Is Infidelity Hereditary? Is Infidelity Hereditary? I ask myself this question a lot. I guess it's more of a fear of mine than a question. In a rational state of mind I can answer this easily: of course not. Infidelity is a choice. No one put a gun to my head and made me cross the line. No one forced me to be unfaithful. And like the source for eye color or skin tone, I don't think there is a "ruin your spouse's life by having an affair" gene. If you've done much reading or work in the Affair Recovery courses, you have likely heard us wayward spouses refer to being in states of limerence – something similar to being in a fog. "We were out of our minds during our affairs", we say. And while all of that may be true, I greatly fear someday that my own children could be unfaithful because I was. I realize this might sound ridiculous to some and maybe it is. But maybe it's not such a crazy thought. When I was a little girl, I envisioned that my parents would be together forever. In my idealized world, they were supposed to grow old together. I was supposed to be able to go to my childhood home and take my spouse there one day. We were supposed to have holidays together and my parents were supposed to sit hand in hand at my wedding someday. I found out about my dad's first affair when I was in middle school. I remember hiding behind their bathroom door while my parents were yelling. I heard my mom go crazy. I heard my dad tell her he no longer loved her and he was moving out. My dad ended up staying five more years after that night, but he eventually left my mom for a different woman. He continually married or was engaged to several more women throughout his lifetime and was unable to be faithful to any of them until he died. How did that affect me? I swore I would never be unfaithful. Ever. I even promised my husband that I knew the pain infidelity caused, so I would be safe. I could never imagine hurting anyone in that way or breaking up a family. I witnessed the shame, pain and rage that his actions caused firsthand. I saw my mom break into a billion pieces. I wondered why she never left him. For years I hated my dad for his selfishness. I hated the other women. I knew my mom wasn't perfect and was pretty codependent, but no one deserved to be abandoned and cheated on like that. So why do I tell you this? Because I became the woman I hated. I became what I swore I would never be. All of my pride, my anger, and my insistence that I was better than that got me nowhere. Eleven years into my own marriage, I got entangled in an emotional affair. Three years after that I had another physical affair. Both, ironically, were with men old enough to be my father. Quite possibly the single greatest lesson I have and continue to learn in my own recovery as an unfaithful wife is humility. How arrogant I was to judge, pretend and never allow my own pain to be transformed. I thought I was safe. I thought I didn't have to do the work to put boundaries in place with other men. I chose to not fully forgive my dad and sadly, he is now gone from this earth. And by choosing to have two affairs of my own, I transferred every ounce of that shameful legacy onto my husband. Is infidelity passed down from generations? Has there been divorce and infidelity in your family tree? I don't know the answer to this. But I know without a shadow of a doubt that nothing can make me safe except radical humility, ruthless honesty, and a ton of hard work. There are some days I don't like accepting the reality that I am a lot like my dad. But then I allow Jesus into the picture. I am reminded that my dad was a broken man, and I too, am extremely broken and need saving. My pride and sufficiency will get me nowhere. I really hope the legacy of unfaithfulness ends with me. I have come to accept that there are no shortcuts to healing. I am accepting that I will fight this battle the rest of my life. Complacency and "never again" aren't good enough. I choose to believe that while each of us is unable to change our family trees, we can change our story. To taking the next step, Elizabeth
