Where to start , when to end?

There are so many thoughts that swim around in my head; I never know which to address. Last year, or was it just a few months ago (?) my husband made a comment to me: “Sometimes I worry about your mental health.”

To be fair, I was on one of my slides downward, a depression mixed with anger. Because my H refuses to read my mind, he had no idea that I was playing over and over in my thoughts all of the whats, whens, hows and whys” of this affair that has yet to be confessed.

(In case the reader is asking why I continually remind myself, and you, the reader, why this affair has not been admitted to or addressed, I do so because I believe it is an essential reason why I have yet to begin the proper healing.)

So, was I offended by his announcement that I was scaring him, losing my mind? NO, because quite frankly, I was afraid too. Hell, I still am afraid. I obsess, go through days when I can think of nothing but….. Where is he going/what is he doing… or should I have said who is he really doing?


I have done some off the wall, out of character things for myself. I check the phone log, often. I “follow” A LOT.  I read his face all the time when he talks. Speaking of “read” I’ve purchased books on how to tell when someone is lying. The kicker, okay, kickers…… I called a psychic AND; I called a PI. There. I said it; I am so desperate that I am leaving My God, my Hope, My only Rock, out of this entire equation. That, ^^^^ more thank likely is the reason for my mental health deteriorating.

I am feeding the fire by entertaining the unknown. I am imagining my H   laughing AT me, making fun that I am gullible and naive. My mind plays these scenes for me in which he meets “her” and they talk about me, giggling because they are getting over on me, while they have over the top, out of control, steamy-hot sex sessions.

I’m skeptical anything is happening now, with all of the resources that I’ve been using it’s doubtful. I feel pretty good when I say that, I believe it, and suddenly…. suddenly the thoughts and mind movies crawl right back into my head again.

So, just as this post is up and down, down and up, so are my emotions,  This is the reason my H made a comment regarding my mental health; I don’t blame him. Unfortunately, my feelings are worn on my sleeve for all to see.

For now, and until he admits (even if he doesn’t) I will continue to call out to my Hope. I will call on Him and He WILL answer me!
New International Version Jeremiah 33:3 

Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.’
Psalm 120:1 English Standard Version
In my distress I called to the LORD, and he answered me.
I also have a call into a PI . I’m thinking …. it can’t hurt, right?

The intention of my previous post

… was to talk about the way our society has glorified marital affairs. You know = infidelity, cheating, lying, having sex with somebody else’s spouse. Don’t believe me? Listen to the songs on your radio, turn on your television, rent a movie. It is everywhere and we’ve made it okay. It has always been this way but it is getting worse.   However, something happened as I was writing, I have no idea what it was, but the whole subject changed. So, I’ll give a small glimpse of what I was going to write about.

I found myself humming that song by the Manhattans “Lets just kiss and say goodbye” 


What a sad song. Two people, hearts shattered, two people who love one another but they can’t remain together. It’s not because of their parents, it isn’t even because it’s a time when color or religion would keep them separated. It’s because they have “ties” other ties,  it’s called ties, as  in, captured.  (Sarcasm off)  I’m assuming, feel free to correct me, but, I’m assuming it’s because they are MARRIED. 

  I remember when I first  heard this song as I rode the school bus ( In case you are wondering, I’m 51)  my thoughts wandered  to my then current crush. I’ve always been a sucker for sad music.   I thought this to be a perfect song for me and that cute boy, who I consider to this day my “first love”. It was a perfect song because my parents would not allow us to date. Another story for another time. I had no idea the reason for the song was completely different.

Now, I don’t mean to be a Debbie-downer or go all dramatic on yall , and  I will admit that I have changed a lot of what I am able to stomach  on television the books I can read or songs I  hear, it’s just way too raw for me. I quit watching “Scandal” because it was too much . Sounds dramatic, I know, but it’s real for me. It’s nothing but depression, a reminder of where my life looms. Over at my one of my new hangouts: here they call it a “trigger” and boy, do I get a trigger when I hear and see anything even alluding to an affair.

I believe wholeheartedly that our marriages and families are purposely hit and under attack. Those of you who are believers know exactly what I’m talking about. We have men and women  affairs participating in affairs and encouraged by their friends to carry on. We have betrayed spouses, broken hearted and nearly urged  to take their WS to the cleaners, divorce them and burn them at the stake. This is what is happening now  to our relationships. To make matters absolutely worse, we have children, our future, innocent children  watching and learning how to manage relationships by watching us, parents, the grown-ups who by the point of having children, should have our urges somewhat under control.

What are we going to do about this, what are we going to do?



Kiss and say Good-bye

From Psalm:
O God my rock,” I cry,
“Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I wander around in grief,
oppressed by my enemies?”
10 Their taunts break my bones.
They scoff, “Where is this God of yours?”
11 Why am I discouraged?
Why is my heart so sad?
I will put my hope in God!
I will praise him again—
my Savior and my God!

I found this scripture from a journal I wrote about a year ago, and it seems strangely sad that it still applies today. I feel guilty because I have allowed myself to focus on nothing but my WS and what he is doing, the how and the wheres as well. “It” very well could be over, but every single time I allow myself to relax and believe I was (am) crazy, something happens that causes me to think it isn’t over. I don’t even know what “it” is anymore.
I can’t even explain what I am talking about: Just once incident that arises would be explained away but adding those up all together say that something is going on. I believe that is why I focus so much on 2014/2015 the last six or so months of 14 and the first few of 15. The times I knew, but I could never prove. I kept explaining those incidents away as well.

Sigh, who is this crazy woman I’ve become? broken heart

There was a private comment written by a reader who feels I am taking blame for a choice he made to bring someone into our marriage. I want to explain that I am not excusing for him betraying me, not one bit. I am admitting, however, that I certainly was unlovable, I didn’t like him much and damn if I didn’t make it uncomfortable to be home and around me. The issue is pretty complex because even the fact that I didn’t like him much came from his constant need to control mostly the little things. It’s the chicken before the egg thing….. Which came first?

In my mind, it makes no difference. I’m the one that was aware of the tension in our marriage; I’m the one with the Christian up-bringing and I know better. He was raised to be selfish, greedy and think of himself first. I don’t mean that in a self-righteous way either. His family honestly have an intense need to be first, right, have more than…. And so on. I feel sad for them because they are rarely happy. Maybe content is a better word. No, they rarely have Joy, that’s it; usually they are looking for the next thing or event that will fulfill.

I will admit that I am furious, very angry with God right now. I don’t understand what he wants from me. Why must I wait for the “reveal” or the proof? Why is my WS always getting away with his boyish actions? I do mean always. He and his family tell stories of the shenanigans he pulled when growing up and how he would somehow escape blame or even punishment. It’s amazing.
So, anyway, It gives me grief knowing this could be another incident. I want to blow it wide open; I want to bust into a room that he is sitting with a handful of evidence and toss it into the air, and leave, with my bags and my dignity. It would more than likely be a bigger scene than that, but you know.

I would honestly feel a thousand times better if he just admitted he did wander or even that he still is messing around. I would then know for sure and could move on. The fact that he denied from the past could mean (obviously) he could deny from the now. I’m in constant prayer that I will find something, that somebody will tell me anything, he will grow tired of lying.

Does a cheater grow tired of lying?


Wide awake Nightmare


I watched (from afar) as he went from one bar to another. He had been doing so well. What….?  Why now?   It felt odd watching him as if I were the one in the wrong, but it wasn’t me taking the path not meant to be traveled, it was him. I wondered what his excuse would be when he came home. I watched and I  waited,  for what I don’t know.

The longer the night went on the more I knew it wasn’t going to be good. Never before had I ever thought he would betray me, he’s so against cheating. He doesn’t understand when his acquaintances, friends , even family members  choose to , to uh, well– to fuck somebody else besides your wife/husband. We always agreed; cheating means divorce, there is no other way to say it, cheating says goodbye, adios, later gator, go to hell.

So, if I never thought he would ever cheat, wander, falter- why did I know, why was I watching and waiting? (You caught that, didn’t you?) I had been watching for a few months at this point. Watching him ” go to “Home Depot” when his truck indicated he was   somewhere else. At this point, I never had seen hotels, random houses or anything of the sort enter the picture. I would just see his work truck in places he didn’t tell me he was going. Maybe Ten miles east of home or work instead of five miles west, as he said he would be.

My stomach began to tighten, I just knew, and  I can’t explain it; when you know, you know. I had   been feeling this way for a while  that something was going on and I was  pretty  sure I knew who it might be. The thing is, for the longest time I didn’t really sweat it. I was sure that “since he is such an honest man that when it actually happens, he will come to me and tell me.” He will be filled with remorse, shame, sorrow and fear. I really felt , as I watched him play single, this is the time when things will get better.

He will come to me filled with sadness, remorse, shame and in need of forgiveness.  I will tell him how much he has disappointed me, tell him it’s time to change, stop the off and on drinking, be the dad; patient, loving. Leave it to Beaver, dad. Come home to your perfect, kind -hearted, patient, wife. Look at your children, announce that their father has turned over a new leaf, he will now be accompanying the family to church, be involved at church, it’s time to thank your perfect wife and children for waiting so patiently for their wayward husband/father.

Welcome home husband. Welcome home!

It didn’t go like that at all. He came home with an “I’m hot shit” attitude and didn’t even know that I was aware of what had transpired over the weekend when he was spending his precious weekend hours, spare  hours working so hard to make better our dream home. He felt safer here, at our home away from home. Why not? It’s five  hours away from our full-time home.

After watching all night long, sleeping not one bit, literally, I did the good Christian girl thing, I got dressed for church, got in the car and drove my good little self to church. My girls were camp counselors so they were not home, which I think was perfect timing. On my way to church, I prayed, I begged and I prayed. I don’t even remember what I said to God. But I do know it was heart- felt, sincere. I sat through church service, did my volunteer with the childrens’ group and nearly ran to my car to get the hell out of  there when it was all over. The reality was settling in on me and I needed out.

Waiting for him to come home was even more grueling than watching him party all night. It was awful.

Did I mention to you it was Mother’ s Day? Never before had he missed any kind of celebration or holiday. He wasn’t that cold hearted.

When he finally arrives home at 7:00 pm, he walks into the house with a grin on his face like a boy that just had sex for the first time, he was trying desperately to not smile. I could tell, we’ve been married 20 plus years. He hands me a card, a Mother’s Day card that you would buy at the gas station or a 7-11, I had never received such a crappy card either.  Friends, I’m going to be honest, … I desperately wanted to take the knife that was in my hand (cooking dinner) and plunge his eyes out, cut the  lips off his face as he stood there, grinning. My insides were shaking, I could say nothing, ab-so-lut-ly  nothing. He had no idea I watched him play all night.

I looked at him, smiled ( I know, right?) “Thank you, honey. Are you hungry?”



The whole truth and nothing but

Surviving Infidelity


I’ve received a few emails asking if I am okay, where I’ve been, will I be back? The answers are: Yes, nowhere exciting and yes.


The first week of September, I brought my Life-Loving daughter, the youngest, R to College. The following week the older daughter graduated from her college. Life has been busy, and the summer spent in preparation for the both.

While the above is true, perhaps I will tell you the actual reason I’ve been” missing.” You see,  I’ve been very busy feeding my anger, depression, fear, anger, paranoia and anger.  I want for this blog to be real, authentic ….honest. I have shared this hell I’ve been living with very few people, and those that I have opened up to are of anonymous in nature, a group of others experiencing the same awful nightmare. I will be sure to put a link at the top of the page for you to visit this amazing group of friends.

I will admit that the one person I’ve uttered the words out loud to, my best friend doesn’t know all that I’m holding in this mind and heart of mine. Trusting is so hard for me, I’ve no idea where to go or who to trust completely. The words are easier to write than to speak.  If you’ve been through this, you understand how draining it can be, the suspicion and the racing thoughts, it’s impossible to round up all of the words I wish to convey and put it on this page. I’ve tried several times to do just that, yet I will instead create a slew of scattered words that may or may not make sense. And, in the chance, the words do make sense it’s highly possible the thoughts were written could very well have been written with ten words, rather than the 692 that were used.


So, for me at this time it boils down to knowing something happened and wondering if that something isn’t “ happened” but happening. It’s a matter of thinking it’s over but wondering what if “it” isn’t. It’s begging, pleading and bargaining with God for revelation of specifics and waiting for the answer. Waiting and waiting some more. It’s ashamed of what life was like before all this came to light.


I’ve said before that I will never believe that the BS (Betrayed spouse) is to blame for the WS (Wayward Spouse) succumbing to an affair. However, the BS can have been part of what led to the WS   to wander.  Was there anything I did or didn’t do that contributed to his choice? Probably. Okay, yes

I believe that my bitterness, my stiff-necked ways caused my WS to resent me. I wasn’t stiff-necked when it came to sex, but everything else. I resented the fact that my H did not give in to my ways and act the way I was brought up as a Christian. The fact that he did not kiss the ass of my parents, made it even worse. They would comment (to me of course) about his drinking or his antagonizing ways that created tense family get together that seemed to be filled with anxiety. The bitterness toward him on my part would fester and grow.  Why couldn’t he be like my dad was when I was growing up? Why couldn’t he be “respectful” toward my parents, my family, in other words, ….. Kiss ass. Before leaving to any function that involved my family I would lecture him how to behave, what to not say and what not to do.  Now, keep in mind, he is an alcoholic. He would drink before and during, causing a lot of tension at these family events. He wasn’t mean. Just obnoxious and would work to annoy anyone possible. He did a damn good job. BUT, my loyalties, in the long run, should have been with him. I had no business allowing my parents to comment or create a sense of having to choose.


As a reminder:


I, personally handed him a desire for someone else, someone more exciting and less uptight. I was a bitch. This very act on my part, began a separation of our marriage.


I disliked my H for many reasons that he created, but the problem was I never actually tried hard enough to share with him those few things. I needed to address things that were bothering me.  In the beginning of our marriage, after children, I would *try*  and  talk TO him, but really I gave up many years before. In my eyes, He wanted to continue to  party and act single and I didn’t’ So, eventually I quit bitching about it to him and created a life separate from his. I was a goody-goody, a wife that God would be so proud to  call his child. I “put up” with this man who would not quit his “evil ways” and some- day,  I would be rewarded for tolerating him the way God would have me tolerate him.


Poor me, the woman raising her girls in a Godly manner, while her husband on occasion would attend church, when he wasn’t off to camp, hunt, or fish.  Poor me.  Never miss a Sunday, and this is what I get.

This my friends, where I take responsibility in my part to the fall of my marriage. This is what I must remember when I gather my anger and so-called rightful bitterness for my WS not giving me the full truth. Yet.


I believe that God wants for me to get to somewhere, as of now, I don’t know where even. And, before God allows me to know the details of my H infidelity, even before my H admits…. There is something God wants from me, and I have no idea what.


































Most of us work so hard to grow our girls into strong, confident, hard working women; to be self-sufficient, so that if anything happens, they will be able to take care of themselves. ( I’m not talking about removing God from the equation. ) We want for them to be secure enough to go through life without selling their soul for love. To make choices that will help them to build on each relationship until they get to their husband. Of course, they will make mistakes, but hopefully not ones that will destroy the lives of their friends, family  and the family and friends of others.


Mom water canHearts

Don’t ever settle to be “The Other Woman”. I don’t care if you didn’t know he was married until you already were in love with him. (Which is usually B.S. anyway)

The older a woman gets, the more threatened she becomes, fearing that she will end up alone. She wants babies, houses, cars and parent-teacher conferences. She wants camping trips, Disney Land vacations, and yes, even crying jags over a mother-in-law. If she is nearing 25 and has been spending her weekends attending weddings of friends and co-workers while “merely dating”, she is thinking it isn’t looking promising for her… she is going to settle, and it just might be your husband.

You’re thinking your husband would never, you’re even saying you would know. I bet you could even be saying “good luck, keep the coward, he’s all yours, and DO NOT bring him back!”  I’m telling you now; it could happen. It might happen. If you’re saying the latter (Don’t bring him back) IT WILL HAPPEN.  broken heart

I want to help you keep this from happening and if it already is….. I want to help you stop it from continuing. If you stick around and follow some of the advice I give, I will help you stop it dead in its tracks. And you won’t even need to nag, plead, cry or beg.


Maybe I’m not surprised

I’m not surprised at the number of women whose theme and purpose of their blog is to journal a love story they have with their lover, and friend. Sharing the passionate nights, days and stolen moments; any moment that can be shared and spent together. The time that goes quickly, and ends in a forced, brave smile, only to shed tears when he can no longer see her face. The author is nearly insisting, and maybe even begging the reader to share in her painful love affair, one that she didn’t mean to happen. How, Oh how did she ever fall in love with a married man?!




“If only,” she writes, “it was me who lived with him. Why, I would never sleep until noon, order pizza for dinner and lay unresponsive while he makes love to me. I would be better than his wife, and would listen to his talk of his boss and co-workers.   Flower other woman I would wash his laundry and would work out, never allowing myself to go like she has. “How do I  know this?”  (sheasks)” I know, because  he told me, and he is an honest person, I believe him.”


“He wouldn’t need me if she were a good spouse. So religious and uptight. She doesn’t under stand him like I do.”Boring wife

Belch again

Dear other woman,
There are many who feel sorry for you. Sorry that you are heart-broken for your lover, your cheating lover. I would bet they are saddened to know that you spend your holidays alone while he spends them with his miserable, fat, ugly, lazy, AND frigid wife. I’d wager that he is wishing as much as you are (if not more) that he could be spending this day with you, his hot, sexy, tight \ firm bodied, happy-oh-so-happy, smokin hot lover. Why, how happy you all could be together! All? You know, the kids.


“Oh, yes– the kids. Well, they couldn’t be too bad. I mean, I will  teach those poor, neglected girls how to apply makeup, I will  take them shopping, show them how a real mom and wife should be.”  (Oh, wonderful me, she sing-songs)

So, as I continue:  Dear other woman, I want for you to know that I “mostly” forgive you, that is if I don’t think too long about , “it.”

I forgive you because you are sad, lonely, and apparently desperate. You have convinced yourself that he loves you, and if he could, he would be with you. Always. Forever. You have sold yourself and your heart to someone who doesn’t care about anyone but himself. You see, Dear other woman, you slept with a man when you were completely aware of the fact that he IS a  married, “committed,” involved, with someone else. More than likely his spouse has no idea about you. None, at least for now. Oh, and Dear other woman, more than likely, his wife does not sleep until noon, order pizza for dinner and let the house go to hell. But then again, I think you know the truth.

You know the truth, but hope for the worst. You want her to be fat, lazy, ugly, and selfish. Right now you ignore his pot-belly, greying, balding head because you want somebody, somebody who is already made, has money and will tell you how sexy and beautiful you are.

I want you to know the truth about affairs and the truth about the Other Woman. At the risk of sounding like an angry, bitter, betrayed wife (even though I am) I encourage you to do the research on your own.  It isn’t because your sexy and beautiful because he would F a lizard if he could get it to stop for him. The news isn’t so encouraging.

If you are the BS (Betrayed Spouse) is how I’ll be referring, hang out here. I hope to give some encouragement whether you decide to stay and reconcile or leave him behind. I have what I think is going to be helpful information.







That was his answer, and I knew it would be his answer when I mentioned *her*. She is one of the “hers” I believe were once in is life at one point in time. (Year and a half ago)  He has denied, of course,  as most WS (Wayward Spouse) would, when confronting over this past year. He had denied any involvement with anyone when I had questions or situations that caused me to speculate. (Nice way of saying, hey cheater! Busted!)

Each time he denied he would give your classic answer given by “The Wanderer” (Don’t these people know there are oodles of blogs that give you helpful hints, how to know when your spouse is cheating, how to catch a cheating spouse ?!  Really, you people outta quit chasing tail and start reading the internet a little, know what I mean?   )  Anyway, each time he gave his classic answer, I would envision: ” I did not have sexual relations with that woman, Miss Lewinsky” said in a certain presidential accent. And,  each time I wanted to shout: “But you are lying! Cheater, cheater, liar!” in my schoolyard voice.  Gosh, this makes me daydream about what is was like in the White House, in those days.

Being the passive-aggressive, people-pleaser that I am, I only straight out confronted a couple of times. That was with each “woman”. For the rest of the 18++ months, I would make jabs, drop hints, give innuendos and the whole she-bang.  In addition to being a passive-aggressive, people pleaser, I am also an indecisive doubter. That means, I can never decide (ask again, insist, ask her, beat him, beat her?) and doubt myself ( did I hear that correctly? Is it weird that he suddenly likes blah blah type of music? Are these my panties?) Okay, the panties thing didn’t happen, but I’m pretty sure that if it did happen, I’d be asking myself that question. Even if they were two sizes bigger than my size.  Okay, it did happen, BUT….. to my defense, we have two daughters of college aged, and they bring their friends up to our cabin all the time.

So, for these past 18++ months, I have been living in off and on misery. I have filled several journals, had written mind you. I mean seveal. I have joined groups on-line that are extremely supportive and I have gone over and over in my head details I may have missed. Boy, have I some stories for you!  Mostly, I have prayed, bargained, begged God, to please, give my spouse courage to be honest, come forward because I, me, me, me, me, I need healing. I need to adress this with him admitting so I can have my say. The problem with liars is they are so busy covering their butt because they are chicken ass, they don’t give room to the victim  to be able to respond.

This is what I’m going to be writing about. I’ve changed my tune and learned some very intense and painful lessons along the way.