Defined by the Affairs - Who am I?

This is my first post, and honestly, the first time I've admitted to any of this outside of very recent therapy. My apologies if I ramble a little; I just don't know how to go about this. Clearly, all of these events are much larger stories on their own, but I'm putting down a bit of a timeline to give some context to where I'm at now.

I've been married since 2001. My wife and I have been together since 1998 and from the outside, most people see an idyllic marriage.

The first time I found out she'd had any sort of transgression was just before our wedding, and all I ever got was that a week prior "something happened" and that she felt it just made her realize how much she wanted to be with me... I'd destroyed a previous relationship over jealousy and agreed to not ask her about it and move forward.

About two years in, I had suspicions about a "just a friend" that she spent too much time with, talked about too often, etc. - but her denials and her telling me I needed to just trust her convinced me to let it go. Again, I moved on and put it out of my mind. A few other times over the next six years, things didn't seem right with one "just a friend" or another, but I didn't want her to feel like I didn't trust her and convinced myself to put it aside. At the end of those six years - eight years married, total - and I would never be able to just ignore anything ever again.

DDay was an evening when she broke into tears, saying she felt so guilty, and admitted that the "just a friend" I'd confronted her about two years into the marriage had been an affair. I truly loved my wife, and still do, and at the time of her confession we had an infant. I was crushed, but reasoned that it had happened years before and we could move forward. I got a very minimal sketch of the affair and told her I forgave her... but the pain, the anxiety, that soul crushing hole in my gut never really disappeared.

Another two or three years passed, again there were times things didn't feel right but we were moving forward so I said nothing. Then DDay came again, this time with her telling me she'd been sleeping with a coworker for some time and that she was divorcing me. Absolutely crushed, I moved into a spare room, resigned to what was happening but filled with rage, sorrow, grief... just every awful thing I could imagine. I tried avoiding her, we had blowout arguments... then, two weeks after she told me she was leaving me, the other man decided he was reconciling with his wife.

Suddenly she wanted to reconcile - I was so angry and so hurt I wouldn't commit to doing so and told her I needed time to think about it. That evening, she was taking pictures in lingerie for online profiles, making sure I saw her doing it and I knew why... she said as long as we were separated, she could do as she wanted, and by the very next night she was going out to meet someone for drinks. She left that evening and didn't come home until late the next morning.

We argued and after begging me to reconcile I stood firm that I just didn't know. This was so unacceptable to her that she recounted events from the night before in graphic, pornographic detail. She emphasized the things she thought would hurt me most and, if she saw something touch a nerve, she'd get more graphic, more detailed, and dig deeper and deeper, pausing once in a while to beg to reconcile and tell me how it all just made her realize how much she wanted to stay married to me - almost exactly the words I'd heard right before our wedding.

Eventually, I agreed that, although I was not ready to make a commitment, I'd see a Marriage Counselor with her while I considered things. I was stupid and agreed to see a counselor she chose... minutes into the first session the counselor told us we couldn't move forward until I'd committed and admitted that "all infidelity is caused by the husband". I sat there while she scheduled an appointment for us the next day and was told I had those 24 hours to make a decision - stay and continue seeing the counselor or be exactly the pig that all men are and abandon my family.

I left on my own to think, but no more than an hour later, my wife was calling demanding my decision. I was so broken and hated myself so much the only thing I could think about was by daughter, so I agreed and spent a year going to see that counselor, letting her poison me with so much self loathing that I started believing it. I apologized for my wife having an affair, for her leaving me, and endlessly for not immediately taking her back... this counselor would take nothing less than everything being my fault, something I inflicted on my blameless wife. Finally, we "graduated" her program and I vowed never, NEVER, again would I see anything resembling a counselor.

Over the next few years I hated myself for everything that happened, lost all value, and prayed to die more often than I ate. I didn't say a word about things that didn't seem right, but I didn't ignore them either - I held on to them, seething with self loathing and imagining the worst in every tiny crumb I found. Finally, after the same pattern I'd seen two years into the marriage emerged again with someone we knew from high school, I confronted her.

She adamantly denied anything had happened, became enraged, left the house, and didn't come home for two days. When she returned, I was in tears apologizing for accusing her - and she told me she'd spent the time since she left with him. She said nothing happened before that, but in her anger she thought that if I was going to accuse her of it, she might as well do it. Again she begged me to forgive her, and again, I agreed and told her the worst thing I could have... I told her I didn't want to know. After that, there was nothing at all I would know about. If I asked her and she was having an affair, I had already effectively told her to lie to me and tell me nothing.

So it went until eleven months ago. Last July she started telling me she was thinking about divorcing me, but denied any affair. Daily, I heard about how she was trying to decide whether or not to leave me, and near the end of September she finally decided to. This time, I honestly felt she was doing the best thing for her - the value I placed on myself was so low I felt like she needed to discard the garbage. One week is all it took, she saw a recently widowed friend of ours, and seeing the pain of losing a spouse in someone who couldn't have had a say in anything about losing their spouse and she came back, begging me to reconcile. I didn't fight it, I didn't feel it really mattered, and she admitted she'd been having an affair for three years.

The one thing she demanded was that I never ask questions about it. The last time, she'd sat down for hours and answered questions about all of the affairs she had admitted to, telling me everything I wanted to know - as long as I agreed not to talk about any of it ever again and nothing about what happened a week before our wedding. This time, she flat out would not answer more than who and how long.

Only recently, as I spiraled into darkness and came close to losing my job, I finally relented and started seeing a therapist. Four months in, and I'm seeing a lot of things more clearly... and I know I have to confront her eventually. I'm not there yet, but I know it has to happen.

The thing is, I've spent over fifteen years now dwelling on this one aspect of my life to such a degree that it's all I know. I don't have a single friend left - I abandoned them all and never made any new ones. I dedicated every moment she was around to her... and when she wasn't around, I wallowed and told myself what a piece of shit I was. I want to know who I am, but the truth is, the only things I can think of that has defined me in memory are the affairs.

I don't expect advice or support or pity. I'm just grateful for the opportunity to get this out in something other than a journal that I destroy as soon as it's full. Thank you guys for that opportunity.

20 comments posted: Sunday, September 1st, 2024