I've often heard journaling is therapeutic after sustaining trauma and sometimes when you know others are privy to reading your thoughts and providing insight it can help you heal even more. I'm not notorious for being a writer and my thoughts are typically all over the place. I'm still at the beginning stages of discovery but figured this was worth a try. Commiserate with me anyway?
I discovered my husband was having an affair three long months ago on October 2, 2013. Our first baby was born two months prior and I was in the midst of post partum depression. I was sleep deprived and craving my old life. I loved being a mother but I longed to get out of the house and do as I pleased. I thought I would never feel sane again (little did I know). My house was always a mess and I barely had time for a quick shower. On this particular night (Oct 2, 2013) my husband, who I rarely saw without his cell phone glued to his hand, went out to run some errands while I mopped the floors. I quickly scrubbed the floors singing along to the "gigglebellies" in an attempt to keep the little one content. After I finished, I came into the living room to take a quick breath before moving onto the next "to do" item. I noticed my husband’s cell phone carelessly lying on the couch. I thought it was odd that he left it behind, considering he never let it out of his sight. I thought about leaving it there but something told me to look at and so I did. The first message was from a number I didn't recognize but one that is now embedded in my mind. I clicked the message open, unprepared for the words that lie ahead. My life would never be the same.
I read a few lines of back and forth messages of a sexual nature. I could see the ones before had been deleted. I felt like I was reading messages between two people I had never met and then I realized what was happening. I felt numb and then I got sick. I paced the living room floor determined to find out who this bitch was. I messaged her back. "Do you know I'm married?" (Obviously not the most thought out text). She replied within seconds, "what?" and then "That must have been meant for someone else" "That's what I thought" and then so eloquently she says, "Busted." I began shaking, with blood rushing to my cheeks. I knew who it was. A coworker of his that also happened to attend our wedding as a date of one of our guests. Not only did she know he was married, she knew who I was. She watched us exchange vows and have our first dance. Whore. I took his phone outside and smashed it on the sidewalk. I stood in the doorway waiting for him to get home.
My husband looked dumb founded as he gathered the pieces of his phone. He asked, "What is going on?" I think he knew. I began my tirade, while smashing photos and empting his drawers. He told me he had sex with her twice the previous summer but continued on and off texting. I was fuming. I asked him to leave and I spent the night in utter shock. He cheated on me?
I woke up the next morning, still in the same clothes, smeared makeup and my mom lying next to me. For a fleeting moment I thought, "What is she doing here." Reality hit me like a train. I didn't know it then but I was about to live the worst day of my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment