Success? Like, it’s hard?

I played second fiddle in my relationship with Roger.

The supporting act.

Mother. Nurse. Cleaner. Bookkeeper. Delivery driver. Etc.

Unpaid farm staff.

When he decided to blow up the life we had struggled to achieve, and I discovered that I would need to get back into the paid workforce to ensure we could feed and clothe our family, he got mad.

But as a covert narcissist, it was subtle. Undermining what I did. Sometimes publicly praising me, but in private whinging that I wasn’t doing as much to keep our home straight.

After Leanne exposed their affair to me, he told me he did it because I “abandoned him.” FFS.

Poor baby. Couldn’t use his words. I had no idea he was feeling so lost! 😂🤦‍♀️

So, I worked extra hard to heal from his betrayal. Reading, counselling, deeply self reflective. What was I lacking that caused his dick to fall into other vaginas?

While he refused to block her or change his number. Still communicating with her… fucked her again around the two year antiversary of her exposing their affair to me…

I kept working really hard on me. Trying to encourage him to look deep inside himself, to learn and grow from the agony he caused.

I went back to uni, and worked a few less hours. I won scholarships, aced my undergrad degree, majoring in two subjects. Topped my class in one. Second in the other. Embarked on a Masters degree that explored the themes around identity, home, loss, and growth. Gained First Class Honours.

And he bitched about my success. Ever so subtly.

But the kids knew. I didn’t. They told me after he left me that he resented my success. How awful.

Yeah. I didn’t see this while I was living it. I’d get A+s, and be relieved and happy, and he’d dismiss my achievements. Like is it hard to get 100% on humanities assignments??? Nah, must be easy, because Paula does it all the time. No biggie.

He left school as soon as he could. Not one for academic achievement, it wasn’t important to him, I knew that.

And I don’t think it’s the measure of a person. We’re all different. But I also celebrate and admire the commitment of anyone to achieve academic success.

To achieve any kind of success.

Still in the murk here of the very hard!

So, I snapped this wee glimpse of the aurora australis from my almost suburban deck last night to try to help fill my very shaky and scary cup. Missed “the good night” for the southern lights on Saturday because I was at a farewell party.

I am so tired.

So scared.

And running low on resilience.

Listen to your therapist

I saw a psychologist a couple of years after Roger’s affair with Leanne was exposed to me.

Rog kept insisting that I needed to see someone.

Get some help.

Because I was the broken one.

At the third session, the psychologist asked me something, and I responded about how hard I was finding things since Rog had fucked Leanne again, two years after the affair was “over.”

He sat up straight and said these words.

“What? He did it again? Went back to her?

There is nothing wrong with you. You are here thinking you are broken, and need to learn how to forgive, but your partner keeps hurting you, even when he saw how much he hurt you the first time you knew. ”

I was in a weird place. Not yet totally getting that Roger’s words do not match his actions. Because he SAID he loved me. Truly. Madly. Deeply. Forever.

I asked for more help. And Jason, the shrink, said, “are you sure, because I think he’s not who you believe he is. You are worth so much more than this man.”

I saw his … concern? I think he was a bit disgusted in me at that point?

Then referred me to Nic. The “expert” couples therapist.

Nic saw us together for several weeks, intensive couples’ therapy. That was when I started to see who Roger is. I was stunned at his lack of self awareness. 25 years together by then, and he was oblivious! Nic asked some questions that Rog just had no clue how to answer. Instead, he kept going off on bizarre tangents. My jaw dropped.

At the end of it all, a few weeks later, I asked Roger to leave. To move out.

He did. Lived in our maimai for several weeks. Told me he cried himself to sleep. I have only ever seen tears from him twice. Once when our eldest was born, and once when his affairs were uncovered.

Nic told me then that he had a very strong suspicion that Rog was a love addict. It’s kind of linked to sex addiction, but more about the attention, the idolisation of women than just the sex.

I have beaten myself up forever about why I haven’t just “got over” all of this. But I do know I loved, trusted, invested fully.

He never did.

One day

That haunting piece of sidelining, bench warming bullshit that Norm tried to feed me after he repeatedly stabbed me in the heart. I was lying there bleeding out, and he told me that I was the love of his life. That no one got him like I did. That we had such precious memories of a life lived in unison.

That one day, we’d find our way back to each other.

That fucker.

That got me.

And he knew it would.

I’ve ruined you. Mortally wounded you. Wrecked us.

But hey, I’m gonna run along, get my dick sucked, have a bit of fun with another woman. You just buck up, love. Get well. Heal. Regain your sparkle.

And I’ll be back.

What an absolute cunt.

And the worst part about it all is I still have dreams about “it was all a big mistake, “we” messed up for a while there, but hey, we’re back. Fully, madly, deeply in love.

And I want to cut out that part of my brain that allows this shit.

Therapy

More specifically, couples therapy, was something Roger never sought, nor wanted to attend.

I tried to get us to a therapist long before I had a damn clue he was fucking our family friend in the kids’ beds. But no, there was something wrong with ME. If I thought we needed counselling, I was wrong.

Oh yeah, of course. I had a history of making shit up (not!) It was drummed into me as a kid that lying was not an option.

So off I trotted, to the couples therapy that I booked, thinking that he loved me and would come along. I mean, why wouldn’t you?

But I went alone.

Because he was having an affair, and was terrified he’d be found out, because therapists are good like that🤦‍♀️

The time I eventually got him to a couples therapist, Nic, was about four years later. Two years after his 18 month long affair was exposed to me by his affair partner, my “good mate,” Leanne.

Thankfully, this therapist never tried to blame me or ask what I did to “cause” Roger to cheat on me. In fact, he was amazing at calling him out.

Quite gently but firmly.

He made me realise how good Rog was at diversion. At avoidance. And how utterly oblivious he was to the people around him! No idea his FOO were liars. That his mother had depression. That cheating on someone who utterly adores you is abuse, and has lifetime effects.

I was quite stunned, because what had attracted me to Rog initially was what I perceived as his emotional intelligence. He plays the game so well! Feigns interest in your interests to reel you in. So soft and kind. So loving. Nawwwww.

FML.

Nic made me realise that the way I lived wasn’t helpful after my partner abused my value system by cheating on me. My belief that if I was nice, and chill, that he would always value me was wrong. And needed an overhaul.

This, from his website, summarises me and what Roger took advantage of, to a T.

Being resentful isn’t “nice” nor “chill”

Here in Aotearoa, many of us were raised to not “rock the boat”, to “let it go” and “be chill” or “laidback”.   If you were brought up female, you had the added burden of having to be “nice” and pleasing.   All of these things are fine, IF you are not selling yourself out.  However, if you end up resentful, bitter and passive-aggressive, that is not very nice or laidback, at all. You are better off “making a nuisance of yourself” by persistently raising issues, rather than ending up in that state.

Same therapist told me after we finished with him, and I kicked Rog out for a while, that he was pretty sure Roger is a love addict. His best mate thought that was absolutely hilarious. Yeah, right. I was laughing. H laughingly called Rog a sex addict, how fabulous was that?

Hmm. Get better friends, Paula.

Because if a therapist puts any blame for a partner’s affair on the betrayed partner, they’re just doubling down on the whole messed up self-esteem thing. As Chump Lady describes,

When therapists encourage conversations about relationship dissatisfaction that led to affairs, they are subtly assigning blame to the chump.

Yup. If you stacked the dishwasher better, he’d have never fucked your friend.

Blame is blame. What we “both” did is more of an insult. To be chumped is to be unaware. Cheaters act unilaterally. So were you sleepwalking? Did you send mind rays? How did you consent to be cheated on?

So many people blamed me. I must be really stupid to not have known.

But no one knew! He was really fucking good at lying and hiding shit! He even told me that! “I surprised myself with how good I am at lying. How good I am at hiding the truth. Even the boys had no idea.”

Yep. He really was. Every time I got close, he love bombed me. How could he want anyone else when I was the ABSOLUTE love of his life???

And I swallowed that shit. Because it felt so real.

Anyway. Eventually, he decided to trade me in. Did not send me that memo. Just got online and started dating profiles. I had no idea he was doing that. Hours and hours – years even – of chatting other women up! Screening them to find one damaged and gullible enough to believe he loved her. Had one convinced in just weeks.

New wife appliance located!

Or, as our son said, disdainfully, “new admin person, Mum.”

Even though he still shared a life with his partner of over three decades, the mother of his children. Yeah, that tracks. We’re ‘separated.’

Sure.

Dumb cunt. That cuntfaced whore. I mean, come on, you utter cow. Lord. One day, maybe thirty years from now, she might actually get it. What she participated in with him to destroy me.

Ain’t that the damn truth?!

Body count

While partnered.

A good friend asked me today if I knew how many women Roger put his dick in since the day I moved in with him until the day we separated!

Lol.

I smiled wryly.

“I can name nine. Well, eight, I don’t know the name of the sex worker I know about. So, who really knows? Because he never admitted to any he wasn’t completely unable to deny.”

And she replied, “yeah, that’s the answer I was expecting. None of us knew at the time what he is really like. Man, he had us all fooled. What about you? How many dicks, or other body parts inside you in that same time frame?”

Again, I smiled. “One. I never thought to cheat.”

“Exactly. And since, there’s only been BG? That shows me who you are. You need to feel to have sex, right? A demisexual.”

“Yes! Not many people I know understand that. Or use that term.”

Strange conversation. I think she was just doing some cheater maths. How does this all work?

Funny girl.

Still sick, but slowly improving…

Telling

People who knew us, thought we were the golden couple.

So when it turned out that Rog was who he is, not many believed me if I told my story.

I soon learned not to tell it.

I have found that some other betrayeds have also experienced this.

And those incredulous “friends” say things like, “well, what did you do to deserve that? He’s such a nice guy. Must be your fault.”

Lord.

I can’t begin to describe how incredibly hurtful that is!

This betrayed…yes!

Roger played the victim. I didn’t love him. I “refused to forgive” him for his previous 18 month long affair with my supposed friend, right under mine and my children’s noses. So he HAD TO cheat on me again.

Logical, right?

Some thought we didn’t have sex. Couldn’t be farther from the truth! I don’t know many couples into their fourth decade together who have such wildly satisfying sex most days of the week. I know I currently don’t!!!

It stings. Not being believed when you’ve been victimised.

So I learned not to tell. To distance myself from those who believed him. It was like surgery without anaesthetic!

Insta-commitment

Roger “met” Trinket on a dating app.

Three weeks later, he was leaving me for her. A woman he himself described to me later as “no oil painting. But she’s kinda sweet.”

Vulnerable. He’s a knight in shining armour, coming to our rescue. All of the women he’s been with have been hurt, are “damaged” in some way.

I recall him showing me photos of his Trinket when she was young. “Look Snooks. She was kinda pretty back then.”

Jesus! I was so lost in the whole clusterfuck, but even then, I could see he was trying to justify his choice. It was so degrading. To her. To me. To women. I just nodded, feeling utterly wretched.

Instalove!

He decided to sell our farm (home) and move to a region he’d always professed he hated (don’t know why, it’s a lovely place – he thought it was full of entitled snobs) leaving lifetime friends, having no job or means of making a living, his dying mother and elderly father.

And me.

His loyal, loving, utterly devastated partner of 31 years, mother of his children, woman who had sacrificed her own individual future ambitions to support his. The lover who had stayed with him even after his long affair with his ex-girlfriend, a person I considered a friend. Even though I was embarrassed and desperately hurt by their treachery. Because he was ‘so remorseful.’

Hmmm.

You can see why I was blindsided and reeling!

Chump Lady counsels a woman in my position. A woman whose husband is engaged to someone else in just just two months. Sound familiar?

Trinket was dazzled by his kindness. His constant attention. His “insta-commitment” in driving the eight hour round trip to see her at least twice a week! Never mind that pesky woman you “are separated from” and her utter devastation at your betrayal(s).

He did all of this while living with, making love with, me. (Me! I did it again! I still fucking loved this serial cheating arsehole!  FML!)

This is who they are. People who cannot exist without the adoration of a weak antelope.

I must have been one when he met me? I think it’s possible. I was young. Had had my heart broken by my first love. Was struggling to find my purpose. University was not going well, I didn’t like what I was studying and had flipped from a humanities-based professional degree to a STEM-based one. Not nailing either. My supposedly in love parents had divorced due to my father’s cheating (sexuality). Life was complicated.

He love bombed me. We met. He then either arrived at my door or phoned me, driving into town every night after work with small gifts. Hand-picked flowers. Food. Grocery items. Taking me out for dinner. Drinks. Dancing.

Every night. We were inseparable.

And I moved in with him after knowing him (my first and only lover) just five weeks.

I was the weak antelope. And lord did I fall MADLY for his love bombing!

“This was not what I intended…”

Yeah. I heard this.

In response to the cheating and inevitable devastation of the marriage and family, FW looks at me with these sad eyes and emphatically and almost angrily says : 

“This is not what I intended”
Variations usually  include
“I didn’t intend to hurt you”
“This wasn’t supposed to be like this”
“I didn’t mean for it to end like this”

This makes me absolutely crazy with rage. I can’t even understand the logic of this. How in earth could these statements even make sense? 

Have any of you experienced this?

Bear. My darling. What did you intend?

Shall I suggest that you intended to never be caught? That you weren’t sorry when I didn’t know?

Hmmm…

I’ve changed

That is what ALL cheaters claim once they are unmasked.

So sorry.

Gutted they hurt you. (Who knew, right? 🙄 being cheated on is excruciating…)

Then, they “make changes.”

AKA pretend for a while.

They always reoffend.

Always.

Rog pretended he loved me – only ever me – for another eight years. So remorseful. So sad. So upset he’d hurt me.

All fake. Because for at least those last two years, he was actively engaged in online dating. Always telling me he loved me, he’d always love me, that he’d spend the rest of his life trying to make amends to me.

Other women who wreckonciled with “remorseful” cheaters also got duped, in tbe exact same way. Even if they think they mesn it, cheaters can’t maintain monogamy forever.

Like these two…

I thought he was different.

“Better.”

Not your common garden variety cheater.

Lord, I am so deluded.

Today’s the day

I have a big afternoon, with a meeting that will probably result in some very tough decisions. So, it’s been a really shit weekend.

I worked hard to try to distract myself a bit. I still have the remnants of a very shitty cold. But picked up and stacked two big trailer loads of firewood, gardened, and mowed lawns like my life depended on it. Gathered autumn produce from around my place and baked a feijoa and coconut cake.

This morning was an early start. Took my car (for how much longer I have a car, who knows, gulp) to the repair shop. I’m currently back in bed with a cup of tea and the dogs.

And I started to think about how different people are. That there is this line drawn. Those who are 100% loyal in life, and those who are fickle.

Those who – like me – just could never cheat. I couldn’t live with myself. People have talked about revenge affairs, but that just wouldn’t be a thing for me. I would never be able to forgive myself. However, quite a lot of the population are just fine with fucking people on the sly. My beloved, supposedly life partner, was easily able to allow that for himself. He feels no shame. No real guilt. Just was annoyed he got caught. As the saying goes, he wasn’t sorry when I didn’t know.

It’s quite an odd thing to me. How different values are created. I believe that him growing up around liars, and his older sister cheating with married men, desensitised him from the values that I hold very dear.

And I look at that in people, going forward. How they were formed. What is their background?

I admit that I am somewhat concerned for my children. That they have this Dad is a good time relationship with him. It feels like the abuse he put me through doesn’t count, because he’s always fun.

And I keep all of that concern completely to myself. Because you just have to.