To Tell or Not to Tell…Our Friends and Family

People struggle with the decision of whether to tell friends and family and, particularly their children, about the infidelity that occurred in their marriage. For some, the ugly truth comes out before they consider it. Sometimes, kids are collateral damage in the ensuing chaos, overhearing or directly witnessing the arguments and drama by parents overwhelmed with their emotions.

I’ve heard both sides of this dilemma declare with certainty that their perspective is the only right choice for one reason or another, but I’ve also heard people regret how they handled it and wish they could go back and do it differently. Some feel it is inherently wrong and deceptive to keep a secret like this within a family, and the truth should be shared no matter what, while others argue there are no circumstances in which children should ever learn of their parent’s betrayal, even as adults.

In my time spent on the Affair Recovery forums, I have heard from many people whose children learned of the infidelity amid the discovery alongside the betrayed partner or overheard enough to put the pieces together. Sometimes, an overwhelmed spouse blurts it out to friends or family as they begin the free fall into shock and confusion, often regretting it later. Some affairs are made very public, and everyone knows, whether you want them to. In those instances, choosing whether to tell is moot, and the path forward is more about damage control. But for those that still have that choice, which is correct? Do we tell our friends and family, or not? What about our kids? What do we do?

There is no single right answer to this question. People are unique, and situations differ. There are many variables and nuances between families, spouses, betrayal stories, and other factors, so each situation is individual. Family and friends vary in their emotional capacity and stability; of course, age is a factor in whether (and how) to discuss something so difficult with children. There is no single “best” way to handle this, but I can tell you what we decided to do and how it worked out for us.

First, some background. During my husband’s affair, I told no one of my suspicions. Not a word. I accused him directly, and he denied it, but I never said anything to anyone else and kept all my fears and feelings to myself.

Over ten years passed before my husband finally confessed. During all that time, I never told anyone, and he had certainly never told anyone - other than the affair partner, of course.

After he confessed, I didn’t know what to do about sharing this nuclear bomb that had just been dropped in my lap. My world crumbled around me and I was very alone. Neither of us wanted to share this news with our family or friends. I needed support, but I couldn’t get past the shame (mine and his) to open up to anyone I knew. I had already carried it alone for a long time and didn’t even know if I could get the words out of my mouth.

My husband’s affair had ended years earlier, so it felt punitive for me to want to tell anyone. Initially, I believed that I should just be able to “get over it” since it was a long time ago and that there was something wrong with me for feeling so much pain. I did not immediately understand the magnitude of the impact this would have or the benefit of having someone to talk to. I was ashamed of his infidelity, and I felt worthless. I thought sharing it would just highlight my deficits for all to see, and then they would also know I was not enough.

Eventually, I told one longtime coworker, but I soon regretted it and otherwise kept it hidden. I heard someone describe the feeling of hiding a dead body while trying to heal. That’s pretty much what it felt like, and I put a lot of energy into keeping our secret. It was nearly impossible to keep my emotions in check and pretend everything was fine day after day, but that is exactly what I did, at work and home. So much so that it was hard to devote time and space to healing, and it was counterproductive in that regard. Over and over each day, I would leave the room to cry and return with a fake smile and pretend to be okay. I felt fake. I felt disconnected from my kids, my friends, and my family, and they had no idea I was in any distress at all. As time went on, I spent more and more time separating the two lives, the public façade and my private reality.

I made many mistakes along the way, and I wish I had done many things differently, but for the most part, I don’t regret keeping this from our children, family, and friends during this very raw time. It was very hard and lonely.

However, I felt very unsettled about lying to everyone. They only knew the fake mom/friend/daughter who pretended to be okay. It felt really unfair and kept me from feeling connected to them, which was just another loss I experienced because of the infidelity. I also worried about the potential that our kids might have overheard our conversations and possibly already knew and felt we were intentionally keeping a secret from them or worried about our family. But there was no way to find that out without asking, and I wasn’t ready to open that can of worms.

People I had met through AR forums and groups told me I should tell my kids, who were teens / young adults at the time. They offered perspectives from their situations, but for most of them, the disclosure had negatively impacted their relationships with their kids, and it scared me. But their situations were not mine, and telling my kids felt wrong. And yet, I also felt deceitful for hiding this “thing” in plain sight in the middle of our family. It was a conundrum, and I could not predict the outcome if we decided to share the truth. If we told anyone, we couldn’t take it back again. So, I felt more comfortable just holding off, maybe forever, to avoid having it go badly.

Over time, as I began to heal slowly, I revisited this question here and there in my mind. I still had all the same hesitations, but I also felt resentful for feeling like I had to keep a significant part of my life hidden from the people closest to me. I felt they didn’t even know me anymore.

After several years of recovery and finally getting to a more stable place, I revisited the idea of telling our children and discussed it with my husband. I was not looking for a pound of flesh, nor did I want to damage my kids' relationships with their father. I was also concerned about how they would navigate the information and how it might impact them individually. However, I was wrestling with the inauthenticity of all of my close relationships, as the real me, the most gut wrenching parts, remained hidden. Not only do they not know about the infidelity and the resulting trauma, but they don’t know that for a while, I was so depressed I struggled just to stay alive. To be present. To be a parent, a daughter, and a friend. I wondered if my kids thought I just lost interest in them or didn’t care. They also did not know about the strength it took to face this and the deep respect, partnership, and support my husband and I have since found in each other. My husband held me together when I couldn’t do it for myself and showed strength and humility my kids knew nothing about.

I also started to think about my kids as they entered into adulthood. I wondered about their expectations for marriage and if they would share their struggles or face them alone and in secret as we had done. I didn’t want that for them. I didn’t want my kids to have the fake Instagram standard for marriage where everyone looks happy and shiny on the outside, and the viewer is left feeling like they are the only ones facing hard things. That isn’t real and can be so isolating. I wanted my kids to know marriage is hard and everyone will endure things they didn’t expect, even if it isn’t to the level of infidelity. I wanted them to know that even if everyone else’s marriage looks easy and perfect, they hide the reality of any relationship between two imperfect people. Some people may have very little trouble in their marriage, but it gets hard for everyone at some point, which is just reality. (To be clear, I don’t consider infidelity to be a routine part of marital hardship; it is in a category of its own and carries more pain than any other relational situation. However, in general, all marriages will face some hardship, and unfortunately, some of those will include betrayal.)

I wanted my kids to know how to be resilient and see a living example that marriage can survive difficult and painful things and is important enough to put forth the effort. In our marriage, our tendency has always been to keep all marital conflicts hidden from our children when possible, but doing that can send the message that there isn’t any conflict, which is just not real. I didn’t want to get into the weeds with them about any of our issues. Still, I wanted to acknowledge that we are flawed, have endured a lot of hardship and heartache, and can be a safe and understanding resource when they someday face trouble in their marriages.

I certainly didn’t know what to do or what the right decision was, but my biggest fear was hurting my children in the process. My therapist assuaged some of those fears when she said - if your kids know or even suspect there was an affair. Still, they see you leaning into each other and showing love toward one another, even amidst tense moments, then you are showing them love and forgiveness. And that model is even stronger if they know what has happened.

After much thought, my husband and I created a narrative to share. We did this together. The narrative was entirely truthful but selective about what we included. We didn’t include specifics about an affair being part of our marriage history, but we did talk about the hurt that has happened - before, during, and after the affair, and how we have worked together to overcome it.

We spent a few days writing out what we wanted to say, and once we had agreed to the general sentiment, we sat them down together and shared it. We didn’t read it verbatim but took turns talking about pain and humility and being unable to make good and loving decisions when we were focused on our individual hurts. We described in very general ways how we had felt misunderstood and hurt each other over the years. My husband took ownership of hurting me very deeply and being grateful for my forgiveness.

We talked about communication, or the lack thereof, as well as sadness, depression and bitterness, and I shared for the first time that I had been going to therapy for quite a while and that we had also started couples counseling. The faces of my children revealed their surprise. I told them I didn't want to keep the therapy a secret, but for a season, I did need to keep it private as I dealt with some things. I wanted to normalize getting help so they didn’t ever have to feel like they needed to suffer in solitude like we did.

In the end, our advice to them was: When things are hard, don’t stay isolated. We hadn’t sought help before because we didn’t know what to do; we felt alone and we thought no one would understand. But you don’t have to keep “hard” hidden. God put us in community for a reason. I wish we had recognized that years ago.

We described what we have learned about God and ourselves in the healing process. Before sharing this, I suspect if they had their own marital troubles, they would have been unlikely to share them. I hope now that we normalize struggle, heartache, therapy, resilience, and openness so they will feel open to seeking support when needed.

They didn’t have much to say that night, but they did ask a few questions over the days that followed, which allowed for a little more general conversation about therapy and relationships. We had also decided to include our son’s fiancé in the conversation, and I was initially worried she might feel uncomfortable with such an intimate conversation. However, she commented that she appreciated the openness.

I hope they can learn from our mistakes, and I felt liberated by sharing this with them. We didn’t tell them there was infidelity, and we didn’t get into specifics. This was enough. Unexpectedly, having this conversation released me from my lingering resentment at feeling fake and having to keep his secret. I hadn’t realized it was still there until I could let it go.

I don’t know what it would have looked like if we had tried this early in our recovery. I honestly don’t know if I would have been satisfied to leave it at that without having the full story be known so they could truly understand the depth of my pain. But I am at a place now where this was enough for me.

It was truly liberating without causing relational damage. I can’t say if this approach is right for anyone else, but it was right for us. My husband’s partnership and humility have been crucial in our progress, and this narrative was a joint venture.

Infidelity’s impact extends beyond the marriage to the family. So does healing.