Category: The Detritus of Infidelity

Journal entry: I had started to understand acceptance and fear

Related image

Friday 10th August 2007

I am writing in my journal today because I have a good feeling about me and Rich.

This journal is meant to be about showing the journey we are taking, the bad and the good; and although I have found it to be extremely therapeutic to write in this I have noticed that I don’t tend to write in it when I feel good – which kind of defeats the object.

I cried and cried on Tuesday, I could not control it. – My hormones had a lot to do with it. But the incredible hurt and sadness that I feel is immense.

Rich knew from the Monday that I was upset and asked me about it. We talked, I really cried.

I asked Rich if he still cried and he said that he still thinks about it every day, and cried about one or two times a week. That he cried on Monday night because he knew I was upset, I explained how I felt, what I had talked to Beth about, and read him what I had written in my journal on Tuesday.

We talked about

1) me getting away from him and Rich offered to go away. But that would not be what I needed, it would have to be me who went away, away from everything. But I explained to Rich that this was just an option I may have to consider; not one I was definitely going to take.

2) About selling the house, that would give us more money, and that I don’t want to as the house is my back up, my plan B; because I would sell the house and take the money and go wherever life took me. (Although as I am writing this I know that wherever life took me I would want Rich with me; I know that now.)

3) About everything – I explained to Rich, again, that he must put his arms around me when I cry. That perhaps he needs to say sorry every day. That he has broken my heart so badly, he knows that now. That he has virtually destroyed me.

But even though I was sobbing Rich still did not put his arms around me; and when I pointed out that this was so what I needed he said he was afraid. That what I was saying sounded like a goodbye speech. I did point out to Rich at this point that whatever I say, including asking what wants for tea, sounds like a goodbye speech to him.

I went upstairs as I find it so hurtful when I cry in front of him, and he does not comfort me. He followed me up and looked so unhappy, he had the same grey colour in his face as he had when he first came back to me. (And as I am writing this I am realising that it is killing him, this is killing him; and I don’t want that.)

He said that the main thing he thinks of is of how he should not have left me; of how he has broken my heart; of how he was running away. He still swears that they never had full sex, I do believe him.

I explained to Rich that it is no good him crying in one place and me crying in another. We need to cry together, to understand and know how we are both feeling, and to not be afraid of it. This will bring us closer together.

It has been good since then, still cried yesterday but do expect that, and it was only very briefly.

I thought that I would write in all of the positives that do come into my mind now.

  • How much stronger I am than I was the day I started to write this journal.
  • How much more I know that it was not a long affair. In fact if I detach myself from it I can see that it was nothing at all.
  • How much Rich loves me, treasures me; the look in his eyes when he looks at me.
  • How far we have come together.
  • How sorry Rich is. How, if he could sacrifice anything to change what he did to me he would.

Yesterday we went down and changed Rich’s bank account into joint names. He was so excited and so pleased that we had done that, it almost made me cry; it was so important to him.

Today I caught sight of Rich looking at me; the way he looks at me, the adoration in his eyes; tell me where do I find that again? I don’t!

I am really looking forward to our time off together now; seeing Alison and Peter tonight, everyone coming down tomorrow, going to France on Monday.

But before we do any of that, I am going to make love with my husband this afternoon.

I can honestly say that today, for the first time, I feel that Rich and I are going to make it, no doubts.

Footnote:

Today we were talking about buying a fireguard in France, of how we could look at in the winter and think of France. The look on Rich’s face when he said “and watch Strictly Come Dancing, and Match of the Day with my head on your lap.” I could see how much he wanted that, how much he has always wanted that; and so obviously did not want to let that go in the first place.

It just emphasised how much of this (what has happened) was all about manipulation, circumstances, and fear. It made my eyes fill up with tears, not of sadness but with happiness because I could see that Rich’s love for me is so total, so complete; and how it always has been.

Mois

Reflections 2018

I have read various descriptions of what ‘acceptance’ is, the Eckhart Tolle version, from ‘The Power of Now’ describes it as such:

“that acceptance is the “this is it” response to anything occurring in any moment in life…..”

I know that we have to accept where we are, accept the moment, accept the weather, accept the things we cannot change because otherwise we would drive ourselves mad. The examples I have given here are all physical things, but I think that acceptance is also about accepting our feelings; and it was only recently that I was reminded of this again:

I realised how I had been denying something to myself over the past few weeks; I thought that I was okay with something, and looking at all the logical parts of it I was okay with where I was, I had accepted a situation and I had moved forward; but my head had decided that it was not going to acknowledge was the emotional side of how I felt, and where the emotional side was concerned I realised I was not okay. Logically the position I found myself in was okay, but emotionally I was sad for the intimacy that I had lost where a friendship was concerned  and I realised and admitted to myself that it was something that I  was never going to get back.  When I realised this I put into  place the things that I had learnt during this time in my life and I just sat and acknowldeged the fact that I was sad; I said it out loud to myself and I shed a tear.

As always when I acknowledged this fact  I woke up the following morning feeling better. I had owned the fact that I was sad and as soon as I did this it no longer played on my mind: it is what it is and it aint what it aint, (a saying that Rich and I learnt to use all those years ago) and whilst I miss that companionship and intimacy I also know that I am in the right place and that in time the sadness will pass.

I have used this example because this is what I am starting to realise in this entry in my journal; It shows that I am starting to accept what has happened. Because it has happened, I couldn’t change it we were where we were.

I knew that I had to accept it, knew that I would cry some days, feel good some days, and then cry the next, knew that the demon would be waiting for me in my car, that I had to face what Rich had done. In fact at the end of the entry I say how I had come to expect that I was still going to cry, and perhaps it is telling the I only cried for a brief space of time.

But I found as time went on that the more I accepted it, the less it happened. In fact this episode in my life has led me on a path of discovery and enlightenment and enriched my life much more than I ever knew it would at this time; and as I have explained it has helped me deal with something that has happened only recently.

For me this journal entry also deals with the issue of the fear that the some people who have betrayed feel when they are trying to rebuild a relationship that they broke on the first place(something I have touched on in previous posts).  It was important that I understood that Rich was afraid, to enable us to get to where we are today. Yes there were still times that I thought he had no entitlement to feel afraid, that he was not entitled to any help or empathy; but if I had continued on that vein and not considered Rich’s feelings at times we would not be where we are today, stronger and happier on a new adventure in France.

Although I was heartbroken, and although it hurt like hell when Rich did not put his arms around me, I knew, even when I wrote this that he was afraid; and even today he still is sometimes. I know that, and when he is I either cuddle him or remind him to face his fears and perhaps ask himself why he still has them.

This just highlights the damage that something like this can do, because for Rich even now, it can still break his heart when he thinks about what he has done; and he still can’t understand why he did it.

I can honestly say that my heart is no longer broken.

When I first started to write this book I read Rich the part of the story of when I was first told that he had been having an affair, the part where he does not come back after the revelation The first shot is fired…. As I read it to him, ten years later,  I did not expect his response: He just loooked at me with immense pain etched on his face, burst into tears and said “I am so sorry.” That told me how much pain Rich is still in at times and it breaks my heart that he feels that way.

As the person who has been betrayed do we get so caught up in our own pain that we fail to see the other person’s pain? Do we become so self-righteous that we stop listening? At the beginning I understand (of course I do) why we behave in this way, but over time I believe that we have to find the ability to come down from our high place and listen. I really do.

I find this entry so important because I hope that it helps you to start to understand just how destroyed Rich was. I know from other people’s stories that so many people who commit adultery are destroyed; they have destroyed themselves as well as others that they love. I read how one man struggled with his emotions for what he had done but felt he could not talk to his wife because he deserved it; and did not want to cause her any more pain by talking about it. I know that this is so common, so many women struggle with their husband’s lack of communication and I would urge them to look at Rich’s side of this story and understand that they may well feel afraid and unworthy.

In a previous journal entry (not serialised here, but in the book) I had acknowledged that I only wrote in my journal when I was struggling and not when I was happy. I had even questioned whether surely that was the point of the journal – to show the happy and sad. So in this entry I have said how I am writing in my journal ‘because I have good feelings about me and Rich.’ I had recognised that to survive we had to look at all of the emotions that we felt including the good things that happened and I it was equally important that I had started to include Rich in these conversations, started to share with him the things that I was realising from writing my journal.

In a previous post I had said that when we first got back together Rich did not want us to have a joint bank account again; and he had made it clear that he thought that part of me only wanted him for his income and to keep the house; it had broken my heart because we had always shared everything and it reinforced to me at that time just how destroyed our relationship was.  Counselling – It is he who should be sorry not me!

Rich’s attitude about having joint bank accounts had just underlined the crappy situation we were in, that he had believed the lies he had been told, that he thought that I only wanted him for his income and what he could bring into the house.  But of course I had increased my hours at work, and had my own money. I had needed to show Rich that I didn’t need his money. So when Rich when could see this he wanted us to have a shared account again, because he realised that it was ‘us’ we shared everything and it took him three months for him to realise this.

Rich was so happy when I agreed to add him to my account, and I understand why, because it was another small step to us becoming us again; it was also a way of Rich knowing that I was committed because I did not need him or his money, but I still wanted our joint account back.

Before ‘The War’ Rich would always sit with his head on my lap whilst we watched programmes, and this entry shows how he just wanted that normality back. We never did buy that fireguard, but he did lay with his head on my lap to watch programmes again.

I love my optimism in this entry I am starting to believe that Rich and I were going to make it. I know that we were still only halfway up that mountain, but that it was hope that kept us going all the way to the top and down the other side.

I hope this helps you, or someone you may know.

Moisy

You may want to visit my other blog to see where we are now on our French adventure in rural France https://moisfrenchadventure.com

A guest post: Giving loved ones back.

Inread this post today and it is so beautifully written I am sharing with you, it shows the utter devastation caused by infidelity but also hope for the future and poignancy for the past. Enjoy

Living after Betrayal

I’ve been married for 31 years.

It’s coming to an end. A very unfortunate, avoidable, extremely painful end.

I’ve known her family well over half my life. We’ve broke bread together, celebrated births and birthdays together, holidays, funerals, family reunions, baptisms, and weddings together.

We laughed, fought, got drunk, told jokes, cooked, worked on cars, fished, hunted, and cried together.

It occurred to me today that eventually, I’m going to have to give them back. They love me, I know they do. They’ve showed me, told me, and proved to me that they do. But as the months go by, they’ve pulled back and started to bring her back into the fold. I know blood is thicker than water and they have their own issues to deal with. They realize that what she has done has affected all of the family and it’s painful for them to think about it…

View original post 154 more words

Coping mechanism – make new memories

 

Image result for poignancy at Christmas

I know that a lot of people who read this blog are dreading The Holidays, or as we call them in England festivities. Most of them are looking back at the Thanksgivings, and Christmas’s before the shit hit the fan nostagically, remembering how wonderful they were, and thinking how they will never get them back; they may well be feeling as if they were a lie, all just a load of crap; they are probably feeling both! But more importantly some are actually afraid of them and the memories (triggers) that they will bring.

I think one of the things that compounds the feeling of dread is that expectations rise; we are constantly told  that everyone should be bappy during The Holidays. Media and adveritsing ram down our throats that everyone is happy and you should be too and if your not you’ve failed.

What a load of bollocks!! Sorry it is the only way to say it!

So we come to dread them; tell ourselves the stories of how the Thanksgiving’s before were always so happy. How the Christmas Holidays were full of fun and laughter; and the demon in our head tells us that we will never be that happy again.

He’s lying I know!  You can be if you want to, with our without your partner you can make something new, make new memories, something honest to look back on.

Christmas was always such a happy time in our house, we had the additional celebration of it being Tom’s birthday on Christmas Eve (I know! Don’t ever have unprotected sex in March, that’s what I learnt) and it was always a double celebration. The year that ‘The War’ broke out in our lives was the year that Tom was going to turn eighteen – which is a big deal in England.

In my normal indominatable way I was not going to let what had happened ruin what had always been a wonderful time of year for us; and I was especially not going to let it ruin Tom’s birthday.

So for our first Christmas I made new memories – we made new memories. We changed things we used to do – like going to the pub on Christmas Eve in the afternoon – and we went to the pub on Christmas day for a lunchtime drink before dinner.

We started a tradition of visiting a small quaint pub in the medieval city of Canterbury for lunch when we did our Christmas shopping – a pub that had not been tainted in any way by ‘The War’. In fact we continued that tradtion right up to the last Christmas before we left England for our adventure in France.

We started a tradition of playing Monopoly on Boxing day, we kept presents back to open after dinner, and I bought a Christmas tree to put up on the balcony of our home to show people that we were still together, and that I didn’t give a fuck what they thought! It  gave the illusion that we were deliriously happy; and whilst we were in a better place (God knows it couldn’t have been any worse!) I can assure you that there was still a lot of shit to go through!

All of these things seem like really small things (always remember small steps)  but they then enabled us to follow those traditions the year after, and the years after that, new traditions, new memories that helped us to not look back with poignancy at the one’s we used to have.

So if your fighting to survive this is my advice:

Stop looking back, I know it’s hard but at this time of year just keep saying to yourself ‘it’s all about the here and now. If I get through this one the next one will be easier.’ And it will!

Make new memories, small things, perhaps new baubles for the tree, a different tradition for the day, a photograph to look back on when times are hard, this is one of the main ways that you will be able to face the future events without fear.

But most importantly if you want to survive you have to try, you have to make an effort if not for your relationship for yourself.

Remember you are grieving, rightfully so, for what has been lost, and all that entails including any holidays,birthdays, Easter, anniversaries, none of them seem real now, none of them seem honest when your world has been blown apart by an affair. The first year is the hardest because you have to face every one of them – with another lovely little anniversary known as Dday thrown in!

I can remember every one of them frightening me; so I  held on to a peice of advice I was given when my darling mum died: ‘Get through the first year and the others will get easier because you have done it once already.’ But you have to let it get easier, you have to let go.  It was good advice and I used it when my world was blown apart by betrayal.

Oh and Tom’s birthday – we threw him a great big party in our house, and Rich cried, because he never thought he would be there!

I will be sharing my journal entry from the first Christmas we were back together – ironically I did not write in it over Christmas but the entry is just before so look out for it.

As always I hope this helps. Stay strong, and remember – always have yourself because without yourself you have nothing.

Moisy

 

Related image

Hello Darling

 

Image result for pictures of writing a letter

Tuesday19th June 2007

Hello Darling.

I thought that rather than write in my journal today I would write to you. (I hope that the writing is big enough!)

Yesterday I wrote in my journal that I realised that you cannot live without me, that you are so sorry, that you were so manipulated and caught up in something. That I must move on and leave it in the past and concentrate on now; I realised that only I could really help you, by doing this.

And yesterday I really was ok. If you think about it, although some things came up we talked about them and they were done, we didn’t go on. It was good.

But when we went to bed and you were kissing me, you closed your eyes in a way that said you could not look at me. You said it was because of the guilt, and I know, and understand that. But it makes me feel as if you don’t want to be with me. Or that you are thinking of what you have done with ‘Her’(I know in a way you regret it, wish it wasn’t in your head. And whilst I know that you cannot help it, a chain reaction is set off in my head and I think of something that I really don’t want to, and it made me cry.)

I know that you want to make love (we can just have sex anytime) to me. I want you to. I can help with your guilt, if you make me happy you will feel less guilty.

I do have a handle on most of it now, meaning I can keep it under control. I am happy that you are back with me, happy that you love me so much, happy that you want to make it up to me in any way you can.

But you must overcome and get control of your guilt – or that can actually destroy us because it stops you from doing the things that will make me happy.

You want that great ‘love affair’ back – then we need to make love, you need to be able to look at me and not shut your eyes. We need to stop letting it interfere and affect our lives anymore.

We need to work together – I am, by getting control of it in my head. Now you have to. I will help you but you must talk to me about what goes on in your head; like I am now, I am writing you a letter in my journal. Please darling, if you want us to work, talk to me.

In the words of Diana and Marvin

“All I want to do is make it up to you, because I need you more than life itself.”

“All I want to know, is you still care that nothing’s changed, and it’s the same as it used to be.”

I love you.

Mois

 

Reflections

I wrote this open letter to Rich in my journal, and left my journal open on the side for him to read when I wasn’t there.

I wrote it because whenever we were in bed together I could see the pain on Rich’s face, even only recently he told me that if I shut my eyes he thinks that I am thinking of someone else because he does not deserve me; even now, even eleven years later!

I will say it often in this book,  the damage that we do! I hadn’t put it behind me when I wrote this, it was way too soon, and I was just hanging on to hope.

For me to have given Rich access to my journal was a big thing for Rich, because he knew that ‘My’ journal was mine, and not to be shared with him. It  had become my sanctuary; and Rich understood the importance of the symbolic gesture of allowing him to read it, including him in the power it had to heal us.

I knew that Rich would not read anything more, he was terrified of what I wrote because he knew it was all about us, a way for me to try and stop myself from running away from our relationship, and he knew that depending on what I had written on any particular day, determined if I would be there with him that evening.

In addition he did not want to read it because he was afraid of what it showed, which was the damage that he had inflicted on us as a couple. That is how Rich saw it, and still sees it now. I don’t! I know now that it took two of us to cause what had happened. We had stopped communicating, and I had become so caught up in my ‘happy life’ that I could not see the fear  that Rich felt every day – that he would lose me some day. I was so caught up at the time in believing that Rich loved me so much, was so confident in our relationship, so happy that I did not consider for one moment if Rich felt the same; and because of that it allowed another manipulative and evil person to come into our lives and use what I could not see against us.

Now I know that some people reading this will say that it was Rich’s fault because he cheated on me, had sex with someone else, moved into a fucking house with her! But here is my take on it:

If during the first seven years we were together (yes how cliché it was the seven year itch!) I had understood that Rich never thought that he was good enough for me, noticed that he had asked me if I would turn up to our wedding; noticed that he had felt that one day he would come home and I would not be there all through our marriage; if I had picked up on that insecurity, would ‘She’ have been able to get between us?

If I had listened to my friend Lucy all those years when  she told me to stop talking about James my boss, because it was really getting to Rich, would ‘She’ have found it so easy to tell him that I had an affair with James when I didn’t?

If I had not sent Rich to Coventry so many times when I was upset about something, sometimes not speaking to him for days on end, feeding in to his insecurity that he was not good enough, would not keep me, would ‘She’ have been able to get between us?

No the answer is No! ‘She’ would not have been able to do the damage that ‘She’  did.

Yes Rich broke my heart, he made a fool of me (although I am not now ego driven so what exactly does that mean?) he left me for someone else and acted as if he did not care, he told me that he did not  love me, he told me that he loved someone else, he held court with the barmaids in the pub when we first got back together, and yes for all of that he was an arsehole!

But I would also be an arsehole if I could not see the arrogance of my actions that helped ‘Her’ do what ‘She’ did to get into Rich’s brain and tell him that I would leave him one day.

So Rich’s biggest problem was his own fear, fed by his own insecurity and that is what he had to face every day when he came back. That is what any person who is the adulterer has to face every day; and that is not easy. That was Rich’s Karma – not me doing back to him what he had done to me, but me becoming stronger, independent of him which fed into his insecurities every day – still does sometimes even today. especially with the topic of my book!

Only this year, as I am writing this book, has Rich picked up my journal when he was on his own and read some of it, eleven years later! Because I am writing this book I know that Rich needs to have an understanding of what will be in it, but it terrifies him even now; and makes me think again about the damage we inflict on others and ourselves.

Someone asked Rich the other day why he did it, when it is clear that he adores me. He said simply that he never thought he would keep me, that I was ‘too good’ for him and he could not understand why I loved him.

I am always conscious of that now, and I do remind Rich constantly of how much I love him, and to not listen to his demon in his head – his insecurity! Because I know that he still sometimes thinks I will leave; even now, even though we have gone on a massive adventure to France together  he still cannot understand why am here with him after everything we have been through; still does not believe it when I say that  “I love him more than I can ever say.”

I have said in the journal entry how when Rich closed his eyes it set of a chain reaction in me, and I thought he was thinking of ‘her, which made me cry. Now I know he wasn’t; I know he closed his eyes through guilt. When those things happened as we tried to stay together it was one of the hardest things to get my head around, especially whilst in bed having sex. But I did get round it, by writing things like this in my journal, which helped me see that in fact there was probably another reason altogether.

I believe that everything that life sends our way is a lesson, and we can choose to listen to it or not! If your heart has been broken by someone that you trusted and believed in, a person who you thought would never let you down, you know that I know how hard that is.

Remember the hardest lessons are always the ones that teach us the most.

But I do believe that if you are going to move forward, with or without them, there will come a time when you need to stop and reflect, and be honest with yourself: Were there little things that you could have seen? Were there things that you could have done differently?

If your still in the blame game, and more than a few months into recovery I would urge you to consider getting out of it at some point, because that’s just one of the whirlpools you can get sucked into on the ocean of despair.

If you think that my blog would help others please share

 

Moisy

Image result for quotes about being without sin

 

How can you say you don’t know?!!!!

Related image

May 2006 = Memories and Anger

For the first two weeks after Rich came back we both struggled to do anything normal, including going to work. It was as if nothing mattered, neither of us cared if we lost our jobs, our house anything; because everything was already lost!

Rich suggested that we go out, get out of the house, so we walked along the seafront to the seaside town of Whitstable. It should have been a really lovely walk, but to get to  Whitstable we had walk along the path that took us through the town of Tankerton, the place where Rich would meet her for their liasons.  This was the place where they would sit and kiss in Rich’s car, have a coffee together, make a fool of me.

As we got near to this pretty seafront town I could feel my heart in my chest beating harder and harder and then working its way up until it was in my mouth. I found myself thinking ‘did they park there and snog, or was it there? Did they go in that café, do those people who run the café know that they were making a fool of me?’ Are those people in the cafe looking at me now with pity, thinking there’s that bloke who used to meet his other woman in here!’By now I was getting angry, people were laughing at me, I knew it, and it was all Rich’s fault.

As we made our way into Whitstable I wondered if they had visited any of the pubs we were going to, did everyone know Rich had been cheating on me? Were they all now looking at me and thinking poor cow she doesn’t know that her husband has been seeing someone else.

As we  visited different pubs  I got more and more pissed, and the more pissed I got the more that voice in my head played games with me. It told me that people were whispering about me, laughing at me, it reminded me that my husband may well have been to these places with ‘her’; that he may have met and chatted with the people who were in the pub now! It told me a little story of how ‘she; and Rich must have sat at a table in the corner and laughed about what a silly bitch I was. The more that demon talked to me the more angry I became. I hated Rich for what he had done to me, I would never forgive him, I just couldn’t see how I could.

As normal we had not eaten, because food just held no interest for either of us.   Rich could see that the alcohol was taking it’s toll on me, and  I think he was starting to feel a little bit afraid , so he suggested that we go to an Indian restaurant for something to eat.

I had always wanted to visit a particular restaurant because the food looked superb, but when we entered all I could think was ‘did he bring ‘her’ here?’

We ordered  a huge amount food, I don’t know why because given that neither of us had eaten properly in nearly two months it was unlikely that we were going to eat a feast now! It was just another symptom of the madness that we both felt; we literally did not know our arse from our head!

As we sat there this little voice kept telling me that the waiters had recognised Rich and knew that he had been seeing someone behind my back and my eyes were just brimming with tears. I could see Rich was terrified, sitting with his head down because he just did not know what I was going to do at any given time. It all got too much. I could not stay in the restaurant or eat any of the food that they were bringing out, so I just got up and left. Rich threw money on the table and shouted an apology to the waiter who had by now come up to the table with a trolley full of food, and just ran out after me, leaving the waiter dumbstruck in his wake.

By now I was out of the door and although Rich ran after me he could not find me because I had run down a small alley between the old houses in the town; the alleys all linked together like rat runs because they had been set up for the smugglers to use years before; and I knew that it would be difficult for Rich to find me. I just needed to get away, from Rich, away from the town, away from all of the places that may have held memories for Rich, memories that did not involve me. It was if they were in every building, every pub, and every memory was laughing at me. I needed space, I needd to be on my own.

Eventually Rich found me hiding down the alley behind a wall. I wanted to be left alone because I just had this enormous rage in me bursting to get out; but another part of me wanted Rich to run after me, to show me that he cared this time, because there had been so many other occasions when he hadn’t come after me before. Rich could do nothing right he was damned if he came after me and damned if he didn’t.

I could not believe that we were here, in this place, desperately trying to get something back that had gone;  I just kept asking Rich why he had done it? Why had he made me look such a fool? Why had he gone off with ‘her’ the person who tried it on with everyone’s husband! Why did it have to be my husband that went with ‘her’? All Rich kept saying was that he didn’t know.

I was screaming at him now, I didn’t care who could fucking hear me, I needed the answers. Rich still kept saying that he didn’t know why he had done it; he didn’t know why he had made a fool of me. How could you not fucking know? How could you do something that was so bad, so cruel and then say that you do not know why you had done it? My rage built and built with every ‘I don’t know’ how dare he do this to me! How dare he hurt me so badly with someone so ugly! But it was when Rich  said he was sorry that he didn’t know why he didn’t know that  I punched him, and then I punched him again with a right hook, and then I just punched and punched and punched him; he let me. I was sobbing uncontrollably when eventually Rich got hold of my hands and said ‘I have to stop you, or I am going to go down’. I stopped, I just felt exhausted with it all, exhausted with the whole sorry drama, exhausted with trying to rescue something that I didn’t even know if I wanted.

I just wanted to go home, and although I told Rich to ‘fuck off and leave me.’ he wouldn’t; so  we made our way out of the cute little smugglers alley and hailed a taxi, and by the time we got home Rich had two black eyes.

It wasn’t getting any better.

Just say just say that you forgive me

And make it better

Just say just say that you’ll stay near me

And make it alright make it alright

Just say just say that life without me

Will be impossible

Just say just say you’ll never doubt me

And make it alright make it alright

Just Say Just Say – Diana Ross and Marvin Gaye

Written by Asford and Simpson

Moisy

May 2007 – Fighting for everything including for my dignity..

broken mobile phone

May 2007 

The day after Rich’s return I woke early I hadn’t slept that well, but at least I had slept! The first thing I did was go into our spare bedroom, where I had left Rich’s phone (I couldn’t bear to have it near me, even though I had turned it off!) As  I turned it back on  it just started to ping constantly,; as if it is broken and the notifications button was stuck.

I smiled to myself when I saw how many missed calls and texts there were – over three hundred – all from ‘her’ (we’re going with a small capital now!) I smile because it is ‘her’ turn now to be on the receiving end of Rich not answering his phone or responding to texts. In fact I have the phone now so the only person she will contact is me!

As I look at all the messages I realise that the woman really is delusional.  The texts are all asking Rich where he was, who was he with, when was he coming home. I knew from our conversations that Rich had told ‘her’ that he was coming back to me, and it was clear that ‘she’ was in total denial.  I started to think that ‘She’ was a fucking lunatic, but little did I know at the time quite how much!

As I sat looking at the phone she called, I could feel my heart beating and the anger build up inside me so I composed myself before I answered, although I could not keep the smugness out of my voice. ‘She’ sounded shocked that I had answered, shocked that I had Rich’s phone; but it did not stop her having the audacity  to ask to speak to Rich; as if I was going to say ‘Oh okay, of course’  and pass the phone over!

Instead I told ‘her’ that Rich did not want to speak to ‘her’; Rich was sitting on the side of the bed shaking his head, he did not want to deal with ‘her’ in any way.

I took great delight in saying that Rich didn’t want to have anything do do with  ‘her’ and  had asked me to speak to ‘her’ and deal with ‘her’. ‘Her’ response was:

“You know he has had sex with me don’t you?”

“Yes” I said “I know.”

“Then how can you have him back knowing he has had sex with someone else?” ‘She’ said.

It was clear that this was her trump card, ‘she’ thought that if ‘she’ rammed home to me that Rich had fucked her then I could never stay. – LIttle did she know that her doing this just made me all the more determined to stay just to fuck up ‘her’ biggest weapon. I took a deep breath and said:

“Because sex is not love and you don’t seem to realise that. You can have sex with anyone it does not necessarily mean anything. But you would never understand that, because you think that when you have sex with people it means that they love you, that is why you sleep around so much! Look at you, nothing but a fucking slag, who still has nobody, because Rich is not with you now is he?

I hung up and turned the phone off!

Rich looked at me and said he was worried about going back to the house he had rented with ‘her’ to collect his belongings; that he needed me to go with him because he was afraid of what ‘she’ would do! He said that ‘she’ would not leave him alone and would follow him about and go on and on at him, as she had over the past six months; and I could see at that moment just how weak Rich was.

I started to realise that this woman was a fucking maniac, and that a lot of what had happened was because ‘she’ hated me and all that I had; things that ‘she’ had never had and would never have; so ‘she’ had set out to destroy me.  ‘she’ had played the game well, but clearly not well enough; ‘she’ had underestimated love; but perhaps more importantly ‘she’ had underestimated me!

I was in disbelief that despite all the shit Rich had put me through I was going to have to go with him to collect his stuff; and help him extricate himself from the quagmire he had got himself into. So I found myself taking control of a situation that I had not created and taking Rich to collect his things.

I took my car; I could never get in Rich’s car again. It was the place that he had met ‘her’, had made a fool of me, and had kissed ‘her’. Whilst they had been together ‘She’ had driven it and it was contaminated with everything about Rich’s time with ‘her’.

I can’t explain how I felt on that drive. How had my life changed so much in less than a month? And it was all Rich’s fault. Here  I was, two stone slimmer from the last time ‘she’ had seen me (all hail the divorce diet), driving down the motorway to the house that Rich had rented with ‘her’. Adrenalin was seriously getting me through at this moment in time and I could hear the blood pounding in my ears.

When we arrived at the house, a tiny little two up two down terraced with a front door opening directly onto the street, it just compounded my feelings of confusion; how could Rich have left our beautiful home to come and live here? How could he have thought this was a better option, that he would be happy?

Rich used his key to open the door and as we walked into the house I could hear ‘her’ calling the police and asking them to come and remove me from the house. ‘She’ had the audacity to shout down the stairs to me and ask me to leave, and I immediately thought of all the times ‘she’ had been in my house, and invaded my personal space! I cannot tell you how much I hated this woman at this moment in time, I wanted to fucking kill her. I told her to “Fuck off and make me!”

Rich began collecting his things and I went to the CD player; I could see all of the CD’s that had been in Rich’s car, CD’s I had bought.  I looked through the window and saw Rich’s shirts blowing on the washing line and knew that ‘she’ did not believe that he would leave ‘her’; and it reinforced my gut feeling that ‘She’ was seriously deluded, and that it was not going to be easy to get ‘her’ our of our lives. I felt completely out of place in this house, I did not belong there’ I was, quite simply, too good for it.

Moving between rooms collecting clothes was surreal: Rich’s dressing gown where it was hung in a ‘his and her’ fashion on the back of a door, aftershaves from the dressing table, scooping up clothes out of drawers,  shoes from under the bed; all the fucking things I had packed up three weeks earlier! I remember feeling as if it was happening to someone else. I looked at the bed that they had been in together, had sex in, and it made me feel sick, it really was like being in a bad dream.

All the time the sun was shining outside, and a light breeze was blowing, and the summer was on it’s way; everyone seemed happy and here I was in a house that my husband had rented with someone else. I was so fucking angry I was shaking and I just wanted to get out of there before I killed ‘her’.

All the while ‘she’ followed me saying how Rich loved ‘her’ and not me, how I was not enough for him, goading me.  I knew that I could really hurt ‘her’ so I tried to ignore her, but in the end it got the better of me and I pointed out to ‘her’ that he would never have loved ‘her’ in the way he loved me, because she was too fucking ugly!

‘Look at my face’ I said, ‘and then look at your face, there really is no comparison.’

Clearly I had touched a nerve, and ‘she’ flew at me scratching the front of my chest and face, which was not a good idea, given how I felt!  I cannot remember what I did but suddenly I had her by ‘her’ hair, it was wound tightly round my hand and she could not move ‘her’ head which I had, by now, shoved into the carpet on the floor; and she’ was screaming that I was hurting ‘her’. Hurting ‘her’! I hadn’t even fucking started! As I lifted ‘her’ head I had every intention of elbowing her in the face until she had no face left. At that point  Rich pulled me off ‘her’ and  pleaded with me to let go because I would be the one who was arrested. As I let go ‘she’ ran to the bathroom and locked herself in.

Howeverm ‘she’ had not finished and whilst I contemplated the steep stairs, with my arms full of clothes, ‘She’ came up behind me and punched me hard in the back and pushed me down the stairs. (I had the bruise between my shoulder blades for over six weeks after the incident.) It was only Rich’s quick thinking, that saved me from breaking my neck; because he caught me, stopping me hitting my head on the wall at the bottom of the stairs, his hand taking the full force. I made for the stairs planning to go back after her, but Rich grabbed me, he knew that I would have kicked the bathroom door in this time, and he was right.

I couldn’t believe my life had come to this; fighting with someone for the person I thought really loved me, who would never let me down. I really was in an episode of Jerry Springer!!

The police arrived and ‘she’ accused me of assault, until I showed them the large red and black weal on my back where she had punched me. Ironically the policeman then asked me if I wanted to press charges! But I said no. I could not bear the whole situation: I could see the policeman looking at me with pity in his eyes and I could see that he was looking at Rich with contempt. I needed to take myself out of this situation, I needed to hold on to the dignity that I maintained throughout the last three weeks.

I asked the policemen if we could just get the rest of Rich’s stuff and took great joy in the fact that they escorted ‘her’ out into the garden and would not let ‘her’ in the house again. After another two trips I couldn’t bear it any longer and I said to Rich that I wanted to go and ‘fuck what is left behind.’

Our world was burning around us and the things in that house just did not matter. So we left behind the shirts that we had chosen when we were on honeymoon in Turkey, the CD’s that we had danced to over the years; but most importantly we had left behind Rich’s Filofax that had all his future shifts for work written in it, his email address and his work phone numbers. Leaving that behind would be something that we would come to regret.

As we made our way back home in the car ‘she’ was constantly sending texts to Rich, asking him to come back, telling him that I would not stay with him, that I would make him pay, would leave him for someone else. ‘She’ really knew how to tap into all of the things that he was afraid of, as ‘she’ had done so many times before;  manipulating the situation so that he would consider leaving me for ‘her’.

I could see from the look on Rich’s face that he was starting to wonder if she was right so I pulled over and got out of the car. I looked at Rich, this man in turmoil, and asked him to send ‘her’ a text and tell ‘her’ to “Fuck Off!”. But Rich just looked at me and said “I can’t, I don’t want to hurt her!” I started to cry and said that he had best walk back to ‘her’ then, but Rich just stood there looking at me; he clearly did not know what to do and said “I don’t want ‘her’, I want you!’ So why he would not just tell ‘her’ to fuck off, why could he not treat ‘her’ like he had treated me? If he loved me why did he not want to hurt ‘her’? He had hurt me enough!! I thought of all the times that Rich had laughed at me, told me he didn’t love me. told me that he loved ‘her’, I thought about the fact that my husband had fucked someone else; of all the things he had done to me, the worst things in the world, and here he was telling me that he could not do the same to the person who had been the main instigator of all this trouble.

But I was not prepared to give ‘her’ what she wanted this time. I didn’t know if I wanted him but I was pretty fucking sure that ‘she’ wasn’t having him either. This time I would play ‘The Game’. So I told Rich to get back in the car and I carried on driving away.

All the way home ‘She’ continued to send texts every ten seconds which just confirmed to me that the woman was a psychopath, and wonder  what the hell had Rich got me into.

As I had told Rich when he came back: giving up his phone was one of the main things that he had to do if he wanted to stay with me. It was a done deal, he changed his phone or his fucked off! I drove straight from that house to a phone shop and bought a new phone.

There we sat in the phone shop, with the young salesman giving Rich the ‘spin’ about the latest phones available when in fact we didn’t give a shit what phone it was, as long as it was not the phone Rich had been using to cheat on me.

When we got back to our house Rich passed his old phone chip to me and I took great pleasure in snapping it in half.

Somebody’s gotta win
Somebody’s gotta lose
Somebody’s got to play the fool

Somebody’s gotta laugh
Somebody’s gotta cry
Somebody’s got to almost die

I’ve asked myself so many times
Why do I always lose this heart of mine

And get nothing in return
Except the clown’s reputation
A broken heart and much humiliation

I’ve asked this question again and again
And the answer’s the same

Somebody’s gotta win
Somebody’s gotta lose
Somebody’s got to play the fool

Somebody’s gotta win Performed by The Controllers – The Written by David Camon

Moisy

Dignity quote