Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum


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Bitter bunnies

One thing I have learned on this journey to the new me, is that all of that nonsense about forgiveness, basically makes us feel not good enough.

When we don’t feel benevolent towards the OW, that is actually okay.

We don’t have to.

People committed grevious emotional harm on us.

I have been labelled a bitter bunny by Roger.

Lots of let it go. How can you live and love like that?

Well, ask BG. He’s on a lads’ golf weekend and breaking all the rules by messaging me constantly, sending pics, telling me he loves and misses me. Cute. Not even drunk yet, lol. It’s been one of our longer periods apart. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that jazz. He’s not normally a lovey dovey gushy ILY type. Apparently my bitter bunniness hasn’t affected my ability to be a kind person. To love my boy, my family and my friends, and be loved right back.

I have come to a place where I know that it’s okay not to feel benevolent to people who harmed me greatly.

Like the linked post says, forgiveness is not the way away from trauma.

And you sure as shit can’t force it.

Not “forgiving” in a traditional sense serves a protective purpose.

A darling friend in Sydney has found this out recently. She’s the sweetest girl. My oldest friend, J’s little sister. Her partner left her for a ho-worker. And E looked to be all perfect ex, kind and sweet about and to the OW.

She tells me the last few months she has instinctively started to unforgive. Five years later. She realises some things are unforgivable, and that is okay. It is about creating and enforcing boundaries. Making sure we are no one else’s future doormats.

I don’t feel the weight of it, as I was told by Rog that I do. I feel lighter for not “having” to forgive, failing at that, too.


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Our relationship was already over…

…following on from the previous post, it’s the most common theme in the cheater playbook.

Cheaters tell their AP’s all the time that their “marriage was already over.”

Yeah. Okay. I’m yet to find a betrayed spouse who was told that their marriage was over by the cheater.

It’s great retrospective PR. Spin. Huh?

Gaslighting 101.

They seem to inform everyone else but the person they promised to love and protect. We chumps are left blindsided by what apparently everyone else already knows?!

Oh, and our children of course…

Why do cheaters say this?

a) To duck responsibility. It’s blameshifting — weren’t you aware the rules had changed? You’re not very observant, are you?

b) To goad you into the pick me dance. They didn’t tell you it was over because they wanted to perpetuate cake. It’s too bad you know, but perhaps this crisis will provoke you to try harder to win them back. Kibbles, kibbles, kibbles. (How much hot and heavy sex did we have? Ugh.)

c) Actual divorce is hard work. Hard work sucks. They’re going to boldly strike off after that new life. You can clean up the mess. You’re welcome! (Who had to chase and chase and chase him to get a lawyer, get my Separation Agreement signed?)

Which brings us to the question of how do you properly END a relationship? Nobody likes to be dumped. And that’s the mindfuck — after you’ve been devalued (“our marriage was already over”), you’re insulted with the accusations that you’re just jealous and covetous of their newfound happiness. Tut, tut. You should take it better. Can’t you see you’re yesterday’s news? Okay, so maybe they went about it in the wrong way, but It’s All for the Best! Their happiness is what Really Matters!

And please don’t tell anyone otherwise, kay? It makes the AP nervous. We don’t want the new supply to be flighty, we worked so hard to secure that extra kibble. Can’t have it fly off and me be actually alone.

As my friend CK once told me about her cheating father’s second wife, who started as an unwitting, unknowing AP, once she found out that was what she was, she was stuck. Too many sunk costs. She’d invested in a liar, he had kids and everything, wowee, and damn, too late to make amends, right?

And these smooth talkers, these cheaters, they have honed their charm skills over the years. How else do they keep scoring women, well past middle age?

I believed Roger. When he told me he wasn’t doing anything wrong. At least five times.

While he was fucking Leanne.

When he “resigned” from the “silly” dating apps.

He’s very believable. Very loving. Very soothing. He loves you so much, right?

So, you can hardly blame some APs. The ones who genuinely are duped. Who know nothing of a partner.

But the ones who know they have one at home, but “the marriage is over,” because a proven cheater says so. Weeeeellllll…🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

Anyway, I better get going. My daughter is back in ED. She went to her GP this afternoon. Then x-rays. The incompetent ED doctor who stitched her up suggested no follow up. She has a broken jaw and looks like she will probably need surgery.

I have my sick Dad sorted, He’s finally turned the corner, and I can leave him. Phew.

Can I resign from this family? LOL.


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The Starter Wife

I had a conversation with a friend last night, who knows us both.

She was stunned Roger cheated on me, saying it seemed so out of nowhere. We were such an awesome couple, complemented each other, have the same sense of humour and take on life.

I replied, well, obviously not. I communicated many times how vulnerable I felt about betrayal and being the “support” partner. That affairs and secrets were avoidable. 100% honesty. Always.

Later in the conversation, our friend said this.

“He used you as his starter wife. You gave him everything you had. Your youth. Your fertility. Your labour. Your full support.

And he fucked it all up for some side pieces.

Now, he’s trying to be all the right things. All the good things he should have been for you, for that ho who he replaced you with. All the lessons learned, maybe? And she gets to benefit? I’d be angry as fuck.”

Yeah. There is anger. And outrage.

But mostly there is grief and complete frustration that even after thirty years of teaching him, showing him how to be authentic and honest….

But no. Lies and secrets.

He recently tried to blameshift.

“Reality was u were the driving force in our separation towards the end”

Um. Yeah, okay, but the reality is, surely you actually have a conversation and actually move apart and actually separate assets and actually agree it’s over before you even CONSIDER starting dating??? When you have healed a bit, and been single for a while??? He had at least three dating profiles.

For two years prior.

I had no freaking idea! We had talked. I was told he was waiting for me to finish my thesis, that he’d wait forever, that I was the love of his life! I never for a moment thought he had been interviewing for my replacement. Doing very thorough due diligence meeting all these Paula replacement candidates…

I even got – after the termination of employmemt as his ‘admin person’ (my son’s term for how his father viewed me) notice, of course – how they measured up.

Or didn’t.

Some examples:

Can’t cook. Not like you.

Boring dresser. Not like you.

Doesn’t get indie movies. Not like you.

Etc.

I’m sure Trinket has a gazillion things she is and does that are “better than” me.

I lost that round of the pick me dance. Unlike when I was dancing away by myself during Leanne, and won the competition I was surprised to learn I was entered in…

Anyway, love how the story has changed, and it’s all my fault. No apology.

Good score, Trinket, eh?

Maybe…


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Emotional murder

The Overwhelmed Brain talks here about how infidelity affects the betrayed partner.

And it is spot on.

Infidelity is one of the most challenging, and damaging emotional events in life. And the more you trust and feel safe with someone, the more powerful and painful it feels when it happens. It can be debilitating and feel like what I would call emotional murder. I hate to use that term, but it really can feel like one of the worst emotional pains you can experience.

Getting betrayed is like someone grabbing your heart so tightly it can’t beat anymore. You can feel it in both your mind and body. It can even hurt worse than physical pain because it is that powerful.

I trusted him 100%.

Implicitly.

Would have given you my children, and swore black and blue he LOVED me and he’d never cheat. I totally adored him. He was my life. My beating heart. He would always protect me, his Snooky Bear.

Until Dday. Whoah 💔

And yeah. Both myself, and my friend, L, have actually had real heart attacks over it.

How crazy is that???

She asked me this morning, “What is wrong with these women? Who willingly go into our houses, sleep in our beds with our husbands? Ewww.”

Yeah. I dunno. I guess if you are already cheating with a married man, none of that even registers.

My stuff is in my bedrooms at our holiday home. Clothes. Scent. Lingerie. She came and stayed in my main residence! Ewww! Gross.

Anyway. I also liked how the linked article talked about the level of pain. And how the pain is permanent whether together, or apart.

So much YES!!!

Infidelity can be one of the most painful experiences you can have next to losing a child. The pain that is created from the betrayal is nearly unbearable and much healing is needed afterward, whether you stay in the relationship or not.

Ding, ding, ding!

For sure.

By far and away the most painful thing I have ever experienced, and there have been many other losses and disappointments.

Interestingly, my oldest friend – who didn’t really understand early on – tragically lost her young son just over a year ago.

Horrific accident. Truly heartbreaking.

In my comforting of her in her (very socially acceptable, supported) grief, she has since come to understand my grief a little better – not fully, but better – even commenting that she sees my loss as deep grief now. Didn’t understand it earlier. And acknowledges that my grief is not socially acceptable. I do not have the public support she has to grieve. I have to shut up. And I do. Plaster my happy on every morning. She says that is a terrible burden. She shares images and memories of her son regularly. I can’t. My life was a lie.

Hence this blog.

It’s a safe space to purge the pain. Not Facebook. Not Twitter. Not Instagram. Not Snapchat. I’m certainly not doing a TikTok about it!

When you choose to cheat, or when you choose to start a relationship with a partnered man, someone who still lives with him, shares a life with him, you are causing unbelievable amounts of pain. And if you rationalise that the marriage was already over – as the cheater will no doubt convince you – but THE PARTNER NEVER GOT THE DAMN MEMO, that wee courtesy of, “Oh hey, I’m done chick,” you are just an awful person really. No self awareness. No education about how cheaters operate. No empathy for a loyal partner and all she has done, then endured during healing the wound he ripped in you. It makes a mockery of the past.

The woman he left me for, told me that she hated the woman her husband was fucking, and considering leaving her for. I think it is perfectly reasonable to hate an OW. You just accept it happened, and you have no say in your own health and safety.

Sure, the partners who fuck around on us are to blame.

No question whatsoever.

But that doesn’t give an OW a halo. She is culpable too. She knew he was hiding her from me and the kids. She knew I still loved him. She knew I didn’t know he thought he was single! She knew I still lived with him, we still slept in the same bed…

But, he SAID he was single on his online dating profile, right? So I must be wrong. Silly me 🤦‍♀️

I mean, he fucked Leanne again, two years after their eighteen month long affair was apparently over?

But yeah, believe him. The betrayed is just a bitter bunny, right? Because she was never enough. Not like your special sparkliness.

Anyway, it is what it is, and I haven’t slept. Heavy cold. Sick Dad. Big day ahead.

Go get ’em tiger! Love to you all out there, fighting the good fight xxx


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Betrayal trauma anxiety

I have it.

In spades.

It completely paralyzes me.

Last night, Roger needed to talk to me, about our eldest. I knew I had to. But I was absolutely terrified.

I can’t really explain it other than to say it’s a trauma response. I’m used to hearing his voice, and doing what he wants. It’s embarrassing. I’m scared of him manipulating me.

Ugh.

I wasn’t like this when I met him. It happened after I had his children. I felt disempowered. He had all the control. He wouldn’t even know that. I made myself completely vulnerable to him. And trusted he would always do the right thing by me.

Dumbass that I am.

I hate that there is fear and intense anxiety.

I was at the hairdressers and had to breathe hard and prepare myself for the phone call. I broke out in a clammy sweat.

Feel the fear and face it, Paula.

I haven’t heard his voice since November last year, and I knew it would affect me deeply.

It did.

The soothing tone he uses. Stabbed me in the feelz.

He called me by my name. I have no recollection of him ever doing that. There were a myriad of pet names. It was good, but also underscored that I mean absolutely nothing to him now. I’ve known and loved him for thirty-two years.

Anyway, I think I sounded confident and we had a good discussion and seem to be on the same page about our daughter. We even had a few laughs.

And I hung up and cried.

Hard.

Had to get my shit together before going inside to play nursey for my father.

Fuck.

Tears falling now, at work, too.


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Infidelity. Reconciliation v Divorce

I thought nothing could possibly hurt more than finding out your most beloved and cherished life partner had been betraying you, putting his unsheathed dick in dirty.

I really thought that. That I had survived the worst. My heart was utterly SHATTERED.

When he did it again, and this time, left me for yet another woman…the pain intensified.

My sweet friend, L, has just discovered this pain. Like me, her husband (currently, of over 25 years) had an affair. His was with a co-worker.

Years later, he has left her for a different co-worker.

And she thought the worst had happened. She didn’t even love him anymore (I did, and stupidly do, ugh.)

Anyway, it’s been about three months, and she has engaged a good lawyer (mine!) And is going through all the motions.

This weekend, it was the house appraisal. She’s an interior designer, mother of three young adults, and they have been renovating a beautiful old villa for years.

She had squished hsr feelings down for years. Thinking she’d get through. This afternoon, she sent me this message.

I replied that it was awful, and not fair, could I do anything for her? I understood.

If you have been cheated on, and reconciled, there is always pain.

We both know that.

But neither of us expected it to feel even worse if they did it again, and left.

How the FUCK do these other women do this to good women???

I have great friends.

Some are terminally single.

Some are happily married.

Some have survived infidelity, and know that heartache.

A couple have thought, like me, that they had survived infidelity, and then had it happen again, and have been cast aside for the shiny, new toy. Left to pick up the pieces, while the cheaters are all loved up in Honeymoon Land.

I ache, just thinking about her pain. Mine is still there, and I have a new life, worked damn hard to survive and thrive.

I even have a delicious new relationship, and to be honest, that was never something I wanted, or thought I would ever do again.

It doesn’t fix a broken heart.

It doesn’t reinstate your hopes and dreams.

It doesn’t make the memories worth anything since the cheater shat all over them.

Poor L, who has been an incredible friend to me, is understanding my journey even more than ever now.

The grief for what is forever lost.

The deep ache that never eases.

I ache for her as well as myself 💔


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Image management

Had vivid dreams about…sex with Roger.

And rape.

And the sanctimonious bitch his best mate is married to.

The night, just a month or so after Dday 2 – version Trinket point zero – that she invited me to a bar, after Roger kissed me hard and drove away to fuck Trinket. Then, when I picked myself up off the floor, where I was sobbing in the foetal position, wiped my tears, arrived and was chatting to friends, she floored everyone there by screaming at me that I was a fuck up. Her friends grabbed me and held me, protecting me from the haridon she became. Two of the crew shuffled her outside and tried to shut her down.

I remained super calm, wanting to yell back things like,

“Have your life blow up in a nanosecond, THEN you can give me advice.”

“Gee, I don’t remember hiring you as my life coach.”

“I don’t listen to sanctimonious, cheated-on-their-first-husband fucktards!”

Yeah, cheater solidarity? I MUST be a bitch, because he cheated, right??? Because she has always felt justified in her cheating, so cheaters ain’t so bad…

Everyone was in shock.

Yeah. I know I sure was!

You see, that was what Roger did. Image management. His cheating wasn’t so bad, right, because he TOLD everyone that I was a fuck up.

And you know what? I might even have been a little bit sometimes. I know his cheating, then lying more made me angry and miserable.

I had ensured eight years of being told to just get over it, after he fucked our friend in our homes for a year and a half.

So, that dream was fun. Especially when the lovemaking dreams followed. Damn we were good together!

BG had a conversation with me the other day about how, in general, I am so trusting and loving, when I have every right to be paranoid and suspicious. I just don’t operate like that. Maybe I should? I do know that my very occasional jokes about “oh, that must have been the other girl,” he has sometimes reacted to with, “it must be really hard to trust again.”

That’s the thing. It really isn’t quite as bad as maybe it should be??? And then I get paranoid I’m being played again.

And that isn’t BG’s fault.


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Tactics

BG always makes me message him when I get home from his place.

I ask the same of him.

This morning, he forgot to message.

And the above happened.

I must ask him how well this “leave something to come back for” tactic has worked out for him in the past! 😉😉😉

Not so well, it would seem.

My Dad has fallen a little bit in love with my barman. Raved about him. And said this, “not sure how this works that BG was never able to find someone to marry him, and I did?”

I laughed and said, “maybe he wasn’t really ever looking that hard, Dad? Commitmentphobe?”

Dad shook his head and said, “don’t think so. He’s pretty smitten with you.”

Doofuses. The pair of them.


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Full house

My wee place is just a 3 bedroom bungalow.

It was absolutely packed this weekend.

I have had my Dad with me since his hospital discharge on Friday, BG came over Friday night, and I had at least one kid every night. My poor youngest got a severe laceration on her chin, and 4 chipped teeth on Saturday night. Sunday night, she started spewing. I went over and collected her from her house, bucket ready. She came and tucked up with her bucket in my bed.

With my Dad in my first spare room, and my flatmate having just moved out, I was a bed short in the house. I have a beautifully furnished loft in my barn, but with a very ill father and a concussed daughter, I was a bed short. My plan is to shift my bed into the second spare room, and buy myself a new one. But I haven’t quite done that yet as my planned new ensuite bathroom has only just had its building consent issued. I was gonna see how that went. Instead, I have started to furnish the spare room, but no bed just yet.

When we went to bed (BG was still here, babysitting my Dad when I drove to pick up D) she transferred to my very comfortable and spacious three seat sofa for the night.

He’s gone to work, and now we need to book the sick girl into a dentist to sort her sore mouth out. I’m going to work from home and maybe try to decide on a new bed for me.

As I was up, in the frost this morning, feeding my stock (another new set of twin lambs were born overnight, and I fed the chooks and then gave my bees some sugar syrup…) I was thinking about the chaos of the weekend. And yeah, of course How lovely BG was. S, my eldest daughter, who stayed in the loft, messaged me to say how impressed she was with how lovely BG was with my funny, old, very sick and vulnerable Dad. I was touched. She said he really looked out for him while I was at the hospital with D. Made him cups of tea, cooked him his specialty, lush scrambled eggs, and ensured he took all the correct meds and was comfy and warm.

And she said their banter was cute. It made her feel good about how he is with me. Caring for my broken heart.

How sweet is she?

Anyway, feeding the animals made me feel a bit emotional today. New lambs (birth, our wonderful babymoons, the hard yakka of calving, springtime is exhausting on a dairy farm) and wondered why again.

Why?

How? How could he do this to me? I loved him. Even through an eighteen month long affair with a friend. It was hard. But I worked my butt off to heal from his treachery. The STIs. Subsequent cancer. I did two damn humanities degrees, trying to find answers and healing about why he hated me so much when all I did was love him.

I am far enough along this shit to know in my head that it was not me. Was never me. It was his entitlement to do whatever the fuck suited Norm best. But you still sit and try to untangle the skein. What didn’t I do??? What did I miss??? Why was I never good enough???

Of course, a full house means I didn’t get the kind of sex I wanted. Hard, dirty, intimate athletic sex. Instead, we made gentle, silent love this morning, before he had to leave. Normally he showers and gets all spiffed up for work. This time he said he wanted to smell of me as long as possible, so dressed here, planning on showering before he heads into the office.

It was lovely. But triggering. Rog used to say that often. That he LOVED smelling of me throughout his day on the farm.

I don’t think you ever get over the trauma and triggers. And I had my first tears in a while. Warmly running down my cheeks as I worked in the frost.

Now, to feed and sort the sick people. I’ve just made D a dentist appointment and Dad a doctor’s one. I also need to get about 6 to 8 hours of data entry in to catch up on all the missed work.

Here we go…another day. The lovemaking has to last me a while. He’s got a lads golf weekend this coming one ❤🏌️‍♂️⛳


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Conversations with my partner in crime

For the first real time since Roger had the affair with Leanne, I have felt supported.

BG runs a very busy hospitality business. With very needy clients, members and staff. And I have never liked to be a needy person. Am fiercely independent. I hate feeling like a burden. Always have. My life has always been about what I can give. And I have learned that I need to be open to others giving to me more.

With my busy, busy work, sick Dad, kid in ED, another kid needing a ride to the airport, and hungry animals, BG stepped up.

I spent 3am until 10.30am in hospital with the youngest. He offered to drive me, but I was happiest he was home for Dad. He got up, let the dogs out, fed the stock and horse, cooked Dad breakfast and ensured he was okay and had his “second breakfast” of pills, and got the eldest to the airport in time for her morning flight.

I haven’t had that support in years.

I admit, I felt lacking, because I wasn’t doing it all.

But also hugely grateful.

He just said, “you do loads for me. This is me being a partner, being there for you. This is what we are for each other now. I’m not letting you get away. I know that your ex, no matter what you think, will always know you were the one that got away.”

I don’t think so. He thinks he has his perfect woman now. It was never me 💔

My youngest took this of us at the restaurant last night.

Before she went out and got hurt!

Lord, do I loathe photos!