Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum

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So long

When I first found out about Leanne, someone told me it would take 2 to 5 years for healing.

Two years?! Fuck that shit! No way. I’d be sorted in six months. Right?

When the five year mark hit, I was incredibly disappointed. I thought I would be ‘all better’ by then.

It doesn’t work that way. Infidelity is always with you. That the person you totally trusted and adored could hurt you. It seems unconscionable.

I talked with an old girlfriend yesterday. Her husband cheated around about the time Roger did with Leanne. She found out a few months after me.

They are still together. And she told me she is doing some kind of new age unlocking thing at the moment. Can’t recall exactly what it is. But she admits she stuffs her feelings down deep. And she knows the damage has never been fully addressed. It is being pulled out now, and she is scared.

Yeah. Wish I had been able to. I had to talk, to cry, to blog. It was, and is, such agony. And the fact that Rog didn’t cut contact with Leanne, and did go and fuck her again two years later, just about killed me.

I am still completely furious and perplexed that a former betrayed spouse can’t see what she did to me. When I begged her to stop, that I needed three months to talk to Rog, to sort out why the hell he did this without leaving me, without telling me he thought he was done. Why he couldn’t keep his promise to wait for me to finish my Masters…I loved him. I told her point blank we had not separated. I had no idea he was internet dating!


Why believe the fucking cheater???

Why hurt me?

Why no empathy for the lies told to me???

I’ll never understand how you live with that.


Love is

Yeah, that is my definition of love, too.

Holding on and never letting go.

Not hurting and deceiving the person who is working so hard for you.

That is why I know my thirty years were a waste. A lie.

And why anyone who comes along and thinks that the cheater’s story makes cheating with them okay is a complete maggot, feeding on and rotting further the flesh of a thirty year love story.

Fuck all the willing affair partners out there.



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.

Humans are weird.



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.


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 other woman wins…

We know it. But holy heck, it’s hard.

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.

Although being cheated on might 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???


Memory floods

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.

These moments are hard.

But you keep fighting 💔💪

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Pain cycles

Big tears again on the drive to work.

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.


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.


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.

Anyway, and exhale, move forward, keep going.

I’m okay. I am going to be okay.

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Being human

Yeah. Being human.

It’s hard.

And wonderful.

But hard.

A lot.

Think the wee bro is realising about hard.

Multiple betrayal, discard and divorce have been incredibly hard for me.

But I was just discarded, and Rog moved on.

Unbelievably painful.

K, my sister-in-law, is going to make things even harder for my kind brother, C.

Poor bastard.

Doing it right 💔


“He just loves you”

Love is such a difficult word.

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!”


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?


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.”


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.



Men be like

Oh god!

I have to share this.

So funny!

My boss’s husband just came into the office and randomly blurted out, “hey, Paula, BG looks just like Conor McGregor!”


I had to Google to make sure he was meaning the UFC dude…

“Yeah, that guy!”

I am PMSL!!!

Must entertain the barman with this one 😉😱🤣🤣🤣