#9 – Moving ‘one tiny step’ forward

January came all too soon…. I say that because on New Year’s Eve, there’s this feeling of getting rid of the sh*t from the previous year and embracing the unknowns of the next – starting afresh and planning new and exciting adventures.

Nope. I couldn’t even think straight, and I tried to take comfort in the fact that I have actually always struggled with New Year’s Eve. I party with the best of them, but deep down I often have this sense of pressure. A slight guilt about what I should have achieved from the last year but didn’t, and feeling compelled to make changes for the new year that can be overwhelming. Reality check: I was in the midst of a life changing event. I was living in a foggy haze, and I had no know-how as to how to manage the enormity of what life had just thrown at me.

He’d promised he wasn’t in touch with her anymore, but he’d lied so much that it no longer really mattered what he actually said – my trust in him was smashed to smithereens, and that was the one thing I was clear about – I now knew, I would never know the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

I had suggested to him about turning his phone tracker on and me having full access to his messages but he almost laughed in my face, preaching about how the ‘nanny state’ had taken over our freedom or the like. I wasn’t going to win that, so I piped down, passive and easily defeated as always. I kind of knew that wasn’t the answer. You just find other ways around obstacles don’t you? Everything felt pointless and futile. You know that statue in Switzerland called ‘Grief Speaks’? It’s of a man sitting down, hunched over with an empty chest. That’s pretty much how I felt, although a few spikes coming out of the head of that statue would have depicted the chaos in my brain rather neatly too.

In the first week of January, I decided to take my daughter to my parents’ house for a few days. Alone for a few days of R&R. You may think ditching him for a period of time was an odd thing to do because up until this point, I hadn’t wanted him out of my sight so that I could check his every move, but as I mentioned, I no longer cared what he was up to. I had no way of knowing the truth, so I had to learn not be the paranoid schizophrenic I had become about being away from him.

Let’s face it, this was almost an impossible task. I cared at every second, of every minute, of every day where he was, and what he was doing, but I knew his words were meaningless and his whereabouts were uncertain, and there was diddly squat that I could do about it. I suppose I was trying to re-train my brain to not care anymore, to re-frame my thoughts. But I needed serious help! I needed a plan, and therapy was the only constructive way forward. Thank the Lord for Emma.

After Emma had heard me sob my way through my story, I remember quite vividly the silence and the question she asked, “What are you going to do?” Silence. I had nothing to say. “What are your options?” Silence. I simply sat there sobbing my heart out. I had no words to answer these questions. It was gut wrenchingly, painfully sad. I was utterly speechless, confused, and finally I just looked at her, desperately thinking help me. Please help me. And knowingly, she responded, “You’re still in shock and because you’re in shock, it’s too soon to make such difficult decisions or even think about what the options might be”. I felt an instant calmness in my body, perhaps this was the first time my feelings had been validated and it meant a lot.

Firstly, Emma told me about grief and its stages; shock being the first stage. It helped. She also told me about the infidelity guru, Esther Perel, and if you’re going through this, you MUST listen to her podcast about ‘re-thinking infidelity’. It’s amazing, and it helped me so much in those early days.

Here’s the link if you need it:

Together we worked out that I couldn’t leave him because I still loved him, and I couldn’t stay because I didn’t trust him. So, the third option was the one I went with. I decided to throw caution to the wind and open up our marriage.

If anyone reading this is thinking, ‘That’s a good idea; until you make up your minds, play about a bit and have some fun!’, you are wrong. When your marriage has hit rock bottom and it’s vulnerable and broken, never ever think that an open marriage is going to be a good solution. I can assure you it is not.

The Open Marriage concept had been raised during one of our ‘What are we going to do?’ conversations since the affair had been outed. D had already presented me the idea of what he referred to as a ‘tolerant’ relationship. This meant that if you go out and pull, the other would be ‘tolerant’. I mean – WTF! I am smirking as I write because surely this is just semantics… a ‘tolerant’ relationship is obviously just another name for an ‘open’ relationship or a bleedin’ affair. Am I right?

Anyhow, when I got back to my parents’ house after that counselling session, in my now normal manic state, I candidly downloaded the Bumble app. I had heard of it before so let’s give it a whirl.

Can you imagine – after 20 years of a monogamous marriage, I was downloading a dating app. Freaked out? Reckless? Stupid? Naïve? All of those and the rest, but I’m brave too. I’m proud of being brave. I hadn’t even snogged another man in over 20 years but I was about to get my big girl pants on and get back out there…. Yikes x 1m!
Here’s what my Bumble profile said:

If you fancy a few drinks in a good honest pub talking about anything from politics to I’m a celebrity – then let’s do it!  Long walks in the wind and rain with a dog, and partying hard with friends in the local karaoke room. 
I’m quite ‘normal’ and not keen on complicated situations and head f*cks.  A few fun dates and good times will suit me perfectly. 

I just read that out loud to my BF who’s sitting next to me, and I said, “Wow. That’s terrible isn’t it”. She said, “It makes you sound like you want a shag” and that’s spot on. That’s exactly what I wanted, for in the last few years of our marriage, I too had become bored with our ‘vanilla’ sex life, and now was going to do exactly what it said on the tin. Open marriage here I come. Scary.

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