Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum

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Trauma. How not to repeat the mistakes of the past


I need to make good decisions going forward. I know my trauma caused so much indecision previously. This meant I stayed, in good faith, and got further abused.

I always thought I was strong, and fairly intelligent.

But I stayed. Thinking I could fix things. If only I tried even harder. Loved him as much as ever. I really did love him very, very deeply. That he would see my efforts and “reward” them with deep, faithful love.

Yeah, right. Dumbass.

I felt like the weakest, most stupid person.

But, trauma makes you this way. Rog never understood or accepted that I was deeply traumatised by his actions. By his lies. By his making my life’s work, love and commitment a farce.

I AM strong, and do have half a brain. Apparently. Validated for me by the academic achievement. It’s pretty sad that I needed that, and I’m very aware that there is “book smart,” and “street smart.” But I did need a way of saying to myself, you’re not as stupid as you seem. So, one man made a fool of you. But that was because you gave yourself to him. You trusted him implicitly.

Never again.

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Missing someone is always a bit shit. Stink being so far apart, and having not seen that barman for a while.

But nothing compared to how I pined for Rog when we were apart.

I can remember him coming back from a two week hunting trip, when our eldest was a toddler. He told me how the other boys were all so happy to “get away from the ball and chain.”

But not him. He missed me like crazy. Said it was physical pain.

I often wonder if he tells Trinket the same lies.

I still ache for him. Again, not this him. The him I thought he was.

The way I ached for him when I was in the UK, and he was off fucking the whole town. I mean, it was okay, we were separated. But I fucked no one. And ached for him, while we wrote to each other three times a week.

Ugh. He really made me believe we were destined for each other.

A fully grown, supposedly intelligent woman. FFS 🤦‍♀️

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Happy families

I have my eldest here. Yay!!!!

It’s so damn good! Constant internal smiles.

I missed my kids this Christmas. I knew they all had other plans, and that’s no drama at all. They’re adults. Partners, overseas, life.

But Christmas isn’t really a thing without family. Ever since Rog sold the family farm, and caused an enormous rupture in our family, then affairs, then he left me, Christmas has lost its joy for me.

But having my first baby, my darling big girl, under my roof, even briefly, is joy restored. I just feel at peace. Mother’s love is a truly wondrous thing💕

Family catch up brunch is planned. Then she and our youngest are gonna hang out. I will return to the beach and she will follow tomorrow. She has friends holidaying nearby, and we’ll play on the water…yay again!!!

I am grateful – so very grateful – that Rog had her live with him for the past few months, while she did parts of the practical requirements of her degree. Helping her financially is so, so good.

But not gonna lie, it absolutely rips me apart that the whore has my precious children, my most beloved and treasured people, in her life, that my kids probably think she’s sweet and nice. Yay for Trinkey, right?

It’s utterly agonisingly searing, constant, silent, unbearable pain.

Fuck her. She’s an utter cunt.

They don’t know that I drove to meet her, to tell her the truth. To pathetically kinda beg her not to steal my love. Fuck up the life, the future plans I worked my arse off to earn.

How fkn embarrassing of me 🤦‍♀️

How awful that Roger’s cheating caused me to be that pathetic. I never thought I would beg to hold onto someone who didn’t value and love me entirely.

But I did. I did that desperate, sad stuff. Ugh.

I just thought that as a former betrayed spouse, she’d get it.

Empathise with me, and leave my love alone.

If she saw me. Saw me lower myself to actually beg and explain his broken promises, yet how much I still loved him, that we had a pact to help each other heal. Ugh. Who even am I???

I’m a special kind of stupid.

I believe liars. More than once.

She gave me her word she would leave him alone. We hugged. Jesus.

But, she lied. They were immediately back in contact and planning how he would leave me. Dismantle thirty years, for someone he’d met on an online dating site. Known for just a few weeks. What immense love that must be, right??? 🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮

I’ll never understand how you just discard someone you told/demonstrated with physical affection and love bombing constantly that they would never love like that again, that they were the love of your life. But hey, he’d see what he could salvage and have a half love with her. Jesus. The bullshit I believed!

And never once has he ever looked back.

He has completely forgotten my three decades of unending, deep, deep love for him. All I gave, all I did, all I am.

Liars gonna lie.


So damn sick

I’ve had a cold brewing for several days. Basically started getting a sore throat a couple of days after my tetanus vaccination. Probably coincidence, but I wonder if being immunocompromised hasn’t helped. My poor old body is overloaded.

I’ve been struggling tonight. It’s moved to my chest. I can hear it whistling and gurgling, and I can’t stop coughing, trying to clear it, I guess. My head aches so badly. Worst cold I’ve ever had, I think. When the medical centre opens, I think I need to go see my doctor.

It’s actually a bit scary being this sick on your own. I should know, the cancer (surgery, recovery, then radiotherapy all alone) was actually pretty terrifying! What if I didn’t make it, and my kids ended up with the whoring Trinket as their “mother?” It was a genuine fear. I know my own mother’s death at 55 played on my mind a lot.

This is different though. Sitting upright in bed all night, because you feel you’ll drown. Not having anyone know how ill you feel, or whether you’ll get help in time if you need it. Very reminiscent of the takotsubo cardiomyopathy incident. When I eventually accepted I really did have something wrong with me and got to hospital. I lie here, waiting to feel better, or make a call about whether I need out of hours help.

I have huge respect for those who have lived alone most of their lives. It never fully occurred to me that there were these quite frightening nights. I know I explained this to BG after I started getting concerned last weekend, when I couldn’t contact him.

Speaking of which, I have an embarrassing confession to make.

The first time (through to the sixth time, lol, same night!) BG and I had sex, there were no condoms used.


Who even am I???

I look back and realise I was pretty devil may care. I think the cancer made me feel like it didn’t matter anymore anyway.

So, I asked BG the other night, what the hell were YOU thinking? He’s had a fair bit of casual sex over the decades. He had a nasty paternity scare for nearly a year, in his mid 20s. A girl he had been with a few times, who was a customer at the pub he managed. Claimed he was the father of her pending baby. BG said he’d used protection, every time, and the dates were never right. He went through that whole pregnancy, a villain in the eyes of many locals, for denying the baby was his. DNA eventually proved he was right. Says it was a terrible, awful thing to go through. So, he’s normally pretty careful.

So why not with me? He agreed it was stupid, and out of character.

The thing is, neither of us expected it. Neither “came prepared.” I had been with one man, ever, and he thought I was slowly thawing, the first meeting after I ghosted him for nine months! I was certainly not a woman who leapt into bed with men! Two grown ass humans who took a really stupid risk.

He says he felt comfortable because he and his immediately previous sexual partner had both been tested and showed each other clean screens before having sex. He hadn’t been with anyone since her. Well over a year earlier. But realised it was stupid of him to assume I was disease-free. He knew I had only ever been with one man before. But that that man was a serial cheater. He shook his head, and said it was not smart.

It’s weird what a life threatening condition does to your brain. I was also aware that I had been battling suicidal ideation most nights, and I guess in some corner of my fucked up brain, I thought it just didn’t matter anymore. I’ve always preached safe sex.

And then I did that! What a fuckwit I am.


From the betrayeds…

Below, in italics, was written by a betrayed wife today on a support group I read from time to time.

These men who go online and pretend they are single, all the while us loyal partners have no fucking clue. We (must have been just me…) talked about this so many times. Honesty. Openness. If you want out, tell the other person. No overlapping relationships! No talking to other people with a view to them being an exit plan. Roger did the whole online dating thing for TWO DAMN YEARS telling me how much he loved, needed and admired me, before he met one who believed his lies.

I had no idea. We promised to give me the time to finish my Masters (while I worked) after he cheated on me with our friend, in my homes, under my nose, for a year and a half. I was trying to heal from that betrayal.

Then we would review how we were doing. Honesty. No cheating. No talking to other women. I asked him for that time for me to achieve something for me. I had supported him for almost three decades at that stage. Now I needed his support.

The naivety of some women. A woman was telling me about this wonderful man she met on online dating site. She was telling me how awful it is for him. His divorce left him so broke he can’t afford to get his own place. He has been sleeping in the guest room for two years. He can’t even afford to pay for their dates because he is paying her so much in alimony. So sad.

I told her….He is not divorced and he sleeps in the same bed as his wife.

She wouldn’t believe it.

Knowing what I know now. I would never consider dating that man and at the minimum I would want to confirm his story with the ex-wife.

Comments included…

“He wouldn’t be paying alimony if he still lived in the same household. He can’t pay for dates because his wife would see the charges and get suspicious”

“Yup, I’m betting it’s a lie, because that’s exactly what my husband told women, we are separated and he lived in the finished basement (he never steps foot down there🤣) and they were all,”oh poor you having to be in that situation” while in actuality he was snoozing in our bed and I had no idea we were “separated “🙄”

Yup. So much that.

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I love this kid of a cheater!

This young woman! ❤


Who calls her Jesus cheater stepmother out.

Big time.

I think one of the most damaging messages society sends to children of cheaters is that they have to accept and be polite to their cheating parent’s affair partner. I know my kids are. But that all of them think Trinket is a stupid whore for choosing to be, and be with a cheater. Both girls have said why would she do that to you, when she had it done to her??? And my son just rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders at the stupidity and selfishness. Says, you can’t fix stupid, Mum.

But they were brought up to be polite. Respectful of their elders. So yeah, they go, smile, play nice.

All the while full of snark about her and her kids believing that their mother has found her soul mate 🙄

Yeah, right…

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How dumb was I?

I never knew I was ignoring red flags. I just thought Roger genuinely loved me, and would never tear my world apart.

Because I would never do that to him.

Or anyone.

Trauma bonded. Me.

Stupid. Can’t believe I believed him. I used to think I had high emotional intelligence…ugh.

This is the absolute truth. The love bombing at the beginning. And then every time I “almost” caught him cheating.

The love bombing he did with Leanne. Then Trinket. Constant texts and phone calls.

BG doesn’t. And hasn’t. He’s kind. And attentive. But not a bomber. When your brain has been trained to expect it, it is a little disconcerting at first. But now, if I get a sweet message, it feels real. Because they are rarer, they feel more heartfelt. Not just a tool to reel me back when I am freaking out that I have been played.

He doesn’t overuse I Love You, or I Miss You.

So this message was cute this morning. He also used ILY as he said goodnight last night after a late night phone call.

It melts me.

And it scares me. What if I give it all away again, and he’s just playing me?



Oh God.

Just watched this wee New Zealand film again.

With the barman.

So glad my hair was over the side of my face nearest him.

There might have been a little leakage. But no one saw, so it probably didn’t happen, right?

It’s kinda a bit like the story of my life, in a weird way, set to kiwi music I love. Even the action film loving barman was affected, I could tell. Too many suggestions similar to his parents’ obviously dysfunctional marriage. A few things that probably triggered his own cheated on broken heart.

He chatted to his mum for about half a hour yesterday. They are a bit cute, he tries to check in at least once a week. She is safely locked down in her rest home during the Covid-19 quarantine.

Listening to them chat made me miss my Mum. He talks about me (I was making pizza, using the leftovers in the fridge, still have only had to go to the supermarket just the once, day 20 today) like I’m a long term fixture in his life, not this visitor that I feel I am. He doesn’t make me feel that way, he calls his house “ours – it’s your place, too, baby.” He was telling her I am helping him stay sane, and keeping him well fed. I used her rolling pin to roll out my pizza base, and he reckoned it was the first time it’s been used since he’s had it! She laughed. Later we found a gouge out of it, and he joked it was probably where she bashed his cheating father when he announced at 75 that he was leaving her for a woman he had been secretly fucking for 30 years…

Afterwards, my friend, Kate, posted a picture of her lovely Rhodesian Ridgeback, and I showed BG, as his friends Andy and Ingrid have a sweet RR bitch called Lucy. He looked and said, “oh man, he’s lovely, what’s his name?” Nervous giggle, “Roger.” “Ah, yeah, well, that’s about right, your ex is a dog.”

Hmm. I thought that was interesting. We very rarely talk about the past. I have only ever given BG a brief outline about why my partner of thirty years left me. “He found a willing widow on an online dating site, and left me for her.” Recently, he was surprised to learn that Trinket was not his first affair. He looked at me, sighed, and said, “ah shit, so he is like my Dad, a serial, long term cheat. Fuck. That’s really hard. You’ve had a bit to deal with. You didn’t deserve that, you’re too good to me, too good for that crap. WTF is wrong with men?”

Well, I dunno. Think it is a strange thing myself, to go out and find someone new to fuck (up) rather than talk to their partner about what’s bugging them.

After Daffodils, there was a programme about the Australian Herman Rockefeller murder mystery. And again, a secret life of an apparently devoted husband and father…just like Rog. My friends still have some issues with the whole thing, one saying recently, “he’ll be back, Paula, this is just a weird phase. You two were meant to be.”

Um, WTF? No Karen, he won’t. A. That ship has sailed. B. You have NO FUCKING IDEA what he put me through, the damage done by the mind fuckery. That is not a man who is “meant to be” with me, FFS. I just smiled and said, “yeah, don’t think so, hun.”

I dunno. It does kind of underline how fucked up it is. That even outsiders are mind fucked by how suitable and in love we were (he seemed to be…)

Anyway, just a meandering post about what appears to be, as juxtaposed on what really is.

As the song title goes,

Crazy? Yes! Dumb? No!

Come on girl just come ’round
I may be crazy but I’m not dumb
Why’re you looking so down?
When you’re so wired?
Why go into town?
Come over to my house
Come on girl just come ’round
I may be crazy but I’m not dumb
I may be crazy but I am not too young
to love you
I won’t be fooled again
oh no

Then again what’s so bad about dying? (x3)
If I ever told you I was not afraid
I would be lying

Yeah. That. All of it. Still afraid. Still unsure. So much good. But is it what I want? Can I handle the stuff I can’t have?



It’s funny how intuitive my kids were about what happened between their parents.

This was a big thing they noticed. That as my formal education progressed, their father got shittier and shittier with me.

All of them, separately, talk about how pissed their father got about me studying.

So true. He likes his women dumb and submissive.

Damn. I kinda knew there was a power struggle, and just accepted that as long as he was nice to me, loved me so deeply, it didn’t matter.

What a fucking expensive compromise.


Smugness. Victim blaming.

I can’t tell you the amount of times I get this, “but surely you KNEW!”

No. I didn’t.

I didn’t know I was schlepping my carcass off to work every day, and he kissed me goodbye, then picked up his phone and texted or phoned his Schmoopie, Leanne. To arrange hook ups, or just share his day with her, as well as me. I did not know he was online dating when Trinket (and several other women, tens of thousands of texts, remember?) appeared. In fact, he denied both of these facts when I did ask a couple of times. His answer was always a snuggle, a kiss, and a “you silly thing, Snooks, it’s always only been you I love.”

I never felt jealous, or concerned I had a cheater. I honestly thought we shared EVERYTHING.


This is a theme that most betrayed experience. The smugness of the unknowing, or the unbetrayed (it’s a word, okay, 😘)

One of the worst things about being cheated on is others’ wrongheaded notion that somehow you were in on the deal. That you knowingly turned a blind eye. Perhaps you and your cheating spouse had an “arrangement,” wink, wink, nudge, nudge. The unspoken assumption is that you kind of deserve infidelity for being such an oblivious idiot.

Of course this is a way for the smug to distance themselves from the pain and humiliation of betrayal. Just like some folks think cancer and other sorts of misfortune are contagious, it’s easier to think we have control over Bad Things That Happen. It must be because you failed (unlike me). Blaming the victim is a nice little voodoo smug people do to protect themselves from the scary uncertainty that they too could be played.

I think I might have thought it myself, occasionally, before I knew my life was going to be blown up by cheating. “She probably knows, and turns a blind eye, poor thing.” Or, “she must be crap in bed/a demanding, high maintenance bitch/insert ignorant assumption here…”

I’m ashamed I never spoke up when I knew men were cheating on their loyal wives. It’s akin to not speaking up about domestic violence. Or turning a blind eye to rape. Ugh. This is so not who I see myself as. To be fair, Roger was always one who would say, “we don’t know what goes on in other people’s marriages.”

Great cover for a cheater, I guess.

I would now. I absolutely would tell someone. As kindly as I possibly could.

It is the most devastating thing, being fucked over, lied to, THEN, for good measure, as you are writhing on the ground (quite literally at times, curled in the foetal position, sobbing your eyes out) society judging you.

I still miss the friends I had to push to one side, or cull altogether because of Roger’s cheating (there was only one I actually culled, and I always knew she was completely toxic. She came as a package deal as the second wife of a dear friend. I had to play nice for far too long really.) She had an affair on her first husband. After Leanne, she told me one day – when it was still so fresh, so raw, I felt like the lowest of the low – that affair sex is always better than married sex. This was after Rog told me that he suffered from ED a lot with Leanne, that she was vanilla in bed, and he never came as hard with anyone as he did with me.

Hmmm, maybe she was right? Maybe he lied again. Maybe not. But why would you say that to a betrayed wife??? Was that being a smug, former OW, who OBVIOUSLY was so unbelievably amazingly skillful in bed?! As opposed to us frumpy-never-have-hot-connected-sex-with-our-lover life partners…

This was the woman who screamed at me one night, just a month or two into my agony this time around. I had turned up to spend time with her and my oldest friend in the world, when they Snapchatted me, asking me to drive into town to join them at a new bar. I was faking bright and chirpy, and she just laid into me. Like I did something wrong, when HE was having an affair right under my nose. I was stunned. And went home as her friends wrestled her drunken carcass out of the bar, oh fuck, what had happened to my nice, adult life???

Anyway, that was the end of that. I deleted and don’t talk to her. The real loss was the thirty year friendship with her husband, who I considered a very close mate. He helped me (kind of) uncover Roger’s affair with Leanne, and always gave me big cuddles during recovery, telling me I was a top chick for not chucking Rog out. He no longer wants to know me. And yeah, that breaks my heart. Not sure how my loyalty and utterly shattered heart made me the bad guy, but hey, one thing I do know is, you can’t make someone love you. You also can’t make liars tell the truth. Or other people hear your story, feel your truth.

It’s not pathological to trust your spouse. It’s what normal, loving people do. And that is why betrayal and manipulation are so very ugly. Because abusers take that trust — that social glue that binds us together — and they turn it on you. Use your loving “benefit of the doubt” against you.

And as if that shit isn’t painful enough — it’s that much more painful to have the Peanut gallery out there gawking and pointing and saying you were somehow party to your own abuse.

You can only be in denial about something you know. Betrayed people beat themselves up for being chumps. The deception is humiliating. In retrospect the deceit looks so obvious (he never answered his cell phone, she was a sudden aficionado of Brazilian waxes…) And of course, you probably had gut feelings that things were off. But your cheater told you, no, everything was fine. Or no, actually you were the problem. And you believed that. Until you couldn’t any more.

I beat myself up every day for not seeing what he was doing, for trying so damn hard to believe his words.

I so wanted him to be the man I thought he was, and for me to be his everything, as he was mine. I couldn’t wait to have him all to myself again, kids grown and launched. Ugh.

He just totally replaced me. One in, one out, don’t let the screen door hit your arse, Paula. See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya.

My daughter has just taken my debit card and had her car serviced, a doctor’s, dentist and optometrist appointment! She’s at my home now, waiting for me to help her with an assignment. It’s raining hard, my fire is still not functional, but she has the heat pump on. Greek lamb souvlaki for dinner. Bring on the mother daughter snuggles and some comfort food ❤