My gynaecologist’s lovely admin person rang today.
The HPV has disappeared!
Woohoo!
I’m stoked. Have lived with the knowledge of it, and the cancer it caused, for so long, I’m just stunned.
And it also made me feel super cool, as that means no new transmission from my barman, who has slept with a few women over his lifetime! I didn’t infect him, and he hasn’t given me a new strain.
No HPV!!!
That’s huge!
However, there are some other changes. No more six monthly smears. Normally we do them three yearly in NZ. But with my changes, they want me back in a year.
A year! I won’t be prodded in six months’ time. It’s not three years. But, so good. I’ve been six monthly for so many years now.
Best news in ages. Especially as this pneumonia drags on…
One of the things that many betrayed’s deal with, when their love gallops off on a white stead, to rescue their damsel in distress, AKA, whore, is that the cheaters are living their best life. That everyone “over there” is ecstatically happy, while you are left in absolute agony, picking up the pieces of your entire adult life that they trampled and destroyed.
It’s important to remember that this is all in your head.
Firstly, it matters not, to you how effective the cheater’s love bombing is. (And hey, you fell for his charm and lies, so hardly fair blaming the homewrecking whore for also believing him!)
Secondly, maybe they really aren’t deliriously happy every day?
Maybe she’s got doubts, but is just too weak to stand up and leave. I stayed, when I “knew” better than to believe his lies. However, I had sunk costs. Three kids. Millions of dollars worth of assets we built together from nothing. Thirty years of what I truly believed was a very special love story. His charm channel is so very mesmerizing.
Maybe his desperation, his complete inability to function without a woman in his life – and I say this with the knowledge that he has NEVER been single, since the age of 18 – means he’s just cruising along with the AP, because he hasn’t found a better alternative. He’s all for the easy life.
There was a particularly poignant analogy about recovery from this abuse by the very astute, Loved A Jackass, on Chump Lady recently.
“Notice how you are comparing what you THINK his life is like to the struggles you are having to live authentically and rebuild a life on solid ground.
Think of it this way: imagine a 20-year old basketball player who is a legend on the local playgrounds, just shooting the ball, dunking, and talking smack. Then imagine another 20-year-old playing college ball, getting up at 6 am to work out, watching his nutrition, practicing with the team, improving on offense and defense, studying film, etc. Both are playing basketball, but on vastly different levels and with much different possible outcomes. The college player will have opportunities to grow and develop that the playground player will never have. The college player will make lifetime relationships and gain an education that will lead to a better life.
My point is that you are living on a different level than the X and OW – or at least you have that opportunity, if you don’t keep your values on the fuckwit level. The more you look at him and how he lives, the more you keep your own self stuck on that shallow level. His immediate gain is a lakehouse. Your immediate gain is that you now see that life is not what you thought it was. You have a chance to live on a higher level, but to do that you must stop comparing. What’s possible for you now is not about money or status.
Meanwhile, stop beating yourself up about what you didn’t know. Learn from your experiences and start living the new life outside the Fuckwit Thunderdome.”
It helps.
To remind yourself.
Your values are intact.
You didn’t cheat.
You didn’t ever fully buy his lies after he was exposed as a cheater.
You didn’t walk into someone else’s unfinished business, and “steal” someone else’s partner, even after she told you they were not separated, they had never had that conversation.
I have never cheated on, or with anybody.
Unless of course, he told me the same lies he told Trinket. That he was single when we met. He, and everyone around him – his flying monkeys (and many other people outside of his circle) – said he was. I was of the understanding that he was no longer with his ex girlfriend. But I now wonder. Was that why she hated me so much? I know NOW that he was still “revenge fucking” her occasionally, after she cheated, and he “left” her. Hell, our “summer fling” was interrupted by him fucking her three weeks into us. I sat with him and discussed this. We were new, and had not really made any formal commitment to each other. But he knew I don’t sleep with people for fun. I said, I’m backing away, you have unfinished business here, and I’m only home for the summer.
He love bombed me. In fact, I was such an easy target. I moved in with him just over two weeks later! Dropping out of uni. Cheating amnesia!!! Oh to be 20 and a fuckwit.
He left NZ, and his first, lovely girlfriend, and had a new one THE DAY he arrived in the UK. Yes, you read that right. He met a sweet sounding Welsh girl, Helen, who he spent the entire time he lived there with. When he came home, he had a new girlfriend within weeks. I kid you not. They are consecutive. He has literally never been single. When I went to the UK, 5 years into “us” he had women lined up. I was only gone 5 months, and he had at least 6 women that I know of that he was sleeping with. One was a constant FWB.
That is not being single.
So, I get who he is. How he operates. How Trinket is loved up and his flying monkeys have backed up his story about me not wanting to be with him anymore. None of them lived in my house, with his mindfuckery. Hell, he lied to her about how often and how intensely we were making love, how he came to me to fuck me oh-so-intensely, his foot rubs, his snuggling into me so intimately, when he was supposed to be starting a new life with her – the new love of his life he couldn’t live without. None heard his promises to me, nor mine to him!
He has just repeated his history.
I’m rewriting my future.
With my values intact, knowing I was never instrumental in breaking anyone else’s heart.
Another day on the couch. I feel a lot better, but the lungs are still very rattly, a terrific, productive cough, and I have the sweats quite badly.
My Mother’s Day was truly lovely though. The kids got me a day spa treatment voucher. I don’t really do Hallmark holidays, and they know it. The best part of the voucher is the words they asked to be written on it…
“Happy Mother’s Day, Mumma! Thank you for always being overly generous and loving to the three of us. We are always grateful for everything you do and everything you have taught us. We hope you have a wonderful weekend.”
The part that got me most was about what I have taught them.
You see, I have – since the day I didn’t kick their father out for his long affair, bringing his whore around our children, fucking her in their beds – felt that I modelled doormat behaviour. That it was somehow acceptable that he did that. I’ve worried incessantly about what I taught my children there.
But they all say they think I’m kickarse. That I have lived well. Fought hard. My going back to uni in my 40s was inspiring. Both girls say it definitely encouraged them with their academic endeavours. My son was always deadset on what he studied, and the professional career he now has.
I don’t care if they don’t go to uni, I just hope they find what makes them happy. The 28 year old, studying her butt off is a sight to behold. I admire her so much. She told me the other day that watching me do it, and nail it, was her motivation for change. Naw.
I was starting to feel a little bit sad that BG was far too busy at work, with staff issues – he’s worked some bar shifts to cover this week, averaging 14 hour days – to come see me, when he showed up. Instead of driving to see his mother, he came here. Naughty boy.
He walked in about half an hour after my youngest left me. She’d come and snuggled on the couch for three hours, under a blanket, in front of the fire, with me. Nattering about her latest relationship analysis. She’s a delight. But an overthinker! No idea where that came from 😉
My darling barman brought me a sweet wee flower arrangement,
A hot chicken, salad and ciabatta buns for late lunch, knowing I need to eat to take my meds.
And fresh mussels, to make me dinner. Thai, yum!
And he saw the gift voucher, and awwwed at the words.
I got brave, and said, “yeah. I’m touched. I’ve always worried that I stayed with a cheater, and that “taught” them that I was okay with that treatment.”
He held me, and said, “baby. No. You showed them your kind self. Your strength, in trying to stay. Trying to forgive the unforgivable. Showing them true commitment, when he was the one straying and breaking promises. You taught them empathy, commitment, loyalty, what love is. His serial cheating is not on you. That is his shit. He has to live with that. Unfortunately, I know only too well, these narcissistic men never have any regrets. His conscience is clear as a bell.
Not. Your. Shit.
Your kids are, and are growing into, flawed-but-awesome humans, and that is down to your love, resilience, strength and kindness.”
When he cheated, it was too hard to be a better man for me.
That meant work.
He never sought any information about recovering from infidelity. He never contacted a single counsellor.
Instead, he went new partner shopping. He chose a woman he hadn’t broken. One who he knew accepted cheating in her life. Another one to cheat on me with. As someone said to me today, he wasn’t going to get off this horse, without having another one saddled.
My son now lives overseas, one daughter nearby, the other too many hours’ drive away. All are sending messages checking in on me. The eldest, a daughter, has offered to organise meal deliveries, and asked whether I am eating, wanted to do an online grocery order for me, asking if I have any cravings.
Cute.
The youngest also wants to come and deliver food. I just need rest.
It was a super rough night. I almost went to hospital around 2am. The severe headache that accompanies pneumonia. Who knew? Also spent several hours curled up in the bathroom, spewing. I don’t want to eat, but have to for the meds I’m on. My chest is still seriously rattly, and the cough is getting very old! I also have very annoying and burny reflux. Fun times!
All are concerned BG is not here.
I’m not.
There is nothing he can do. He has serious staffing issues and has worked bar shifts every night this week, after his usual office hours. He feels bad that he isn’t here, but it really isn’t necessary. Boredom central.
I’m hoping it is going to start responding to the antibiotics shortly, as 50% of pneumonia cases are actually viral. Tonight could be fun!
My Dad had pneumonia last year, and the dumbasses at the hospital gave him drugs that the bacteria isolated in his swab were resistant to. A week in hospital to no avail, only started improving at my place once his awesome GP followed up and prescribed the correct meds. He was really sick. But very stoic. I’m starting to understand how yucky it was for him. It’s awful at 52. Would be terrible at 76!
And there, my friends, is my whinge for the day. Better go give my dog – and myself now – our inhalers!
An overseas friend alerted me that Roger just posted this on his social media. He rarely uses it, so FAAAAARK!!!
“Hello everyone! I assure you first, everything is currently fine with me. Very personal reasons for this post. I’m sad 😥, of course, in the hardest times of life you realize who your real family, friends or people really appreciate you. Real people come out when attention isn’t about them… Sadly some friends are about to press like but not really – because it takes time to read all of this and when they see it’s long, he skips it. Now I look at those who have time to read this post until the end….. (I think I’ll find out 5 🤷🏼). Cancer is very invasive and harmful, even after treatment is over, your body continues to fight to restore radiation / chemotherapy damage. This is a very long process. 😩 Please in honor of a family member or friend who has died, or is still fighting cancer, or even has cancer, but it is in recovery copy and paste this (do not share) on your page. So I know who read it, 😍 please write ′′ done ′′ so we can see the power of a team together! To all those who have lost someone or are in the battle with cancer, hugs to each and every one of you 😘😘😘“
This!
His stepdaughter, whose cheating dad died of cancer loved it. My gorgeous friend S’s, fuckwit first husband, who left her without any explanation, shared it and commented. People are FUCKED UP!
This post, from a fucking man who gave me, his loyal, loving, faithful partner of several decades, HPV, that turned into stage three cervical cancer, from fucking whores, bareback! Zero condom usage in the year and a half he was fucking Leanne.
Then coming home and transferring her filth into me!
I had cancer surgery not even two weeks after he left me, for YET ANOTHER WHORE. And seven weeks of radiotherapy. I’m still two years off being given the ‘all clear.’
Did he EVEN ONCE, ask after me? Send a message? Ask the kids if I was okay? Ask how I was coping? Alone. Abandoned by him, to face my biggest health threat.
Not. Even. Once.
He has never asked.
And he has the FUCKING audacity to repost a bullshit, I care about cancer message.
Angry. Heartbroken. Completely bemused by his fucking bullshit image management.
It’s pneumonia and I feel like crap. In bed, on antibiotics and steroids, feverish and my head is pounding. My chest feels full of crap, and left lung is crinkling loudly like crunched up cellophane.
Fun times.
My youngest kid is worried. “Be careful, mama bear, I’m really worried. Look what happened to Biddy. What can I do? Please go to hospital fast if you feel worse.” She’s told me several times that with her anxiety and the way she feels about her father and his whore, she can’t function if she loses me.
No pressure!
The eldest, who lives at the other end of the North Island, offered to arrange meal deliveries, and gave me advice, lol. Can you tell she’s studying a health science???
Yeah, my Mum died of septicaemia, caused by having no spleen when she got pneumonia. I have a spleen, and two (usually fully functional) lungs.
BG is swamped at work, and I don’t want to get him sick. But he said, “BABE! You need someone to take care of you for once, you are always doing it for everyone else!”
I went over to him on Wednesday. I finished work early, and have been quietly very unsettled and anxious. I needed a hug. He’s great at hugs, and soothing me.
His reply in the morning, once I was back, showed he got it, without me saying anything.
I’ve had a cold brewing for several days. Basically started getting a sore throat a couple of days after my tetanus vaccination. Probably coincidence, but I wonder if being immunocompromised hasn’t helped. My poor old body is overloaded.
I’ve been struggling tonight. It’s moved to my chest. I can hear it whistling and gurgling, and I can’t stop coughing, trying to clear it, I guess. My head aches so badly. Worst cold I’ve ever had, I think. When the medical centre opens, I think I need to go see my doctor.
It’s actually a bit scary being this sick on your own. I should know, the cancer (surgery, recovery, then radiotherapy all alone) was actually pretty terrifying! What if I didn’t make it, and my kids ended up with the whoring Trinket as their “mother?” It was a genuine fear. I know my own mother’s death at 55 played on my mind a lot.
This is different though. Sitting upright in bed all night, because you feel you’ll drown. Not having anyone know how ill you feel, or whether you’ll get help in time if you need it. Very reminiscent of the takotsubo cardiomyopathy incident. When I eventually accepted I really did have something wrong with me and got to hospital. I lie here, waiting to feel better, or make a call about whether I need out of hours help.
I have huge respect for those who have lived alone most of their lives. It never fully occurred to me that there were these quite frightening nights. I know I explained this to BG after I started getting concerned last weekend, when I couldn’t contact him.
Speaking of which, I have an embarrassing confession to make.
The first time (through to the sixth time, lol, same night!) BG and I had sex, there were no condoms used.
WTF???
Who even am I???
I look back and realise I was pretty devil may care. I think the cancer made me feel like it didn’t matter anymore anyway.
So, I asked BG the other night, what the hell were YOU thinking? He’s had a fair bit of casual sex over the decades. He had a nasty paternity scare for nearly a year, in his mid 20s. A girl he had been with a few times, who was a customer at the pub he managed. Claimed he was the father of her pending baby. BG said he’d used protection, every time, and the dates were never right. He went through that whole pregnancy, a villain in the eyes of many locals, for denying the baby was his. DNA eventually proved he was right. Says it was a terrible, awful thing to go through. So, he’s normally pretty careful.
So why not with me? He agreed it was stupid, and out of character.
The thing is, neither of us expected it. Neither “came prepared.” I had been with one man, ever, and he thought I was slowly thawing, the first meeting after I ghosted him for nine months! I was certainly not a woman who leapt into bed with men! Two grown ass humans who took a really stupid risk.
He says he felt comfortable because he and his immediately previous sexual partner had both been tested and showed each other clean screens before having sex. He hadn’t been with anyone since her. Well over a year earlier. But realised it was stupid of him to assume I was disease-free. He knew I had only ever been with one man before. But that that man was a serial cheater. He shook his head, and said it was not smart.
It’s weird what a life threatening condition does to your brain. I was also aware that I had been battling suicidal ideation most nights, and I guess in some corner of my fucked up brain, I thought it just didn’t matter anymore. I’ve always preached safe sex.
I also became the villain in this story. I also was completely blindsided and had my whole world turned upside down.
Then he did it again 🤯🤯🤯 this time leaving me for the Schmoopie. I’m pretty special, huh?
“I am still waiting for my book to arrive – ordered on the weekend. I’m not sure if any of this is addressed in the book!
Can someone enlighten me…
“Let it go” they said
“It’s been two years” they said
“You need to forgive” they said
“It’s the past” they said
“He loves you so much, he has his own demons and he is aware of them”
“Stop dwelling, move forward”
Is it just me, or is all that shit extremely insensitive and invalidating? It hasn’t only been said to me by the cheater, but also the cheaters family. Iniatially they were holding him accountable and very very angry, but over time I have become the villain in this story. I am not forgiving enough, I am miserable, I am stuck in the past, I need to let it go….
I don’t agree with any of it but it sure pisses me off. I wish it felt like the past to me! I wish I could just “let it go”
This shit blindsided me. It turned my life upside down. And it changed me. Not necessarily for the better either, maybe in time.
I think most betrayeds have read “Jacob’s letter,” at some point of the journey after their beloved’s affair(s) was (were) exposed.
It’s kind of a wishful thinking piece of bullshit.
They never regret. They never feel empathy for what they put the loyal partner through. Roger just galloped off, white knight, rescuing his damsel in distress. Dick deep in the merry widow.
The reason I post this today, is that recently, I have had several people who knew us – admired our close, loving, fun filled (but bloody hard working) relationship – try to tell me that he will have big regrets. That he really, truly loved only me. That he felt driven into Trinket’s arms (and …) because of what he did with Leanne.
I can see how simple it appears from the outside.
But they don’t know the ins and outs. Just how embedded his lying was. Decades of lies. Lies about things I asked him directly about.
Lies about women he fucked.
Lies about how he was waiting for me. That he supported my important academic journey, post infidelity. That he would DEFINITELY not look for sex, or other women unless we were BOTH sure we were done. I was sure I’d done everything. That I could start trusting him again. That he’d be open and honest about EVERYTHING, going forward.
The relationship counsellor we saw together, eventually, told me he was concerned. That Roger appeared very remorseful, but in fact had zero idea how badly he had damaged me, or any clue what he needed to do for me. He just wanted me to sweep it under the rug, forget about it, and be the easy, willing, enabling partner I used to be. He had no clue that he needed to make big changes.
Actually, I don’t think it was ignorance, it was laziness and a complete lack of care for me. My agony.
It was far easier to just find another, sweet, willing person. Boot me out for a new sap. A new chump. Nic told me that he had little ability for reflection. Hardly ever looked back, just charged forward.
Yeah. And still I thought the love I felt for him was reciprocated. That he’d understand. Feel compassion for how badly it hurt.
We empaths tend to think others are the same.
I’m brewing up a cold, and my Dad just informed me that my siater had a pretty big stroke last week. Need a cuddle.
