Two years ago, I posted this on Facebook. We were 2 months into couples counseling after a few years of general discontent in our marriage. At that point in time, I thought things were improving. He planned a surprise night in the city for our 23rd anniversary. This was at the suggestion of our counselor, depositing marbles in my jar (loving actions that were supposed to build new memories and help us move forward in our troubled marriage.) It was 2 months later that the bottom fell out, but it was this post that started the ball rolling. This post was shared publicly, like I do most of my things. It was seen by a woman in Seattle who turned out to be my husband’s affair partner.
This post prompted her to send me a message on Facebook which sat unread in a mysterious spam folder for the next 2 months, until one day I saw it. I have 15 screen shots of our exchange of messages that start with her playing the part of a concerned woman who didn’t like to be a part of some deep dark secret, but then end up with her telling me that she has genital herpes and my husband knew all about it but didn’t care because they were going to be together forever.
Before blocking her, I made sure to search her photos until I found the photographic evidence that I needed. In the background of a selfie she took of herself in a hotel lobby, I could see him. Nobody else would have looked twice, but I knew that slouch, I knew that shadowed profile, it was the love of my life. And that’s when Mimi really started to lose it. Everything that I thought I knew was a lie. The files in my brain were hopelessly confused and shuffling endlessly to try to make sense of what was real and what was an illusion. I pieced together evidence of 3 physical encounters that go along with the story from the affair partner. I immediately confronted my husband and was told more half-truths and outright lies. The flood gates were open though. We were in our counselor’s office the very next day and she was just as surprised as I had been. She referred him to an individual therapist that specialized in sexual addiction and for the first time in 23 years, I had a sliver of hope that we were heading into the light and now with the right kind of help, hopefully we would be able to get through this. You don’t just throw away a relationship spanning 25 years and 7 kids.
Having done enough reading about this over the years, I knew that I also needed some individual therapy to help me process what was happening. After meeting with his therapist a few times, I asked for a referral to a female therapist that I could meet with on my own. She was very kind and validating, but a little limited in her scope as she wasn’t a specialist in betrayal trauma. That’s my diagnosis. I am a victim of betrayal trauma, complete with PTSD symptoms, panic attacks, and plenty of other triggers that strike when you least expect it. Did any of this eventually lead to my myriad of health issues that I’ve experienced in the past year? Who knows…but it sure didn’t help things. It took about 9 months from D-Day (Discovery Day) until I was matched up with my own CSAT (certified sex addiction therapist) who has been instrumental in my healing. There was a waiting list. This is not a new or uncommon situation, and there is great need for professionals in this line of work.
From that point, it was still an additional 3 months before I had what was supposed to be a full therapeutic disclosure (FTD.) By this time, my husband was on his second therapist because he just didn’t like the first one. The second one was not very competent, and did not prepare him for what a FTD was supposed to be. Like the name suggests, it’s a disclosure of everything, and also a plan for moving forward. It’s essentially putting all your cards out on the table so there are no more secrets. You can’t build a strong foundation on lies. The FTD was followed by an intensive (and expensive) marriage retreat. We met a new therapist there, another CSAT, who took over our couples counseling. Once again, I was somewhat bolstered by the quality of care that we were receiving. I knew we were in good hands. Enter therapist #3 (finally a real CSAT) for my husband, and if you’re keeping score, we were on our 2nd couples counselor, and I was on my 2nd individual therapist. At this point though…we were well supported. I was attending a 12-step group for families/friends of sex addicts. He was attending the 12-step group for addicts. We attended monthly couples meetings through this fellowship. And then I got sick.
Knee surgery. kidney stone, kidney surgery, 9 days in the hospital, giant meatball-shaped tumor removed by a robot, genetic mutation diagnosis, muscle injury from positioning during kidney surgery, months of physical therapy, torn labrums in both hips, left hip surgery, and coming up in a couple weeks right hip surgery. Add in all the specialists that I had to see surrounding the Birt Hogg Dube Syndrome diagnosis…urologists, dermatologists, pulmonologists, ENT, neurosurgeon, oh and don’t forget the genetics counselor. And the global pandemic. And remote or hybrid-learning for the kids. But I wasn’t done fighting, I dragged him to another marriage conference which we both enjoyed, so much so, that he registered us for another one later this spring.
And then my husband decided to give up on all the therapy…stepping back into denial and refusing to acknowledge that he even has an addiction despite the specialized help we had finally found…and he walked out on me right before the first hip surgery a week after my birthday.
So much for “in sickness and in health.”
Pardon my melancholy, I’ll be ok. Just taking some time to grieve the life and marriage that I thought was real. With or without him, I plan to recover. One day at a time.
Mimi's Glorious Mess 