Lying here, far too late in bed. It’s warm and cosy, and the rain is pelting down outside.
Last night was weird. My therapist and I just talked about how I’ve been during the month she was in China.
Her first words to me were, “wow, you look really great. How have you been?”
Funny.
I’m recovering from boils, cold sores and strep throat. But apparently rocking it 😝
I dunno. I only cut twice in that month. We talked about that. What was happening to trigger those times.
The thing is, I’ve said it a lot, I do it when I can’t bear the pain any longer. When I want to stop living. Stop feeling. She understands. But wants to know the specifics of what triggers it.
So, I just told her it is always at night. And always when I remember how sweet, how loving, how tender Roger is. And then the mind movies of him doing all of the sweet, kind, tender, sexy things he did to me, he is doing to her. It fucking kills me. And I generally use diversion and self talk to try to stop romanticising what he and his Trinket do. Kirsty started to help me unpack it. She said, how can he have with her, what you feel he had with you? There is a lifetime of history, mutual friends, children, building a life together, you grew up in the same town, know the same stories, etc. It’s like kinship. Deep, deep connections. My reply is that the newness and compliance of Trinket makes her more attractive than me, the used up, sad and abused ex. I am scrap. Rubbish. Had it. Honeymoon sex. His tenderness gets me the most. Those kisses, that soft touch. Yeah, rough, urgent sex too (OMG!) but the soft, fawning all over each other, ugh.
She also asked me about my nightmares. Did they escalate after our last session? I told her about my MIL chasing Trinket with a knife. And we discussed what my MIL would have thought, and indicated clearly that she did think about Roger continuing to cheat on me. She was not pleased. Her favourite child. But felt so bad for me. I did love that woman.
But, I also said that I am finally starting to properly deconstruct my own story. My construct of who we were. I know I must have somehow idealised us. Because the deep, reverberating shock I felt of firstly his looong straying with Leanne, then the two year secret hunt for my replacement, means he never felt about us, as I did. That we were deeply, forever connected. That our love was somehow “special,” unbreakable. Ha! Sure. Told myself a really good story, obviously. That was never anyone’s truth, but mine. It makes me ache with such deep pain that I must have lied to myself. That my version of love is so very different to the man I love’s version.
Anyway, I asked if she was happy for me to go to fortnightly sessions, instead of weekly, going forward. We’ll get stuck into the EMDR again next time. To finish processing these very stuck traumas.
My therapist is back. So, session this evening. I probably need it.
I’m sick. And it brings out the worst. I hardly ever get sick. I usually just sail on through. The emotional pain has kicked this up a bit.
I was talking to a friend early this morning, feeling the loss of my “person,” so deeply at the moment (sick and needy, ugh, who even am I?) And she made me realise I am still completely shell shocked that Roger turned out to be who he is. That he just upped sticks, and moved on.
Just like that.
He never loved me.
I have heard, just quietly, that there are rumblings of discontent among his family. Disagreements about his elderly Dad. I feel so sad as I do actually love that funny, inappropriate, bigoted old man. But I’m also so glad that it’s no longer my circus, nor monkeys anymore.
Who did I love so very, very deeply for three decades? A fake? Someone who never loved me back? Just found me useful?
Meh. I hate being sick. Makes me fucked-up-emotional.
I feel like such a dick. Supposed to be all empowered and shit. And was made to feel like a naughty 12 year old when my boss gave me a 15 minute dressing down today when I arrived at work because my final year uni student daughter – who has no internet at home because they were cut off – drove to my work to use our WIFI (and probably just wanted a Mum hug too) apparently did not say hello to my boss the day before.
I mean, okay, maybe she didn’t. I asked her. I knew she had greeted all the people in the office when she arrived with her laptop, to work on an assignment. My boss walked in later. And D said she looked busy and stressed. So yeah, maybe she didn’t say hi.
FFS. Is this important? My suicidal, self harming shit, my daughter’s severe anxiety, is it important that once, ever, that my 20 year old did not say hey? I mean, my boss’s 9 year old turns up and licks everyone’s arse, but is the most indulged little shit, so very often. Rude and entitled.
I know it wasn’t about hello. My boss is bizarre about people using the WiFi. Um, it costs nothing. Unlimited. And we get guests to log into a separate system, that cannot infect, or crash our server.
Because I was in a relationship for my entire adult life, I am starting to realise how badly I miss having the support and protection of a man I adore. Roger always made me feel safe. He would never let anyone hurt me.
Hmmm.
Maybe not.
He has hurt me more than anyone ever has in my life.
To think he protects Trinket with everything, and doesn’t give a FUCK about my hurt, wow. It’s so foreign to me. And I am in a very vulnerable place right now. I really, really miss the support, the cuddles, him inhaling me, loving me.
I know some of it is being triggered by a nice man paying me some attention. Rog was a messager. Loved to text me all day at work, we shared funny moments of our days. We both have a quirky sense of humour, and a lifetime of shared experiences and “in-jokes.” I miss being valued.
By someone who isn’t me.
Work is super shit at the moment. Miserable. Staff. It’s awful actually. My boss was so fantastic during the super sad period of my living with the man I built a life with, and loved completely as he discarded me for a widow he met online.
But now. Man. She is under some pressure. And difficult. So, so difficult. Ugh. I am struggling feeling I am just not coping with it all. I am supposed to be Camp Mum. I absorb everyone’s shit, trying to be the go between, and the emotional support person. I am so sad about how everyone at work feels. And then come home, wanting comfort.
Have woken this morning with what is probably strep throat.
Damn.
My immune system was wiped out by radiotherapy a year ago, and I seemed to manage to avoid many infections, etc. I have been very careful, ensuring I stayed distant from sick people and constant hand washing.
However, in the last month, I’ve had three cold sores, a boil I ended up having to get lanced, with another one brewing, also on my face, and now this.
Last time I got boils, after the affair with Leanne was exposed, I got 11 of them, some together (a cluster in my armpit that had to be lanced, fuck they are painful!) some one at a time – three bad ones on my face that have left scarring. and it lasted for several months. It seems to get in your blood, and takes a while to work its way out. Rog eventually also got two boils, as well. On his head, and (oh lord!) on a testicle! Ouch!
So, bleeding and feeling like shit here, huge glands and can’t swallow. Life is good, lol.
So, posting me rocking a bikini, to pretend it’s summer, and that I feel well 😀
When Rog first announced to the world that he had a new love, and was leaving me (yeah, in that order, sounds about right, eh? No leave get yourself sorted as a single person, then consider dating), an old “friend” sent him the most disgusting message.
This “man” – for want of a better word – said something along the lines of, good for you mate, no one wants to be shagging the same old cow forever.
Guess what? That “man” has always been a fuckwit. The youngest brother of two good mates. He divorced my sweet, strong, kick arse friend, after 7 years of marriage, when they were young. To this day she has never had an explanation. He then repartnered, telling that woman (his now sister-in-law, ick) he never wanted children. Then suddenly left her after a few years, and quickly married another woman who he also quite quickly had two children with. He divorced her, with much acrimony. And is with another woman now. He also had affairs with Leanne. POS.
But, his disgusting message to Rog, about me, supposedly some kind of friend, being a haggard old piece of cow sex meat, ugh. How much lower can you punch?
It really fucking affected me. I am terrified that after all I put in – and yeah, I’m talking about sexually, I was the more adventurous of the two of us in that department – was I, AM I, just incompetent? A piece of going off meat? Fuck.
Raging insecurities.
I mean, I was fucking livid, and seriously nauseated that we know a such a fucking creep. But, I was also completely wiped out by his bloody horrendous comment. So, was I just a piece of worthless meat, used for my so obviously below par sexual performance? Did I deserve to be cast out, thrown on the used wives pile with the others? Gross.
What the fuck is wrong with these men? Congratulating an arsehole for sacking his loyal, insecure-due-to-his-affairs partner of thirty years, and mother of his children. Yeah, that shit deserves a high five, bro.
I know now what contributed to my roller coaster today.
Was sitting in my office, and flooded. A period. Again. WTF. I think I have now had eight in the almost year since the radiation was supposed to put me into early menopause. I have no idea if they are regular, because I keep forgetting to make a note! It’s never been something I learned, like most women do.
I’ve now had two more periods in this time than I had in my entire life before cancer. How ridiculous. And crampy AF. OUCH!
And yeah, the irony is not lost on me. Roger spent a lifetime with a woman who didn’t have the “inconvenience” of menstruation, then swapped her out for a menopausal one. So no menstruation, when the cancer treatment given to the one he infected with HPV starts to bizarrely bleed all over the show. Awesome. And at my age, I can’t decide whether it is worth buying, and learning how to use a menstrual cup, like both of my daughters, or just continuing on with the greenest, unbleached tampons I can find. I mean how long is this aberration gonna go on for? I’m in my goddamn 50s!
And fuuuuuuuck. It’s expensive to bleed!
One of my long term blog readers, Ease, wrote this gorgeous poem for and about me recently. I am so incredibly touched, and so very grateful to have this space and you people here.
There really are not the words.
“Once upon a time
There was a girl and a friend
Only he turned out being a foe
Sinking to the lowest of low
Hurting her in ways you can’t imagine
So she got terribly hurt
While he got free
Being brave and not wanting to fuss
She did her best in forging on,
Being as cheery as she could be
Buried the trauma in the ground
And put a band aid on the wound
So no one could see
Then as time went by
There came a charming guy
He seemed such a catch
They were a match
So when asked to marry
His wife she’d happily be
Being with him she felt surprisingly free
Couldn’t know then that he would cheat and lie
Over and over
Besides,
She made it clear to him from the start what she needed
And which boundaries not to break
Knowing what damage it does in its wake
When a spouse thinks of only one, instead of a whole, and an “us”
While being false and fake
And pretending
Instead of just ending
These promises would protect the bond
Make the marriage safe and sound
Make it all into what she needed and thought she’d found
Just stay committed and upfront and true
Be the best version of you
Since what you nurture will flourish
Be in darkness a light
Right?
Did he already then think it was just a fuss
When he first dated her
Or was it only later
This woman being a gem
She worked so very hard
On the marriage, in the home and the yard
In fact when needed she also worked away
Doubling her hours
Being a best ever spouse
Doing it all in the house
And how did he thank her?
By, unknowingly, going astray
Just like her father
Then decades later
It turned out he’d been multiply cheating
And suddenly he was clearly not the same
Because he realized his facade became worn out
The moment his fishing online came to light
Couldn’t take that he wasn’t longer that great
At playing the very best, loving mate
Still he continued the gaslighting
Biding his time
Acting so loving and kind
In between fighting and being mean
Acting the most needy you have ever seen
Should she then be the one to shame
For trusting or not checking every single meeting?
Hear what we say:
No way!
She again worked so hard
On the marriage to work
Did her part so many times over
While he took the path so slow it seemed
Or in fact, slower and slower
Until one day the healing for her was near
Finally the day of thesis came true
But for him it was all over
Or in fact overdue
Because he’d already laid out his bait
Knowing he wouldn’t wait
Suddenly,
He didnt even care
Couldn’t let her shine so bright
He just exited and switched off the light
Had all those secret accounts
While she wasn’t aware
Because he would always swear
he was “truthful and committed to her”
But now he just got up and got on his way
Starting over a new life with a replacement
In the midst of loving promises and daily romantic statements
Going for ease because it’s easier for than starting over
Than repairing the mess they create
Having no conscience
So why do you shame her
For feelings she harbors within
Towards the two making a relation out of their sin
After him having played with her feelings for years
And now having her face her worst fears
Once again
So what is wrong with these women and men?
The once who are cheating
Not the ones having loved so strongly
And why do you blame
The one working so hard
At home, at work and in labour
Why should she be faulted
For not getting the feelings so clinically sorted
Did you even listen or care?
Be fair
It is not her fault
That he went astray
While pretending to feel and to love her
Not her fault she got fooled
By a guy who at manipulation ruled
While following his whims and desires
Lighting up all those fires
Until someone would say
”Hey, I am free so please take me
despite you already being taken”
He couldn’t stand the thought of being less accomplished than her
Or was it a fear of soon being forsaken?
Besides,
You were not the one being gaslighted
By someone making such a show
Of giving the marriage a go
While never really being there, or try to grow
Instead stooping so low
Doing such damage
Then leaving her bleeding
While taking mutual friends in his tow
No doubt,
These people are good at what they are doing
How come else would they succeed in their fooling
Fooling many
And not only her
This she knew only later
When it was painstakingly clear
That the man she always loved and protected, cherished and had dear
Was to devastate and create her worst fear
Making her stumble
This lady is fierce and loyal and loving
Is strong and fighting on
So why do you wish to break
Instead of cheering her on?
Instead support and help her
Moving on
Harsh words are seldom right
In helping other people fight
The nightmares in their lives
That you know nothing about
Besides,
How can you even believe
That what you feel is right
In her situation
Without having been in her shoes,
lived her life
When you certainly haven’t fought her fight
What do you know
Of the web of lies he told her
Were you there all these years spying?
Clearly not, so stop pretending and lying
Be a supporter
Have a heart, lend an ear
Or at least pretend that you care
After all it’s not your heart being broken
On the journey to healing
Have some feeling
And be fair
With the wounded
Can’t you see how your words sounded?
What do you know
Of people hurting
Not much it seems to me
Because if you knew
Then why be so harsh
When those very words could be
A trigger to negative actions and thoughts
To anxiety and self hurt a key
A seed you sow
That might grow
What if the words you so carelessly say
Is pulling a trigger today
Is ending a life newly started
Making loved ones be parted
So let harsh words stay
Unspoken
To someone not yet healed
Therefore still broken
Let her take the time that she needs
In getting back on track
Let caring words and an understanding
Be what each day leads
Her forward in her healing
That is lessening the feeling
Of despair
Letting her know you are there
One thing I’ve learned
Is that when you’ve been burned
You might not actually feel, react or do
The way you’re sure of before it happened to you
So have a heart and lend an ear
To the wounded
In their healing
At least have some feeling
And leave the harsh words unspoken”
Thank you Ease. It is soothing me as I cling to a heat pack pressed into my aching abdomen tonight.
Our youngest daughter is 21 in November. She contacted me last night to help her start planning her party.
Which is exciting. I had a luncheon at my Mum’s house, to keep her happy, and a house party at our (Roger’s and mine) farm home for our friends, for my own 21st, which went on into the next day. Our eldest daughter didn’t want one, and the middle child did a woolshed party, with minimal input required. And, to be honest, I was in shock, having just dealt with Rog lying to me about Trinket being in my house (how fucking DARE she come and stay overnight in my home? She knew I was traumatised from him doing that with Leanne, and that I had issued a legal letter excluding her from coming onto my property.) When he lied and lied and lied about her sleeping in my home, it caused me to stand up to him and demand he admit he broke the legal agreement.
He kept lying.
I had proof she was there.
That resulted in him knocking me unconscious. It was horrific, and is the memory I am working on next in my EMDR. I am shaking now, as I type.
What kind of woman does that???
Anyway, of course, I am triggered. The happy couple will no doubt be in attendance at our daughter’s party. She never had to co-parent with her husband’s other women. And I fucking feel terrified and my stomach is churning so badly. Have thrown up at work.
Damn. Just when I am starting to feel stronger, wham! It hits. The pain. The heartbreak, the knowledge that they are all loved up. It makes me feel sick.
So, putting it down here, to try to leave it in cyberspace, as I try to gather the strength to face that cunt that gave herself permission to fuck my life partner, and lure him away from his life up here. Yes. I know he made that choice. Not her “fault” he makes cunty choices. But there is no way in hell he was moving there without her being the bait. And just a month before I’ve Met Someone Else, he wanted me to move to the South Island with him. I was super keen. But told him I needed to finish the thesis before I could look at properties seriously with him.
Fuck.
Two steps forward, one step back. Always the fucking way.
It has to happen. Roger often talked about his affair with Leanne taking my sparkle away from me.
That my whole outlook on life and myself changed. My sparkly self was gone.
Yep.
This weekend, I saw glimpses of that kick ass, sparkly bitch.
It’s been ten years.
I started to worry she had gone for good!
I don’t think so. I think the sparkle is still there, just has had a fuckload of crap poured on top of her. Her self esteem was washed away. Her feelings of not good enough coated everything. I felt ugly, old and completely drained of any lovability.
I had always visualised, and imagined me coming out of this horrendous crap, better, brighter, stronger, more desirable (to myself) than ever! Right from DDay.
This week it will be a year since my last radiotherapy treatment. Cancer laid me emotionally very low, after his next affair, and ultimately throwing me on the scrapheap of his life.
I think the diamond has spent a lot of time in the heat of this fire. I really hope that glimpse of sparkle is who I am really becoming. I feel my latent power building again. Slowly. Slowly.
Fuck the cheaters and the fucking horses they rode in on. Fuck them taking my power, my self esteem away from me.
Have had a really lovely weekend at the beach. And just pulled over, driving home, thinking how amazing this gorgeous late autumn weather is.
So totally beautiful.
I am so blessed to have so much wonder and privilege in my life. Home now to comfort an anxious student daughter, vomiting with anxiety over a presentation she is giving tomorrow morning. And to fill out some paperwork for finance for my new business, and two EOI applications for said business.
I really do operate well. But the heartache is still incredibly real, and it will probably never go away, no matter how good the rest of my life is.
Tearing at the Fabric 