I’m going to talk about this coming from my life as a child from a household with severe physical and psychological abuse.
Trigger warning for those who need to skip this. I will not provide details here. It’s relevant only because of how I moved forward without ever getting any restitution, justice, or an apology.
My father was unpredictable. We never knew if he would be the nice dad or the mean dad from moment to moment, nor what might be the thing that would set him off. There was no way to know, either. He might not hurt you for sitting down today, but he did yesterday, and might tomorrow. Then again, he might do the same for standing up, too.
He would blame me for things I never did. Or things I did "wrong". Or things that never happened. He would twist the truth one way, then the next day change it so it fit his new story. Gaslighting was his specialty. My world wasn’t stable, only I knew it, and somehow managed to maintain my sense of sanity despite his attacks on my being. My brothers didn’t mentally survive this, and both are psychologically unstable still.
So living a life being blindsided was a thing I did. I grew up that way.
When I got married, I never expected my husband would blindside me with his cheating. Early in the marriage, we had a great deal of difficultly, separated, reconciled, but then we were very stable for about 30 years. Solid marriage, and he had a PA. I realize now that we rugswept at the time in 2005 (he had a cancer diagnosis about three weeks after DDay which definitely changed the trajectory of that recovery). Now, 18 years later, he has an online EA and we are in recovery again. This time we are doing this right - no rugsweeping.
But your question is "how do I stop feeling owed?"
I used to feel a lot of anger at my father. At everyone, really. Why didn’t anyone do anything to stop it all? Why didn’t HE STOP?
I held that anger close to me. It had a kind of value, you know, like a very powerful weapon I could unleash at any moment. It was almost a superpower.
That anger could win arguments. But….did I "win", really, or did I just overpower someone into acquiescence and have them just start believing I was…..more like my father?
I felt owed. I was owed an apology. I was owed a decent childhood. I was owed back the self-confidence he ripped from me. I was owed more than I could put words to.
It was during a fight with my husband a very long time ago that I came to understand what I was doing with that feeling, and that anger. WH looked at me and said, "You know, I am arguing with you about the laundry right now. YOU are arguing about something completely different, because NOBODY can be that angry about laundry."
He was right. I knew exactly what I was arguing about.
WH asked me to get help, and I did.
So, that’s the context. The part I learned that kind of answers your question is this:
I describe my anger over the abuse as being a very large cauldron of boiling lava. I kept it ready, always on the fire, always on the front burner. Hot and bubbling.
Any time anything made me mad, no matter how small, I dipped into that cauldron and got myself a nice scoop of lava. It served up well. It was an endless source, ready to rumble. Nevermind that it had absolutely no relevance to the issue at hand! It was a great power, and that anger was hot on fire and super powerful, and worked for all sources of irritation in life.
Only it didn’t really "work".
It stopped people from bothering me, sure. It shut them down, yes.
But it never really solved my problems. In fact, it usually made matters worse, led to volatile relationships with a boyfriend, and made what would ordinarily be unremarkable exchanges into heated arguments.
I realized I used that pot of lava for everything that bothered me. Big or small. I went to it instantly, at the first sign of distress, disagreement, or even when I thought someone might be thinking about not agreeing with me.
I was serving up anger, and it wasn’t serving me well.
Once I saw this, I realized that the source of the anger was in part my inability to release myself from this clanging shout in my head "UNFAIR, THE INJUSTICE, WHY! WHY ME?" and all of that. I had to let that go. It was in understanding that there was no restitution coming. It could not be undone. There was no apology that would magically make the pain evaporate, the self-esteem return, the years re-run, or the childhood memories become better.
And that if I was choosing - yes, CHOOSING - to act out in anger and hatred, then I was also choosing to take a path of darkness in my life. I was choosing that cauldron to BOIL MYSELF IN. By choice.
So I chose to walk away from the stove.
It has made all the difference. At first, it was a conscious choice to stop myself. It got easier each time. Now, it is who I am. Calm, cool under pressure.
I am not my father.
When it comes to wanting restitution justice for the affairs? I know I cannot ever get that. It cannot be given. There is a brokenness in me around the infidelity that will not be healed, and when I look at my husband, there is also a brokenness in him that match my wounds. We know this, now. Together, we’re planning to take our lessons and build a new marriage. Our time left is short, but we’re working fast.