My husband had an affair. He had multiple affairs. And then he left me. He left me broken. He left me wounded beyond belief. He left me devastated. He left me. He. Left. Me. For her. For a life without me. For a life full of freedom and happiness and new beginnings and hope. And I was left. I was what was left. What was left of me?
I have spent this year on my knees begging God to carry me through. Begging God to heal him. To open his eyes. To help him see truth. To know that his own brokenness was leading him to make choices that were not healthy.
I have spent this year crying my heart out piece by piece until I'm not sure that there are any pieces of my heart left inside of my chest. Just a hollowness that echoes daily, as the longing of what could have been haunts me.
And eight months into this hell, eight months of waking up every morning facing the truth of what my life had become, eight months of feeling the rejection every single second of every single minute of every single day, when I faced the final ripping out of my heart at the words, "yes, she's a keeper, she's who I want to spend my life with," I made the decision to be done. Done. I was rejected. Ultimately rejected. There was nothing more I could do. There would be no answers to prayers. There was no longer any hope. I was holding on to a rope that wasn't attached to anything. An empty tether. Eight months into this hell, I turned. I said good-bye to what had been and decided to really start over.
I was in a new state, in a new house, living a new life that I had carved out all on my own. And I finally decided that to truly move on, I would start considering if I could have a life without him. If I could have a life with someone else. With a legal separation and the permission of the man who I had once committed my life to, I sought out the company of others.
And now. Nine months into this hell. Nine months after he decided that we were not good together. That we could never be good together. Nine months after he said he was done. Nine months after he decided he couldn't be happy with me. Nine months after he sought happiness with another. Nine months is how long it takes to grow another human being. 40 weeks is the time of completion. 40 weeks later, he has changed his mind.
But I've already grown this new life. I've just given birth to this new person, and I'm falling in love with her as I'm getting to know her. I'm trying my best to nurture her and care for her and help give her the best start possible.
How can I go back to my old life? How can I re-open my empty heart to one who has ripped it and burned it and destroyed it?
How can I ever trust him?
With a child who has done something to make me lose my trust in them, I would take steps to make them a lot more accountable. I would make sure I knew where they were always. I would make sure they stayed close to me. I would help them stay accountable by removing temptations and give them tasks to increase their trustworthiness.
But how does this translate into a relationship of spouses? I can't even be there to oversee what he's doing because he lives in a different state. He lives near the woman he went to. He lives in the very depths of temptation - alone, without his family, in the midst of people living carefree lifestyles, among people who do not consider consequences to actions, side by side with single men and women who are looking for some easy fun, and in the same vicinity as the woman with whom he decided to share his life for an entire gestation period. This is not a recipe for re-building trust. This is a recipe for disaster.
I so badly want to just erase the past. I want to be able to give it all to God and have faith in my husband. I want to not have to deal with the consequences of everything that has happened. I want this hurt to go away. Instead, it burns and burns and a wall has now been built. I don't know where to go from here.
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