This is going to be a long one, but I want to give this it's due rather than just oversimplify it. It’s probably one of the most loaded conversations you can have early after DDAY, because actions are far more important than words. I don’t think there would be a satisfactory answer to this question.
As a ws far enough out to have a lot of hindsight, I have thought a lot about this.
Before I dive into the idea of love surrounding infidelity, I have some background thoughts that set the stage in terms of love and marriage overall. So, bear with me that what I am initially talking about has nothing to do with infidelity.
When we first meet our spouse, we all go through that natural infatuation phase. We tend to focus on their positives, the relationship positives, etc. There is a lot to look forward to – engagement, marriage, new home, kids, upgrade home, etc. And tv, books, movies all teach us love is this feeling that is inspired by a specific person (and therefore also teaches us that we must not inspire that in them when they disappoint us)
I don’t believe that our spouses are always (or even often) the reason we love or don’t love them. We love them because we want to. I do believe that the advice we get from couples who have been married for decades or relationship books always say things like "Marriage is falling in love with the same person over and over again" or "Relationships are work" or even those stories about how what they have been through has made them very strong.
These things are all true because contrast is always there for our learning. We don’t know pleasure without pain, we don’t always appreciate something until we lose it.
None of that is a case to say infidelity is remotely a good choice.
When I committed adultery, I was 20 years deep into a relationship that I can genuinely say I mostly enjoyed. We didn’t fight much, we had regular intimacy, we did things together and with our kids. I loved him, he loved me. It was peaceful. I never wanted out of our marriage, I never wanted other men, I was content as far as I was concerned.
I was also not self-aware. We didn’t fight because I went along with anything and everything. I believed I added value to his life and therefore why wouldn’t he love me? We had periods of time we were less connected, and I always noticed and upped my efforts. I always found when I put more effort out, we would get back on the road. It worked way better than trying to talk to him about our relationship because there was no emotional safety in those conversations. He got defensive, curt, he would explain away what was wrong was all in my head. I don’t think he was intentionally being cruel; I truly think he was so content that he thought I was just making up problems.
Some of that was created because I was a huge overthinker (shocking to you all I am sure – haha) but I ruminated and worried and after many years this became a trigger for him. My anxiety was completely unchecked. And we both look back on now and see it was all interrelated – I would say something to one of our kids, family members, friends, and then realize it might have hurt their feelings or made them feel upset with me (none of these things I ever talked to them to confirm) and I would obsess on it. This is because I was so afraid of rejection, abandonment. There was also this deep underlying shame over who I was.
Living like this unchecked eventually fell apart for me, I lost my north star. I went through a very hard time personally for about 18 months before the affair. I kept thinking it would get better and I would soon come up for air. I can see in hindsight that I had all sorts of needs and wants I had ignored for so long that I felt completely unlovable.
I truly believe everything in our life in our external world reflects our internal world. I wasn’t feeling worthy of love but could not identify that’s what was happening. The more this feeling ruled me, the less love I could receive. And so I would keep putting more and more effort into output to receive love.
It was insanity, it made me sick. I do not blame that sickness on the reason I had the affair. I am just saying how these things escalate and how our internal world is really being reflected in our external world. The more I feared losing people, the harder I tried, and the further away from me they seemed.
I turned the blame on them. I was fantasizing about disappearing. Hiding from them. I was exhausted, burned out, depressed, and too responsible to really disappear. I wished for a disease that would kill me.
Looking back, I have compassion for the woman I was. How can you love anyone when these are the conditions inside your head? My husband wasn’t inspiring love nor did he really do anything that made me not love him. I just didn’t know how to unravel where I was and get to a higher place.
When I went on that fateful work trip, I relaxed. I drank, people were telling funny stories, and the AP was flirting with me. I felt human, I felt enjoyed. I never wanted it to end. As I boarded the plane, I felt so sad to be going back to my grinding life and that’s the precise moment I texted him, I wanted it to keep going.
So, did I love my husband? I don’t think I was capable of loving anyone, I was dead inside. I didn’t think about consequences because I didn’t care about what happened to me. I told myself I could protect him by not knowing. I told myself that maybe this would help me get back to myself and it would improve my relationship with him. I especially thought iit might help me sexually- I was experiencing like female impotence and stupid enough not to realize that was coming from emotional exhaustion. It was terrifying to me that I could not feel any pleasure at all sexually. (By the way this did not go away until well after my affair) All of this is insane, and I totally know that as I write it. But it’s truthful.
Suddenly, I stopped making so much effort in my real life. Instead, I focused on this person I was pretending to be. I suddenly started to lose weight, I bought new clothes, I spent a lot of time thinking of clever things to say. Keep in mind the AP lived 1000+ miles from me. The clothes and weight were unhealthy fixations that just kept me from me fixating and ruminating about the old things that were making me so unhappy.
It was a relief. A deep relief no longer of trying to get the people around me to love me. And the ap is front and center cheering it all on. Of course I felt positive about that. It helped promote the idea that I was this terrific person and it was everyone around me that couldn’t see it.
As far as my husband, it was almost like he lived in a parallel universe. We were both working a lot and usually only saw each other for a few minutes as we were getting ready to go to bed. He was traveling a lot. He was easy to ignore his inconvenient existence. I say it that way because I spent 90 percent of my day in this escapist world. I felt irritated anytime I was faced with reality.
Noone was getting my authenticity or vulnerability because there was none to get. You have to know yourself and who you are and what you want to have any of that. I focused on the superficial and it was like a drug. None of this was a statement about my husband, his worth, etc. I, of course, understand there is no other way to view it for him.
Had I not cheated, maybe things would have just slowly gotten better, and I would have fallen in love with him again as I recognized this cycle I was in. But I think with or without the affair, I needed help. And none of that changes his trauma, none of it changes the destruction that it created. I am really writing this out because maybe it will help you understand how some of us don’t really consider our consequences. I hid it because I didn’t want to hurt him, I didn’t want our kids to know, I didn’t want more things to bring me down. I wanted to stay in this bubble where there was all this dopamine.
I can see it was selfish, but for me I can see some form of escapism was inevitable. I’d already cycled through other types. I can also say that when I got healthier, and could be compassionate with myself, I had the capacity to have more compassion for him. As I became more curious about myself, I became more curious about him. As I considered my needs and why they were important, I saw how important his were. And not just the things I was throwing at him to get him to love me, but those things that deeply satisfy him in our relationship. I learned that you must manage your life and your relationship and what putting in work means. Instead of exhausting myself, work means staying tuned in with him and myself, communicating, etc. It’s not serving him everything under the sun to earn his love and then upping that when you aren’t feeling the results.
If you respect yourself, then you can respect others. If you have boundaries, you can honor those of others. If you can love yourself, you have it to give.
[This message edited by hikingout at 5:39 PM, Thursday, October 31st]
