Healing

As I said in the first blog, months have passed since I began writing this series of blogs. When I first started, I couldn’t write the Betrayal blog. I sincerely tried, but it gave me a huge helping of PTSD. It actually set me back in my healing process.

I’m also acutely aware that our story could have ended differently had one of us not had the desire to see this through. The fact that it could have just as easily been me who unknowingly turned to another man is not lost on me. I, too, am human and make mistakes. This is another reason I try never to judge.  It seems as if when you judge, when you get all pompous and indignant and self-righteous, suddenly you find yourself wearing the same pair of shoes as the person you’ve judged. And that sucks. Out loud.

With all that I’ve written, readers, I still consider myself one of the lucky ones, for I am still ridiculously in love with my husband. He struggles believing this, as he sees himself as flawed. He doesn’t understand how someone can love him unconditionally, as he’s not had that outside of his non-blood soul sister and soul brother. His past relationships, including his mother and brother, have passive-aggressively withheld their love and used the silent treatment when he displeased or disappointed them.

He admitted to me he expected me to leave, to prove to him he was not worth the effort, just like the others had. He said he unconsciously did everything in his power to get me to ask for a divorce; he drank excessively, he worked long hours, he abandoned me emotionally, he chose work over our family time and time again, he was often less than supportive and sometimes unkind towards me. He was trying to get me to tap out so he could run away from the emotional growth that was barreling his way.

He asked me if his soul sister had posed the question to me about divorce. I told him she did, and my answer was, without hesitation, a resounding no. He quietly said he had not answered the same way; he had told her he was considering divorce.  With that utterance, what was left of my heart shattered and fell into my toes. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Hearing that was worse than everything else I’d recently experienced. My beloved husband. Truly, words cannot adequately describe how I felt. I just can’t even try.

But, as he has long said, I was not like anyone else. I was different than any of the others, and I would not give up. This is a conversation we’ve had often during our life together. He continues to expect of me what others have done to him, and each time I defy that. It goes both ways, too. He has proven to me that he is not like the others whom I have allowed to mistreat and emotionally abuse me. He rises above and helps me deal with – and heal – my fears.

The days and months that followed were the worst of times and the best of times. My husband was very attentive to my needs and had shown, through his actions, that he was committed to me, our marriage, and our family. He acknowledged that he had internal/emotional stuff to work on, and he was willing to do so. So much of what happened between us was leftover shit from his childhood. He said he never wanted to go back to being the man he was. He would take steps to ensure that didn’t happen.

When I would see an old pattern begin to re-emerge, I would gently bring it to his attention. He would listen, acknowledge my concerns, and then correct his route, if needed. He was always willing to hear me and often thanked me for using my voice. Several times, when I would say I was growing tired of using my voice, he would tell me he depended upon me to do so. When I became frightened, and this happened often (once bitten, twice shy), that he would revert to the man he was before, he would tirelessly and compassionately reassure me that wasn’t going to happen.

One night, in the dead of the night, I woke him from a deep sleep. “I’ve hit the anger stage in my grief process,” I stated. “I need you to listen to me. I’m so God damn angry at who I’ve become because of this betrayal. I’m insecure, frightened, and mistrustful. I NEVER thought I’d feel these things again. I hate that I was put in this situation.”  Notice I didn’t say, “You make me feel” because he didn’t. A person can’t “make you feel” anything; you do that all on your own.

He pulled me tightly to his side and said, “I’m so sorry, honey.”  I, with a strangled, mewling little voice that carried an indignant snap, said, “Is that what you want? Do you want me to be more like HER? If so, I can’t do that. It’s not who I am. I was taught to do other stuff that you used to love.”

Then my voice changed to a mix of anger and agony, “I’m just so fucking ANGRY right now! I am constantly comparing myself to her. I hate it! I HATE feeling insecure. It’s NOT who I am!” Then I switched thoughts and growled, “How can you profess to love me? Is THAT even true?! You’ve been adamant that nothing was going on with you and Paige, and yet there clearly was. What am I to believe going forward?! How the fuck do I even begin to trust again?” and then I burst into tears.

The next morning, I remembered a birthday card he had made for me when I turned 44. He had crafted 44 reasons why he loved me. I found it and asked if I could show it to him.  “I think this may help you remember why you fell in love with me and why you married me,” I said softly and hesitantly. “It looks like some of the things you hate about me now, you used to love.”

He stopped what he was doing, sat on the end of the bed, and read the card. His eyes filled with tears, and he cleared his throat. His voice, thick with emotion, said, “Thank you, honey. Thank you for saving this. I really needed to read this. I’d forgotten.”  He closed his eyes, tilted his head towards the ceiling, took in a deep breath, and said, “I’ve taken you for granted for so long. I’m so very sorry.” Then he stood and gave me one of his infamous healing hugs.

The days were the toughest for me. I often felt fragile, needy, and clingy.  At one point, I wondered what the hell I was even doing. Was this worth it? Should I cut my losses and run? What the hell should I do?! This steady stream of questioning caused me to burst emotionally at the most inopportune time. While driving to work, going 75 miles per hour, I raised my tear-filled, mascara-rimmed eyes towards the heavens and said, “God. I need help.” I then asked my angels for a sign and asked my deceased dad what I should do.

The answers were quickly delivered in ways I couldn’t ignore.

My dad came through and spoke to a student of mine who is growing into her Mediumship intuitive abilities. She said my dad kept showing her eight’s; 8.8.8 and then an eight on its side, like an infinity symbol. She expressed to me that she didn’t know what that meant, and she shouldn’t have; it wasn’t for her to know, but I understood. I had all I could do not to break down and shed tears of thankfulness and relief. 8.8.08 is our wedding date, and I interpreted the infinity symbol to mean “keep going” or “stay the course.”

It wasn’t long after that when my lil’ miss came home from preschool singing, “Let it go, let it go, let it goooooooo.” I thought it was odd as that movie had been out forever and we had not watched it.  I asked why she was singing that song, and she shrugged and said, “I don’t know, Mommy. I just wanted to.”

Thank you, God, Dad, student, and Mini-me.

It wasn’t all pain; there were a lot of good things happening, too. For instance, I was losing weight. I wasn’t eating, but that’s beside the point. I’ll stop here and interject a spiritual life lesson: Be careful what you wish for, as you just might get it. I just wanted to lose about 5 pounds, and well, I did.  I giggled insanely to myself at one point that I was just one betrayal away from my goal weight.

My husband and I were making time for regular dates. Granted, I still had to set them up and find child care, but he was willing to leave his work behind if only for a couple of hours. It felt nice to be just us again instead of being in the roles of mom and dad.

We were talking about – and healing – some difficult stuff. The Universe has put several (hundred!) situations in front of me throughout recent years for me to reconnect to my voice. It might have all been leading me towards these intense conversations or conversations yet to come. I would tell him when I felt emotionally shaky. He would quietly listen while giving me his undivided attention. He would ask what I needed or what he could do, and I would tell him.

It was abundantly clear to me that he was over “it.”  Ultimately, I keep going back to the only person I need to trust, besides myself, is my husband. I’ve come back to that line of thinking a million, trillion times over the last nine months. It’s tough to do, and as I said, there have been setbacks.  My husband continually reassures me that whatever “it” was is long dead and gone. I believe him, I do, but it’s still hard for me.

We have weekly, if not daily, conversations about what I’m seeing and what I need. He considers my requests with an open heart and an open mind. He sends me beautiful texts that tell me he’s so thankful he’s remembered how much he loves me. He tells me he would fail without me. He tells me he needs me.  I tell him I’m beyond grateful for how much and how well he loves me. I tell him that if everything is falling down around him, I will beyond love and believe in him.

Writing these blogs has been a blessing and a curse. It has dredged up many memories that I’d like to forget, but it has also catapulted my healing in a way I never could have imagined. I am blessed God gave me the talent to write and thankful I have a husband who supports my need to share my/our private life even though it has opened us up to ridicule, scorn, and anger. I am also blessedly thankful that God intervened, even though it was excruciatingly painful to go through.

I love this man more than I can even communicate to you.  A few of my students have energetically and intuitively felt the love I have for him, and it has moved them to tears. The word “Love” doesn’t even begin to encompass what and how I feel for him. What he and I have, I wish for all of you to experience someday. We are still in love, and that’s no small feat given all the water that’s under our bridge.

Our story, all of it, from the very beginning to now, is nothing short of beautiful. It hasn’t always been easy, but it’s been worth it. I believe in our love. I believe it will last an eternity and that it will transcend time and space. I’ve often said that if I lived to be a thousand years old, it would not be enough time with him, my love, my forever husband.

Afterword: For those of you who these blogs have touched a painful emotional cord, I’d ask that you please examine what it is inside of you that needs to be healed. Your intense negative reaction is NOT about us…it’s about something inside of you.

This is the fifth in a 5-part series of blogs:
Part 1; Affair / Part 2; Betrayal / Part 3; Revelation / Part 4; Aftermath / Part 5; Healing

~ For more background about this blog, here’s: “Communication,” “Vasectomy,” “Miracle,” and “Forgiveness.”