The story of our relationship and his betrayal did not end there. While I did kick him out of my house we continued to have a relationship and try to make things work. We had good times and bad times, but the fact that I held deep resentment and mistrust for him always permeated every interaction. The fighting was pervasive, and my codependent behaviors consumed me. We went through a cycle of me hating him and wanting nothing to do with him, and him wanting to end things and me begging him to give us a chance. The problems with his drinking never ended. He continued to message, search and flirt with girls. He repeatedly disappeared and lied about where he was. I tracked him, called and texted repeatedly and begged him to love me and to want a healthy relationship. My depression and sickness became worse, as well as his alcohol use.
Then this January he planned a trip to Las Vegas to visit his mom. I knew it would be the end. Vising his mom really means that his son stays with his mom while he spend all night out partying. I begged him not to go. I told him that I knew it would be the end. he went.
While there he at first assured me that he was not doing anything for me to worry about, but soon began to avoid talking to me and completely ignoring my phone calls. I was tracking what he was doing on his google maps which I had been doing since the last time he cheated on me. yes, he was aware of this. The last night of his trip after completely cutting me out, he turned of his location.
When he returned all hell broke loose for a few days. I was so hurt and angry. He apologized and insisted that he did not cheat on me or talk to any women. He wanted to recommit and start fresh. I decided to do this and things felt better for a couple of days, until, one day when he was asleep, I looked though his messages to his mom during his trip. A message from his mom asked where he was, that she was worried, and his response was he had met a woman.
My heart sank and my blood was on fire. “What the hell is this?” I yelled at him. At first he told me he had been talking to a woman on the bus and she gave him her number. I knew that this couldn’t be true. Why would that keep him out so late his mother would worry. why if it was just a casual encounter, would he even mention it to his mother. Then after hours of lies, he admitted he had picked up a lady at the bar, and cheated on me again.
F@$&. All of my dreams were shattered again. I had spent six years planning a future, a marriage, a life with this man who I was so in love with and he had hurt me again.
That morning began with him not wanting to go on the family outing that we had planned. We had planned to take the kids to a nearby town to visit a museum and spend time in the park. I was upset that he didn’t want to go. He thought we should do something else, but came up with no alternate solutions. We fought again. Then we made up, had breakfast, and made love. I don’t think we ended up going anywhere with the kids. It was a Saturday in April, and I had been extremely busy with homework and just wanted to get out of the house and enjoy myself. Then a friend of mine invited me to a bonfire at her house. I tried to get him to go, but at the last minute he decided not to.
I went to the bonfire without him. It was nice to be outside, listening to the other guests play instruments and talk. It was very low key and I wasn’t drinking, just good clean fun. I text to check in throughout the evening, and I left around 1 am. On the way home I called him. He said he had gone to pick up food. I beat him home and when he arrived everything turned very bad.
He started to question me as though I had done something wrong. He was drunk and extremely mean. He accused me of cheating on him with other guests at the bonfire. Then he took off. I spent the entire night trying to call him, but he had turned his phone off. He had taken off drunk and upset many times before, but always made his way home. I worried he had been arrested or gotten in a car accident. I finally got a couple hours of sleep around 3 am. At five am I woke up and decided to go look for him. I drove around the places that I thought he may have been, but never saw his car. Then on the way home I saw it, parked just around the corner from our house. I pulled over to see if he was sleeping inside. The car was empty. I went home and started calling again. He never answered. My heart was in my stomach and I threw up.
So today I finally caved and sought medication from my doctor to help with my anxiety and constant perservating on my negative thoughts. I am now an official member of the Prozac Nation. I will be updating you on my progress, or digress.
I felt a deep shame about what he did to me. I was humiliated. I didn’t want any of my family to know, and I didn’t reach out to any of my friends. I had been through this many times with my ex-husband, and I didn’t want anyone to know that I had failed at choosing a partner again. I should have known better, and I most certainly should know better than to stay with the no-good cheater. My heart didn’t want to let go. It didn’t want to let go of him, but it also didn’t want to let go of the pain and entitlement I felt from being victimized. I was trapped between two worlds. Shame kept me from acting. I only reacted, and pretended. I pretended everything was joyous as I watched the birth of my granddaughter hours after finding out about his “mistake”. I pretended to not be a complete chaotic mess as we held a birthday party for his son with all of my family and his judgmental, hypcritical mother in attendance a few days after that. I pretended at work and at home with the children. I did everything I could to make it through the days without having a complete breakdown. I accomplished what I had to, but many things began to slide. I lost the ability to enjoy my life. It became all about survival. Everyone suffered the consequence of my struggle.
That was a year and a half ago. After that, there were a few months when he quit drinking, then a few when he only drank on special occasions, then only with me, then back to drinking all of the time. Our home was a warzone. I was devastated. I wanted things to work, and I wanted to make him suffer in the most horrible, painful, and humiliating way possible at the same time. I felt as though my heart was shredded into tiny pieces. I needed him to fix this, to fix me. Slowly our day to day life became more routine. Things were still bad, but no longer like an unpredictable raging wildfire. More like a slow mind-numbing drowning. I pretended to be ok, but everything was so painful and depressing. There were many fights, many broken promises. I found bottles of whiskey hidden in the closet or the trunk of his car. He would take off drunk after a fight, or anything he perceived as a fight, and he would disappear for hours. It was hell.
He liked to drink. He drank too much. He became aggressive, argumentative, and mean. He would stay up late and play his guitar on the porch while chain smoking. I disliked all of this. Any attempt to talk with him about it resulted in an argument. We argued all of the time. That night in late June, he stayed up drinking after I had went to bed. He smoked all of his cigarettes, and decided to bum some from the neighbors. A mother and her adult daughter, who for some reason were always up at all hours of the night. That’s when it happened, the first time that I know about. He was talking with the daughter. A young plump mother who had a gangsta vibe, dark painted eyebrows, and large breasts that were always displayed in low cut tops. She was always back and forth between living with her mother, who was raising her son, jail, and living who knows where. He had her alone in the wee hours of the morning and he told her he was out to fuck. The son of a bitch felt entitled. He is not used to being turned down. I don’t know if he planned on fucking her right there in the front yard, in her mom’s house, or if he would have brought her into our home to fuck.
I slept through the whole thing, but that morning when I had that horrible feeling in my gut and he was too hungover to communicate, I confronted him. He punched a hole in the hallway wall because I was such a bitch to try to ask him any questions. It wasn’t until two days later that he finally came clean about what happened. He said she turned him down and he came home. Unless he didn’t come clean about everything. Maybe she didn’t turn him down. Maybe I will never know.