The most difficult part about Rog leaving me is the lack of comfort when life gives you lemons.
A hug.
Him appearing to care so much about me feeling pain.
Through this latest scuffle with my daughter’s journey, I am aching hard. Physical pain. My heart is so damn sore today.
Previously, for thirty years of my life, he would have scooped me into his arms, held me tight, stroked my hair, kissed me, etc.
I have to self soothe now. More than ever.
I miss the old him so, so much on these days. The man I truly adored. Who cherished and protected me. The comfort. The feeling of total solidarity, ‘knowing,’ feeling that I was loved and supported.
No matter what.
My rock.
He has never had that. To be alone, and deal with pain. He has always had someone. If he felt he didn’t, he sought it in other women…
There is something to be said for physical comfort. Touch.
BG told me I had the softest skin the other day as he stroked my inner thighs.
And I froze. Exactly what Roger said. The softest skin. It sounded real. But maybe it’s just a line men use…
Like when he did this the other morning…(I need another belly laugh, this was actually super cute and hilarious!)
I imagine tonight that BG will be in big trouble! I will probably need physical comfort, and I know he will be pounced on when I arrive, using his body to help soothe me.
Poor bastard! He had a tough day yesterday, so he’ll also need some touch. He melts, groaning with pleasure, when I scratch his back, or massage his head.
Had probably the worst evening in years tonight. My youngest daughter is not doing well at all. Anxiety. Tears. Numbness. Anger. Really took her shit out on me, but that’s okay.
Ish.
I can deal.
I am very, very worried about her. She’s been in therapy (I found and paid) but stopped now, and refuses to try again.
If I suggest meds, I am pushing drugs onto her. Her speech is about, ‘if I make it that far,’ there is self harm and dark thoughts going on. I don’t know what stone I haven’t turned… genuinely very scared about her, and at a loss as to how to help when she refuses help.
She said that when she was last at Roger’s, she went to Trinket’s and there was a sold notice outside her house. She very nicely asked Rog if they were moving in together and he said, no, no way, she’s buying somewhere else.
He told her last night that she has moved in.
D is furious he lied. And why??? As I said, it’s been two years and some change since the start of their big love story! Why would anyone be surprised? They co-hosted an Airbnb like a married couple. They are a couple. Why lie???
And she was talking to Trinket’s eldest, who said that her Mum is just a lovely lady who believes Roger’s story, and he’s so nice to her. Her Mum did nothing wrong.
D just bit her tongue.
So hard.
Wanted to say, “oh, okay, lying and cheating and having an affair with my Dad are acceptable to your Mum? Leaving a loyal, heartbroken partner because he’s Met Someone Else? After cheating on her before. Awesome. Glad she hasn’t had her heart broken, or had to battle a preventable cancer, like the one he gave MY mum because he fucked around without condoms on her. Glad she hasn’t got broken heart syndrome.”
But, she kept her mouth shut.
Good girl.
And what a weird thing to say, Trinket’s daughter! Defensive much???
D talked about how angry she is with him, and the daddy issues she has. And hates him for doing that to her. Proving so blatantly that he lies not just to me, but to her, too.
I tried to talk about how his shit is his, not to take it on. And she tried to tell me it is generational daddy issues. Both grandfathers. My relationship with my father. I replied that I don’t feel I have daddy issues. I’m at peace with my relationship with my Dad. I don’t love him. But I care about him, and don’t want bad things for him. She says she is still torn, thinking she has to love him, wanting to love him, but hating him as well.
Shit. And these cheaters think they aren’t doing any harm. I can deal with my pain.
But my kids. That is incredibly difficult to watch. What did they do to deserve this?
Oh, that’s right. Same as me. Just loved him, believed in him.
When the OW gets your cheater, what really happens?
We, the loyal, betrayed spouses feel like utter shit. Rejected, not good enough, stupid, ugly, old….there is just so much pain.
But, of course, we do know that the OW has ‘won’ a sparkly turd.
He might sparkle brightly for her for a while. They are usually very charming people.
And my anguish is intensified, knowing he is being good to her, when I was so good to him for thirty years, and in return, he just broke me.
But, as this comprehensive international study of cheating breakups shows, long term, the betrayed women do far better. Than both the cheater and the other woman, who happily stole their prize off a faithful wife.
Women who lose their partner to a love-rival are better off in the long term, the biggest ever study of break-ups has found.
Althoughbeing cheated onmight initially seem devastating, in fact, it leaves the victim with a ‘higher mating intelligence’ which helps her to choose a more faithful partner in the future.
In contrast, the ‘other woman’ ends up with a partner with a track record of being deceptive and a cheat, meaning that she is the long-term loser,according to psychologists.
The study involved an anonymous online survey of 5,705 participants in 96 countries.
I know this.
In my head.
My struggle is my stupid broken heart, and the trauma of the way he set me up to fail. Then ensured I failed, by cheating again, and this time, leaving me.
I do know I will never choose a man with a history of cheating on his long term partner.
Yes. BG has never been married. But he never cheated on his long term partners. He did say something quite self deprecating when he was discussing with my little brother how to stay the course, not rise to the bait, regarding his now very combatitive divorce. He had repeated what I had said about a cool head, etc.
Then said, “well, here I am dishing out advice, when I have never been married, nor even engaged! But I’ve had plenty of friends go through this. Only Marty’s divorce (his best mate, from his first cheating wife) was ugly.”
Yeah. K says she wants to be friends. I really think it is impossible when she has invoked these charges, and now demands more than 50%.
Just like you can’t be real friends with an ex who cheated and left you. That means you are ignoring the abuse they put you through. We can be civil, and pretend. But Roger never loved me, he just used me to make his life easier. He’s found someone who ‘won’ him from me, beat the incumbent loyal partner, must be so much better than me, right?
That is the problem. These cheating APs are sparklier than the person who stood by these cheaters. We have been worn down. Worn out. Used up. And spat out.
How could any grieving betrayed ever compete with the sparkly and new???
When you are in a pain wave, flashes of your life flood in, unexpectedly.
Wiping you out.
Dropping your heart through your feet.
Tonight as I fed the dogs, a huge flood nearly washed me away…
I had to sit down and breathe, my head between my knees.
The memory was visceral, and I felt it throughout my body. It was about how when my Love Monkey (🤮🤮🤮) was away (hunting, fishing, AKA fucking other women) he’d send me longing messages, about how much he missed and needed his Snuggle Bunny.
And, idiot that I was, I’d swoon and think how damn lucky I was to be so treasured, falling asleep with a heavily scented item of his clothing, imbued with the essence of him.
He was probably sending me those messages, lying in bed after licking Leanne to orgasm.
And the message flashed into my vision, one he sent me, by mistake, instead of Trinket one day when he was driving home from her place.
At first, I thought it really was for me. A fleeting moment where I thought he’d been down there, she’d bored him senseless, and he’d come to his senses, finished things with her and was driving back into my arms. A message of longing.
He’d already switched his love bombing to her. Completely dismissing me – the (cough) love of his life – for a stranger. Using the same language, the same nicknames, the same way of communicating to her that he had to me.
Last night I had dreams about my friend, whose son was killed almost a year ago, in a boating accident. I dreamed that three of her four daughters were also killed in separate accidents.
And with my own nightmares still active, about my rape, and the other women, Trinket and Leanne together, poking red-hot pokers into my body, laughing at my pain, not a lot of rest was had.
So, I contained my sobs after a meeting with my builder (bathrooms…am I doing this right?) and dropping the dogs off at daycare, and let it all out in the car.
And the old questions swirled.
Why?
What did I do wrong?
Why did I love him so much, and he just kept lying and cheating? Was I so bad? Such a terrible partner to him? Why did I accept this stuff? All that ‘love,’ all that amazing sex. Dropping out of university and moving in with him after just five weeks???? Coming back to him, after he effectively dumped me and sent me to the UK??? Who even am I?
I’m better now, having let it out. I have to vent it from time to time, or else I hold it in my body, and the aches get too sore.
I read the quote below, about love bombing. To remind me. To ground me in the now. In the knowledge I have about how this wasn’t what I lacked, rather what he keeps seeking from other women.
And it was SO me. So duped by his words, his notes, his messages, his constant attention. What a total dumbarse I was to believe that shit! He was next level with the attention, messages, hugs, softness, ‘love.’ This is the heartbreak…it felt real. So, so real.
In the beginning you did not perceive this as ‘love bombing’ or probably even heard of this term before. You were flattered that he/she was paying so much attention to you. There were all of those simple to complex gestures, be it compliments, love notes, many great text messages or phone calls, etc. – but it was as if it were a scene from a romantic movie. Guess what, basically that is all it was, a fictional scene with a role that was written personally for you by her/him that had no basis of reality. It was purely fictional to move you in a manner to continue to watch and allow the movie to play out in your life so he could receive the big payoff for his/her personal investment in you or to use you as the next source of supply.
Yeah. I still can’t believe that my life was a game. A lie. That he never gave a flying fuck about my safety or wellbeing. That he could leave me in so much pain, when I genuinely adored him.
Thirty fucking wasted years, supporting him.
Ugh.
Anyway. It is what it is. I did waste myself on a covert narcissist.
Who told me I was the only one for him. That we would one day find our way back to each other.
Damn. I ACTUALLY BELIEVED HIM! Thought we were special. That I was so lucky. Faaaark. It hurts so much still.
Can’t change it. Can only live well going forward.
I am practising mindfulness, and using the tools developed over the last decade to deactivate my trauma responses.
I’m exhausted.
Doing this ALL the damn time.
And I know it is just part of the work of being, for me now. This is how I must manage my life, my trauma, my emotions. It has not really got much easier with time, I’ve just accepted more, that this is it. I will do this forever, the cycles will never end, but my response is faster and more targeted now.
I mean, I can say I love my children, dogs, friends.
I said it every day to Rog.
But, romantic love, wow. It’s so damn loaded.
My boss said to me yesterday, “wow, BG. What a great guy he seems to be. Slotted right in.
And he just LOVES you!”
What???
Jesus. That is a bit far, boss lady!
Why would she say that the first time she met him?
I had nothing.
Romantic love is supposed to start with a honeymoon phase, red hot passion. The phase that lasted pretty much forever for me with Rog.
Until he cheated with Leanne. The rose tinted glasses came off, well and truly.
And he hated it. I questioned everything. He was no longer my hero, my partner in crime, my entire world.
With BG, there is a lot of affection. The sex is fantastic. But the passion is quite different. Cautious. So yeah, honestly? Less.
Because when you’ve been as wounded as we have, you hold back. BG especially has. But his walls are definitely crumbling. He shares. He treats me well. He worries that my past shit will affect this. That I am okay.
Also, probably, that his past shit won’t allow the good stuff to gel. He is very wary that he’s “not enough” for me, which I constantly reassure him is not a thing.
So, love?
Okay?
I dunno. Do you ever really love love again after betrayal? I think that is the thing you are robbed of. The naivety of full on passionate love. Without any filters. Maybe choosing a man who had been cheated on wasn’t such a great idea in Roger, Paula? Maybe Leanne’s cheating on him before he met me made him emotionally unavailable/less available to me. I thought it meant he would never cheat. I consciously chose that. I must have never had full access, as he did to me and my emotions.
I was just loved the absolute fuck out of that man.
And C added last night – his last with me before he heads back home to sort his life out – that he gets the impression, on first meeting with BG, that he’s a GC. And says he thought he was just a genuine guy, who appears to like me a whole damn lot.
And that I seem to be back. The fierce, strong, passionate, humorous sister he remembered from before Roger. Before motherhood. Before feeling like I was never good enough.
We talked about similar trajectories. With us both bending over backwards to please our partners.
So that we didn’t fail.
Like our parents did.
We became easy targets for willful narcissists. Because we would try harder.
And all our not good enoughs.
I explained mine to him. That I was not pretty enough. Not skinny enough. Not clever enough. Not rich enough. Not having a good enough career. Not good enough in any way.
When my sick daughter (who came over from her sick bed to a farewell dinner for her favourite uncle) intervened and said, ‘no Mum…his problem was never not clever enough. As soon as you started finding yourself again after he cheated, by going back to uni and totally NAILING both first class Bachelors, then Masters degrees, he felt intimidated by your brain. He hated you being recognised as clever. He was unbelievably dismissive and resentful. Congratulating you through clenched teeth, hating that he was no longer your sole focus.”
Whoah!
Shit. What an arse, if that is true.
C said K also hated that he graduated with a super high GPA. Higher than hers. And constantly tried to put him down by saying, “have you done the research about xyz? I have and you need to do this, this way.”
How awful is that? When the person you absolutely adore cannot only not be happy for you, but has to bring you down a notch?
They are often referred to as Hijackals, people who you pretzel yourself for, but whom you can never please. No matter how high you jump. They think, cool. That must mean they can jump higher, next time.
But, as C noted, his wife, K, was obvious about it. Roger was covert. Smooth. Calm. Cunningly manipulative.
C can see it. Wow. Not many do.
And I just had to sit quietly and shut up. It was hard. But, nearly two years later, many people who knew us have come to me and apologised for not being able to see Rog for what he did to me. To us. To our children. The lies. The secrets. The cheating. His running away to another region, to start over without the whole town knowing how he treated the woman who did everything for him, loved him to distraction, bore and brought up his children, loved his family completely…
One of his best mate’s partners just contacted me this morning, planning a catch up soon. She keeps in touch, and through another of his mate’s wives, I know she is deeply unimpressed with his secrets and lies. Her partner always embraces me warmly, telling me I’m the top chick. That he misses seeing me. In the past, he has told me he can’t believe he did this to me, that I a fab partner, the best, and was amazing for staying.
But, he’s his mate. And I respect that. It isn’t fair to talk about it with him, and there are no sides to choose. It just feels nice that I haven’t lost them, these friends of many, many decades, due to my partner being a cheater, through nothing I did or didn’t do.
And so, “he just loves you,” is taken with a grain of salt. The number of people who said that to me after Leanne. “But Rog adores you. He just loves you. He made a terrible mistake.”
Yeah, accidentally putting his dick in and out of that diseased … for 15 months, as often as he could, mostly when I was at work, in my home, that was “a” mistake.
Secretly setting up online dating accounts when I promised to get to the end of my degree and we would talk/reassess our healing – that was “a” mistake. Twelve thousand separate text messages to other women in (just – I never counted them further back, it became a pointless mission once he was walking out on me) the eight months prior to him announcing I’ve Met Someone Else, that was “a” mistake.
Gosh, it’s hard to be honest, eh?
Poor Rog. I was so demanding. But he just loved me so much.
My poor wee girl. Monday morning and she has another case of strep. 15th in 23 months.
I thought she had got a bit low this weekend. She tried so hard at self care. Climbed a mountain and planted a vege garden at her new flat, sending me this message yesterday morning…
Will you be back later? Had an awful dream about you and miss you
You know your kid’s not quite right when they miss you, lol!
She has a specialist’s appointment on Friday.
And was hoping to not be sick for that, but at least they will see how bad and how often she is infected.
She has no sick leave owing yet, as too soon in her new job, and feels terrible about both time off, and losing income for her savings for her upcoming trip to Europe.
My heart hurts for her 💔
She has just seen a doctor who gave her a medical cert for three days off to recover. Poor wee sausage. Will take around soup tonight after work.
I had a successful day at the races on Saturday, coming home ahead. For some weird reason, I have become relatively successful at punting lately! I never used to bet…Roger did, and it seemed foolish for us both to, we never had much money.
But BG reckons I am pretty successful. Very, very small time. A wee flutter on a couple is all, every now and then. I came home with more money than I went with, and my internet betting account is very healthy.
Yesterday, BG drove over as I had a work thing at the local showjumping event. He came too. #hardship #hatemyjob
His friends, seeing him post on social media, were giving him stick about his posh new lifestyle, hanging with the rich and spoilt, lol. I’ve taken him to polo, racing and showjumping events now. How flash am I? Hahaha.
(Not at all, and he scrubs up well at these events. I could tell he was nervous, as he was stressing about not having had a haircut. I tidied for him, I can cut hair…) It was his first time meeting my work team 😱😱😱
And he was so amused by my boss telling him that I was her Paula as she grinned at him and grasped me tightly away from him. He laughed about it when we got home, saying she seemed worried he was going to steal me away.
Cute.
And my brother was home when we returned. A bit flat. His wife, who has taken out the restraining order on him, was sending him a barrage of texts and photos of the kids.
WTF?
That upset him as he can’t thank her, or share the pleasure in them with her. It is against the terms of the protection order she invoked, for him to contact her or the children in any form. He asked their mutual friend to ask K to please stop for now. K’s reply? “Tell him to get over himself.”
In the next breath, at a concert, after snorting cocaine, she told the friend that she can’t wait to attend concerts with C, in the future, as they are best friends!
Wow.
No K, best friends don’t treat each other like this, my lovely.
Anyway, their movie. It was the first meeting of BG and C, and they chatted animatedly as I cooked dinner. BG gave sensible advice about calm, being the sane parent, and following all the rules. Keeping his mouth shut to mutual friends. That no matter how tempting it is, don’t bad mouth her to people who are still in touch with her.
We have also put him in contact with a good family lawyer in C’s city. He is talking to them now. And did a lot of planning, about an apartment and how he can furnish it for the kids and him.
Ugh.
BG was quite forthcoming with C last night. I was a bit surprised. Told him he now has a partner he can discuss everything with in me, work stresses, the good and the bad (he’s actually had a record good month, and doing amazingly well at work, after some tough times) that I am incredibly supportive, that he has never had that in his 54 years on the planet.
Naw. Talk about talk me up!
I blushed. I just listen and help out if needed. Reassure him, or suggest alternatives. Mostly it’s just being there really.
And he talked last night with me, after bedtime. Big time talking. Big real talks about feelings. About fears. About holding back as a protection mechanism.
About sex. Oh shit! I struggle a bit with talking about sex to anyone-who-isn’t-Rog (I was very comfortable to talk about sex with him) but did ask if everything was okay, was there anything more/less/etc he needed/wanted/fantasised about? He apologised, saying he thinks I am not getting enough, but we make love multiple times a week, we obviously can’t when we live apart, but there are ways of being intimate at a distance. And our actual, physical strike rate is still pretty damn high! Probably getting more than many couples who live together, and honestly? The longing of being apart a lot is a massive turn on!
About how much he is still pinching himself, sure I can do better (as I said to him, why is this a one way conversation? You could also ‘do better,’ but if we lived like that, we’d never be happy.) He looked at me and said he’d never been happier.
Ever.
And, so, emboldened, I got brave and said, “I think you know me well enough now to know I’m not needy or high maintenance. But I admit it’s hard to follow the only one you ever loved. Chrissy was special. And what if you never feel that way about me?”
He just said, “well, she was dishonest, and there was never this ease, or, bizarrely, intensity, that I have with you. You are quite honestly, way hotter, because you are real, and coy, and confident all at once, and your body is as amazing as the rest of you. I love watching you walking around naked, a feast for the eyes. You and I have a shit ton of stuff in common, my friends instantly fell in love with you, boys don’t say it to the terminally single guy often, but I was getting two very enthusiastic thumbs up from them all after their first time meeting you. That has NEVER happened. It’s different. But it feels real. Solid. Chrissy was a stupid fantasy, we didn’t even live together for long. A cross Tasman fantasy with a very fake woman. Fake tits, fake hair, fake smile, fake love. She didn’t know what she wanted.” And then added that I appear to be the real deal. A tough farm girl with a soft heart and a big brain. (Yeah, he said that, lol – as the book chapter was sitting on the kitchen bench, where C has been reading my thesis! How embarrassing!) He says it is massively attractive. But massively terrifying.
And he also said, “how do I follow thirty years of deep, deep love? I can see who you are, what you give. What a fucking idiot he was to throw you aside, you are bloody special. A rarity. Too good to me. So why did he? He’ll be back one day. And I can’t compete with that.”
I looked at the ceiling, and then, composing myself, fighting tears, I looked at him.
“He undervalued me. Never loved me. I might have struggled with that. But I’m not as stupid as he thinks I am. I can love him – or the lie of who I thought he was – but know he doesn’t love me. He prefers someone else. Pretty much anyone but me. He was so desperate to find someone, he jumped at the first who took the bait. Couldn’t be honest and have that conversation with me, be single and heal himself from his own stupidity first, just grab the first plain Jane who would have him. (My brother was talking to one of Roger and my old friends, and said that this friend is kinda horrified at how boring and lacking in flair Trinket looks. I told him it’s hard not to be shallow, but she must have something more than I do! C was cute and said, “his loss sis, K always called you a boss lady, and you are – weird as it is to say about your own sister – pretty good looking, stylish and smart. He’s a dumbass trading down. Desperate, I guess.”)
There’s no going back. And love can be different. I am loving the slow burn of us. We just keep getting better and better, from where I’m sitting. You’re lovely. Kind. Funny. Naughty. And sexy AF.”
It hurts so, so much.
And, he discussed his lack of children last night. We never have openly before. He’s so gorgeous with kids. And I thought he was okay with it. But he said he would have loved to have kids. But never found the right woman to do that with, despite three or four very nice women he has been in relationships with offering to have a child with him. I laughed and said, “you picked the wrong women the last two rounds! Go younger!” Chrissy is now 57, and I am early 50s. Fried eggs, even if I did want any more! He smiled and said, “nah, I’m too old for that palaver now anyway. I’d be dead before they grew up, even if I was chasing after younger women!”
So, I got my second ever big, heartfelt ILY this morning as he left, and a “miss you already. I’m scared about this.”
Another day sweltering in this heat. It’s crispy out there, and poncing about in a posh frock, heels and hat…not sure I’m excited about doing that. My partner in crime has messaged that she can’t go as has come down with a nasty vomiting and diarrhea bug.
Ewwww.
Anyway, was driving last night, listening to Pixies. Getting excited about their concert in a couple of weeks.
Long time fan.
But I nearly didn’t buy tickets because…triggers.
Big ones.
HUGE ones.
I bought tickets to their 2010 concert here, to give to my Normie for his birthday. We went, it was almost a year since DDay, and we had THE most fantastic time! I booked a room in a gorgeous boutique hotel, very Art Deco, and we indulged in everything we hadn’t ever been able to afford.
It was such a fantastic, wonderful night of love.
But most of all, it was me realising just how much I still utterly adored that man, despite his long affair with his ex girlfriend, my supposed friend.
Ugh.
Yeah.
That ended well.
So, I was extremely nervous about buying tickets to the same band, to take a whole different man I like quite a lot to.
And now I am starting to be okay about it. We have three other couple friends going, and it looks like my horse will be racing in that city the next day in the big Cup day meeting! So exciting! BG is stoked, and he’s booked us a hotel.
In other news, while my brother has been up here staying with me, my sister-in-law has now invoked another protection order.
In the wake of an horrific murder suicide by a New Zealand born man on his estranged wife and three young kids in Australia this week, police here are obviously taking newly separated women’s concerns extremely seriously.
I am not surprised. K is a controlling woman. C is a kind man, and he fucked up. He knows it.
But he never threatened her or the kids. Just got sad and attempted to gas himself and ended up in a psych unit when she understandably called the police. He’s completely furious at himself.
He got paperwork from the police station near his friend that he’s staying with for a few days house yesterday, that states he is allowed no contact with any of them. I am unsure of any time frame as yet, bit just spoke with him on the phone. He is remaining so calm and has had phone calls from both of K’s best friends’ husbands. They are all seeing that K is taking this waaaay too far, is a bit nuts herself at the moment. He is so sad. He’d thought they could just do this via a little mediation. He’s organised an apartment, and set up an automatic payment into her account for child support. Was thinking and planning how he could help during the week if the children stay with her. Her work starts at 5.30am. He had organised to have an apartment halfway between the city and their home, so he could go there in the mornings and do school lunches and school drop offs…
And now this.
Poor bastard. Now it is going to get ugly.
And expensive.
Exactly what he didn’t want. But he knows he just needs to do the right things, and wait it out sensibly.
She’s happily taking his money, but won’t let the children he has cooked for, cleaned for, bathed, listened to their homework, read bedtime stories to, loved entirely (as my kid said to me, on hearing about their separation, “oh damn, Uncle C is such a great Dad”) have the father they love be in their lives. They asked him last week when he was coming home. He had asked me about that, what should he say? I just said, tell them you will be back in town on x date, and will see them then, and they can call anytime for a chat. He was phoning them every day.
Nope.
He won’t now. Because he’s not allowed to.
I really did know K would get like this, but hoped like hell she’d remember who bore the domestic load, that the children are very loved, and be reasonable.
Ugh.
Why do people make it so hard on themselves and their children?
The good thing is, he’s listening, remaining calm and taking my advice about legal advice and just wants all of this to drive him to live his best life. He’s actually a very good man.
So, I asked him if I should call K later. C says K has huge respect for me, and so far we’ve chatted on the phone a couple of times. It’s been good. But she’s since gone scorched earth on everything. Panicked. Manic. In control.
