Archive for ‘Infidelity’

September 12, 2011

It’s My Party and I’ll Cry If I Want To

by bye2mrwrong


You would cry too if it happened to you. Yes it’s my birthday and I am officially old. I know I said that last year and the year before that too. But at least back then my life seemed to be on track. I had a great job, a wonderful husband, and I was already entertaining the thought of having kids. Now it’s all just fallen to pieces. And I can’t seem to get them back into place. No amount of glue seems to be able to place those pieces where they belong and keep them together. So in the deep of the night, when I can’t fall asleep, and my thoughts haunt me, I secretly fall apart.

I HATE him. I really do. For making me vulnerable. For making me endure so much pain. For hurting me like I never knew someone could hurt. For making false promises. For feeding me lies. For wasting my time. For taking the best years of my life. For throwing them away. For making me love him, but not loving me enough.  For wanting to stay friends now that we are divorced. For asking about me and showing interest. For knowing how to manipulate me. For the greatest mind f#uck of all times. For making me feel guilty, even now. For making me feel like a victim. For taking me away from my comfort zone. For making me have to start a brand new life. For making me doubt myself. For making me so insecure. For loving her. For making me feel so unloved. For making me feel unworthy. For making me feel I wasn’t enough. For making me feel unsexy. For making me feel I will never get what I want in love, in life. For making me lose faith yet still have hope. For making me a skeptic, yet not enough to protect my heart. For making me feel I should just settle for Mr. Right now, rather than Mr. Right. For making me crave the touch of a man. For making me miss being hugged. For making me feel miserable and lonely. For the depression that attacks me especially at night. For not loving me unconditionally until death do us part. For creeping into my thoughts and somehow controlling them. For breaking me, and shattering my heart. For not being the one.

I hate him for doing this to me. Or am I doing this to myself? Maybe I hate me.

May 5, 2011

Forgetting You

by bye2mrwrong

Why am I still so emotional? Oh yeah, first signatures – signed! Will it ever go away all this hurt and pain? I was fine yesterday, but once night-time came I was filled with extreme sadness. I woke up this morning gloomy and depressed. He still controls my every thought. He is still prancing around in the catacombs of my mind. Why didn’t he love me? Why wasn’t I enough? And why did he choose to flight rather than fight?

 Today I saw him and I felt the need to attack. I needed to hurt. I needed to blame. I became even more cynical than I usually am. I intended to sting. And I did. Words are immensely powerful. One cruel remark can wound someone for life. I know that from experience. Cause when we argue we know exactly which words will sting the sharpest, cut the deepest, scar the nastiest, and last the longest.

 It’s been a year and I still can’t let it go. And he, he still can’t take responsibility for what he’s done. He claims that it’s not the affair that caused us to split. It’s my behavior afterward. But what kind of behavior did he expect? Did he want me to just smile and be happy about it? Did he want me to say it’s OK; let’s just forget it and move on?!

 Innocently he asks: What have I ever done to you? Why do you have to be so spiteful so vindictive? Why can’t we just stay friends? I know most of the arguments we had this past year were because of me. I’m not pretending otherwise. And I’m sorry for that. I truly am. Maybe I could have been calmer. Maybe I could have tried harder. Maybe I could have been the bigger person. Maybe that would have changed the way things turned out. But what I couldn’t do was just sweep it under the rug.

He still doesn’t get it. He still doesn’t realize the scope of the damage he’s done. He doesn’t understand the pain. He has left me empty-handed to start all over again from scratch. Does he have remorse? Will he ever? Will he miss me once I’m gone?  When I ask him: Do you feel like you’ve won; he takes the words out of my mouth and my mind and replies “I haven’t won, I’ve lost. We both have. I’ve lost my best friend”.

I retort sarcastically saying: I thought she is still in the picture. But I know what he means. And I feel the same. I lost my partner, my companion,my husband and my best friend.  A friend I had for 10 years. In order to gain an equivalent friend 10 years will have to pass by. I’ll be 40 by then. To me that feels like a life time. I hope I forget him by then.

April 22, 2011

Till DEATH Do Us Part

by bye2mrwrong

Yesterday I could not sleep. No matter which way I turned, or how my body slithered; it seemed that nothing could help this brain from switching off. Thoughts ran though my mind. Thoughts of loves lost, pain, hurt, revenge, betrayal, deceit, and lies. As I envisioned myself as the victim once more, tears came pouring down. Fragile and weak I felt myself crumble, as I hit the ground. How had I become so weak? How had I allowed this to happen to me? Who was in control? Is this the hand of God playing a game with me? Testing me? How much more grief can I take? How many more mistakes will I make? Is he laughing from above?

But the thought that scared me the most was the thought I had of death. At such a moment of vulnerability I welcomed death with open arms. If this was what life had to offer me, was there reason to go on? I’d be relieved to leave the pain of this world. Finally let it all go, leave it all behind.

I could play dumb, but I know exactly why these thoughts were going through my mind. I had just come back from meeting my husband, with both his lawyer and mine. We had tried to negotiate, to settle things between us, so that maybe if we were fortunate and smart we wouldn’t have to drag this thing out any longer or go to court allowing someone else to judge our lives.

Result: Unsuccessful!

And so I came home in tears… trying to figure out what that meant for the course of my life. How much longer would I have to endure this hell?  Should I just settle and end this misery? Emotional health vs. financial stability, that’s the real question right now. Seems like there’s no right answer to the question called life and the only way out is OUT.

I had been fighting this for so long, not wanting to leave empty-handed. I wanted to leave with my head held high. Initially my revengeful self wanted for him to have to sell the house. That way both of us would have to start from nothing. I already got screwed once. Vengeance and anger motivated me to stick it out. But after nine month that flame in me had long died down.

I could ask 1000 people what to do. But each answer would be different. Let it go. Fight! In the end it’s my choice to make. And what does it matter to them? Why would they care? It’s not really their problem. Today is a Friday. I haven’t had a single phone call. No they really don’t care. Would anyone know if I was gone? Would they miss me? What if tomorrow unexpectedly I died? How long would it take till someone noticed?

In the deep dark catacombs of my mind, it’s not death I’m worried about. It’s the fact that if I died I would legally still be married to my husband. Would that mean that he would get everything that was mine? Would that mean he won? Only for that reason I’m not ready to die. Could I make you my witnesses? Would you testify that I wanted my fair share, that I wanted him to have nothing of mine?

April 10, 2011

Back in the Game

by bye2mrwrong

So how did love come back into the picture? Not so long ago my friends started pushing me to get back out there. I was hearing statements left and right telling me to get back in the game, start dating, go get laid. Me, I’m not that type of girl really. I’ve never liked being single, and I never enjoyed dating. Of-course I loved the butterfly feeling, the highs when things went right in my dating life; but I dreaded the lows when those relationships didn’t quite work out. So at the age of 21 I was already settling down, and happy to have found my “one”. And although I was very young, being in a committed relationship just felt right.

But after having been cheated on, something in me wanted, needed to know what I was worth. I needed to stop beating myself up and blaming ME for not being good enough, pretty, enough, sexy enough, or anything enough to keep my man interested. Could it be that it wasn’t me but rather that my husband was just a stupid prick who couldn’t see a good thing when he had it?

So finally after a few weeks of convincing, I got off my recently regular couch position and went out with some girl friends to a party. Initially I felt like Alice after she ate the magic cake; I had grown up while everyone around me stayed little, or in this case young. The music was loud and definitely not what I remembered it to be, the place was huge and felt like a meet market, the crowd was rowdy, and looking around I couldn’t help but wonder how old the guys were anyway. 18? 20?  Would I even be allowed to date them or would that be considered pedophilia?

Every guy that tried to talk to me got the evil eye. A sort of get away from me you pervert, I’m married! But having downed a few drinks in less than 20 minutes, the alcohol was getting to me, and the guys seemed a bit cuter and older all of a sudden. So by the end of the night I was dancing, flirting, and having a ball.

Getting back out there after 10 years off the market was quite the experience. It was fun to feel young and sexy again for one night. That is of-course not how I felt the next morning when the amount of alcohol really hit me. But most of all it was different. Different than sitting at home cuddled up on the couch with my husband. And also different than sitting at home, just as I had done so many times recently, crying and sulking about my miserable and lonely single life.

It was the beginning of a fresh start. I was turning over a new leaf.  I was going to go out there and show the world that I was back in the game,  available and ready to conquer…

March 6, 2011

Victim of Love

by bye2mrwrong

The longer we dwell on our misfortunes
The greater is their power to harm us

Too often we assume that God should allow us to live without pain. We assume that we know what’s best for us. But we should never assume that we know God’s plan. For what may seem like a big and at times sad, painful or disappointing incident for us may be something small in the long line of chain-events which are meant to happen. It may be part of our destiny.

For a long time I’ve pondered why I deserved this fate? What have I done to warrant such unending pain? Who have I wronged? And why am I being punished?  I played the victim and I played the part flawlessly with a passion. The fragile weakling that got burned; shot through the heart, and stabbed in the back, through no fault of her own. Playing the victim role allowed me to gain self-worth, after all I did nothing wrong – I was the good guy. And it allowed me to gain people’s pity and sympathy.

In retrospect saying “poor me” kept me chronically passive, and powerless. And while that part, so easy to play, became me for some time, suddenly I realize that as long as I play the victim I will not be able to move on. I will not be able to mend my broken heart. Resentment has held me back; for we only resent people to the extent that we have given away our power to them. So now after a year of anger and resentment, with courage and pride I am taking my power back. I don’t want pity or sympathy. I just want to move on. So I am letting go of the victim role. And I have found it in myself to accept, forgive and forget. Forgive myself for being stupid and forget he ever existed.

February 27, 2011

Wishful Thinking

by bye2mrwrong

It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all

The human brain is a wonderful organ. It’s verbal, logical analytical, intuitive, creative and emotional. But sometimes an overactive mind can start playing tricks on us. We find ourselves caught in the shoulda, woulda, coulda thoughts about a past we no longer have control of, reliving moments and events we should have long ago left behind. At other times we find ourselves caught in the realm of “what if”, daydreaming, imagining and fantasizing of an alternative future we could have only hoped for.

I’ve been pondering over the “what if” question for some time now. My husband’s affair as well as our separation has taught me so much and I have grown from it. But it makes me wonder: if I’ve grown, learned and matured from this experience then he must have too, right?! So what if now a wiser man and wiser women would meet again? Could they be happy together? Would they now withstand the tests laid down before them? What if we stayed? What if we tried?

There is something strangely passive and even abusive about the “what if” question. All of these ‘what ifs’ usually amount to nothing. Yet the thoughts come uninvited and always seem to hold such force on us; haunting us, spinning in our minds, weighing on our hearts.

One of the saddest things in a break-up is the imaginary future that you’ll never have with the person who you have now left behind. This inability to accept incompatibility or just the fact that we had grown apart as individuals is emotionally draining. But I know now that it is not him that I miss or love but the concept, the picture I had in my mind. So I realize that while some people think that it’s holding on that makes one strong; sometimes being strong means letting go.

February 23, 2011

Nostalgic Moments

by bye2mrwrong

Don’t stress over people in your past, there’s a reason why they didn’t make it to your future.

I think a defining moment in one’s life comes the minute we are able to let go of the past, live in the present and look toward the future. When we are able to stop beating ourselves up over what might have been.

But sometimes the shoulda, woulda, coulda cannot escape our minds, and fills our thoughts with grief and remorse. Vulnerable and frail, I frequently wonder about what could have been. My thoughts are drawn to those picture-perfect memories which can never be forgotten, and I succumb to an aching feeling that what’s past is past forever, and nothing can turn back the hands of time. Unable to let go of the past and that false sense of nostalgia which haunts me, I am lost in a perfect state of delusional denial.

Doubt and fear swallow me whole and I find myself trying to find fault in me. Was I good enough? Did I do my best? Could I have tried harder? I realize how unhealthy dwelling on the past is, but rummaging through our past, with melancholy and regret is nothing but unnatural. The past has value, and should not be discarded entirely; but there comes a point when it is time to stop obsessively ruminating, time to stop holding on to a past we have no control over, time to learn the hard lessons we have been taught, and permit ourselves to move on.

As hindsight is 20-20, it’s easy to look back and see what we coulda, shoulda, woulda, done.  Anyone can look back and point out past imperfections. We could drive ourselves crazy by forever wondering how we could have prevented something from happening. But how far can these questions go? (i.e. What if he never would have cheated? What if I never would have met him? What if she would never have been born?). And where is that getting us? The shoulda woulda coulda song will never lead to anything, and should be banned from our minds. So today I am finally able to let go of regret, accept the present, and let the past rest in peace.

February 14, 2011

Breaking the Silence

by bye2mrwrong

In the past year my husband and I had many MANY arguments, heated discussions and fights. Days of silence and pretences would be broken with violent words flying across the room. Mostly it was hashing and rehashing of the same things that had already been said. We would shout, I would cry, tones were raised. As if screaming it any louder would make us hear better.

But it seemed to me like my husband never really heard me. Maybe he heard but he didn’t listen. Maybe he listened but he didn’t internalize, maybe he internalized but he didn’t understand, and he most definitely didn’t want to agree or admit defeat, take on the blame, the responsibility, or the guilt. So I kept repeating everything over and over again. But words were unnecessary, meaningless, and damaging. They came flying back as a boomerang straight at me, crashing in painfully, piercing me, and tearing me back down.

I talked about how ever since I graduated from University and got a job, he didn’t feel I needed him. As if my intelligence was in the way of his pride and my financial independence strained him. I tried to explain that wanting someone was better than needing them. I tried to show him the error of his ways. I pointed out how he only surrounded himself with weak people, less intelligent or savvy so that he could feel 10 feet tall, and they could praise him.

I talked about how he always defended the other woman and stuck up for her instead of me, his wife. How he was falling for her tortured soul act when she was making it look like she was the poor victim in all of this and I was the villain out to terrorize her and ruin her life.

I talked about the pain I felt when his entire family dropped me in a second, hanging up my picture so they could tear me down, so prematurely, uninviting me to family events so as not to ruin the atmosphere, or telling me they only wanted to talk about good things. Good things? What good things did I have to talk about when my life was crumbling down before my very eyes?!

I talked about how she would end up breaking the entire family, and how he had ruined what could have been the best relationship ever. I talked about my feelings; the lack of trust, the countless lies that were spoken only to be broken, the deceit. I spoke of my love and how it felt like everything I wanted to give was everything he couldn’t take. I talked, I cried, and I hopelessly prayed and wished for everything to return to normal.

Eventually my tears dried up and there was nothing left to say; only silence remained. So in the end I decided to just let the SILENCE speak for itself…

February 10, 2011

The Other Woman

by bye2mrwrong

“There is always one woman to save you from another
and as that woman saves you she makes ready to destroy”
(Charles Bukowski)

Where the hell did my husband mange to find a hypocrite whore, from all the women in the world?! A “devote” Mormon, the mistress/slut does not drink coffee or tea as it is not allowed according to the scriptures. But sleeping around and coveting other women’s husbands is probably not a crime in her holy covenant. Disrespectful of her own parents, and unfaithful to both her ex-husbands; still she is a dedicated follower who goes to church almost every Sunday to ask Christ forgiveness for her sins. Hypocritically enough, once she has been forgiven, she continues sinning, as she knows that she will be forgiven again the next time.

I cannot say I know too much about this girl as I have not had the “pleasure” of her company for too long; but while we were still on speaking terms she did offer me some insight into her background. I heard stories of the girl she once was, and how she had gone through all possible stages in her short life in an attempt to find out who she was; from rock to punk, from gothic to the girl next door, from drunkard to teetotal, from innocent to slutty, and from naive, to experienced. A wild child covered in tattoos, she often played the role of the angel in disguise, the victim who needed shelter and protection from the big bad world.

She preyed on men that were weak, or maybe just willing. She used sex to her advantage. I do not know how many lives has she has destroyed or how many broken hearts has she left behind.  But I do know that she cheated on her husbands countless times, usually with their own friends. The first husband her high-school sweetheart ended up going to jail after beating up the 5th and last man he caught her with. A man she said was gay, and then ran off with, as she stole her husband’s money and credit cards.

Then as she met the next man in her life, once she got bored she moved on to his best friend, who apparently gave her the attention she craved and shelter she needed. This was the man she then married, although he too bored her quite quickly afterwards.

Her next affairs were with older men, married men with families, her employers, and others just random strangers who gave her the attention she seeked. She jumped from bed to bed in an attempt to define her being, to prove the worthiness of her existence. Like jelly, she fit perfectly into the lives of so many different men. Like a chameleon she changed her appearance and her demeanor to fit theirs. Right now she has changed the color of her hair once again according to her next client’s desire. And so she will fit into his life as she kicks his current girlfriend of 2 years to the curb.

As of today she is out of the life of both my husband and his brother. She has left to move in with her next victim. But I am sure she will still haunt me wherever I go. In my mind she will always represent the women who lack morals, and have no mercy, compassion, or remorse, for the casualties they leave behind. Heartless predators who in attempt to find their own happiness, stomp on that of others, and knowingly pursue the husbands, boyfriends, and other “unavailable” men.

February 2, 2011

Uninvited

by bye2mrwrong

Whenever you break up with someone, you don’t just break up with one person. You break up with their family their friends and their dog.  It’s inevitable, sad and annoying. Now not only have you lost your other half, you lost lots of other pieces of you as well.

So now I have an ex-husband, ex-friends, and an ex-life I need to get over. OK, I lost a cat rather than a dog, and I can’t say it’s such a big loss to lose my husband’s family. But still for 10 years they were my “in-laws”.

After all when it comes to choosing sides, my friends and family chose mine, so its logical that out of loyalty, his friends and family would choose his (even though he screwed up). I mean no one can really stay neutral in such a breakup as this. It’s like saying you’re pro Palestine but also pro-Israel. That just doesn’t work.

Suddenly you are no longer invited to family events. On your birthday you no longer get phonecalls and cards, and the Christmas cards this year never arrived (must still be lost in the mail)…I have to say that since I wasn’t the one who had an affair; I never really got evil looks from his friends or family. But I remember the wound I felt in my heart when before we even officially decided to divorce, I was sitting at his mother’s house and noticed that she had already taken my picture off the wall. The Bitch! And I remember the twist of the knife when his father decided not to invite me to a family gathering. I had been officially uninvited. I felt rejected and alienated. I no longer had a family to rely on.

I knew then that from that moment on I was no longer welcome. I would no longer host family events, would no longer bake cakes, or buy birthday presents. I was no longer part of his family, or his life. The “we” that once was had become an “I”!

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