Survivors Blog: 

Dana

A few months ago my husband Wayne and I were laying on the hammock in the back yard enjoying a rare quiet evening together. I remember it being an unusually still evening, so much so that we could hear cars rushing by on the highway near our home. After about half an hour of relaxing and talking, the peaceful setting was disrupted by a horrible crashing sound. I was so surprised my armpits itched! (I realize this is probably an over-share, but what can I say… my armpits itch when I am scared.) My back was turned to the tree that had fallen, so I had no idea what had caused the unexpected noise. Hardly daring to breathe I whispered, “Fireworks?” Wayne shook his head no. “Pecan Tree” was all he said, but I could hear the disappointment in his voice. When we bought our land a few years ago it had been covered in pecan trees, but over the last year many of them have fallen over during strong winds and storms. I could understand a tree falling over during a bad storm, but this was different. It was an uncommonly still night. There wasn’t even a gentle breeze ruffling the leaves. When I voiced my confusion to Wayne he explained it was all due to the extreme drought that we had experienced in 2011. When I walked outside the next morning to survey the damage I was greeted with one of the strangest sights I have ever seen: a massive 100 year old pecan tree lying on its side, with its gnarled roots pointing up to the sky. The day before it looked perfectly healthy and strong. I had not noticed any outward signs of inner weakness, yet there it was lying on the ground. I have often thought about that big old tree falling victim to a drought while being only a few feet away from a year-round creek. The picture of that giant tree lying on its side serves to remind me that Wayne and I are in the maintenance stage of our marriage. The thing that stands out the most to me is the importance of daily watering. During the year directly following discovery, Wayne and I were both very purposeful in the way we poured into our relationship. It was a daily pursuit. He looked for ways to show me that my heart was important to him. We prayed together every day. We carved out specific time each day to talk about how we were feeling. We surrounded ourselves with people who showered us with love and encouragement. Wayne went to AA meetings. I read everything I could find on healing. I chased after the Voice of Truth in a way I had never done before. After seven years of drought we finally put down deep roots in the flood plain and found incredible healing in the water that was poured over us. Today we are nearing almost four years post discovery. We have both found ourselves slacking up in areas that had previously been a passionate pursuit. We have allowed the pressing immediate matters to distract us from the importance of eternal ones. Mr. Obvious wants to say that while the work of picking up the pieces in a broken marriage is clearly important, maintaining that closeness is also important as well. That means continuing to do all the things that pour life-water into our marriage even after the thrill and excitement of doing a ‘new’ thing together has worn off. So we have been knocked down, but not destroyed. My hope is in the One who was faithful to pour healing waters over us before. He will pour them out again. In his loving kindness He picks us up and plants our feet back on firm ground. Then He gently reminds us that we may have to endure some plateau seasons of maintenance because they are necessary preparation for new things that are still coming. Now we are again sending our roots down deep and spreading our branches wide to receive the life giving water that our marriage so desperately needs during this plateau phase. Even as we do this I feel a smile return to my face as I anticipate the new things waiting for us at the end of this plateau. I am sensing some rivers will soon be cutting across this desert. Whoot! Someone get excited with me!

When I was a little girl I received a lot of forgiveness. Somehow at a young age I discovered that if I confessed what I had done wrong before I got caught, my parents were much less upset with me than if I waited to be discovered. So I told on myself often. After a while I began to do it more out of a desire to be free from the guilt than from a desire to receive a more lenient punishment. I really cannot begin to imagine how many times I went through the process of doing something wrong, feeling terrible, telling on myself, then being forgiven. While I cannot count the number of times I received forgiveness, I can say for sure that it was enough, because when I found myself in the position of a betrayed spouse I was able to reach deep into my heart and find enough forgiveness to pour over my husband. With the perspective that three years and some serious grief work can bring, I am able to look back on that period of time in our life and see the beauty of one who had received much, reaching deep into her wounded heart to pour much back out on another. Of course, at the time it did not feel beautiful at all. It felt scary. I remember feeling vulnerable and sad, and having a deep sense of pain and loss. Forgiving him was only the beginning of the journey. He still felt very unsafe, so we remained separated for the next several months. The fact that I forgave him, but continued on in our separation may seem odd to someone who does not understand the difference between forgiveness and reconciliation. But those who have walked both roads understand this completely. Forgiveness is a choice, not a feeling. Choosing to forgive Wayne released him from my need to satisfy what justice demanded, but it did not heal my wounded heart or make me feel safe enough to be in a relationship with him. I certainly had no reason to believe that he wasn’t going to continue hurting me in the future. We both had lots of work to do before we were anywhere near reconciliation. While the price of forgiveness had been paid at the cost of my pride and my dreams, the price for reconciliation demanded my security. Even with the high cost that I had to pay for forgiveness and reconciliation, I am thankful I chose to pay it. The alternative would have ended up costing me more. In an effort to tell “the rest of the story” I feel compelled to point out that paying the cost of forgiveness and reconciliation did not permanently bankrupt me. The cost was high, and it took absolutely all I had, but after making those payments I have been repaid several times over. I have so much more pride now than I did before. The difference is that it is no longer in what Wayne and I built between the two of us, but in what our Healer has restored and rebuilt in us. Some of my old dreams for our marriage are gone, but they have been replaced with even bigger ones. My security no longer lies in the false thought that my husband is incapable of hurting me. Now my security lies in the truth that no matter what my future may bring the Protector of my heart, who I have come to recognize as Faithful and True, is big enough. My heart can rest secure because I know that in all things, He is enough. As a child I practiced the art of forgiveness many times, but I had never practiced reconciliation. Had a dear friend not pointed us in the direction of Rick Reynolds and Affair Recovery, I’m not sure how our process of reconciliation would have gone. The blessing of having him walk through it with us, after he had walked it so many years before, proved invaluable. There are some valleys in our lives that require guides to show us the way. If I had one prayer for you today, it would be that you would not try to walk this road alone. Reconciliation needs guidance. For the sake of your heart as well as your marriage, find a godly counselor with experience in affair recovery. One day you will look back on this season in your life and be so grateful that you did.

A very dear friend recently shared the story of her crumbling marriage with me. She told me that her husband had come home one day and told her that he no longer felt anything toward her and was going to move out. A few weeks later he filed for divorce. My heart ached for her as she shared with me her feelings of confusion and abandonment. She said she felt used up and discarded. When her husband had originally moved out she had held onto hope for reconciliation, but with each passing day that hope got fainter as she faced the end of a part of her life that she had thought would be there forever. My heart breaks for her a little bit more every day as I watch her go through the motions of a dance she never signed up for. She had dreamed of forever, but for reasons completely out of her control, her forever was cut short. As I watch her walk through this painful time I am reminded of two things. The first one being that filing for divorce does not automatically mean the marriage is over. Wayne and I have a story that proves this. When our divorce was only a few weeks from final I put a hold on it. So, however slim that hope may be, I will continue to hope for restoration in her marriage. The second thing I think of is that regardless of whether her husband’s heart is ever softened to her again or not, her heart is able to heal from the deep wound that abandonment has left in her. When I see the pain in her eyes that I remember so well I am reminded of a time when I thought that I could never be happy again. I am also reminded of people who have been abandoned by their spouses and found healing and wholeness on the other side of recovery. My heart breaks with my friend over the deep pain in her wounded heart, but through it all I hold out hope for her that her heart can be healed, and that through her healing she will find new life. All hope is not lost. On the contrary, it is against the backdrop of the seemingly impossible that hope shines the brightest. If you find yourself in a situation similar to my friend, where you have been left alone to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart, please don’t give up hope. The situation that you now live in may leave your future looking impossible, but with healing you can experience a reversal of destiny. I was recently reminded of a quote by Beth Moore that filled me with hope when I was going through my own healing. She said, “To know the joy of a table turned, a table first has be set against you.” If ever there was a table stacked against us, it is the one set by a betraying spouse. Thankfully though, there is One who is able to turn the table back around. When our table is set to serve us abandonment He is able to turn it by showing us how He is pursuing us. When our table is set to make us feel unloved He can turn it around by pouring His lavish love out on us. There is a lot of freedom in knowing that the health of your heart is not dependent on the actions of another person. Ask the One who has the power to give you the joy of having your table turned where He is in your story. Bring Him your wounds and the places in your heart that have been left empty by abandonment. Let Him heal you and fill your empty places. Then give Him permission to turn the table around for you. You might just be surprised to see what he has planned for you. Don’t despair. The One who created you takes great delight in you, and He is more than able to take what feels like a curse and turn it into the beginning of a beautiful blessing.  

I was 18 when I started college and began studying to be a respiratory therapist. I was a young 18. I had lived a very purposefully sheltered life as a home-schooled girl, so there were a lot of thoughts and ideas that I ran across while in college that I had never heard while growing up. I will never forget the first day I was in a clinical rotation at one of the local hospitals. About half way through the day I turned to the therapist who had been assigned to mentor me and said, “This is a great day!” She gave me a look of sheer horror and said, “What are you doing to me? Don’t you know not to say that? Quick! Knock on wood!” At my look of confusion she followed it up with, “And don’t say it is quiet either. All hell will break loose.” I soon discovered that just about everyone I ran into at the hospital had bought into the idea that speaking ‘good’ would bring ‘bad’. I’m about to let you in on a secret. Get ready, because it is going to surprise you… Speaking good brings good. Speaking bad brings bad. The fact that the Liar has spread the opposite thought around to the point that it has become commonly accepted is no accident. You see, he understands what most of us have missed. There is power in the words that come out of our mouths. Now, clearly this doesn’t mean that I could say, “I have a million dollars in the bank” and then go make withdrawals on that amount. There is only one who has the power to create with His words. But when He created us, He gave us the ability to use our words to either agree with Him, or to agree with the Liar. Somewhere in my healing process I discovered the amazing power found in my words. When I chose to use them to agree with my Healer, I found great healing. When I spoke in agreement with the One who has a good plan and a great hope for my future, I felt unexplainable hope. When I chose to listen to the Voice of Truth, hearing what He saw in my husband, and then speaking in agreement with what I heard, I began to see Wayne as he was created to be. As I heard the Voice of Truth speak to my heart I would tell Wayne, “You are a child of God. You are His saint. You are an amazing leader in our home. You are a great dad for our boys. You are a great provider. You are not who you were. You have been made new. You are victorious.” Again, please understand, my words don’t have the power to create him into some super-human-husband. They are simply agreeing with the words that his Healer has already spoken over him. Think of your words as a water hose. You can either connect your hose to the faucet that pours out words of life, or to the one that shoots out poisonous words of death. After you choose to connect with words of life, you can either turn it on just a little, and let it trickle out slowly, or open it up all the way, flooding your heart and marriage with life. Our enemy has tricked us into believing that speaking life into a broken relationship is somehow asking for trouble. He has deceived us into thinking that if we dare to speak of the good things that our Healer has for us, our hope will be jinxed into oblivion. Make no mistake; his deception in our understanding of words has left us weak and vulnerable in his attacks against our hearts and marriages. Choose life. Speak in agreement with your Healer, releasing Him to pour His healing waters into every part of you.

What would you think if I told you that you hold the power of life and death in the words that you speak? Would it come as a surprise to you? Think back to when you were growing up. Perhaps a parent or teacher saw a quality in you that they praised, such as: “You are a kind-hearted friend.” Hearing their praise spoke truth into your heart, encouraging you to be that much more kind and friendly. On the other hand, maybe you remember hurtful words: “You are so much bigger than your sister. All you want to eat is junk food.” These hurtful words have the ability to follow a person all the way into their adulthood, making food and weight a lifelong struggle. Words don’t just hold power over us when we are kids; they affect us as adults as well. I did not understand how much power they held until I began to walk through healing after betrayal. As Wayne and I began to heal and grow, both individually and together, I learned how my words had power to either breathe life into our relationship or to drain it of what little life it had left. Draining it of life could look one of two ways. My first instinct was to tell Wayne that I was fine when my heart was feeling anything but fine. This was like introducing deadly poison into our relationship, because by ignoring the truth of what I was feeling I was denying myself the opportunity to receive comfort, and denying Wayne the opportunity to share in my pain. In an effort to correct my previous mistakes of ignoring my feelings, I had swung the other way for a while, and only chose to tell Wayne about the ways that he hurt me. Early on in our recovery period, this was probably very appropriate as I was deeply wounded, so negative feelings were truly all I felt. But, as I began to heal it was important that I learn to swing back into a more balanced position where I was able to share all of my feelings with him, both positive and negative. I discovered that my words are tools that should be used to share my heart with Wayne, but should never be used as weapons against him. For example, early on in recovery watching him send and receive texts was a trigger for me. If I fell back into old habits and said nothing when he was texting someone, I left myself vulnerable to the quiet suggestion that he was living a secret life again, and that if he wasn’t now, eventually he would betray me. But damage would also have been done if I went to the other extreme and said something like “You can never be trusted! I’ve given you a chance, and here you are texting up a storm. All you ever do is hurt me!” In this instance, I told him that I was hurt, but not until after I lambasted him with accusations and negative predictions. Dodging those poisonous arrows would make it difficult for him to hear my heart. When I learned to simply tell him, “Wayne, watching you send and receive texts is a trigger for me right now. It reminds me of the secret ways you did that in the past. I get that you are not betraying me with your texts right now, but watching you do it hurts me all over again.” This told him what I was feeling and why, without being accusing. Because he wasn’t feeling attacked, he was able to hear my heart on a deeper level. This gave him an opportunity to set up a plan for guarding me from future pain by being very vocal every time he sent or received a text. He would literally say out loud who he was texting and what their word for word conversation was. The words that we spoke to each other in this way empowered us to find hope for a new life together. So I started out by saying that you hold the power of life and death in the words that you speak. I think that I am still learning how true this is, and how important it is to speak life into my marriage. Today, I shared the importance of honest sharing without further wounding. In part two, I will share how we can use our words to breathe life back into our broken relationships. Until then, I would love to hear from you. Do you naturally want to keep your pain hidden inside, or do you find yourself verbally spreading it to those around you? What are some ways that you have learned to show your hurt to your spouse without hurting them in the process? I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

About two years into our marriage Wayne’s papa passed away. I will never forget going to his memorial service. After parking near the cemetery, we met his mom and grandma at their car and walked the rest of the way to the grave site with them. I remember the surprise I felt to see his grandma there since his papa had divorced her about 50 years before he had died. As we got closer to the tent where everyone was gathering, she began to get visibly uncomfortable. When we finally reached the small crowd she quietly announced that she wanted to stand in the back and urged the rest of us to sit in the seats that had been reserved for family to sit in. I had only met his papa once, but had spent quite a bit of time with his grandma, so I felt drawn to stay with her rather than follow Wayne to the chairs. As I wrapped my arm around her shoulders she began to share with me why she had chosen to attend his memorial service. In a rare moment of vulnerability her sweet eyes filled with tears as she quietly told me that while she had never gotten over the fact that he had left her for a younger woman, she had never stopped loving him, and that she thought about him every day. For whatever reason, the look on her face as she confessed her heart to me has been in my mind lately. As I think about the all the years she has hidden and ignored and quietly endured this pain alone my heart breaks for her. She was never given the chance to work toward reconnection because her husband simply chose to walk away. It occurs to me that while some of us believe the lie that we would heal more quickly without our spouse, she seemed to believe a lie that said she couldn’t heal without him. How tragic. If you find yourself betrayed and abandoned, I want to say how sorry I am that you have been left to heal alone. Having experienced healing of my wounded heart as well as reconnection with my husband, I wish that all wounded hearts could experience both as well. But if you have not been given the choice of reconnecting, don’t despair. Healing can be found regardless of whether your spouse is willing to walk that road with you or not. Harboring Hope is a good place to start. Please don’t settle for life as a walking wounded soul. Live with no regrets. Choose healing.

I recently read a letter to the editor of a magazine that got my attention. It was written by a woman who was at the breaking point in her marriage. She described how she had spent many years working long hours at her job to the point of exhaustion, until one day when she came home to find her husband with her best friend. The quote that keeps running through my head went something like this: “While I worked myself to death, he was off having romantic flings. It just isn’t fair. Suddenly I realize what I am missing in life. I want to have the secret romantic get-away too. I want that thrill of hidden romance for myself.” Reading her letter got me thinking about desire. Before we were born there were certain desires poured into us. One of the strongest of these is the desire to love and to be loved. Think back to when you were a young child, what did you long for? What were your dreams and desires? Most likely they had a theme of true love running through them. As a girl I dreamed of seeing my husband look at me the way I had seen my Dad look at my Mom, a look of pure love and admiration. Perhaps your dreams looked slightly different. As I watch my two sons play I get hints on their dreams and desires. When they play they like to act the part of the hero. Whether or not they have realized it yet, they dream of the day when someone will look on them with love and respect, and see them as the hero. Regardless of the specifics, I suspect that as young kids, we all desire love. So if desire in itself is not bad, what has gone wrong? Why does the word ‘desire’ seem to draw up mental images of torrid affairs? Why did the woman who wrote the letter to the magazine instantly jump to the conclusion that what she desired was an affair? I doubt that as a young girl she laid awake at night dreaming of the day that she would betray her husband. I suspect that somewhere deep inside her, she knew that she really didn’t want the affair. What she really wanted was for her husband to open up his eyes and see her beauty. She wanted him to pursue her the way he had when they had first met. She desired the romance that they had once felt to rekindle, then burn brightly for the rest of their lives. So why was she settling for something else? Did she think that her true desires were too good to come true? Had her childhood dreams begun to sound like fairytales that she had outgrown? Did the world’s lies begin to sound like truth - that there is no such thing as true love, so she may as well settle for the next best thing- a fling? Wounded heart, true love is not a fairytale that we outgrow when we become adults. What our hearts told us when we were small children is true: we were made to love and be loved. Could it be that when we try to ignore the deep call in our hearts to find and then hold onto love we actually leave ourselves vulnerable to counterfeits, which eventually leave us feeling empty and even more alone? The problem isn’t that we desire too much, it is that we have chosen to settle for far too little, and it has left us feeling very dissatisfied. Whether you are the betrayer or the betrayed, dare to desire what your heart truly longs for. Don’t settle for the cleverly disguised counterfeit. Choose what is real. Choose your heart’s desire: Love.

I have previously shared how I chose to forgive Wayne out of a desire to protect my heart from the burden that unforgiveness brings. While deciding whether or not to forgive him, I sensed that withholding forgiveness was somehow very dangerous for me, so I chose to forgive. As easy as the words ‘I chose to forgive’ may sound, believe me, it was not at all easy. It was incredibly hard. Having said that though, I can now look back and see that as hard as it was, choosing to forgive my husband was not the hardest choice I had to make in the area of forgiveness. Oddly enough, it took more time and effort to forgive Wayne’s dad than it did to forgive Wayne himself. Forgiving his dad for the choices he had made during Wayne’s childhood, and the way they had affected both Wayne and our family was a very difficult process. I’m not really sure when a seed of bitterness was first planted in my heart toward Wayne’s dad. Perhaps it was when I first learned the hidden story of Wayne’s childhood years. I was angry over the way he had been emotionally neglected by his dad. My heart was broken over the fact that his emotional neglect had pushed Wayne out the front door to look for approval and love in the wrong places at such a young age. I have also wondered if the seed of bitterness was planted because I was just plain hurt, and needing a scape-goat to be mad at I chose Wayne’s dad because our lack of relationship made him feel like the safest choice. Maybe it was some combination of both of these reasons. But regardless of the cause, by the time we were about one year out from discovery I had one bonfire of an angry flame burning in my heart towards Wayne’s dad. My feelings of anger and bitterness may have gone on forever had it not been for the fact that they eventually begun to disrupt my life. You see, his dad’s house is about thirty feet from ours. Every day when I saw his grey truck go by the window I would feel a surge of anger swell up in my stomach. As time went by the anger would last longer and would be harder to quiet. As if to add fuel to my fire, he would randomly say or do things that would hurt Wayne all over again. Each time this occurred I became more and more convinced of his selfishness, and my anger deepened. From time to time I would realize that my anger toward him had taken me to an unhealthy place. My children would ask me why I was so mad, and I would realize that I had become captive to my anger. I would try to swallow it down, but that would only quiet it for a few hours or days until he did something else to trigger another bout of anger. For about six months I went through a cycle of anger - anger repression - trigger - anger - anger repression. It was miserable. I knew I should forgive him, but I didn’t want to. Somehow, forgiving him felt like letting him off the hook. While he was happily going about his life, I was becoming more and more convinced that he should pay for the way he had chosen to parent his boys. I remembered that in the Bible God tells us, “vengeance is mine.” In my heart I wanted Him to take vengeance. I wanted to see justice done for the way he had hurt Wayne, and by extension, me. Finally, in my misery, I came to realize that harboring anger toward Wayne’s dad was just as dangerous to my heart as any other anger, so I chose to forgive. Unfortunately, choosing to forgive my father-in-law was not as smooth a process as choosing to forgive my husband. Willing myself to forgive Wayne’s dad after I had developed a long standing habit of inwardly repeating his crimes every time I saw him was like trying to weed my garden by simply ripping the tops off of a bunch of Bermuda grass. I was trying to forgive him, but in my heart there was still a deep root of bitterness that was ready to push up another blast of anger when I least expected it. At first I thought my feelings were stuck because I was not able to tell him that I had forgiven him. Since Wayne’s dad was never told about the infidelities or about the ways his son had searched for love and approval when he had failed to give it to him as a child, it would have been counterproductive for me to walk over to his house and tell him that he was forgiven. So I forgave him in my heart about a half a dozen times a day, every single day, for quite a while. My will was choosing forgiveness, but my heart needed the healing of a fresh perspective before it could become soft enough to give up the root of bitterness that was so firmly tangled up in it. At just the right time, the Protector of my heart sent me some help in the form of a kind mentor. She explained the process of forgiveness and justice to me in a way I had never understood before. She told me that when God promises vengeance, He isn’t promising to hurt our offender to the same degree of pain that they had inflicted on us. Inflicting pain as a punishment is not in His nature. His ultimate vengeance is when He takes back one of His children from the Thief. His revenge is against the enemy, not against people. Something in my spirit leapt at her words as I recognized the truth found in them. I can’t really explain my heart change toward his dad that day, other than to say that understanding how he and I both fight the same enemy somehow softened me toward him. Now when I see him, rather than being triggered into anger and bitterness, I am reminded to pray a prayer of blessing over him. I ask that God’s will be done on earth as it is in Heaven, and that He will take His ultimate revenge by snatching Wayne’s dad back from the thief. It thrilled me to see that I wasn’t letting him off the hook; I was simply putting him on God’s. Wounded heart, I totally get how my difficult journey to find forgiveness may seem a bit irrelevant since it has to do with my father-in-law rather than with my spouse. But I believe the difficulties I ran into along the way could just as easily have been the same ones I would have dealt with in my marriage had I not chosen to forgive Wayne so soon. Repressing my anger only made it harder to be rid of later, and my desire to see him pay by hurting as much as I hurt only made me more miserable. Eventually, I chose to pay the cost of forgiving him. It was a long, hard journey that in a lot of ways felt like pushing a boulder up a steep hill, but on the other side of that hill I found great joy and peace, and my heart was fully restored. Forgiving Wayne’s dad wasn’t easy, but it was a journey I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Shortly after I chose to forgive Wayne, I began to hear several lies about what forgiveness is. Looking back, I can see that the enemy was aiming his arrows of shame at my heart by trying to get me to agree with his explanations of what I had chosen to do. His methods for delivering those arrows came in a variety of ways. Some of these lies were spoken directly to me by ‘helpful’ friends. Some I read in popular magazines. Other times the Liar would speak silently to my heart, painting a vivid (yet wrong) description of who I was, and what I had chosen to do. The biggest lie that I heard was that I was living in denial. I saw this reaction on several people’s face when I told them that I had forgiven him. I was told that I was nuts and that he didn’t deserve it. Of course he didn’t deserve it. I didn’t do it for him. I did it for me. We have done ourselves a huge disservice by misunderstanding ‘I forgive you’ to mean the same as saying ‘it’s OK’. I was not in denial; I fully understood how completely wrong his actions were towards me. By forgiving him I wasn’t saying that his actions were OK, I had simply chosen not to hold it against him. I didn’t understand it at the time, but in choosing to forgive, I had released myself from an emotional hold that he otherwise would have had over me. Odd concept, I know. Let me try to explain. I was already living with the consequences of his betrayals, but through forgiveness, I had released myself from the need to see justice done. I no longer needed to see him hurt as much as he had hurt me. This was actually very beneficial in my healing process because it freed me up to work on my own healing without constantly looking over my shoulder to make sure he was hurting as much as I was. The end result was going to be the same either way -whether I chose to forgive or not, I had a wounded heart that needed to heal. Choosing to forgive just freed me up to heal without the added burden of making sure he ‘got what he deserved.’ The suggestion that I was living in denial was only one of the lies that I heard after I chose to forgive. I will share other lies and hidden truths in later posts. For now though, I want to leave you with this thought: Forgiveness is a choice, not a feeling, and by choosing to forgive we help to smooth our road to recovery. Have you heard the lie that by choosing to forgive you are living in denial? Have you found a way to protect your heart from those arrows by combating them with truth? Leave me a comment and let me hear about your experience.

I think it was the night after I had discovered Wayne’s betrayal that he asked to meet with me so we could talk. He said he had some things that he wanted to tell me in person. Hoping to get an answer to my biggest question -“why”- I agreed to meet with him. I did not get the answer to my question that night, but what I did get was more pieces to the puzzle. He told me how he had begun to act out sexually when he was 12, then filled in some details from that time to the present. There was a long silence that followed his revelation. As I was trying to make sense of everything that I had just learned he said, “I am so sorry. I know you will never be able to forgive me.” Honestly, until he brought it up, the question of forgiveness had not entered my mind. I was in a state of shock, trying to let it all sink in. But as soon as he mentioned forgiveness, I realized I had a decision to make. There were a few more moments of silence as I considered my options. My initial reaction was to tell him that he was right; there was no way I could ever forgive him. But as I sat in that thought for a few minutes I began to sense a great danger to my heart. I fully realize how odd this must sound; my heart, having just received yet another deep wound, feeling a sense of danger over the prospect of withholding forgiveness from the one who had wounded me. I’m not sure that I can fully explain what I was feeling other than to say that I felt as though holding back forgiveness at that point would leave me vulnerable to an even greater amount of pain. So in an effort to preserve my heart, I chose to forgive him. I remember telling him, “I forgive you, but I don’t trust you, so you are still not welcome back at the house.” There was no logic behind my decision to forgive. I hadn’t taken a class on the art of forgiving, or heard a lesson on the dangers of not forgiving. At that point I had not yet met Rick and been introduced to the concept of ‘the cost of forgiveness.’ (He wrote a great newsletter on this recently, if you are interested.) I was just a girl with a severely wounded heart, who was doing the best she could to preserve what little of it she had left. As soon as I told Wayne that I had forgiven him, I felt an intense sense of relief, almost as if a giant burden had been released from off my back. Please don’t misunderstand, I still felt the pain of betrayal, but somehow I felt released from the need to carry anger and bitterness around with me as I healed. My decision to forgive my husband may seem a bit quick. Some might even argue that he got off too easy, but they would be missing the fact that while I forgave quickly, I did not rush through reconciliation. The process of mending our broken relationship was one that I walked through very slowly and carefully. While choosing both forgiveness and reconciliation, my ultimate goal was to guard and heal my heart, regardless of how long it may or may not take. OK… I would love to hear from you. What is your experience regarding forgiveness? What are your fears? What are your hopes? What has helped or hurt you in this process?

I have a great Dad. When I was a little girl I looked forward to going to his boot repair shop so I could hang out with him all day long. I remember him being very busy, but never too busy to talk to me as he worked. One thing he told me on a regular basis was “take no prisoners”. His words keep coming back to me as I think about the recovery process that I went through as a betrayed spouse. I have begun to see my marriage with Wayne as a union that the enemy wants to steal, kill, and destroy. If you will allow me, I would like to show you a picture of how I saw this played out. When I discovered Wayne’s betrayals I received a very deep heart wound that required healing in a spiritual and emotional ICU. While I was receiving this intensive care, the enemy did not wait patiently outside the door for me to get up and continue fighting for my heart and marriage. No sir. He sent in his own little band of visitors. One that came to visit me was Fear. Another was Insecurity. Not long after that Shame slithered in and tried to set up camp. Control was tricky. He pulled up a chair like a long lost friend and told me that together we could make sure I would never be hurt again. Blame must have snuck quietly in while I was sleeping, because when I woke up he was talking fast and pointing his knobby finger at the door. At one point I thought I saw Strength walk through the door. She told me I didn’t need anyone, and that I would be fine on my own. But the closer she got to me, the stranger she appeared, until finally she made it to the side of my bed, where I realized that she wasn’t Strength after all. She was just a well-disguised Alone. When I looked into her eyes I could tell that she was friends with Bitterness and Anger. As I looked around my figurative ICU room I eventually recognized that these were not friendly well-wishers at all, and I began to feel uncomfortably crowded. I had already seen through Alone’s disguise, so she was the first to go. It was clear to me that I had done nothing to put myself in that room, so I sent Shame away without much of a fight. Control just didn’t feel right to me, so I sent him out next. That left me with Fear, Insecurity, and Blame. They quickly backed into the far corner, looking at the floor as they went. I foolishly took this as a sign that they were no longer a threat, so I rolled over and ignored them. Over time, I no longer needed to be in the intensive care unit, so I was moved to a general care room. I vaguely remember noticing my three visitors slinking along behind us in the hall. It was a few months later when I began to notice a sense of weariness in my spirit. I felt depressed and angry, but I wasn’t sure why. By then my life seemed to be going in a positive direction. Wayne and I were making lots of progress in our recovery. Our boys were healthy and happy. So what was all this negative emotion about? I looked down at my hands and saw three heavy chains in them. At the ends of each chain stood Fear, Insecurity, and Blame. Because I had not sent them away at the beginning, they had become my prisoners, and I in turn had become theirs. The weight of dragging them around with me had worn me out. Cutting those prisoners loose and sending them away was quite a battle. It was long and hard, because the whole time I had been dragging them around they had quietly been recruiting Bitterness and Anger. Somehow in all our travels I had become tangled in their chains. As hard as it was to release them, I am glad that I did, because now I am free to enjoy the rest of my journey without their weight dragging me down. Living free of these prisoners is the only way I have been able to walk in victory in my battle to protect my heart. Clearly, this is partly a figurative story… But while I did not see these visitors with my physical eyes I felt their presence in my life just as strongly as if I had. The journey towards healing is hard enough without trying to drag prisoners along with us. So tell me, have you been dragging prisoners behind you? Have you found yourself tangled up in their chains and become their prisoner as well? Have they been there so long that they have begun to feel like friends, or perhaps even a part of you? Maybe you have recognized the trap that they set and sent them on their way? Please share your story. I would love to hear it.

I have stared at the computer screen several minutes after writing the title, trying to think of the best way to approach this subject. After our period of separation, I remember the process of going back to being physically intimate was complicated and difficult for me. So many conflicting emotions. So many hopes, so many fears. Looking back, it occurs to me that the Keeper of my heart must have poured a double portion of protection over me as I waded into these deep waters. After being wounded my heart was extra sensitive, so it was easy for even a well-meaning friend to say something that would cause more harm than help. Thankfully though, healing words were also spoken to me during this part of my journey, so I was protected from any long-term issues that may have risen up from the less than understanding words that I received. As I write this I am praying that you too will receive a double portion of protection in this area, and that my words will help to bring healing rather than harm. During the immediate aftermath that followed discovery, being intimate was a non-issue. Partly because we were separated, but more than that, physical intimacy was really just the furthest thing from my mind. I was way too wounded and scared to want to be close to Wayne. But, after a few months went by and a lot of healing had taken place, I began to miss him. I missed the closeness that we had shared together. Seeing the evidence of his changed heart helped me to feel safe enough to feel comfortable with the idea of sharing that closeness together again. I remember that after our hearts had begun to heal, the first time we were together was great. I felt very connected to him. But after that my mind began to wander when we were together and I would become so distracted by inner questions that I found it difficult to enjoy the moment. I thought that if I could just ignore those pesky “what did they do?” & “is this really what he wants?” questions I would be fine. I found though that ignoring those questions only made the problem worse. It was when I began to be honest with myself and with Wayne about what I was thinking and feeling as soon as I felt them that things got better. At first, I was a little hesitant to do this, because I felt bad about stopping the sequence of events for the purpose of talking about feelings or thoughts. But I needed to do it. Talking about things after being intimate was not as effective. I remember many times when I would have to stop everything so I could tell him the lies I was hearing, then we would pray about it together. Something about the intimacy of praying together helped me to relax and focus on the moment so we could enjoy one another. Wayne’s openness when we stopped to talk was huge for me. I also remember that his patience and his concern for my heart helped me to feel more comfortable as well. I don’t remember for sure how long it took for those intrusive thoughts to stop interrupting our time together, perhaps a few months, but I did finally reach a point where they were no longer an issue for me. If you are experiencing some of the same heartaches that I did in this area, please don’t try to ignore it, or even fix it on your own. Let a godly counselor with experience in this area help guide you through it. A life-long heart wound of this kind is not something any of us want to live with. Fight for your heart! Fight for healing, and live…

Do you ever find yourself rewriting history? I know I did. I remember during the early stages of healing after discovery I spent a lot of time doing just that. I began looking back over our married life and second guessing what was ‘really’ going on. I remembered a few times when Wayne had come home later than expected. At the time I had thought that he had been in a wreck or some such equally tragic scenario, only to find him breezing in the front door, wondering why I was so frantic. He would tell me where he had been, and tell me not to be such a drama queen. I would feel a little silly, then we would go on with our day. As many of these moments came back to my mind I began to suspect that I had not been a drama queen at all, and that while he had indeed not been in a car wreck during those moments of panic, he had been busily wrecking our marriage. I will never know if my suspicions are true regarding those specific moments or not because his memory is very cloudy regarding specific details on how the timeline of his secret life lined up with our life together. This left me in a difficult situation because of my very active imagination. Given the amount that he remembered and was able to tell me, along with my memory of our life together, I was able to come up with all kinds of nightmarish conclusions about our past. Not only did I come up with possible scenarios (which felt like absolute truth rather than possibilities), I also had a new view on what his intentions had been towards me throughout our life together. Suddenly even my happy memories became targets to be rewritten into sad ones as I imagined what he was really thinking or feeling in them. I wondered if he ever really loved me, or if it had all been an act. I wondered if he had ever been happy as I had been. I found that a certain amount of history rewriting is necessary. Certainly there was a reality that I had not been aware of. I needed to be aware of that truth, and come to a place where I could accept that it was a part of our history. Acceptance wasn’t just something that I did in my mind because I needed to; it was a truth that my heart had to accept as well. Accepting the truth of our past was a process that took a while for my heart to fully walk through. By the time my heart finally reached a place of acceptance, my mind had formed a habit of rewriting history in a negative light. The Liar offered me many lies regarding all of my memories with Wayne. Because I had just been forced to accept a new reality it was difficult for me to discern the difference between what was true about our past and what wasn’t, so I had to learn a new way to rewrite it. I began to ask the Voice of Truth what was really going on in my memories. Sometimes what I was told was difficult to hear, but it was rarely as horrible as my imaginative mind had come up with. The sweet thing about the Voice of Truth is that when He has to give painful information He always sends His comfort to heal the hurt that His words may bring. I found that the safest way to rewrite history is through the filter of His Voice, because only in it will I find truth and comfort.

First off, I feel like I should clarify this by reminding everyone that I am not an expert on marriage. I am simply a girl who has been hurt by the man I love, and has been through the grief and healing process. By no means am I in any position to give advice on when one should stay or leave. All I can tell you is my experience and what I learned from it. My first reaction when I found evidence of Wayne’s secret life was shock. I remember the room went black and I had trouble breathing. After about an hour of staring at the wall and gasping for breath, I had only one clear thought in my head - that I could not stay in the same house as my husband any longer. I remember being scared out of my ever-lovin’ mind because suddenly it became clear to me that the man I thought I was married to was someone else than the man who had written all the emails I just read. I felt like I had no idea who he really was, or what he was capable of doing, so I went into immediate self-preservation mode. Within a few hours I closed our bank accounts, canceled all our credit cards, and told him he was no longer welcome at our house. After about a week he confessed the rest of the story that had not been on the computer. I was so overwhelmed with his betrayals that I felt our relationship was beyond fixing. I still loved him, and knew that I always would, but I felt that I could never trust him again. So, again out of a desire to protect myself from further hurt, I filed for divorce. Two things stopped the divorce from being completed. The biggest one was the change I saw in Wayne. I saw such brokenness and softening of his heart toward me that I began to dare to hope that there might possibly be a chance for us. The other thing that put the brakes on the divorce came from an unexpected source. It was a conversation I had with a woman with whom I worked at the time. She was on her third marriage, and was the most miserable and bitter woman I had ever met. No one ever wanted to work with her because she spent the majority of every shift in an R-rated yelling match with her husband over the telephone. She asked me one day how I was doing with the divorce proceedings. When I told her that we were only a few weeks out from everything being final, her whole countenance softened into the look of a tenderhearted woman as she looked deep into my eyes and told me her story. She said that when her son was only a few months old she came home and found her first husband in bed with her best friend. She said, “Dana, as badly as he hurt me, I never stopped loving him. But I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid that he would do it again, and it would be my fault for giving him the chance. My friends told me that I deserved so much more than him, and that I should quit crying and be a strong woman. So I divorced him because I thought that was what I was supposed to do. I have spent every day since then regretting it.” She then went on to tell me that her second husband had been emotionally abusive and that her trust issues were ruining her third marriage. I will never forget the look of regret that I saw in her eyes when she begged me to give my marriage another chance. She said, “It may not work, but at least if you give it a chance you won’t be ten years down the road looking back at this moment and wondering if it could have.” She moved away not long after that. If she were still here I would give her a big hug and thank her for the precious gift that she gave me that day. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to her for giving me the courage to put a hold on the divorce “just to see.” It has been a long, hard road, but now that we are on the other side of recovery I can honestly say it has been worth every single tear that I shed along the way. Not only am I able to say that I live with no regrets, but I am also blessed to live life with my whole family, happy and together.

If someone had asked me to describe my life during the latter part of 2009, I would have undoubtedly described it as bad. The first six months following the discovery of my husband Wayne’s secret life was certainly the hardest six months of my life. I remember thinking that the depth of grief I was experiencing went much deeper than I had realized humans were capable of feeling. The sounds I heard coming out of my own mouth were sounds I had only heard a few times before. They were like the heart-wrenching sounds I had heard working in the hospital, like those of a momma as she held her sick child. Though I had witnessed several women’s deep level of grief on such an occasion, I had never felt it myself. The darkness that surrounded me felt foreign and frightening. I found myself wondering if I was trapped in an eternal pit of sadness, and if it was possible to ever find a way out. You see, at that point in my life I didn’t know anyone who had experienced the pain of discovering their spouse’s unfaithfulness, so all I had to fall back on was what I had seen while working in a hospital. I had seen the initial shock that a momma experiences when she learns just how sick her child is, and I had heard her cries of agony. But after a few hours she would leave the hospital and I never saw her again. I never knew how she coped with a loss that a mother should never have to loose. Because I had never witnessed the healing process that we go through after emotionally traumatic events, I had no concrete evidence that it was even possible. I fully understood that the pain of losing a child did not compare to losing the faithfulness of my spouse, but it was the only pain I knew, so it was what I thought about when I heard the deep guttural cries coming from my heart and mouth. The image of having lost something so precious and sacred left me feeling hopeless and empty. Thankfully, I was not left hopeless and alone. Hope found me right where I was in my pit of despair. As it began to shine its warm light into my heart I found strength to begin the long climb out of that pit. Three years later, I now have the advantage of a fresh perspective. I still remember the deep pain, but I see so much more than that when I look back. I see beauty in the transformation that we experience when we choose to put our masks down and be truly transparent with each other. I see the miracle of two divided hearts broken to the point that we were finally able to come together as one. I see that by being real we discovered a deeper level of intimacy than we had ever dreamed possible. I remember discovering the freedom that comes with both confession and forgiveness. I remember the excitement of leaving behind an OK life and trading it in for an adventurous one. I remember the overwhelming joy that came with discovering that my God is so much bigger than I ever gave Him credit for. I remember the unexplainable fearlessness I had knowing that no matter what my future held, He was big enough to handle it. Having said all this, I might be tempted to say that 2009 ‘was the best of times and it was the worst of times’, but I think instead I will just say that it was a good time. It was a time of loss, and a time of pain, but who am I to call that bad? Think about the momma who has just pushed through the last pain of labor and is holding her darlin’ in her arms. She would never call labor the best and worst of times. The beauty that was born through her pain eclipses all else, and she calls it good. Wounded heart, what you are going through may very well be the deepest pain you have ever felt. You may be wondering if there is hope for healing in your life. You may be going through each day the way I did three years ago telling yourself that this is “a bad day, and bad year, and that everything in your life is just bad, bad, bad.” Well, I hear you. That is exactly how it feels when the one we love the most betrays us on such a deep level. But please hear and receive this truth that I am now speaking over you: Good can be born from your pain. Embrace it. Push through it. And wait in hopeful expectation for the good things that will be released in your life.

When I first discovered my husband Wayne’s infidelities the first question I asked was “Why?” Why did he do this? Was it something lacking in me? What did they have that I didn’t? Why did he choose them over me? These torturous questions ran through my mind like a CD in the ‘repeat’ mode. The friend who had been with me when I broke into Wayne’s email and discovered his secret life begged me to call the girl with whom he had been having an emotional affair. She thought that if we talked to his affair partner we would get the real story, or maybe even tell her that he was married and beg her to leave him alone. Had she been the only one with whom he had been unfaithful, I may have been tempted to think that my problem was with her. But during the week that followed my discovery, Wayne confessed that there were many people with whom he had been involved, most of them were people whose names he had never known. Even if it had been possible to wade through the countless numbers of people that he had been with, what good would that have done me? They did not betray me. He did. My pain was caused by his choices. My heart was wounded by his actions, not theirs. During those early days following discovery I felt that my heart was already full of grief over Wayne and our broken relationship, so there wasn’t any room for other random people to emotionally move in and take up residency. On top of that, I didn’t have any energy to spare on them either. My feelings were completely spent on him. So, out of a need to preserve my sanity and protect my heart I chose to forgive them all at once. After that, approaching them became a non-issue for me because I simply had no desire to. I have talked to several women who felt the way my friend had, and chose to approach their spouse’s affair partner. While I am sure there are exceptions to every rule, I have never talked to anyone who was glad that they had. In fact, they told me that it just caused them more pain. That season in my life was hard enough as it was. Carrying around the heavy burden of his affair partners would have only made it that much harder. I am so grateful that I dropped them at the starting gate, thus freeing me to press in on my journey toward healing my heart and my marriage without their heavy weight pulling me down.

When was the last time you got up from your favorite chair after watching TV with that ‘I could take on the world’ feeling? You know what I mean - the feeling you get after watching Rudy or Braveheart. Now go back a little further in your memory… remember the first time you watched Sleeping Beauty? The prince who bravely fought the evil witch just so he could rescue the girl whom he had danced with ‘once upon a dream?’ Try to put aside any jaded feelings you may have for a moment so you can remember that feeling of pure joy you felt as you watched them dance into the credits. Now I ask you, what in the world has gone wrong with television these days? Why must so much of it step on wounded hearts? I remember during the first year after discovery my mind would swirl into a storm of questions every time the show’s plot twisted into one of my triggers. “Is that what it was like for him?” I wondered, “Is watching this with me making him want it again? Is he going to go back to that secret life?” I may have sat down with the intention of relaxing, but instead it left me feeling worn out and upset. TV didn’t always affect me this way. Before I discovered the secret life my husband Wayne was living I just shrugged it off as ridiculous or strange or even on occasions mildly sad, but as soon as I got up to turn it off it was over, leaving no lasting effect on me whatsoever. After discovery, TV had an ability to make me feel like I was standing at a firing wall as my triggers literally shot their toxic bullets into my heart. I learned early on to stay away from certain shows that ran themes which were especially dangerous for me. After a while though, I found that one of my biggest triggers is considered to be politically correct, so it has a tendency to randomly pop its ugly little head up on just about any show I may choose to watch. Because of this I began to see the flat screen in my living room as ‘Trigger-Vision.’ There was many nights Wayne and I watched about 15 minutes of a show and then had to turn it to ‘This Old House’ re-runs because an unexpected trigger had danced across the screen. I am now three years out from discovery. When we dive deep into the healing process a lot can happen in three years. My heart has healed to the point that I no longer get nauseous when I am confronted with one of my old triggers on the flat screen. My mind no longer resembles the perfect storm of ‘what if’ questions. Triggers that used to send me into a period of fear and sadness now serve to remind me of where we were and how far we have come, so in a way they have become triggers of gratitude for my Healer. Having said that, I still tend to stay away from shows that had previously been so toxic to my heart. At the end of the day when I am ready to turn on the TV and relax, I generally have used up most of my energy. Whatever I turn on is either going to breathe life back into me, or else suck what little I have left out. Personally, I would rather go to bed feeling full of life, not depleted of it. Sometimes that means choosing music or a good book over sitcoms. I would love to hear from you. How does TV affect you? Is it ‘Trigger Vision’ for you as well? How do you handle it? Have you found ways to fill your heart with life rather than continuing to allow the TV to rob you of it? Leave a comment and let me know…

Why do spouses cheat? As I said in part one, this question became a big deal for me during the immediate aftermath that followed the discovery of my husband Wayne’s secret life. While it was important for me to realize I had made agreements with false ideas as to why a person cheats, it was also equally important for me to learn the real reasons why this occurs, and ultimately why he had cheated on me. My “ah-ha” moment came fairly early in counseling when Wayne began to describe his life as it was when he was eleven years old. His parents were emotionally detached from him because they were dealing with the broken pieces of their own relationship after his Mom had caught his Dad with another woman. Wayne was basically sent outside early in the morning and told not to return home till the sun went down. It was during this time that he began a sexually charged relationship with an older neighborhood boy who also had little parental guidance in his life. Wayne’s Mom and Dad never asked him what he did all day because he was a rule follower. They saw him as the good child of the family, so they assumed he was fine. Unfortunately, their emotional neglect combined with the neighbor kid’s interest, left him vulnerable to eight years of a situation that a boy should never have to grow up in. He was exposed to sex in the wrong way at the wrong time. My heart breaks for him as I think about all the false messages that were sent into his young heart about sex in general, and about who he is in particular. Those messages were the beginning of a sexual addiction that he fights even today. So when I asked myself why do spouses cheat, and why did my spouse in particular cheat, I found different answers than I originally thought that I would. But while the truth of his past was initially painful, I eventually found a lot of comfort knowing that his acting out was not because of me. I clearly did nothing to cause him to act the way that he had because his actions began many years before we had ever met. He simply acted out of old habits that pulled very strongly upon him. He fell in our marriage because he lacked the tools to live victoriously. Before we got married he thought that being married would quiet the insatiable voices that called him to act out, so he was surprised when they continued. He then began a miserable cycle of act out, feel guilt, resolve to be good, act out again. This vicious cycle lasted until the secrets were exposed and he was able to find the help he needed to live in victory. The question of ‘why do spouses cheat’ was a difficult one for me to explore, but I am glad that we traced it all the way back till we found the answer, because it was in that answer that we both found healing and new life.

‘Why do spouses cheat’ is not a question that I spent much, if any, time considering before I discovered that I had been betrayed. If the question happened to randomly float through my mind, I assumed the reasons were some of those that I had heard others come up with over the years. I had heard that one of the reasons is due to ‘falling out of love’ with one’s spouse and ‘into love’ with someone else. I had also heard that it happened after the couple had grown apart, or that it was due to a lack of needs being met. Another commonly accepted reason I had heard was that spouses cheat simply because they are bad, so they selfishly choose to make decisions based only on what is best for themselves. ‘Why do spouses cheat’ may not have been a common topic in my thought life, but the subconscious agreements that I had made with other people’s conclusions as to why they cheat created a poor environment for my heart to first understand the situation that I found myself in, and then to heal after my new reality had sunk in. During the process of sorting through the question of why Wayne had betrayed me, I discovered that the easiest lies to agree with are those which have an element of truth in them. Today, I am going to try to explain how this looked for me. Why Spouses Cheat Lie #1 - Because they fall out of love with their spouse - While there may be an element of truth to this, my previous agreement with this thought became quite a roadblock for me during the early part of my journey toward healing. I remember shortly after I confronted Wayne with my discovery, he told me that he loved me. His words felt like a slap in the face. After all, how could he love me and treat me so terribly? I remember thinking that if he had somehow convinced himself that he loved me, he clearly must not understand love at all, because his actions toward me had not been loving. It took several months for me to be able to accept the truth that his love for me had nothing to do with his acting out. Please understand, I am not saying that his acting out was loving, or somehow OK. I am simply saying that his heart and mind was not in a healthy place at that point, so he did not logically think out the consequences of his actions as to how they would affect himself or anyone who he loved. Because of his compartmental thinking he lived a double life in his heart and his head. Why Spouses Cheat Lie #2 - Because they have grown apart, due to unmet needs - Agreement with this thought also became a stumbling block on my road to recovery due to the inferred blame and shame that I felt when I came up against it. I felt guilt for not being enough, or maybe even being too much for him. It wasn’t until I learned the true reason for his acting out that I was able to shove this boulder out of my way. Why Spouses Cheat Lie #3 - Because they are just inherently bad - Once again, a previous agreement that I had made with this idea set me up for greater difficulty on my healing journey. ‘Once a cheater, always a cheater’ was a phrase I had said many times in my past. The biggest problem that this particular agreement created showed up during the reconnection phase of our journey. Believing he was bad and that he could never change made him feel unsafe. Had I not seen such a significant heart-change in him, I may not have ever learned that while his actions were bad, he was not. So why do spouses cheat? Today I have giving you three of the false reasons that I had heard and agreed with. In my next post I will share what I eventually learned was the real reason my husband cheated on me. Until then I’d like to invite you to share your thoughts with me. What are some of the reasons that you have heard spouses cheat? Have you made agreements with false ideas that are making your healing journey more difficult? Have you been able to break those agreements, and instead agree with truth? Let me know, I would love to hear your story.

When I was a little girl I began what was to become a life-long love for allegories. I loved reading stories that let me discover the story behind the story. One of my favorites was entitled Tales of the Kingdom. In a nutshell, it is about an enchanter that ruled over a city where he made everyone sleep in the day and work at night because he was jealous of the light that the sun gave off. The people who lived in his city felt hopeless. There were a few people though who remembered the good, kind King who had ruled the city before it was put under the enchanter’s spell. They would quietly tell their friends that the King was now living in the forest outside the city, and that if they dared to escape the enchanter they could go there to live in freedom with him. The enchanter had foreseen the quiet whisperings of truth that would be spoken into the ears of the broken people who were under his spell, so he set up counter measures from the beginning. He posted men at every street corner who would call out “There is no such thing as kings! Death to pretenders!” As if that was not enough he had other men wandering the streets who spent their whole day chanting “Nay-nay-nay! Nay-nay-nay!” As a girl, I never really understood the purpose of these men. “Who would listen to them,” I wondered. Their chants seemed meaningless to me. But now, after going through the process of healing after discovering my husband’s infidelities, I totally get what they are about. I cannot tell you how many times I heard “There is no point in trying to heal your marriage,” or “Men never really change.” Their message was loud and clear: ‘QUIT PRETENDING!’ And between the moments of hearing these proclamations I heard the distant but distinct rhythm of the Nay-Sayers every time I turned on the television and saw a man on the sit-com cheat on his wife, or went to work and witnessed the ‘casual’ flirting going on between coworkers. “Nay-nay-nay” I would hear… “It is hopeless… Things will never get any better… Nay-nay-nay… you are a fool to stay with him… you will never be happy again…” The enchanter in the story wasn’t only evil; he was also very cunning in his attacks on the hearts and minds of those in his city. He understood that the words we hear, whether they are spoken out loud, or sensed in our hearts, hold an incredible amount of power over us. The best way to protect ourselves is by speaking the truth right back at them. During the time that I was under a constant attack from the Nay-Sayers I discovered that it wasn’t enough for me to just think to myself ‘that’s not true’. I had to say out loud the truth that spoke against whatever lie I was hearing at that time. Truth has an amazing ability to quiet the Nay-Sayers. This is what I want for you today. To walk away from the Nay-Sayers and to combat their lies with the truth when they ambush your pursuit of hope and healing. Find your place of rest where the King can comfort you, and where you can be restored to the healthy, whole person that you were created to be.

I think one of the cruelest feelings an already wounded and betrayed heart can experience is shame. Shame has an incredible ability to cripple even the strongest of us. Looking back, I can see how I was very kindly shielded from a large portion of it early on. Starting about two days after I discovered my husband Wayne’s infidelities, several discerning and godly men told me that his actions outside of our marriage had nothing to do with me. I think they actually went out of their way several times during those first few weeks after discovery to reiterate the fact that I had not caused Wayne to ‘act out.’ I am still very grateful to them for standing in the gap for me during that time. As comforting as it was to have them speak that truth to me, I suspect the biggest canopy of protection against shame that I had over me was from Wayne himself. He never once pointed a blaming finger in my direction. He always took full responsibility for his actions. Even with all that though, I was not completely protected from shame‘s ugly attacks. I remember very vividly having to go to our family practice doctor for a HIV test. When my doctor walked in he said “We are not here because of you are we?” I shook my head and looked down. Even after affirming with me that I had not caused the need for the test I still cried through the physical part of the exam. Something about it just felt completely shameful. I later chose to do the six month follow up test with my OB, thinking it would be easier. Sadly, this was not the case. My story of why I needed the STD test must have stepped on one her own unhealed wounds, because she gave me a lecture and a half on the foolishness of staying with my husband. I was in such a hysterical, snotty, can’t-catch-my-breath kind of cry by the time I got downstairs for the lab portion of the test that I couldn’t even speak to tell the tech my name. I just held up the paper I had been given to bring down with me. On it was my name and the test they were supposed to draw blood for. When she looked down at the paper, then back at me I felt a big wave of shame roll over me. I imagined that she had all the possible scenarios rolling through her head as to why I would be needing that test. Feeling overwhelmed, I just turned around and escaped into the nearest restroom until my buzzer lit up, letting me know it was my turn to go back for the blood draw. When I got home I had a big battle with shame. It started out with me lying flat down in the floor of my closet crying my poor little heart out. At this point it wasn’t the hysterical messy cry that it had been at the appointment, it was just the ‘I am hurting, and I am tired of it’ cry. I felt my Healer sitting with me, and after a while He gently whispered to my heart to ‘get up and fight.’ And fight I did! Thankfully, no one else was home because being alone gave me the freedom to sit up and shout! First I shouted the truth that I did not cause my husband to betray me, then I shouted that I do have hope for our future. After that I got out my index cards that held words of truth which I had already prepared for moments like this and spoke the words I had written on them out loud until I felt the weight of shame lift from my heart. I can’t say I never felt shame after that, but I can say that fighting it wasn’t ever the big battle that it had been on that day because from then on I knew to be on guard against it. So whenever I began to feel even the smallest inkling of shame creep up on me, I was ready with my little spiral index card ‘sword’ and fought it off within a few minutes. Dear reader, please don’t let shame weigh you down. You’re in the middle of fighting to win back your heart in the healthy and whole condition it was designed to flourish in. Shame’s arrows are a counter attack from the enemy of your heart. They are designed to pin you to the ground where you will be powerless to stand and fight. Shake off his arrows and win!

During my healing process that followed the discovery of my husband’s betrayal, there were several things that he did to help make me feel safer in my relationship with him. I shared these things in part one. Today, I want to share the changes that took place in my own heart that allowed me to reopen it to him. The main thing that stands out in my mind when I look back on that time is where I chose to put my focus. During the eight years of our marriage before discovery, I assumed that nothing hurtful would ever occur in our relationship simply because in my mind ‘Wayne would never do anything to hurt me.’ So what did I have to worry about? I trusted him. After I found evidence of his betrayal I was not only deeply hurt by his actions, but also had lost all trust in him. I knew that if he hurt me once, he was capable of hurting me again. This left me in a hard situation. I still loved him, but I had no idea how to live life with him now that I knew what he was capable of. This is where the importance of his attitude and actions towards me was so important. While I knew he was capable of hurting me again, I also sensed that his heart was soft to me and that he was actively working to protect me at that time. Knowing this freed me to begin a new way of thinking. I still do not trust my husband. But I am free to love him and enjoy life with him because I trust God. The same One who protected me through the hurt and healed me after it is able to do it again. Please understand, dear readers, that I am not suggesting that I would stay in an actively unsafe situation. If I ever sense that Wayne’s heart has become hard again by living a secret life, I will have to guard my heart by walking away from an unsafe situation. But as long as he is actively fighting to guard his heart and protect mine, I can stay reconnected with him. What has changed in me that has allowed me to reconnect with the one who has hurt me so deeply? My focus and the One in whom I place my trust.

I have recently discovered the fun of Pinterest. I am still a little unsure of how to pin any random thing off of the web onto my board, so for now I have to be content browsing other people’s boards and repining interesting items that they have already gathered. This afternoon as I was scanning through a friend’s board I found this quote to which she had added the comment “so true”: It has been said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time the mind, protecting its sanity covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessons. but it is never really gone. --Rose Kenedy My eyes were glued on her words for a good couple of minutes letting them sink in, feeling the weight of the sadness that she must have felt as she spoke them. Then it occurred to me that she is not alone. Certainly the circumstances surrounding her pain may be different than they are for others, but pain is pain, so I think her quote is worth considering. I suspect that many of us have heard, and perhaps even believed, this theory on heart wounds at some point in our life. Let’s look at it a little closer together… ‘It has been said that time heals all wounds, I do not agree.’ Ms. Kennedy recognized the fallacy of this idea. While it does take time to heal, time alone has no power in and of itself. Something has to occur during that space of time in order for healing to take place. As Rick says, “It’s not time that heals, it is how you use the time.” ‘The wound remains’ Well, yes, if all you are doing is ignoring your pain and hoping by some magic that time will heal your wounds, they will indeed remain. ‘In time the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens’ OK, I am by no means an expert on this. I am not a counselor. I am simply a girl speaking out of my own experience, but to me, this is possibly the saddest part of the quote. Have you or any of your loved ones ever gone through a physically traumatic event? Perhaps a car wreck or even a surgery of some kind? Any doctor would tell you that we heal from the inside out. The deep tissue of our bodies needs to be in a healthy condition before any scar tissue can form. The worst thing for an infected wound would be for the outer layer of skin to heal before the deep tissue has. Closing an unhealed wound creates a breeding ground for other issues down the road. Yes, you may feel better for the moment, but lurking beneath the surface is a deep wound that is tunneling it’s destructive little fingers into areas of your body that would have otherwise been left untouched had it been allowed to heal properly to begin with. Scars form over healthy tissue, not over wounds, and while they may occasionally feel tight or slightly uncomfortable, they generally are not covering over a hidden pain. ‘But it’s never really gone.’ Ms. Kennedy died in 1995 at the age of 104. From the outside she lived a full life. She was a part of a very powerful political family. She raised nine children, spoke several languages, was named the ‘best dressed woman in public life’ and was recognized for her ‘exemplary motherhood and many charitable works.’ But on the inside she carried around a hidden pain that never went away. If I could go back in time I would tell her how sorry I am that she had been so deeply hurt. I would tell her that she was right, time does not heal wounds. But hurting forever is not the only option, there is another one available. Yes, it is difficult. At times it may even feel like it is taking everything you have to stay on it. But in the end you will find healing and rest, and a happy heart that will allow you to enjoy the life that you are living. While time indeed does not heal wounds, there is hope for those of us who have been wounded. Healing is possible. I know, because I have experienced it with Harboring Hope. And you can too. Find a safe place to open up and let your wound heal from the inside out. Don’t find yourself at age 104 still suffering from an unhealed heart. Commit to the process of healing until you are able to say that you are free from that deep guttural pain, and that the occasional pulling from your scar tissue serves only to remind you of the gift of healing that you have received rather than of the pain that is hiding underneath.

I cannot think of much that will break down communication quicker than losing trust. When I first learned of Wayne’s secret life our conversations got a little ‘strained,’ to put it lightly. One minute I didn’t want to talk to him at all. The next I had a half a dozen questions that I wanted answers to. During the first month or so of our separation he would send me a text at night that would say something like, ‘If you want to talk tonight, call me. Otherwise goodnight.’ I appreciated this because it let me know that he was open to talking, but not being pushy about it. This left me free to talk or not, depending on where I was emotionally. After we were a couple of months into recovery I began to worry about him relapsing into his old lifestyle. When I would ask him how he was doing he would tell me what he was struggling with that day and how he was overcoming it, but my fears would only be quieted for a short time before they would come right back again. I had the most trouble when we were not with each other because that was when the ‘what ifs’ would start rolling around in my mind. On one hand I knew that I could just ask him about it, but on the other I didn’t want to become the constant nag with my list of twenty questions. So we began a number game. My number was on a scale of one to ten, showing where my focus was in that moment. If my focus was on the Voice of Truth, on His promises and on who He says I am in Him, then my number was a ten. But if I was giving air time to the Liar and listening to his accusations and negative predictions then I was a one. I would simply text that number to Wayne. He would then text his number to me. His scale was a little different than mine. His ten meant he was sailing through the day with no distracting temptations, and his one meant he was giving in to them. The number game became a powerful tool for us. It was a safe way to let each other know where we were at, and it generally became a conversation opener when we were back together later in the day. What are some ways you have learned to communicate? Even if you’re not open to communicating with your spouse yet, everyone needs a trusted advisor to walk through recovery. What makes it easy to communicate with that person? Could you see using this technique to communicate with your spouse? I’d love to hear your tips and suggestions.

“Don’t do that.” “Why not?” “Because it is not safe. You might get hurt.” I’m sure many of us can recall this conversation from our childhood. As a mom of two very wild boys I have heard those very words come out of my own mouth many times. After much persuasion from my oldest son I recently watched daredevil Nik Wallenda walk across Niagara Falls on a 200 foot long tightrope. I have to admit that at the beginning of his walk I was only half way paying attention as I folded clothes on the couch, but the further he went, the more excited I became. Not only did he have the challenge of keeping both feet on a two inch cord, but he also had the added difficulty of swirling winds and mist rising up in such a density that he was unable to see where he was supposed to put his next step. He had cameras on him as well as a microphone and headphones. His Dad was watching him on the cameras so he could give him encouragement and coaching along the way. The whole time he was walking this is what you heard: “How’s it looking Dad?” “It’s looking good son.” “Praise you God. Thank you Jesus.” “Change the rhythm of your steps son. The rope is beginning to jump a little.” “Yes, I feel that Dad… How does it look now?” “It looks good son. You are doing good.” “Thank you God. Praise you Jesus.” It went like this the whole way across till he reached the other side. When he stepped onto solid ground a man asked him, “How did you do that?” He replied, “Lots of prayer. And training. I have trained since I was two.” Wow! I wanted to cry and jump for joy at the same time. I felt like I was watching a beautiful allegory of my life, and the lives of all other spouses recovering from the pain of betrayal. Somewhere along the way in our childhood we pick up the idea that safe is good, and that anything potentially hurtful is to be avoided at all cost. That is all well and good until we wake up one day and discover that like it or not we have a very big choice to make. Do we play it safe, turn our back on the one who so deeply hurt us and has the potential to do it again? Or do we step out in faith onto the tightrope? There is no guarantees where it will lead, but isn’t there something inside you that draws you into that adventure? Yes the risk is great, but so is the reward. During the interview after Nik made it across he was asked why he did it. “To inspire people everywhere to follow their dreams,” was his reply. I have a dream. To live a long happy life with the man I love and to watch my two boys grow into strong courageous men. I still have days when the wind is pushing me from every direction and the mist around me is so heavy I can’t tell where my next step should be, but I am living the dream. Each step challenges me to use my life’s training, and reminds me that I need prayer and encouragement from loved ones around me to survive, but I wouldn’t change this journey one bit. I am so grateful that I choose to walk this adventure with the man I love. Thank you, Nik Walenda. You have indeed inspired me to continue living the dream!

Have you ever met someone who knows the best way to do everything? You know, the person who has seen it all and done it all, and has now become the self-proclaimed expert. Yeah, I thought so. We all know someone who meets this description. Unfortunately, it’s when we need them the very least they seem to jump out of nowhere and attack. It certainly felt that way to me. Wayne and I were very open with our friends and family about what was going on in our lives. The double-edged sword that we held by being so open was that while we received an amazing amount of love and support, we also received an amazing amount of unsolicited advice. It felt like everyone and their dog knew what I should do. And, amazingly, each one had a different idea on what that was. It was all well-intentioned, but the truth is that all the “you shoulds” really muddied the waters on where my heart was leading me. A person could suffocate under the weight of that many “shoulds”. Thankfully, there were a few people in my life who had truly walked the path before me and who were able to help guide me through it. Their guidance and support were lifesavers in the twisting maze of betrayal, hurt, and healing. They helped me to see that recovery of my heart was found in grieving it’s wounds, then searching to see where it was leading me, rather than in seeking the “good housekeeping seal of approval” from everyone around me. Good advisors help to heal. All others should be avoided! Here at Affair Recovery you’ll find some good advisors who only want to help you heal and find restoration and hope. I hope you’ll take advantage of them like I was able to.

Generally I feel called to write about the emotions that I felt during the first year of my healing process. Today, if you will allow me, I want to share where I am right now. If your wound is still fresh, the insights that I have recently received may not apply to you yet, but I think they are still worth reading. I certainly would have benefited from these words had someone spoken them to me a few months ago. So just put them away for later. You can reach back into your memory file for them when you are ready. Several months ago I was asked to write about my experience as a betrayed spouse for Affair Recovery’s blog. I should tell you that I felt like the most unlikely choice for this. Not only had I never written anything other than an occasional letter, but I also had never even read a blog. In fact, at the time we didn’t even have internet at our house. But, even with all that, in my heart I knew that sharing my experience with you was right because of the longing that I have to come alongside those who are feeling the pains of betrayal and offer you some hope. Hope that is found in realizing you are not alone and in discovering there is life after pain. Not just an “I’m making it” kind of life, but life that is abundant and wonderful. So, with that in mind I stepped over the obstacles and jumped in with both feet. Looking back I can see where I went wrong. As I had begun to look back at everything that I had experienced, my focus was on the pain that was rather than on the healing that is. After healing has taken place, remembering about past pain can be a good thing when I remember the beauty that was brought out of the ashes of our broken hearts. But after healing, I found that simply dwelling on past hurt can be dangerous. It was a danger that I was not aware I should be on guard against. After about a year of relative happiness and grief-free living, I felt like I was going through yet another mourning season. If you had asked me what I was mourning I would not have been able to tell you, I just felt sad and angry. I have already written about the importance of feeling our pain, and how dangerous it is to stuff our emotions, so I can see how this may sound like a bit of a contradiction. Please bear with me as I try to explain. Our Healer loves us so much He wants nothing more than to hold us as we cry out our pain. In the most tender way He is able to speak straight to the deepest hurt and whisper comfort to us. But once He has healed us we are healed completely, so it would stand to reason that further healing and comfort is no longer needed. After I shared the pain that I was once again feeling with one of my mentors she explained to me the difference between mourning and grieving. Mourning has a beginning, middle, and end. We know that our mourning is over when it has been changed to dancing. But a spirit of grief has no end. It just reminds us of past hurt, keeping us in a constant state of sadness. This may sound as strange to you as it did to me. In fact, I had to chew on this one for a few days before I recognized the truth that she had offered me. There is incredible freedom found in understanding the difference between mourning and grieving. You see, before I was healed I was given triggers as a gift to remind me that I was still wounded and in need of my Healer. They served to guide me into the mourning that brings comfort. But now I have been healed, so they no longer have the same purpose. Now my occasional trigger is an opportunity to dance. I am invited to dance for the joy of a heart that is healed, for the excitement of an adventurous life, and for the miracle of two divided hearts that can now as one come together and enjoy life to its fullest. I dance not just because of the incredible healing that has taken place in our life, but because in the process of being healed we came to know our Healer in a special and intimate way we otherwise would not have known Him. Alright readers, now it is your turn. Where are you in the process? Are you still in the mourning season? If so, do you know if you are in the beginning, or somewhere in the middle? If you are still in mourning, let me encourage you not to rush through it. Sit in it. Mourn it till you find the healing your heart so desperately desires. Are you healed? Has your healing brought you to a place of dancing? Please share. I would love to read your comments.

In my last entry I shared some of the blessings that I have discovered can only be found in grieving. Today I want to share some practical ways that I learned to grieve. The world around us doesn’t help us with this at all. We grow up hearing “Big girls (or boys) don’t cry.” So what do we do when life hands us pain? How does one properly mourn a deep heart wound? Finding a few trusted people with whom I could be completely open and honest was very helpful. These were women who rejoiced with me when I had moments of hope and cried with me when I was sad. Another thing that stands out to me as being particularly helpful was setting aside one day a week to grieve. At that point in our life both of our boys went to school Tuesday-Thursday. This was a huge blessing because I was unable to truly grieve the way my heart needed to while being distracted by dirty diapers, grocery shopping, or “Mom, I need a drink.” So Tuesday became my grief day. I was careful not to schedule anything else on that day and I guarded it like my life depended on it. After dropping them off at school I would go home and head straight for the closet. Once there I would put on some worship music then fall face down on the floor and cry my little eyes out. Some mornings I would even yell a little. For the first several months I needed most of the day to cry and process or just sit quietly in my pain. As time went by the amount of closet time decreased, but for a little over a year “Tuesday-Grief Day” was an important part of my week. As helpful as “Grief Day” was, there were still times in between Tuesdays that I would need to grieve. Sometimes I was able to be sad and still carry on with what I was doing, but other times I found the sadness to be so overwhelming that it would interfere with what I was doing. During those moments I would find a way to be alone for a few minutes to cry it out quietly. A few minutes generally wasn’t enough time to fully grieve the pain, but it would get me through till the next Tuesday when I could pick it back up and fully cry over it. I found that healing deep heart wounds is a messy and painful process. But I am so thankful that I pressed forward in it. It has been said that “Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted.” Truer words have never been said.

If a person had told me that there are blessings found in grieving before I went through it a few years ago, I would have thought they were crazy. Today’s culture tells us that blessings are found in things that are easy or fun, or in things that generally feel ‘good.’ Situations or people that cause us pain are generally seen as curses to be avoided at all cost. We are also told that when we are hurt the strong among us will ‘suck it up,’ or ‘put on our big girl panties’ and move on. The implication is that crying - or even the mere feeling of pain or sadness- is a sign that we are weak. One thing I learned after discovering my husband Wayne’s betrayals is that I truly did have a choice. I could choose to ignore and stuff down the pain, or I could sit in it and allow myself to feel it. Since feeling pain is clearly an unpleasant experience, my natural tendency was to choose to ignore it. Had this been a healing option it would have worked well. Unfortunately ignoring the pain only added to my problem. Looking at how physical wounds heal helps to illustrate what I am talking about. Think about last time you scraped your knee. You may have cleaned the scrape then applied a band aide. This kind of wound you can literally cover then ignore, and it will heal fine. But what if your wound was deeper? What if rather than a simple fall that produced a scraped knee you were in a car crash with multiple internal wounds? No one in their right mind would put on a few band aides then get up to ‘walk it off.’ So why do we do that with heart wounds? Sure, there are times when our heart gets a little bruised or scraped. In those moments a little emotional cleaning and band aide will cover it. But when we have been deeply wounded by the one closest to our heart we need intensive care. Putting a band aide over this kind of wound only creates a dark breeding ground for germs like bitterness and self-hate to grow. Knowing that this septic kind of living was all I had to look forward to if I did not choose to engage in emotional rehab (grieving) is what gave me the courage to rip the band aide off. The blessing found in choosing to grieve is healing and comfort. It is a painfully long process, but well worth the effort because after we have walked it to completion we find ourselves renewed and oddly stronger than we were before the wound was inflicted. Today I have discussed the need to grieve. In part 2, I will share some of the ways I walked it out.

I was recently sharing with a woman some of the pain that I had gone through after discovering my husband’s betrayal. She asked me if we were together now. When I told her we were, her next question was, “How did you know you were safe to let him back in?” I knew exactly what she meant. She wasn’t asking me when I let him back into our home after our separation. She was asking me when I was able to trust him with my heart. Somewhere deep inside all of us we understand the truth about our hearts. They are our most treasured possessions, and because of that we instinctively guard them. As I thought about how to reply to her question, I realized that the answer was going to be a difficult one. That season in my life was so messy and complicated. Trying to pin-point exactly how and when I felt safe enough to trust him with my most treasured possession (my heart) proved to be an interesting exercise. The first thing that stands out to me during my time of healing was his attitude toward me. His heart was completely soft. If I needed to be alone so I could think and process, he would give me space. If I had questions that were bothering me he would answer them. If I was hurting and just needed to cry, he would let me cry for as long as it took to get it all out. I think what helped the most was that he never passed the blame to me. When I would ask him why he had done such hurtful things he would generally give me the most honest answer he knew by simply saying “I don’t know. I wish I knew. But it was not because of you. You did not cause this. I did.” Sounds simple, I know, but something about hearing him take full responsibility over and over again for his actions and the pain that he had caused helped to make me feel safer when I was with him. And over time, I eventually felt safe enough to let him back in. Today I shared what I saw in him that helped me feel safe. In part two I will focus on the changes that took place in my heart that allowed me to share it with him again.