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Hurt and Transition

Things are in transition. Well, for a Lokean, that’s practically a state of being. But right now, there’s a tangible transition afoot. I’m not pleased about this, and I’m not even sure I want to post this entry. There’s a lot of shame, hurt, anger, and frustration behind these seemingly calm looking words on a page. I’m a writer, though, and I deal best with situations when I can put words to them, quantify them in a way, communicate them to someone else. It is like a cathartic purge of all the buildup of emotions that otherwise are hard to release.

If you came here looking for juicy details or personal attacks, you’re in the wrong place.

The hard truth here is that I am divorcing my husband. We have been married for almost seven years, and together for almost ten. This was my choice, my action (or more properly, reaction), this is me owning my life, my heart, my right to a relationship on the terms I ask for.

He cheated on me. Not once, but several times. Yes, it is absolutely possible to cheat when you’re poly. I mean, part of what I don’t understand about what happened is that I’m a fairly permissive poly partner, as far as they go. I have one real rule: tell me. If you meet a hot guy in a bar and you got his digits, tell me, even if you’re not sure you’re ever going to call. If you get an email from a friend who confides that they might be interested in a little more, tell me, even if your answer is going to be no. If you get propositioned for a little hanky panky, give me a call and let me know. That’s all. I have never said “no”. I have said, “Do you think this is a good idea?” or “I don’t care for this person, but as long as I don’t have to be their friend, okay” or “I think they have ulterior motives, so watch out for that”, but unless memory fails me completely, I have never once denied him something that he wanted, even when I really wanted to.

It started early on. I remember we had only been together a short while, and a mutual friend felt compelled to inform me that they had been having intimate conversations via the phone, and that it had progressed to the “I love you” stage. I didn’t even know they were talking outside of group social situations. But then, I chalked it up to poly inexperience, because he had never been in a poly relationship before. We processed it at length, and came up with a better script for the next time it should happen.

But the script never manifested. Over and over again, I’d find out from other people that he had been doing things we’d agreed were off limits, or just a bad idea. He engaged in activities and neglected to tell me, once while I was lying sick in bed only a few hundred yards away.

I loved him. It’s the stupid thing you hear from people all the time, but it was the truth. I really wanted the relationship to work, because other than this fault I really liked him and wanted to be a part of his life. I loved him through the mistakes and the betrayal. Hell, I even let myself fall in love with him knowing that his first marriage ended for the exact same reason (he cheated on her, too). I let myself believe in redemption, in his seemingly genuine desire to live life with honor and integrity. I mean, he’s a Tyr’s man, a self-defined “guardian”. Of course I wanted to believe him.

I loved him so much that as my life began to deteriorate, I still compromised for him. When I was no longer able to climb the stairs in our home on a regular basis, I moved into the 10’x10′ room downstairs and made due; my pleas to move to a more accessible location were met with agreement at first, but then apathy/procrastination took over and he did the minimum he could so he could point to it and say, “But I did that one thing!”

I’ve done a lot of covering for him. Things he’s said and done, or more often, said and not done, I danced for the proverbial cameras so no one would notice. When friends voiced their concerns to me, I smiled wide and told them everything was okay. Meanwhile, I begged him for counseling, either for himself or for us together, or both. I begged him to take his health more seriously, so he could get his seizures under control. I begged him. A lot.

I will beg no more.

I don’t know how things will play out. The wounds are fresh, the situation raw. I’m investigating options, talking to legal folks, and figuring out how to walk out of here with my dignity intact. My biggest fear is that I look the fool. People have been telling me for years that I am too forgiving, that I compromised too much, that I went to incredible lengths to keep things together. And yet, his unfaithfulness was public. It happened where people could see. Almost every time, it was a witness who came to me and informed me of what happened.

So things are in transition. I don’t have any answers, and I’m not really feeling like I want to process this with anyone I’m not already talking to. I just needed to get this out in the open, air the dirty laundry a bit so it can stop stinking up my brain.

About Del

A shaman who writes about spiritual things, but not in that namby-pamby "everything is light and fluffy" sort of way.

12 responses to “Hurt and Transition

  1. Pingback: Reblogging myself: Hurt and Transition « Dying for a Diagnosis

  2. emcic

    Extremely understandable! Please let us know if you need anything.

  3. Old friend, I wish you peace and comfort… not because they sound nice, but because they will refresh your strength. I honor you. -J.

  4. Fed_Up ⋅

    I hope it’s comforting to know that I do not see you as having been foolish at all. Human, yes, but a fool? No. (My identity will not show up here – this is Susan)

  5. Carla ⋅

    I am sorry you’re going through this. I hope this transition brings the changes you want in your life.

  6. Elizabeth ⋅

    I love you, Dellykins, and send many elfy hugs to you.

  7. Heather S

    I have been there, and not that long ago. My ex was incredibly apathetic toward my health and sexuality. Good for you; it takes courage to leave, especially when things have been drawn out and you’ve given them every change, and invested so much time and effort in a relationship. Don’t think you lack dignity – this is very much reclaiming your dignity.

  8. EVCelt

    That’s terrible and very sad. I can definitely understand your reasons, though. Please let me know if there is anything you need from me.

  9. Stephanie

    I’m so sorry to hear this, but I certainly sympathize. If I can help with errands or anything, or even if you just want to vent, I’m around.

  10. Moira ⋅

    Except for the poly part, so much of this sounds familiar to me. And I still couldn’t walk away; in the end it was he that left. *Never* think that you were a fool because you were faithful. I hope that some day you and Ninja are able to remain friends at some level. And while you are going through this, I will keep you in my prayers.

  11. Only recently started following your blogs, but I am sorry to hear this. It’s painfully familiar. I wish you the best in going through the process and a hope that this transition moves you toward a happier place even though the trudge to get there may be emotionally difficult.

  12. I can’t express how much I identify with what you’ve written here. Leaving my husband was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, despite his flaws. It is not easy, even when it is the right choice.

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