The View From This Side

So, how does a nice girl become a fallen woman?

Are people who have affairs shallow, selfish sociopaths who are incapable of love, don’t feel guilt, and will fuck anything that moves? Some are. We all know people like that. It’s certainly easier to believe that everyone who strays is like that, especially if your spouse cheated. But even my ex-husband would tell you that I’m not like that.

At the other end of the spectrum, it would be far too easy to blame my ex for my actions. But my ex didn’t beat me. He didn’t cheat on me or call me names or belittle me publicly or privately or control my finances or molest our children. There were serious issues, and while those who know us tend to agree that I was right to leave him, and understand why I did so, he did not compel me to cheat on him. I chose to do that.

From my current perspective, I have learned that (a) almost anyone is capable of doing things they never thought they would ever do, given the right circumstances, and (b) having an affair is incredibly stressful for anyone with a conscience. If you do such a thing, there are some pretty powerful forces at work. No matter how you decide to resolve the situation, it’s important to understand what those forces were so that you can deal with them; otherwise you have wasted a lot of time and effort and soul-crushing guilt over nothing.

Look, I don’t expect hugs or warm fuzzies, nor do I expect pity for or absolution from the consequences my choices set into place. At the same time, I do maintain that I am not a bad person. I loved my ex-husband dearly. I took care of him, I cooked for him, I washed his underwear, I picked up his drycleaning, I listened to him and supported him, I was responsible with our money, I gave birth to his children, I tried to give him a comfortable, inviting home. I traveled with him, I had amazing adventures with him. I was a good wife. And I put up with a lot of crap. Crap that objective observers, including qualified mental health professionals, have deemed inordinate. I always assumed that I was doing this as quid pro quo – when I needed my ex to make sacrifices for me, he would do it. That never happened. It slowly broke my heart until finally it almost broke my sanity.

Why didn’t I try harder, or put my foot down sooner? Why didn’t I insist that we work things out in counseling? Why did I choose to start a new relationship rather than make the old one work? This is the truth. I was in denial over how bad things were. I was so busy trying to convince myself that I was happy, and the things I wasn’t happy about were my fault, and if I could just have a better attitude, there would be no problems. I remember the precise moment, long before DB came into my life, that I realized I didn’t enjoy having sex with my then-husband. I remember thinking that there was no way I could ever tell him, that this was going to be my life of quiet desperation, and that I had made my bed and would have to lie in it (literally). And then I felt horribly guilty and tried to pretend I hadn’t just thought any of that. I didn’t understand that the house was burning down until I fell in love with DB. And then it was too late.

That’s the honest truth. I didn’t manage to get my then-husband into counseling until I had no intention of working on the relationship anymore. There was nothing he could have done or said that would have (a) convinced me he could or would change the behaviors that were slowly killing me, or (b) made me willing to give DB up. So I left the marriage as quickly as courage and resources would allow. It sucked. It was horribly painful. But not even in the worst moments, like when my children were there to see the movers take my things away (my husband was supposed to have taken them somewhere but didn’t), with all the neighbors looking as I stood in my driveway and bawled, even then, I was not willing to stay. It felt then, and feels now, like a matter of survival, like running for my life.

Not everyone would do what I did. Some people might have been able to turn the situation around, to commit to counseling, to cut ties with their lover. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

A mutual friend of mine and DB’s, upon learning what we had done, sent us both a scathing e-mail stating that we had done “bad and shameful things” and recommending that we cut off our relationship while we got our of our bad marriages, and only then would he be able to support us. Neither of us had actually requested his support; he just felt the need to volunteer his input. I haven’t been able to speak to him since. It’s not that I’m angry at him for judging me – I judge myself. It’s not that this wouldn’t be sound advice if it hadn’t been about a year too late, and if either DB or I had had any daily emotional support besides each other while going through the hell of divorce. But where I am is so far from this friend’s perspective that I just don’t have the words to speak to him, and don’t know if I ever will. It’s like trying to shout across the Grand Canyon at someone. You can’t convey any meaning, much less nuanced meaning, across a chasm that immense.

I’m not trying to justify myself. I’m just trying to give the view from this side.