two months after their affair his the light and brightness of day. I think he might have understood better.

I told him it pained me to admit that he was more emotional, more desiring, more forward, more sure, more whatever with her. I told him I realized it was all based in fantasyland and I realize that we aren’t going to have that new, just-met-you, getting to know you relationship but he really worked hard to show her his interest. I asked him about that, he said, “I did that to keep her interested, that was all. I did it because I wanted to have sex with her, nothing else.”


I said, “What about doing some of that so you can keep me and keep our marriage and our family together. Would that be so hard? You are in your recovery doing your thing and there’s a sacred circle around you. I am not in it. I feel like you are taking advantage of my presence. I don’t expect you to bow when I enter the room or peel my grapes, but I do expect some reaching out to me with more than a, “I know it must be hard.” Here’s the thing: I know he’s sincere. I know he is trying. I know he wants to heal the marriage. But. But…

Maybe we’re just not a match for each other anymore. Maybe he can’t be the emotional person I need after such a betrayal. Maybe I can’t be the fake, plastic, reassuring whore he needs to fill the hole in him (which he says with the awareness of why he did what he did, the hole is closing up because truth and authenticity is taking it’s place.)

I told him I don’t know if this is going to work, even if that is my heart’s head’s desire. We just might not be a good fit anymore, not matter how hard we try or how hard we want. We can’t just magically be different people.

So that was that.

Remind me to tell you about a part in the conversation when he said he felt guilty about the money he might spend on the (free) whores, that’s why he never spent a lot of time with them. He said he needed to dive into something he realized, he felt guilty about the money he would/could be taking from his family to spend on his affair partners, but didn’t have an ounce of guilt for fucking them.

That wasn’t received well by me.

Merging Lies with Everyday Life

That was some day nearly a year ago that I learned the depth of the betrayals. My marriage of 20 years was with a serial cheater. A betrayer. For the last 20 years he will tell you he was also a devoted husband and father. He will tell you that his life with me is real.

How is that possible?

He’s taken time away from me and his children to fulfill a desire to have women adore him. He’s spent extra time on the road. He’s lied on the phone so he could have the life he wanted to on the road. He put his energy into other women. He continued all of the relationships in some form, even while not sexual, with the women he had sex with, in order to satisfy his insatiable need for attention and adoration.

He also took a lot of time away from his family because he spent a lot of energy covering his tracks, even introducing me to a couple of women he had sex with, or having sex with one woman I personally knew. But the women closest to him in work became the ones who “adored” him and therefore easily fuckable, apparently.

I guess he felt guilty, but you’d have to tell me how that manifested itself because guilt didn’t stop him and it didn’t change the direction of his time and affection. He was increasing his extra bold extra marital affairs. The affairs were getting closer together and overlapping. The last affair he brought into our daily life, sitting right beside me in bed while I was asleep, talking about how much he cared for her. He was caught and spent another few months trying to continue the affair because he doesn’t know why, but “he just couldn’t let it go.”

I will tell you why he couldn’t let it go. He wanted the feeling of being desired more than his family. He wanted the feeling of being desired more than the wanted his children to look up to an honest and honorable father. He wanted the feeling of being desired more than the wanted to tell the truth and be an honest person. He didn’t want to let go of the feeling the other women gave him. He put himself first during this time, not unlike the 20 years prior, so it really shouldn’t come as a surprise.

The sex with other people, I could probably get over with remorse and hard work on himself. The lies? The betrayals? I am not so sure. What makes a person lie? What do they have to tell themselves to keep doing it?

What was my husband thinking about when he was calling me from our vacation home on a trip with one of the whores? I’d strongly encouraged him to take the trip because of the pressure he was under at work. She sat beside him as we talked about our day, the kids’ school day. What was he thinking when he called me when there was another woman in the house waiting for him to fuck her? What was he thinking as he opened the car door for her on a dates to our favorite restaurants? Or holding her hand on the the very same walking path we laughed on?

What was he thinking on all the other nights as he would talk to me to get the call him over with, only to have the evening to himself and one of his affair partners? Was there a woman sitting on or laying in his hotel bed while he made his call? He’d call home, tell me he loved me and then head down to the bar so he could laugh and drink it up and get one of the willing vaginas to come up or invite him up to their rooms.

He never really ended any of the affairs, in fact, he remained friendly with them all. He remained flirty and fun and interested in them. What did all of these women have in common? The adored him and were willing. But he didn’t let them go. From what I understand the sex wasn’t anything magical or special, in fact, he had some performance anxiety (guilty much?) on several of the occasions. I’d be stupid not to admit, that gives me a little thrill.

I can’t accept he had a real life with me in our shared tragedy and celebrations without acknowledging he was also the liar, cheater and betrayer. How do I merge those two lives?

The Thought of Five Years

I was talking to someone about the length of time The Player’s CSAT said it would take to feel more even keel, or “better,” or maybe even healed. Nearly a year ago he said it would take 3-5 years from the last lie, and probably on the longer side for myself and The Player, if we ended up going that route.

That’s three to five mutherfucking years. Longer for our healing because of the length and nature of the betrayals. That means many whores, the depth of deception in years and the year of lies from the time I found out he was a lying liar who lied, to when he decided to fucking man up and be generous enough to bestow the truth on me, which was a (wasted) year. Right after I found out, “I want to work it out!” he said, the same hour he contacted ground zero whore through a family “friend” and a dump phone. Trauma from finding out he was a lying liar who lied and then again when I learned one lie, one more whore fucked, one more trip with one, one more lie to cover up something, one more thing he said to them, one more and so on.

That re-traumatizing bullshit? That was a horrendous thing to do to me, because he hurt me more and prolonged my suffering. During this last – I don’t know what the hell to call it – break (?) of ours, I’ve been thinking a lot about what five years out looks like.

It plays out three ways:

  1. It works. He does the fucking hard work. Well, the work and a little bit more. He does the work, agrees to annual polygraphs for however fucking long I want, keeps the current boundaries and rules he put in place for himself and stays in a 12-step program. We do okay. It’ll never be the same for me, but I’ll be married to a moral guy after twenty-some years of marriage and twenty-some years of knowing him. We stay together, retire to the beach and he never fucks anyone else. Oh, and for kicks, I will continue to NOT fuck other people, you know, as I do.
  2. It works, then it doesn’t. He does the fucking hard work, but relapses. Sure, he does the work, but I am not willing to stay if he fails a polygraph or fucks anyone else. “Slips” as they are called in the program* are the behaviors (for The Player those are drinking alone in bars, alone time in bars or dinners with women, even for business, flirting with women, trolling on Facebook for visual stimulation, excessive porn) leading to the ego strokes and then dick strokes by women, so to speak. He has a slip, catches himself before any sexual contact**, tells me, I will stay. He relapses – in any stupid mutherfucking way – I’m done. Hopefully the kids will be old enough to understand.
  3. Who the fuck cares if it works. I live in whatever limbo for the next 7ish years until all of our children are stable in lives of their own and mature enough to handle the split and then I leave. I figure I can spend the next years getting myself prepared financially and simplifying our lives. Then I leave. If I go with this solution then I can either still demand polygraphs to know I’m safe or make him wear condoms and just assume he will cheat, because if there is no safety net, no uncovered dick goes into my vagina.

My choices aren’t spectacular and honestly, staying with him in any of the choices above doesn’t really thrill me, but it’s our kids. Our kids didn’t ask to be brought into the world only to have an unstable, broken home during their teenage years. The Player made the choices he made and they impact everyone in the family. Would I be sacrificing myself for my kids? Yeah, I will be, but is there any better reason? Will I live a miserable life because of any of the choices above? No. I will not live a miserable life. I will find a way to have a rewarding, fulfilling life, no matter what. I won’t live miserably because I do not want to model that kind of living.

That’s what healthy people do. They assess the situation and make the best choice for themselves. For me, my kids’ happiness is best for me. That will absolutely work for me.  Will it suck sometimes, yes. Will I be pissed I have been back into a corner to choose between myself and my kids? Absofuckinglutely, guaranteed. Will I play the “What if…” game? I am certain I will. Will I survive it and can I create a peaceful and calm home for the kids?

Yes. That’s the choice I make.

* For The Player, that is SLAA – Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous and trust me, months later and I still have a hard time believing an entire 12-step program is needed for “sex addiction” and not for just being Asshole or having a Character Problem but whatthefuckever.

**Sexual contact as described as ANY touching someone in other than a benign way, kissing, caressing any part of the body, sexual intercourse, anal/oral sex. In other words, The Player cannot pull a Bill Clinton. If he wouldn’t do it in front of me or his mother, then it is considered sexual contact.

I don’t do waiting well.

Anyone who knows me in real life knows I’m not a patient person. It’s just been a little over a week since The Player lost his shit and so now I wait. Mutherfucking again. I wait. I fucking hate it. I am changing the more he makes me wait.

I have been waiting for a long time for him to find his shit. It is getting old, but yet, here I sit. Somewhere around 4 hours after I went to sleep and hours before I need to get up and I contemplate why I wait.

The main reason I stare up at near blackness above me is because I wonder if I am here because I am afraid to be alone. I dismiss it as quickly as it enters my mind because I know that I would leave and be fine if it weren’t for our children. Their happiness is my happiness. I cannot be fine if they are not fine, I don’t care how many therapists say, “You know they’ll be okay, don’t you?” No, I don’t because they won’t be “fine.”

I can stay right now because there is progress, albeit slow. Also, I guess, because there is no more acting out, “At least I don’t have to deal with that right now, too,” I think to myself. My kids are worth all the tries I can give to their dad but he is not making it easy. I don’t know how long I can stand the emotional whiplash he insists on placing on me but I am truly living One Day at a Time, a favorite saying of someone I love, who has maintained many, many years of sobriety. Or I could be living an Hour at a Time, or maybe a Minute at a Time, I am unsure.

My patience and what love I thought I had for him is thinning and I can feel the change taking place as I wait for him to be able to handle his life better. I am letting go as I wait for him to work through his daddy issues, as I wait for him to handle stress without wanting to be numbed by the giggles and vaginas of other women. I can feel a change in me as I wait for him to act like a moral, decent human, I can feel myself letting go.

No matter what I tell myself, or him for that matter, I think I might be letting him go. Even while letting go, I know I will figure out how to live in this marriage – even in name only – to create a peaceful and loving home for my children. I start crying at the thought of staying in a marriage with a partner who causes me so much pain.

So I look up at blackness above me.


God bless him but he is completely oblivious. As we went to bed he asked what time we are talking tomorrow morning for check-in.

What did he ask? Oh yeah. He asked what time we are doing the thing that seven days ago very nearly sent him to the looney bin. I asked him what the point was since we aren’t going to be addressing my needs for the time being and that’s what I felt those were for so I assumed they were gone. He was shocked.

We went round and round about can he meet my needs, can he not meet my needs and I still think he’s unable. I made him say the words because he has a habit of making it look like it’s not his choice when I ask if he has enough to meet my needs, by saying, “I guess not.”

I told him I’m just tired. I feel like he’s giving me emotional whiplash with his ups and downs. I told him I’ve been nothing but supportive, compassionate, and kind throughout this mess he fucking caused and I’m exhausted. I don’t know what he wants from me.

I picked up my pillow, moved to the spare room where I am now not going to sleep.