The Reality Of The Affair, Redux

Posted by Anonymous. (Follow-up to The Reality Of The Affair.)

It's been nearly two and a half years since I wrote the post about "the reality of the affair." I just reread it and all the comments before gathering my thoughts to write this next one. I've often reflected in my mind back to the comments I received after that original post so I wanted to have a fresh look again. This one in particular made me giggle, "You're probably not that special." One of the more profound things I've learned in the last three plus years is what I'm worth.

I followed through and left my then husband about three months after that first post. He took it well but there were some moments that were harder than others. The best part about all of this is he has become a better person and a better father. Without me to pick up all his slack he has had to step up and has found that being a great dad is really his thing. He's had a couple of girlfriends but at the moment is just focusing on himself. We're friendly and I care deeply about him. He is the father of my children and I want him to find the happiness he deserves.

My kids are amazing. They never once asked if dad and I would be getting back together. They never once expressed any concern at all about their future. My ex and I have made it a priority to act like adults and to ensure that our children are secure and happy and know they are the most important thing. They have also seen both of us take this time and discover true happiness. I have instilled in them that they are worth everything and they deserve to be happy just like we all do. In discovering my own value I have taught my children to believe in theirs.

About the other man. He started counseling and began on his own journey of self-discovery. He began to seriously evaluate what it was he wanted and needed and where his own priorities were. We continued our relationship into the summer of 2008 at which point he began to wonder if he would be able to ever find the courage to battle the emotional drama that would come from leaving his wife. It was during that summer that I let him go to discover what it was he wanted and needed in his life. It was a very difficult thing to follow through with - but I knew it was the right thing. I knew he had to know for his own sanity for certain that he could either never be happy with her or without me. I kept in touch with him but we did not see each other for well over a year. That all changed this summer when he came to me a free man, self-assured and ready to pursue a life where he can be truly happy.

Those who've never experienced this will never understand that the road to get here was about courage and righting the wrong decisions we made when we were younger. There is no shame in changing your mind and although marriage ought to be for life, for many of us we made that commitment much too young to even know who we are or what we would want. We both went to individual counseling to determine what it was we wanted in our lives. We both have children who are happier now that we are happier. Marriage isn't something that can bind two people together in paper only. You have to connect emotionally and spiritually in order to make a marriage last forever.

As for the cute little catch phrases like "If he'll do it with you he'll do it to you" I don't worry about that at all. This was never about a cheap thrill. There was no 'fog' over the last four years. We've been through more reality than most couples ever see and we always come out stronger. When your relationship is born through commitment and motivation to be together NO MATTER WHAT then you know what you have and you are unwilling to lose it.

So just remember the next affair you hear about may not just be an asshole and a whore looking for something fun on the side. Sometimes you meet the perfect person at the imperfect time. Some people are worth it and some people are willing to do whatever it takes to be together.

An Update, In Which Breathing Occurs

Posted by Anonymous.

So a while ago I wrote a post here about my mental illness, general disgruntlement with New York City, and my ridiculous college. (It was called "Suffocating.") Some folks in the comments section wanted to know how that all ended up, so here it is:

I found a subletter for my apartment, sold eighty percent of my clothing to Beacon’s Closet, packed up my cowboy boots and my snowboard, and high-tailed it back to Colorado faster than you can say “spring semester medical leave.”

Or rather, that’s how it should’ve happened. It is true that I left, but it was more complicated than that. I met this boy. Theme parties are dangerous in so many ways, Internet. On October 29th, I went to a Black Friday party with my hair in pin curls. We drank gin out of a bathtub, blasted jazz on vinyl and celebrated our forthcoming decline into financial ruin. There was a boy wearing suspenders and a fedora playing piano. Like, really, really mind-blowing piano. It was his twenty-first birthday. I told him that my birthday is also on the anniversary of a terrible event: JFK’s assassination. He was a piano major at the jazz conservatory at [my ridiculous college].

The day before I went to this party, I had called my parents and told them I was leaving New York, and would never step foot in it again except maybe for Passover Seder.

I am so not that girl. I don’t do things for boys, like move across half a continent. But here I am, living in Colorado, screaming about how miserable it is to be alive in front of a great shrink twice a week, auditioning medications into my system, and moving back to God Damn New York in August, to pull one more semester at my God Damn College. He’s been out here twice; I taught him to snowboard. I spent ten days at his family’s house on the Puget Sound in January, baking bread with his mother for their co-op. (Yes. It’s exactly how it sounds.) Let’s back up.

I said to him: “I’m miserable and moving away, but I’ll have coffee with you and be your friend.” He said, “Okay.” Stupid. What that ALWAYS means is “I will marry you, move to Portland, and have your genius babies. On the weekends we can go antiquing.” Internet, we had a lot of coffee. (BTW, coffee means sex.) The plan was to have a lot of coffee, never commit, I would leave and that would be that. Then we started doing terrible things like having conversations, going to Prop 8 protests, and revealing intimate facts about ourselves like “I am batshit insane sometimes because I have unmedicated bipolar disorder, can you pull my boot off because I’m sobbing uncontrollably and can’t do anything at the moment thanks.” He stayed. Even after he saw me have a panic attack about how to put on pants.

I had an ovarian cyst rupture in November, (My third, and yes, I’m on the pill for it. Look how effective that treatment is!) and he skipped an entire day of class to hang out in the emergency room with me while I got high on morphine. He read aloud to me the last forty pages of Eclipse, which I had crawled into my room to grab as the paramedics banged on my front door. I had it clutched to my chest when they loaded my into the ambulance. (He doesn’t like it when I tell people that he has recited Stephanie Meyer aloud, but hot damn, that makes a keeper, doesn’t it?)

I love him, Internet. I love him more than I hate New York. (And I really, really hate it there.) So I’m moving back, with an arsenal of legally-acquired Xanax, a team of mental health professionals already found, and my very tired snowboard. It’s only until we both graduate, which is two more years, because he is earning two degrees at once, (a BFA and BA) and I am scholastically incompetent. After that, he wants to ride a motorcycle with me across Europe. My only concern was, how would all of my Sephora Problem fit onto a motorcycle? He said, “We can get a side car.” Oy Vey.

Weekend Update: Dear Sister In Law

Update to Sister In Law, posted by Anonymous.

Here's the update: my MIL passed away the day after I wrote this
(which also happened to be my 31st birthday). After giving my BIL the
silent treatment the entire six hour drive, my SIL spent the rest of
the weekend doing the same to my husband and I. And she's yet to even
acknowledge the existence of our six month old son.

When it came time to travel across the country for her funeral, she
refused to come because she said she needed the right to completely go
off and blow up at anyone who even "looks at me funny, even if it's in
the middle of the funeral" and that she expected him to back her up
100% of she did it. He said he couldn't do that, so she refused to
even make the trip. To be honest, it made the weekend less stressful
for everyone there.

Now, it's looking increasingly likely that she won't be my SIL for
much longer. She has been lying to my BIL about a variety of things,
blowing up at him every other second for nothing and everything, and
when he asked her to come to counseling to try to work out their
issues, she said she'd go, but she really wasn't interested in putting
much work into the relationship. So..while I'm sad that my BIL is
having to go through this (he's an awesome guy), and so soon after his
mother's death, I'm actually kind of excited about the possibility of
being able to hang out with him, spend time with him, and do family
stuff with him with out having to worry about her.

Just writing that letter made me feel much better.

Weekend Update: My So-Called Life

We all want to know what happened with the stories that touched our hearts here, and so updates from people who have posted stories here are always welcome. I'll be posting these on weekends, so that we don't get any further behind in the regular posting schedule (many of you are waiting to see your posts up here, and I promise, they're coming. It's just that there are lots of them, and I don't want to bunch them all together. You all deserve your time at the top of the page to get your story heard and to see discussion). Here's an update on the story, My So-called Life, posted by Anonymous...

HBM,

I don’t know if you remember me but I wrote this post for the Basement last year. Some people asked me to update them with my progress, and now I finally can.

Since my last, I let things spiral down a bit further until December, when I got a wake up call that I had hit rock bottom and called my parents crying, and finally asked for help. Through a plan with my mother’s employer that covers all my costs, I got help from a counsellor, who talked to me and asked me about myself, my plans, my hopes, my dreams and where I thought everything had went wrong. Between the two of us, along with help from my parents, we’ve got new goals set, and a new plan is in motion.

I am moving home at the end of March for the summer (as my courses are all correspondence this year, and I can leave earlier than most students). I’m living at my parents place for the summer, rent free, and working to save up money for next year. I’ve in the process of transferring to a university that’s a little less than an hour’s drive to my hometown, and it will be easy for me to visit family and friends on weekends, when I want to. Once school starts, I will still be living on my own and independent, but I will be an hour away, instead of almost seven. I’m going home, where I belong, and it feels great.

I want to thank you for posting my story, Catherine, and also thank every person who commented on my story, prayed for me, encouraged me, and told me to seek help and that moving closer to home and reaching out wasn’t a sign of me failing. I needed to hear it so badly at that point, from unbiased people who don’t know me or have their own plans for me, so thank you for your support and your encouragement. You all helped give me the push I needed to get out of the darkest stage, and I am so grateful. Thank you to each and every one of you.