Those Pictures... Fresca: Andrew;
Why do I allow events of the past to affect how I feel today? Why do you still live in my mind’s closet, ready to jump out and frighten me when I’m alone and vulnerable, spending too much time in my head?
Today I watched my husband leave on a business trip, the first since we were married two months ago. He is not you, not anything like you. He has personal integrity, and consistently does the right thing both professionally and personally, even when it isn’t the easy thing. He is a leader, makes the hard calls without looking back. His coworkers, superiors, and the guys that work for him respect and trust him. You were always looking for the easy way, what will please the most people, what would make you look good to your friends (which was always more important than me or us). Everyone liked you, but they never respected you.
So I know I can trust him on this trip, on every trip. But I keep a few mental snapshots of you in my mental closet, and sometimes I bring them out and examine them to remind myself of pain that I never want to experience again. Today I am examining the pictures of the last business trip you took before my world imploded.
There’s the picture of the eagerness that went into your preparation for the trip. You bought a leather jacket and pierced you ear before you went – both completely out of character for you. You had been on hundreds of trips in the past twelve years, and never seemed as eager as you were this time. I was such a putz, not seeing those signs.
Here’s one of the look on my face when I found the 5 page letter you wrote to her after that trip, describing all the fun, sex, and entertainment you enjoyed together in San Francisco. It is a look of disbelief, shock, despair, fear, horror, anger and grief, all frozen in that moment. The edges are tattered because I take this one out often, memorizing the image, letting the feelings wash over me for a second or two at a time. I remember where I was then, and I see where I am now, and I know I can never allow myself to be in that picture again.
Another image, handled much less, is the one of you leaving that last time. In this one I am laying curled on the floor in a fetal position, my face red and puffy, gasping for air between my sobs, begging you to not go. I didn’t know you were still seeing her, as I believed your lies. I felt that my soul left my body, that there was no life left inside of me. I was just a shell, and I begged you to not go as if I was begging for my very life. It’s a powerful picture, and even now, years and lifetimes later, it frightens me. I see how weak I was, I see how heartless and cold you were, I see a picture of the moment of my death.
There are others, but my husband’s business trip this week has compelled me to rummage through the closet to bring these out. I look at them, feeling sometimes like it wasn’t me in those snapshots, and sometimes feeling as if all of it happened just an instant ago. I’m not dwelling on them, but I know that being able to look at them straight on and without fear is important. Someday I will be able to do that, without fear or pain. Someday.
I’m going to put the pictures back in the closet now, to wait for the next time a event, feeling, or anniversary demands I remind myself of what it felt like to be betrayed, discarded, lied to, and trampled on. Not because I miss you, or us, but because I need to remember where I’ve been and how I got there in the first place. It will help to ensure I never, ever go down that path again.
I miss my husband. I love him. And if it weren’t for you, I would have never found him. Thank you.
Really.
Re:Those Pictures... Spectrum: WOW, can I relate.
My STBX worked out of town six days per week, and had winters off. He started going to visit a mysterious college buddy that I'd never heard of in Chicago, and I was totally cool with that.
It is amazing all the signs we choose to ignore, isn't it?
I haven't had the experience in real life, but in every dream I've had since things hit the fan (the first week of January), I've been in the same fetal position on the floor, screaming and begging for him not to do what I knew he would do.
And reading those letters.... God, reading those letters is perhaps the worst part. That and overhearing the phone calls.... What a shock of cold water.
I'm glad to hear that you have found a *real* man this time around. I can only hope that I will too, some day.
spectrum.
Re:Those Pictures... barelybreathing: What imagery. One I choose to forget.....
Yes I was weak. But you know what Fresca? I look back at it all now and I think that I was really rather STRONG. I remained responsible. Compassionate. Fair. Impartial. Humble.
Despite my begging, my crying, my shock. To me Fresca, weakness is really one's strength. Because from that despair, something is ignited from deep within and it is amazing what happens. How I managed back then I do not know. But it was something from within that forged me ahead. That spark.
To me, your X and my X are the weak ones.
BB
Re:Those Pictures... brynne: Oh how I can relate...
Without a doubt the cheating was the hardest part for me to comprehend...I am still dealing with effects & hope one day I will move past the images. It make you question to good times, did he make the same memories w/ her ?
I had software on our computer, so I was subjected to their intermost conversations...they still haunt me to this day. Being referred to as "the Mrs", still sickens me to think about. All the times I begged him to just be open & tell me the truth, no he had to lie & tell me it was all in my head.
We are strong women & we will prevail, we have been thru hell & back, but were on our way to heaven...one step at a time.
Hope
Re:Those Pictures... Fresca: Thanks guys! The things you are saying help to reinforce the reasoning part of my brain, the one that tells me that I'm strong, better off, and the events of the past have nothing to do with my current relationship.
Hope -
I only saw the one letter, and it traumatized me so much, I can't imagine having seen more than that! It was absolutely horrible to feel so marginalized. And what's with all the lying, even after the lies don't matter any more? My ex lied about so many things long after I found out the truth, about things that didn't really matter. The continuous lying, from this person that I had once trusted so completely, hurt almost as much as the infidelity.
BB -
You are absolutely right. The Ex's don't seem to ever look at who they are, what they've done, and why. I have completely broken down everything that had been 'me', and rebuilt myself from the ground up. I know exactly who I am. I know where I am going, where I've been, and where I am right this instance. I know my ex just blithely swapped women, and gave it very little thought beyond that point. Very shallow.
Spectrum -
I blindly trusted my ex, so it never occured to me that I should look beyond his cover stories. That is one thing that my ex took from me that I can never get back - the ability to blindly trust the one I love. Unfortunately, I'm now a 'trust, but verify' person, and it's not something I'm happy about, either. I long for the part of my that was blissfully, naively, and naturally trusting. It's gone, never to return.
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