Yesterday my loving husband dropped the bombshell. By email.
He was away at work. That’s what he said anyway. He texted me to tell me to read my email. The email was a hastily put together letter. The gist of it was . . . a seven month affair. . . it’s over now . . . he’d understand if I never wanted to see him again . . . he’d be willing to try counselling.
Yup, willing! As if this was a privilege he might bestow upon me.
I read it about three times. Closed it up. Realized my world had just fallen apart. Hyperventilated. Bawled my eyes out.
That’s all I remember of yesterday.
Today, I pulled myself together to be in mommy mode. When he arrived home, I presented a list of questions. Who is she? How many times? Did you love her?
I wrote the answers down, worried my mind was too hazy to absorb anything. I’ll go through them later. I folded the paper up and said that I was leaving for the night.
I got in the car and looked at the GPS. Where To? It asked.
Ahh, is ‘I have no f..king clue’ an option? How about ‘Anywhere’, or ‘You pick, surprise me’. I settled on some cheap hotel an hour away where I could smoke lots of cigarettes in a dingy, dark room.
So, here I am. Spent the evening reading every blog and article I could find on how to proceed with a cheating spouse. Pretty surreal because yesterday morning I had an entirely different spouse. One who loved me, one who would never hurt me, one who put me and our child first.
It’s late, I’m almost out of smokes and have a throbbing headache. And I’m still in the same boat as I was yesterday. I have no idea where to go from here. And I feel so entirely hopeless.