Survivors' Blog

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I have tailored the truth to my audience for as long as I can remember. And it started with peanuts. I attended a non-denominational Christian elementary school. One day when I was in the fourth grade, I had to stay in from recess for a reason I don't recall. To ease my pain and disappointment of missing out on the best part of the school day, my friend told me that I could have some of the peanuts she had in her lunch box. So, while the class was outside, I helped myself to some. However, I wasn't the only one who had to stay in that day. When two of my fellow sequestered classmates saw me snacking down on the tasty peanuts, they wanted some too. Now, my friend didn't give me permission to share with anyone else, but I decided, without much thought, that it would be ok if I did. Before I knew it, we had cleaned out my friend's stash. Upon returning from recess and realizing that all her peanuts were gone, my friend was rightfully angry. She told our teacher that I had eaten "all" her peanuts. I defended myself by saying that I did not eat "all" the peanuts, because the two other kids had some as well. So, the three of us were sent to the principal's office for stealing. I pleaded that I was innocent because my friend told me that I could have some - which was technically the truth. However, I did not stand up for the other two girls by admitting that I told them they could have some peanuts - as if they were mine to give - which made them also seem guilty of stealing, when they really weren't. We all three ended up being paddled, and I was left feeling that "the peanut incident" had been a great injustice to me. The takeaway for me was that I told the truth from my point of view - I did not eat all the peanuts - but it did not matter. I got punished anyway. What I didn't take away from the incident was the deception and betrayal that were at play in my personality when I was a mere 9 years old. I didn't see for many, many years that I betrayed my friend's trust when I gave away her peanuts. Yes, I had agreed to only eat some, not all, of her peanuts, but that didn't mean that I could then give the remainder to others, causing all of her peanuts to get eaten. In reality, it didn't matter whether I actually ate all the peanuts or allowed others to eat them all. She trusted me to make sure that there were some left for her. I also never realized that I had a duty to tell my teacher/ principal that I told the other two girls that they could have some, and that they did not actually steal them outright. They were innocent. They should have never been punished. By remaining silent and withholding information, I got them a paddling that they did not deserve. It was eye-opening, while reflecting on this past incident, to realize that a lot of my behavior hasn't really changed much since elementary school. Since then, I believed that the truth is fluid. It is mine to mold to fit my purposes. It should be spun in such a way as to avoid any negative emotional backlash. Honesty is moot unless it benefits me and the person I'm telling. I am conflict avoidant by nature - I hate being in the hot seat. I'm a pleaser - I want everyone to feel ok. Therefore, I started to devalue honesty and place more importance on my self-image. I controlled how I felt about myself by controlling how others felt about me. How I appeared to people and how much positivity they felt about me became paramount. I selectively used truth as one of many tools to get the outcome I wanted, instead of using it to reveal what I was responsible for. These ideas about the truth have led to deceptive and secretive behavior that has incredibly damaged my character. It follows then, that I have been a nightmare to be married to. I had the perfect storm of character flaws to be unfaithful. My infidelity occurred while my husband and I were dating. We were exclusive, but I chose to have a one-night stand. I told my husband right after it happened. I knew the consequences it would have, but I really didn't want to lose him. I also wanted to get credit for being honest. Selectively using pieces of truth to craft the outcome I wanted, I spun a story that would soften the blow and still have me telling my husband that I had sex with another man. I told him that the sex wasn't consensual - that I really didn't want to, but was forced. Truth, but tailored to my husband's feelings. He would be upset, but spared the worst. Actually, I was able to get sympathy from him, due to my convincing portrayal as a victim. With the affair put in this context, he was able to forgive me, and we went on to get married a short time later. When I finally did tell the whole truth to my husband 27 years later, I still could not see that it was the right thing to do. In theory I knew it was right, but in reality, the pain he experienced, fully knowing what had happened, was horrible. It was devastating. His world was turned upside down, and he no longer knew what to believe about the woman he married. He realized that our marriage had been built on a lie. Who he had become as a husband was built on a lie. I had deceived him wholly. His reaction was proof that the truth had, once again, caused bad things to happen. Since D-Day, I slowly realized that I needed to change my relationship with the truth if I wanted to stay in a relationship with my husband. Through AR, I learned that it was my actual actions that caused bad things to happen, not the telling of them. In the early days of recovery, however, I regressed. I went from soft truths and fibs of omission that were common for me, to outright bold face lies. I could not stand to feel the pain brought on by 'fessing up to behavior that did not fit into the false image that I had of myself or that would cause a negative reaction in my husband. I had trouble accepting that my actions were what was harmful. I had it backwards. I was too weak to take on the burden of the truth at that time. To mitigate, I would try to be perfect. I thought that if I didn't ever commit hurtful acts, I would never be in a position where I was compelled to lie. It's easy to take ownership of good behavior. After a deceptive incident, I would try to just be good, but of course I was doomed to fail. And I did - a lot. Eventually, I realized that I needed to take responsibility for my actions, no matter what they were. Since I was never going to be a perfect person, I needed to develop the character to tell the truth instead. If I honestly own my thoughts, feelings, and actions in my heart, telling the truth will be an extension of that ownership. Easier said than done, for someone who has a malleable relationship with honesty. I needed to learn to sit in reality and deal with it like a mature adult. Sadly, at 51, I didn't know how. To help me navigate this uncharted territory, I started thinking about whether my husband would approve of my actions - all of them. Even ones that seemed insignificant - like how I talked to the Starbucks girl if she got my order wrong. I couldn't use my fluctuating emotions as a guide. I could always excuse my own behavior and soften the effects of it with a lie. Doing this exercise helped, but I realized that I also needed someone whose character I trusted and whose integrity I respected to help lead me to new, transparent behavior. Someone to be my guide. My husband served as this guide, and I used his ability to live in the truth as a template to rebuild my dishonest character. He gave me this wonderful visual that really changed my perspective and helped me to integrate honesty more readily into my life. He helped me view the truth as something that exists outside of me. Truth is its own entity that just "is" - whether I like it or am comfortable with it; whether I regret it or am ashamed of it. It is there waiting for me to accept it and take it in my hands for what it means in reality. He suggested picturing it in my mind, looking like a "thought bubble" above my head. When my husband (or anyone) wants to know the truth so that he can better understand me and my actions, it is my duty as a wife, as a friend, as a fellow human being, to present it to him without expectations or strings attached. To present it without ego. I give him the whole "truth thought bubble package" in its entirety, because he can't get to it any other way. When I hand it to him, I must accept that once it is in his hands, he does with it as he sees fit. It is no longer solely in my keeping. If I tried to alter it or place requirements on it, the process just takes longer and hurts more. The truth doesn't need instructions. In his hands, the truth will find its own way to make sense to him. I can't possibly know how truth communicates itself to my husband in a way he can understand, but it does. It takes time, but truth finds a way to make all who want to hear it, understand what it is saying. All I can do is slow the process with distortions, or prevent the process by keeping it inside. It's really that easy, and that hard. Simply give my husband the truth and it will do all the work necessary for him to eventually understand, if he does the work to hear it. My job is to nurture and support him during this process. The thought bubble seems cartoonish, but it works for me amazingly well. When I think of telling the truth in this way, the abject fear of the repercussions - the pain caused by hurting my husband's feelings, ruining a date, making me look bad, or not pleasing and meeting expectations - is muted and more tolerable. I can do the right thing more often, which builds much-needed trust with my husband. I am far from being rigorously honest. I still struggle with deceptive thought patterns and wanting to please and not cause friction. But I have learned that if I want to be true to myself, I must start by telling the truth to my husband. It is so basic, and something I should have taken seriously starting in elementary school. I can't avoid the truth and be in a healthy relationship, and I can't be dishonest and be the woman of integrity that I strive to be. I am now learning that to believe, and live otherwise, is what is truly terrifying.

Strong winds are blowing outside and the cold is hard to deny. We're in the cusp of springtime, and just a few days ago it was nice and in the 70s. A familiar heaviness burdens me, and it's hard to shake off. I pray and am tired. I know I want to get up and go and do things. I have things to do, but I refuse to write this off as lazy. It's my day off; however, I just seem a little weak or unmotivated, which is frustrating because I like to do things on my days off. I went to do my favorite exercises, but was not confident there. I have not been my usual ball of excitement, but if I think about it, it's been maybe a week or more now. It saddens me. I know this month is D-day month. I loathe that it would get to me. The month came to a slow crawl as it neared, and I cringed even as I tried to dismiss it or ignore its arrival. So much damage was compounded that very day. I can't even recall the exact day, but what good would it do if I did? Nightmare upon nightmare, that day took so much energy and life from me. This wasn't even the first D-day. But this D-day was the first to create a ripple effect that significantly changed our lives. Today compared to last year, I can say it looks different. The trauma did a number. I say trauma carefully, as it took me some time to "hear" that word. To this day, it's still hard for me to accept it as trauma or PTSD. But it is severe enough that I still get triggered and I am still affected tremendously. I have a lot of pride in the way, and I'll admit it makes things difficult for myself. I am very blessed though, with the grace of God and wonderful people in my corner. A kind friend told me once that I should try and see D-day as a victorious day. I was shocked at that; even more shocked at the revelation of how she explained it. She said that it was the day God said "ENOUGH" and that I was able to trust my now-husband to Him. It was my opportunity to let go and let God, and not have to be in control and take everything upon myself any longer. It's always been so hard for me to NOT be in control. This betrayal, the revealing of infidelity and his addiction was not in my control. I had no control or choice in this matter, which for me personally was beyond any destruction I could imagine. The carnage was unimaginable. I've survived many crises and abuse and tragedies, but this was something I was not built or prepared for, I hate to admit. I've always prided myself in being tough, independent, adaptable, able to endure and persevere. This was a monster I thought I could avoid or believed I wouldn't allow to happen to me. Pride and ignorance are costly. I love my family. I love my kids. I love my husband. He and I have been together about 8 years now and our first D-day was when we found out I was pregnant. We stuck it out in the worst kind of way, destroyed each other, and affected our kids. But this time, this damage, upon hitting rock bottom, there was no way left to go but up. I'm glad it was God Who was the Rock at the bottom. It's all work, but there's a lot of play too. I still have my days of triggers, but my husband and I talk more now. We pray and put God in the center and we include the kiddos. When we argue and the kids see, we make sure they see that we make up - we forgive; we grow stronger. Today, the wind is blowing hard and it's tumultuous, but if I think about it, it doesn't last long and it has its benefits, and there's beauty in it too. I think and thank God for being the artist that He is. In our mess, He makes a masterpiece. I still cry and feel the yuck, but that's ok. Our counselor shared that the more I allow myself to feel the "feels", the more desensitized I can become to them. I probably won't forget things, but I certainly can grow from them. And if I can be honest with myself, I can smile at where I am today, versus where I was last year when I didn't even notice how hard the wind was blowing or if there was rain or if my kids needed me or when I just couldn't get out of bed or why God let this happen. I feel blessed. From the hurt, hardship, pain and despair, I found God. I actually ran to Him and have never been closer. So, this upcoming D-day... I can just shrug at it, turn to my husband, meet his kiss with mine, hug my kids close and we all praise God.

Forgiveness - Burden or Gift Part I: What is Forgiveness Anyway? Part II: The Journey of a Lifetime Last time we talked about the reality of forgiveness - what it is and what it isn't - and how forgiveness plays a vital role in recovery and potential reconciliation. So why don't people forgive? Lots of reasons. Fear, pride, anger, resentment, bitterness and a lack of understanding of forgiveness are some of them. While I would never wish to relive this season of my life, it has offered me a great deal of self-examination. To begin to consider life after betrayal, I had to take a hard look at myself. Was I prideful? Yes, probably. Considering forgiveness of this deeply personal and intimate offense made me feel humiliated, stupid, and foolish. Who lets someone treat them in the worst possible way a human being can be treated and then forgive that, and reconcile? Well, it turns out forgiving people do. Lots of them. And they are not stupid or foolish - they are actually some of the strongest, most courageous people out there. What about righteousness? That gets in the way for a lot of people. We can "compare" our sins to those of the unfaithful spouse and declare ourselves to be superior, and therefore can be unwilling to forgive such egregious acts from those clearly so far "beneath" us. Except that we are all sinners. As Rick Reynolds explained at EMS, we have to stay mindful of our own inner cesspool. None of us is perfect. I remind myself that I did not deserve forgiveness from God for my sins either, but He forgave me anyway. As we celebrate Easter and are reminded of Christ's ultimate sacrifice for our sins, I think it offers objectivity regarding our universally flawed human state, regardless of which side of the infidelity equation we find ourselves, and the need for forgiveness in our own lives. "Forgiveness requires the ability to forgive yourself for the failure of your own false expectations." Kenneth Cloke Humility is a gift I have received in this season of forgiveness, and I am not afraid to look at my own shortcomings. After committing to forgiveness for my husband, I began to examine my role in our marriage and the times I had hurt him, even unintentionally. I asked him for forgiveness, and he offered it. Don't misunderstand, I am not taking responsibility for his affair. That was his decision alone, but that doesn't mean I was a perfect wife. The more I could really get vulnerable to examine that, the more compassion I had for him. None of it is easy or intuitive. It is deliberate and intentional work, and very hard. Rick and Stephanie Reynolds offer some practical tips toward forgiveness in this article. I am content with where I am in my forgiveness of my husband's infidelity. It is a lifelong journey. I wish it was a one and done decision, but even with the best of intentions and a heartfelt declaration, those triggers and resentments spring up to remind me that I have to forgive again. And again. And again. When I see a "special" photo that now just feels fake and hollow. When I battle painful intrusive thoughts and images in what should feel like an exclusively intimate moment with my husband. When I randomly recall a time I raised suspicions and they were dismissed and called "silly." When another loss becomes apparent to me and I feel resentment for having to give up even more that I never agreed to, I have to forgive again. Don't get too discouraged, though, because it truly does get easier as time goes on, and with practice. I remind myself I have already forgiven for this or that, and have to do a bit of a reset. It's still hard at times, but is less difficult than it once was. "Forgiveness is not an occasional act. It is a permanent attitude." Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I think the hardest concept for me to initially understand is that I couldn't just wait until I felt like forgiving. That was extremely unlikely to happen. Ever. It is more of an intentional action based on decision, not feelings. The feelings come later, after the path has been worn down a bit. Forgiveness felt impossible in the beginning, but the forgiveness in my heart for my husband is much more authentic now. I am certainly not "done" and I still have angry and resentful moments, but the "feelings" of forgiveness are much more genuine, not forced anymore, just not fully complete. I am satisfied with that, as I think it's huge progress, and I know if I stay the course it will just continue to improve, so it's not something I worry about anymore. I know I could not have achieved this without God's work in me. If you're not ready to forgive right now, that's ok. There is no timeline. You can't force it. Mona Shriver says, "It's a common prescription to betrayed spouses to ‘just forgive and you won't be angry anymore.' I'm sorry, but that's just not usually true. A betrayed spouse who is dealing with severe anger will need to actually grieve first, then slowly and steadily move towards forgiveness." I suggest looking back at this in a month or two and try again. And again a few months after that. It is a deeply personal and unique choice for each of us, and we are all different. There is so much to face with marital betrayal, we simply can't face it all at once. Be patient with yourself, take your time. Forgiveness is a strength, not a weakness. It takes tremendous strength to forgive something as deeply wounding as infidelity. You never really know how strong you are until you come face to face with something that seems so impossible. It can feel overwhelming, but as with the rest of recovery, take it one step at a time. This truly is the journey of a lifetime. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you. Eph 4:32

Forgiveness - Burden or Gift Part I: What is Forgiveness Anyway? Part II: The Journey of a Lifetime When discussing forgiveness of marital betrayal, other words that often spring to mind include impossible, unfair, and undeserved. Some of you may have even cringed at the mention of forgiveness. I definitely understand that. I think this topic is so hard to wrap our heads around when we are reeling from the pain and upheaval caused by infidelity, and it can seem out of the realm of possibility to even care about forgiveness. Every situation is different, so I can only tell you about mine. When my husband first confessed his affair, I was numb. In my situation, I had waited a very long time for the truth and had basically given up believing it would ever happen. Over the years that I waited, I had continually tried to convince myself there was nothing to know, which he reinforced with layers of lies and denial. So, when it finally came out and I was faced with the exact truth I had worked so hard to dismiss, I was unprepared. Even though your situation was probably different from mine, I'll bet you were unprepared too. My husband spilled the ugly truth all over me and tearfully asked for my forgiveness. In a daze, I offered it to him. Looking back, I truly meant it in that moment, but I had absolutely no idea what I was saying. I hadn't even begun to understand what I had lost, what he had actually willingly destroyed in our marriage, and as the reality set in over the next difficult season, forgiveness seemed like the least of my problems. However, as a Christian I knew I was commanded to forgive, and as a wife I wanted to be able to forgive, but I had no idea how I was ever going to get there. Forgiveness felt like it was designed for things that were accidental. Unintentional. Mistakes. Like, “Oh, gosh, I just spilled wine on your shirt; please forgive me.” This was not like that at all. This was a series of repeated choices over a long period of time, done with full awareness of wrongness, layered with deliberate and intentional deception and secrecy to ensure its continuation, uninterrupted and without consequence. This is not to say the hurt caused by those actions was deliberate or even considered, but the choices made were neither an accident nor a mistake. I struggled with this. It seemed so intentional. I felt caught between my obedience to God and my human nature. My human heart said forgiveness would be saying that what he did was ok, or that it didn't hurt me. It felt like forgiveness would somehow minimize the significance and impact of his betrayal. Or even that I conceded that what he did wasn't actually that bad. None of that was true. How could I forgive something that had cost me so much? Forgiving something of this magnitude just seemed unfair. Hadn't I lost enough already? But I do love my husband, and following disclosure he was deeply remorseful, truthful, empathetic, and motivated to heal our marriage. So, initially, I willed myself to forgive, through gritted teeth and angry prayers. I definitely did not feel anything resembling forgiveness. I was too busy being angry, even rageful at times, like nothing I have ever experienced before. As the months ticked by I knew I had to figure out a way to forgive him, both for his sake and my own. But how? I prayed about this frequently, but it was a mixture of obligation and desperation. In my heart I did want to forgive my husband. I just didn't know if I could. I really didn't know if I was a good enough person for that. I mostly assumed I wasn't. Forgiveness for monumental things like infidelity was what really good people do - like, super sweet, Godly, loving people who still smile when they're upset and say things like "Goodness gracious". Not angry, resentful, sarcastic people who spew four letter words like me. I continued to pray and ask God to show me how to forgive and to make me capable of forgiveness. I asked Him to pour His forgiveness through me for my husband. As time went on, I settled into this frequent prayer, and at some point I realized I had committed to forgiveness. That didn't mean I felt any forgiveness yet, but I had made a decision that I would forgive, and was committed to doing so, however long it took to get there. After a little while, that thought was comfortable. I no longer felt as much of a "forgiveness failure", and felt patience in knowing I had made the commitment, so the timeframe wasn't important. I continued to pray about it, but my prayer changed a little. Now I asked God to soften my heart and fill me with compassion for my husband so I could see him as God did, and to fill me with His forgiveness toward him. I wish I could say suddenly something was magically transformed in me after that, but that was not my experience. Could God do that? Absolutely. But I think He would rather we arrive there through our own struggle. More time passed and I continued to pray that prayer, along with a lot of other stuff about healing. Slowly my anger began to subside. Perusing the Affair Recovery forums and reading extensively on the topic over the years, I have noticed some recurring misconceptions of forgiveness. Forgiveness does not require justice. Sometimes people can get caught up in wanting justice or restitution before considering forgiveness. If you are looking for justice in the aftermath of infidelity - spoiler alert - there isn't any. You will never find it because it doesn't exist. The same goes for restitution. I personally cringe when I hear people talk about restitution in this circumstance, as though the losses can be replaced. They can't. However, that being said, with enough perspective and forgiveness, the need for justice becomes irrelevant. What matters more is redemption, along with finding meaning and purpose. Redemption for myself and my life, as well as having a role in my husband's redemption. That is deeply meaningful to me. Does it take away the sting of betrayal or make forgiveness easy? No. But it exists alongside all of that, and is equally important. Forgiveness isn't saying that the betrayal was okay. It actually says the opposite. It implies that what happened was so significant that there's nothing that can make up for it, and that is why forgiveness is needed. It comes at a cost to the person doing the forgiving. It can never be made right by human means. That's the message of the gospel. God did not forgive our sins because they were trivial. Our sins were monumental and we could never do enough to make up for them. Forgiveness is supernatural, and I believe as flawed humans, we are unable to do it on our own. Forgiving is not forgetting. If we could just forget, there would be no need for forgiveness. The principle of forgiveness is that, in spite of the fact that you will always remember, you give up your right to punish, and you come to accept the consequences of another person's actions. That is really hard. I didn't take these actions and I don't want these consequences. So please don't think I'm glossing over it all and saying it's easy, as it definitely is not. Not at all. For me, part of the process of forgiveness is my growing acceptance of these costs. The more time has passed, the more I have accepted that there are many things that might just always be painful and disappointing. It is not the shock that it once was, and my expectations have changed to accommodate reality. I would love to say that forgiveness will result in the resolution of pain but I don't see that happening. Maybe for some people it does, I don't know. For me, it is more about making peace with having to live with the pain indefinitely. Forgiveness does not equal trust. Trust is completely separate from forgiveness, and may or may not be restored in a relationship where infidelity has occurred. Trust is built by believable behavior over time, not by forgiveness. Forgiveness is often confused with reconciliation. They are definitely not the same thing. You can have one without the other. You can have both. But they are separate. Forgiveness is a critical component for successful reconciliation, but even if reconciliation is not possible or advisable, forgiveness is still important - even if it's just for the freedom and peace of the betrayed partner. Not every relationship can be reconciled, but forgiveness can still take place regardless. Rick Reynolds explains the paradox of social shame that can take place with a decision to forgive and reconcile, but he also highlights the ultimate benefit for those who make it. Forgiveness will not remove the negative feelings about the betrayal. Nope. I wish that was true but it isn't. Mona Shriver describes this well and offers validation about feeling conflicted that we still feel angry and hurt, even though we are forgiving the person who hurt us so deeply. After the dust settles and the real work of recovery begins, forgiveness is something each of us has to face. Not everyone will choose this path, and we have the free will to decide for ourselves. Some people will flat out refuse to forgive, while others feel an inability to do so. Then the rest will try to figure it out to release the burden they are carrying. I'm sure you have heard the adage about the person who released the prisoner through forgiveness and then realized he himself had been the prisoner. I want the peace in my heart of forgiving my husband, and yes, even his affair partner. Initially I had zero capacity, or even desire, to forgive her. There is a lot to forgive. She feigned friendliness toward me and my children throughout the affair while enjoying a secret relationship with my husband. That continues to feel so calculated, humiliating, and without remorse, like I was just a pawn in a twisted game they were playing. After the initial shock of it all, I asked God to help me even want to forgive her, and then to help me do it. To see her as He sees her. Am I there yet? Not completely, but closer than I thought I would be. God tells us to bless those who persecute you. That is a very tall order, and one that I cannot do alone without the help of God. Come back next week for Part 2 of Forgiveness - Burden or Gift?

I can remember how heavy my brow would get, yet not realize how angry and scary I looked storming through the house... more than likely unpleasant to just be around, let alone speak to. I can imagine my whole family just mirroring how unhappy I was. And that they did. I was too busy in my misery to even notice that my kids were sliding into a downward spiral along with me. Where was their nurturing mom now? And when I was my loving self and happy, fun, and laughing mom, it was short lived and I was almost unrecognizable, or I was not fooling anyone. It was just too hard to hide the cracks. New baby, new and gigantic wound from an explosion beyond anything imaginable. But I've been through so much in life already; how can this compare or be worse? And he just shrugs it off like nothing. A shrug! Not only is my pride destroyed, I am suddenly beyond repose, past shocked and disgusted. I have to repay the agony, disrespect and disregard. I gave my all, my time, myself! He asked me to sacrifice all that I had worked for and while I was climbing toward the top of my career, he dragged me down to hell with him and left me there to rot. And so, my life goal was to pay him tenfold so that he would feel my pain deeper and not only just regret it. I was fueled by anger, bitterness, hate, disgust, rage, darkness, destruction, you name it. Suffering was my aim, and suffer he did. For all the love I had before, after this, he felt the most hate a person could ever contain in their body radiating out of me. He didn't know whether to regret, to hurt, to hate me back, to have sorrow, to fear, to retaliate. But he did know how to do one thing well, and that he did. He reverted back. I always watched as he looked at other women. I still had nightmares for years, and still treated him with no respect, put him down, accused him, destroyed his masculinity, and deprived him of being a man and leader. I didn't have proof, but was certain he was unfaithful again. I didn't find out for years. We tried to get help, but never stuck it through. All I wanted was to watch him hurt for the rest of our lives. He was willing to stay with me until the end. I was willing to stay and make him suffer forever. I was miserable, so was he, and so were our children. Something had to change. This last time, it was the last straw for me. I knew I had to change. I wasn't who I truly was for so long; I had deprived myself of that and I refused to live that way any longer. Revenge did nothing for me. It only brought me more misery and more pain and more destruction. I knew it was time to change, time to let God, time to decide if I really wanted to stay with him or just let go and walk away. The pain was still agonizing. I would imagine it was like waiting for poison to be extracted out of my body. I got help and they said it was a type of PTSD, a trauma, and I refused to accept it. I couldn't be that severe. I couldn't be that broken. I didn't want there to be a name for it because that would make it so serious. Too serious... dark. But it is dark, it is serious. But that's where God is, always. He is always there with us when we are cold, lost, alone, in despair, only left with our hate and anger and sadness and hopelessness and agony. He is there. We can find Him there. Revenge is His alone. For it says in Romans 12:17-21: Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord." To the contrary, "if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for in so doing you will heap burning coals on his head." Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. So I have done the opposite of what I did for years. I have practiced forgiveness and given grace to him, showed him love and accepted his love. I have felt the freedom that comes from letting go of my desire for revenge. I have journeyed in recovery with him and worked in our relationship TOGETHER, and even married this man under the eyes of God. I have gone against the pain and hurt and hate and bitterness and revenge and I have held strong to God's promise, and the results have been drastic. Drastic beyond what destruction was done initially? Yes. Indescribable creation. Imagine a tiny seed buried in the ground, in the darkness and cold and wet, bursting through that very dirt to grow into a beautiful blossoming flower. God is an artist; He truly is. He makes no mistakes. Isaiah 43:19 "See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland."

Today, I came across a picture that was posted on our group's GroupMe wall a while back. A depiction of hope, a moment captured by a camera, a view of grace, healing, and growth, revealing a glimmer of rescue and new life. You've probably seen something like it, or the one I'm referring to, where determined little white flowers are growing out of a crack in an otherwise lifeless slab of concrete sidewalk. At the time this was shared with me, and when I wrote this journal entry, feelings of hope finally started to emerge, much like the ray of light and the new life, emerging with these little flowers through the slab. Where my heart was once in a place consumed with hopelessness, absent of joy, with no healing in sight (to the human eye), time and faith now uncovered proof that change and healing were not only possible, but certain. May this writing be a reminder to you, that a season of hope is emerging. Just a drop or a hint of hope can bring great faith and thus, change. I pray a spirit of hope and comfort overwhelms you today. Sept 2020 (4 years post D-Day) It's been such a long journey of uncertainty and fear and trying to right all the wrongs. For several years I feel like I've walked on a dark broken road, with very little hope, to a destination I'm not sure where. I have been carrying the burden of shame on my shoulders, holding the blame for someone else's pain, and limping along suffering from my own unattended wounds. At about the 3-year mark, I had already begun to let go of saving our marriage. Things were the same kind of awful for so long that I knew we had to make a change for any smidgen of hope left for reconciling. But that took a long time to figure out what that change was going to be. We dreaded making any drastic decisions, but we were miserable just the same. At this point, I just wanted peace. I was tired. Tired of wanting things to be different. And I just wanted our kids to have two parents that could execute a civil conversation about regular things, even if that meant we were no longer married. At the beginning of our separation, for about eight months, my husband did not do anything we had agreed upon prior to the separation. Looking back, it was absurd to think he would. He was not reasonable, he was still in so much pain and had so much anger, and he had to go deal with all of it. By himself, without me. I also had to let him go. I had to separate my progress from his, and his from mine. I had to let go of the idea that my worth and value was somehow tied to the resolution, the reconciliation, the forgiveness (by him) of what I had done. I had to set a lot of hard boundaries. By hard, I mean hard to enforce and hard not to feel awful by doing something as uncomfortable as that is. As suggested by my counselor, I also had to set a boundary about how we talked about my affair. This didn't give me permission to dismiss his need to bring it up, or excuse myself from conversations, but it gave us a platform to discuss without looping back to destruction and transmitting pain. It gave us an "in" to begin healthy conversations. We had to do things differently. And we had to heal. This took time. It took many prayers and intentional work to change my heart. It took faith that something good was coming. (Isaiah 40:31) I am not dismissing the pain I caused or the price tag on my choices. There are certainly (no less than) 100 things I would have done differently. Knowing now just how badly I acted toward my husband, then the shame that had wrapped itself around me once it all unraveled, it was a perfect formula of destruction and prolonged misery. The way I did things stunted my surrender and repentance, and only prolonged pain for my husband. Living in this reality for all these years nearly destroyed us. I had so much peace when I could let it all go. There was room for God to work and for my heart (and my husband's) to heal. (Matthew 11:28) Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:28-30) It took 10 months being separated for us to be able to sit and start having conversations. But we did it. I fought back my need for him to ease my pain. I fought back my need to be heard or known by him. I left that to God, and God alone. We began to hear one another, and I found the ability to keep my mouth shut without FEELING bound to do so but listening from a loving and understanding place. BUT I absolutely could not have gotten here if there had not been that time away, that rearranging, that intentional time apart from each other, and time reserved with God. I lived peacefully for over a year, though I have cried and had many sleepless nights, healing is happening. My husband and I have had meaningful conversations and even took a family trip together at the end of June. We spent so much time together as a family over the summer and my husband started making some huge leaps, putting effort into our relationship, versus just with the kids. We do not argue, we discuss. We have changed a lot (not all) of our old patterns. The space is the BEST thing that could have happened for us. It allowed us fewer opportunities to hurt each other further; it allowed us to heal wounds apart from each other and seek God alone for that, and allowed opportunities (after a while) for us to start showing up for each other in ways we hadn't seen in a long time, or ever. The Lord has a plan for you and already knows how He will use your own story. The seeds of healing and new life have already been planted, even if you cannot see it now. The good news is that God loves to sustain those who are fainting and give life to those who feel completely depleted. Wait for the Lord and he will give you life. He has promised to renew your strength even though you don't feel it now. He has good things in store for you. ...but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint. (Isaiah 40:31) Trust the process. Your heart will be restored and your story will be redeemed. You are His beloved, gifted in so many ways, worthy, and forgiven. Continue to be repentant and steadfast in renewing your heart, mind and soul. I pray He will give you a nudge to keep your hope alive and to keep putting one foot in front of the other. ~Nicole