My Suffering Is Only Temporary

All suffering is temporary.  All of it.  

“You’re going through some shit.”

“That’s an understatement.”

I am so wonderfully grateful to all of my amazing friends who love and support me without judgment throughout this journey.  

Maybe this is some obscure personal growth rite of passage into higher awakening.  I certainly feel my soul unfolding.  I don’t tend to take life with gentleness.  I am ripping the outer layers away to get to the center.  

“I am safe and rooted because I am loved by God and grounded in life.”  This is my daily prayer that is coming into my life.

I try to be my highest self. But just like every other human being out there.  I fail.  I do it again and again.  However, I try to piece together my lessons, so that in each passing moment, I am a better version of myself.

This is my coming of age story.  

Here is my confession, my very public confession.  I had an affair with a guy that I met at a bar only two hours prior on May 6th.  This is why I have been so quiet.  I have been walking through the dark recesses of my subconscious trying to gain meaning and redemption.  At this point, all the main parties  involved have forgiven my more private confessions.  I am working against my strongest critic.  Myself.  I think I am winning that battle, step by step.

I went out with my friends and my dad to a craft brewery.  I don’t drink, remember?  Three beers is apparently the magic number.  That is when my voice of reason goes dormant.  

Now let me preface this with, prior to this evening, I have only slept with a total of 3 men.  I am 29 years old.  I have had sex with my first husband.  I have had sex with my second husband.  I had a SINGLE one night stand that I stopped after a few minutes in between the two.  I did that out of revenge.  I didn’t like my motives at the time, so I stopped.

I am not perfect.  I had not spoken with my husband in over 3 weeks.  I am a grown woman.  I am accustomed to having a partner at regular intervals at this point in my life.  

I made a vow that I take very seriously.  I love my husband with every ounce of my being.  He is handsome.  He is a great father.  He is a husband that works hard at every aspect of his life.  He has put blood, sweat, and tears into this decade.  He has toiled and labored.  He is a good man.  A great man.  A profound man.  We have a phenomenal sex life.  Out of my now four lovers total, he is still, by far, the best lover I have ever had.  I will gladly shout it from the rooftops.  

But it had been a month since I had any physical and loving contact.  I am a mother of two children.  I have an active sex life.  I am accustomed to having physical affection in my life.  My husband was sending me emails every couple of days.  Then the last email said I needed to have the sheriff bring me to pick up my stuff.  He never sent another email.

Seeing as how I have not seen my 3 year old son in all of this time, I did not want to randomly show up into his home, only to immediately leave again.  That would be additionally traumatizing, and they are all just things.  I have everything I need to survive in my possession.

My dad said that he was angry, that my chances weren’t good.  My lawyer said he didn’t want to have anything to do with me.  My best friend said to prepare for the worst.  My other lawyer said he has likely filed for divorce, that this is likely a custody ploy.  

And, I was drunk, sitting around a bonfire.  I was sitting next to my dad and two of my good friends, having a good time in this sea of disaster called my life.  God, did it feel good to have an ounce of joy.  

My friend that I was staying with invited her high school boyfriend.  I had never met him, but I’ve heard her talk about him over the years.  She met her husband after she broke up with him.  They go cycling and do Crossfit together.   He was running the half marathon in the morning to honor his deceased mother.

He had the same build as my husband: wide, broad shoulders and a narrow waist, a muscular build.  He had curly hair.  If he had blond hair, the resemblance would be striking.  He told the same jokes too, the kind that you chuckle at, but are annoying.  You know the ones, right?  Dad jokes.  

He gave me a ride home because I couldn’t drive.  He had an extended cab truck.  It was red.  My husband’s was gray when I met him.  

He helped me up the stairs.  When we got in, he picked me up, wrapped my legs around his waist, and carried me back to my bed.  It felt so good to be held in a caring way.

And it happened.  It was like following a meditation.  There was no thought around it.  Like, it would have almost seemed like it would have stopped the fabric of time had I not followed through.  I’m sincerely hoping that within it, there is some deep universal ripple that has occurred from this single act.  It is my wish that many come into a higher level of consciousness from this act.

I did this very bad no good terrible thing.  I did it on top of the other very bad no good terrible things.  I did THREE very bad no good terrible things IN A ROW

We had court last Wednesday.  While in court, the lawyer said that he is filing for divorce and extending the no contact order.  The good news is that the court only required me to get a mental health evaluation and as long as I am compliant, this will be off my record in less than six months.  This isn’t a death sentence.  Even in this pain, I am tremendously blessed.

After court, I drove to my apartment complex. I sobbed in the parking lot.  The blinds to my son’s bedroom were open and I could see his toys and his little bed.  I sobbed so hard.  I am paying my dues.  

In my first marriage, I played the role of my father.  My father was the very utilitarian type.  He was very controlling to my mother.  He was a pretty gentle father.  If my mom didn’t meet his expectations, he would tear into her verbally.  Of course, the more he did this, the more she would respond in chaos.

I played that role in my first marriage.  I treated my ex-husband just as my father treated my mother.  And you know what he did?  He had affairs.  He had lots of affairs.  He also sent me to the hospital with a concussion.  

Although what he did was wrong, I have empathy for him.  I can understand why he behaved the way he did.  He could never meet the expectations I set for him.  I created an impossible scenario for him.

In therapy, this is called the cycle of violence.  Now, I’m not saying he is right, but I’m also not saying I was right either.  In a cycle of violence, what causes the spiral is the continuation of reactive behavior, from both parties.  Either one or both partners must consciously step out of reactive behavior to stop the spiraling, or it continues until death. 

We replay our childhood trauma as adults.  This is what causes negative interaction patterns.  This is why all of us are inherently flawed.  Every last one of us.  It is modeled for us in our childhood.

Unless one or both partners live in a conscious space, you live in a reactive partnership.  It becomes volatile and damaging.  Either you choose to grow in love or hurt in love.  There is no such thing as stagnant love.

I have requested Imago therapy, which delves into bringing childhood traumas to the surface.  We couldn’t make it because of my husband’s work schedule.  We read the books, but never did the exercises.  

I have been married to this man for 6 years.  I lived with him for a long time prior to that.  In that time, I could never meet his expectations.  Is it me playing out my childhood trauma of my dad, by me playing the role of my mother in this marriage? These would be great questions to delve into with a marriage therapist.  I’ve discussed it extensively with my personal therapist.  

For better or worse, the karmic wheel keeps turning.  Let’s see what tomorrow brings.

At least now I know what my pregnancy test dream represented.  

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