I love the honesty and responses on this thread. My first response was unfiltered, from the heart, but your responses made me ask myself some hard questions, again. There is a part of my brain that is accusing my tender heart of making excuses for being sad, or for clinging to my sorrow unnecessarily, for refusing to move forward. I've thought about it since yesterday, and I'm not sure it is that simple. I wish I could discuss it with less words, sorry for the length, again.
This year, finally, I have mastered the art of redirecting unwelcome thoughts, stomping on the ANTS, the automatic negative thoughts that drive so much of the hurt, letting go of resentment, anger and working on real progress. I understand the brain's addiction to repetitive thought and the chemical cascade that can keep us stuck in sorrow. I know, finally, how to access my untainted, non-triggering, happy endorphin generating memories to counteract the stress responses and the slide into negativity. It is constant, vigilant hard work. I see the intensity of my pain lessening, the time I spend in a pile decreasing, the days between breakdowns growing longer. These things give me hope for my future well being. But I know how big and wide open my heart has always been, and how easily I can and have been hurt in my life.
Prior to infidelity, the biggest hurt in my life was the loss of my father, whom I adored and admired as the standard not just for men, but for humans. He was the most kind and loving soul and maybe I got this heart from him. He had health problems for decades, cheated death a dozen times, and we knew it was a miracle he was still with us, but his death rocked me in a way I still struggle with, 14 years later. Like infidelity the pain has lessened, but the sorrow of his loss is very much with me, and I know I will miss him for the rest of my life. I buried him my father, focused on my kids and my family and my WH got a girlfriend and he hid his true self from me and misrepresented our relationship and his loyalty for a decade. These hurts are deeply entwined, and I view them similarly. I carry grief at the loss of my Dad who loved me unconditionally and the loneliness of a world without him in it. Now I carry the grief of the loss of the bond I had with my WH, which I know was real until it wasn't, and I don't see myself 14 years downstream any less sad over the loss of the life I knew and the innocence I carried inside me than I am over losing Dad.
My relationship with my WH was never supposed to be, I never saw him coming, honestly and on paper we make no sense. But he let me believe in true love again, he broke down my defenses and I let him into my most vulnerable spaces, and let myself believe we were a forever thing, true soulmates. I had given up on the idea of soul mate, or everlasting love and was adamantly anti marriage and had little trust for the motives of the opposite sex, beyond them presenting what they thought I needed to see to get me out of my clothes and into bed with them. I was determined to let my value be tied to me, not my body or how I made someone else feel. I thought I had built up all the defenses I needed to never be hurt again, was in a good place, solid and strong when I met my WH. We were coworkers, then friends, then lovers, then spouses, then parents, and I never saw any of this coming either, and I fell hard from the hubris of my life's false narrative. He let my worth to him become about my body, about sex, and that may be a factor in my inability to heal, origin story baggage.
I believed at my core that I could trust my WH 100% with my heart and his betrayal was inconceivable to me. My pain has much less to do with the sexual betrayal than with the betrayal of my trust and love, my reduction to object, not person. I am an extremely genuine, empathic, sensitive, caring and loving person. I am the worst personality type to even understand this, and worst, I thought he was one of the rare good guys, that I had found the ONE. I have a tiny journal I have been keeping for almost 40 years, and it is the story of us. How we met, all our adventures, trips, pets, careers, milestones, anything I thought worth remembering. It hurts to even look at it, but I have clipped together all the pages of our story that held secrets, lies and betrayal. It's a lot of pages, a chunk of my life and I cut myself some slack on my slow progress for that alone, because I know the odds of any marriage surviving such long betrayal are slim. For me, the hardest part is to realize that at the worst moment of my life, he turned away from me and inward to self preservation. Dealing with me made him uncomfortable because it made him look at what he had done and he prefers to pretend he is not that guy. Yeah. Me too. But I don't do pretend, I do full frontal reality in my life, always have, always will. It's both blessing and curse.
So. I am rambling, but in response to OP's question, I believe the answer is that many can heal, and do, but that not all are capable even if willing and ready. I'm not sure it's the deal breaker analogy, because I think that is a separate thing, a moral boundary, that may or may not involve healing. Had I left my WH, my healing would be farther along, but my emotional devastation would remain mostly unchanged. Some things in life are precious and unreplaceable, things stolen or lost to fire or disaster, and maybe the violation of those losses fade, but the wistful longing for what was lost remains.
I will reach a point where I know I have healed as much as I am able and that will be the best I can do with this wide open heart and wide open eyes of mine. Maybe there is a part of my personality or mindset that will cling to pain or prevent me from healing, I can't know that, at least not yet. I am not trying to make excuses, but connections and I think so much of our healing is tied to our inner selves, our individual stories and honestly, our ability to compartmentalize. I'm working on integration, and compartmentalization is counter to that goal. I can string together days of happiness, moments of joy, but only if I keep the truth in its holding cell. One trigger or one lazy peak in that direction and the sorrow, loss, regret, grief, hurt and deep disappointment that things didn't turn out the way my Story of Us was supposed to are right there waiting.
I'm not saying we should tell people things might not get better, I'm not sure I could have handled that possibility in the early phases of devastation. It is maybe a kindness to offer hope, initially, but maybe cruel for those of us wired to keep all our memories and feelings accessible. Had SI friends told me I might not heal in the early phases, it might have been more damaging than telling me I would be ok in 2-5 years. I think it is a possible that for some, there is no destination called healed, just a place that is manageable, and I welcome this discussion of not so much how to heal and eliminate this pain, but how to move forward managing it, like I do my grief over Dad.
FWIW, my Dad program is this: sad thoughts are countered with the memory of his smile, the sound of his laughter, the memories of all he brought to our lives and then I ask myself how he would want us to carry on. Not with sorrow, that's for sure. He had us play live music and hand out Mardi Gras beads at his service, because he never was one to dwell on sorrow but on finding moments of happiness. So I temper my grief with what would Dad do, and it really helps me and it helps me honor him. But if Dad knew what became of his charmed daughter's life, it would have hurt him as much as it hurts me, so I'm grateful he didn't live to see what has become of me and my storybook marriage. I do wish he were here to comfort me though, not going to lie about that. I miss his counsel at my core, just like I miss the relationship I had with my WH when our love was true and we had each other's backs against the world. The innate loneliness of realizing how on my own I am in the world is its own sorrow. I'm ok with that, I was before and I will be again, but it wouldn't hurt so badly if I hadn't allowed myself to believe otherwise.
I haven't found anything simple or concise to help me honor what my marriage was in the face of what it has become, except for our children and the love joy they have brought to my world. I didn't see that coming either. I read somewhere that having children or becoming a parent husks the soul. Truer words never spoken as far as I am concerned. Infidelity is a different kind of husking and my soul will never be the same, more raw and scarred than before. I'm working on honoring those scars and the growth they have brought me, even if it was unwanted and unneeded.
Again thanks for this post, for all these thoughts, and again sorry for my inability to write a short meaningful reply.