It's been a while ...

For those of you who were concerned about my sudden disappearance from the blog world, rest assured that all has been well. I took a step back from the computer both because it was a healthy thing for me to do, and because I didn't really have anything to say. Much of the angst that has made up this blog has disappeared.

My life has been calm, and I think that I have finally accepted the fact that things will never be the way they were before, because I will never again trust the way I did before. But despite how that sounds, I do trust my husband and I have not been feeling jealous or insecure for a little while.

I'm smiling again. I'm starting to be more like the old me. The sex is good, but even better, DH and I are starting to be friends again. Best friends.



So why have I suddenly returned to my obscure little secret blog? Because I woke up this morning with a very vivid dream about the object of my husband's affair.

The dream was very simple, just a phone call between DH and TOW. In it, she told him that her divorce was final, and that her exhusband was going to have their kids every other weekend - Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Therefore, she would be free if there was a time that they could get together. Then, in the dream, my DH informed her that I was working this Friday and our kids are away at camp. They made plans to get together, and then they hung up.


That's it. That's the whole dream.


Normally I have wild, outrageous dreams - full of color, sound, scent and feelings. This one, though, was oddly stark, and felt even more powerful because of it. I know it was just a dream, and yet I can't shake this feeling. I'm actually considering calling in sick to work on Friday, despite the fact that I know that I'm being ridiculous.

I thought I was doing better. I thought I had achieved some equilibrium.



It's been a while, but sometimes the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Restlessness

There are days when I am happy, busy, and everything seems like it is going to be fine. There are days when I am sad, frustrated, and I think that my world is about to implode. But more and more lately, there are days where I am indecisive, antsy, and my mind starts to race. It's as if I am waiting for the other shoe to drop. I feel restless.

I never used to be this way. I have always been the type of person who loved solitude and quiet time. As a small child, I could spend hours playing with stuffed animals. By the time I hit school, I had begun a love affair with reading that sticks with me to this day. In college, I learned to meditate, and I used to have an amazing ability to completely clear my mind and enjoy the peace.

But lately, if I am not either physically or emotionally busy, I feel fidgety. I am itchy for something to do. My mind starts going through all sorts of 'what if' scenarios. What if DH is still cheating on me? What if we are never going to be better? What if I never feel whole again?

I know that this is the opposite of healthy, and I wish I could make myself stop. But I can't seem to find that calm quietness inside of me anymore.

I can make that edgy feeling go away if I am active, and it disappears when I am feeling any strong emotion. It doesn't matter if I am happy, sad, or angry. Sex is also a wonderful diversion, but since that tends to be my cure for everything, I'm sure none of you are surprised.

But no matter what I do during the day... or even into the night, there are always those quiet minutes, laying in the dark, waiting for sleep to come. Those are the hardest moments. Waiting for rest and becoming restless.

What I Need to Be Happy

I met with Kathleen again today, and we discussed happiness.

I have always considered myself a very happy person. I used to always have a smile on my face to the point that my mother warned me that I was going to develop wrinkles from constantly scrunching my face.

Then, for many months after I found out about DH's affair, I completely lost the ability to smile. It was as if the muscles in my face were paralyzed by the shock.

Now, I am finding my smile again. When I am at work, I am back to my old smiley self. With the kids, I am laughing the way I used to. In social situations, I am once again "the happy one". But with my husband, I have not found that happy place yet.

It's not that I'm unhappy, it's just that I don't have the same sunny outlook with my marriage that I feel in the rest of my life. I used to, and I can't help but worry that it isn't bouncing back.

So Kathleen decided to have me do an exercise. She asked me to name the top five things that I need to be happy in my marriage. She didn't want me to think about it; I was just supposed to name five things off the top of my head. Here's what I came up with:

1. Love

2. Trust

3. Security

4. Acceptance

5. Touch

We then discussed the reasons behind my answers. The only answer that surprised her was touch, but for me that's a biggie. I need the physical reassurance of holding hands, or cuddling, or hugging, or playing footsie. Even just sitting next to DH with our legs casually touching makes me feel more centered and secure.

The answer that I didn't give which surprised her was monogamy. Apparently, after surviving marital infidelity, that's high on most people's lists. But honestly, that isn't something I need for happiness. If my husband had been honest with me from the start, I might have agreed to some version of an open marriage. Unfortunately, at this point we don't have the trust that that sort of marriage requires.

Kathleen wants me to spend some time this week thinking about which of those the things on my list I already have. She also wants me to really think about whether or not I am willing to allow myself to receive the other items on my list. My happiness is, after all, my responsibility.

But it's hard to trust when you are still afraid.


.


Now, I think it's time for group therapy. What are the five things that you need to feel happy in your marriage? How many of them do you think you have? Do you think there's something missing from your list that most other people have on theirs? Do you think this whole therapy thing is a bunch of crap?

Enquiring minds want to know. I want to know!

Ms. Inconspicuous

Being that over 50% of the hits on my blog daily are referred from The Seduction of Infidelity, I am sure that everyone reading my blog knows that Ms. Inconspicuous is leaving the blogging world, at least for the foreseeable future. I am one of an incredible number of people who are going to sorely miss her blog.

I know that this must seem odd, especially considering that I have been rather vocal on this blog about how hurt I was by my husband's cheating. But, it is very difficult to read her blog without being drawn in by the beauty of her writing, and then ensnared by the thoughtfulness of the content.

I have never met, chatted with, or spoken to Ms. Inconspicuous, but about a year ago I did exchange a couple of emails with her, although not in the blogger persona that I am currently using.

I came across the Seduction of Infidelity when I was searching through my husbands computer, and I found that he read her blog on a semi-regular basis. I went to the blog fully intending to hate everything about it, but wanting to see if DH was leaving comments on a regular basis.

The first post I read was about how Ms. I loved her husband, and yet thought that she was a better wife because of her extramarital activities. This struck a chord with me, because at that point the pain of my husbands affair was literally overshadowing every aspect of my life. I can't remember if I left a comment, or if I emailed her first, but I had to understand how she could possibly bring those diametrically opposing views into harmony in her mind. I hope that I was polite in the way that I worded my questions, but I have long since deleted those emails, so there is no way for me to know.

Ms. I wrote back to me the very next day, and in a very short email, laid the first stone in the foundation that I needed to build to allow myself to believe that my husband still loved me despite his affair. I don't remember exactly what her words were, and I would never even begin to try to recreate them, but I do remember her saying that despite her actions, she would be destroyed if she found out that her husband was having an affair.

I never left another comment or sent another email to her after that short exchange, but I did start to read her blog on a nearly daily basis. While I often disagreed with some of her justifications, I loved the fact that her posts almost always made me think.

Many, many months later, when I started to blog, I was shocked to find out that she was reading some of the things I wrote, and unbelievably flattered to be put on the sidebar of her blog. The comments she left for me here were as well written and thoughtful as the posts on her blog, and I always appreciated her taking the time to write them.

Since the identity, Seeking Answers, is different from the email that I had sent communicated with in the past, I never mentioned to her that she had helped me get through a difficult week in my marriage. But if you are still reading blogs at this point, I want to take this opportunity to say thank you.

Thank you very much for answering my questions and helping me to understand a bit better the complexity of love. Thank you for sharing your amazing writing talent with all of us who read your blog. Thank you for making me cry, laugh, and always think. You will be missed.

Good luck to you and your husband. I hope that this new chapter of your marriage will be more fulfilling for both of you. I wish you the very best.

Sleepless Night

Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night with the remnants of a dream teasing the edge of your mind?

I sit, wide awake when I should be sleeping, wondering why my brain insists on being alert. After several minutes of trying to return to slumber, I've given up. My husband is away on business, my kids are sleeping, and I am strangely restless.

I say strangely, because I am often alone and content. I am a person who can curl up with a book, an old sitcom, or almost any movie, and be completely satisfied for hours at a time. If that fails, I can blog-surf forever, letting one blog's sidebar lead me to another, indefinitely.

But none of that is working for me tonight - or rather this morning - so I decided to simply sit down and let the thoughts in my head ramble their way onto my blog. perhaps once they escape, I will finally be able to put my mind, and the rest of myself, to bed.



Things have been going well recently, but I did have one bad day last week where DH and I had an actual, verbal fight. We rarely raise our voices, but I was both crying and shouting. He had unintentionally said something earlier that day which was incredibly hurtful to me. He felt the fact that he had said it without thought as to how I would feel made it somehow less egregious. After all, he didn't intend to hurt my feelings.

I, on the other hand, thought that the thoughtlessness actually made the situation much worse. I am his wife. I think that he should be thinking about how his words and actions affect me. The fact that I didn't occur to him is not comforting in any way.

He sees my point, and I understand his... on an intellectual level, but neither of us is really conceding our position.

So, in my sleep deprived state, I have decided to ask any of you reading this if you have an opinion. And I am interested to see if this is one of those Mars / Venus situations where men and women see things differently.

Do you think that accidentally hurting your partner's feelings is excusable because intent is what matters, and there was no intention to hurt the other person?

Or, do you think that not considering your partners feelings is offensive, regardless of whether or not any damage was done? That the fact that you aren't thinking about your partner is a problem in and of itself?



I'm going to go to bed now - again - but I look forward to your opinions.

Reading My Mind

A couple weeks ago, I was chatting with another blogger who happens to be very involved in BDSM. She was telling me how she and her husband got started in their lifestyle and explaining what it means that she has agreed to be 'owned' by her husband. The mutual trust involved in this is really amazing. What began as a sexual fantasy for them now is a driving force in almost every aspect of their lives.

While I have no interest in having a steady diet of BDSM, I must admit that I enjoy the flavor of it liberally sprinkled into my sex life.

There is an amazing freedom involved in being tied up. The restraints prevent me from stopping an experience because it is new or different. I enjoy being put on display in a manor that does not allow me modesty. I love being a sexual object.

Being blindfolded is another of my favorite activities. I am not overly visual when it comes to arousal, so I lose very little by not being able to see. On the other hand, it is amazing how much sensation is gained. It is as if I develop new, extra nerve endings when I cannot see. Each kiss, each caress is amplified. Hot and cold take on new meaning. Anticipation and uncertainty add to the experience.

Finding the line where pleasure and pain intersect is also intense. Don't get me wrong, I have no interest in experiencing actual pain, but with the right amount of foreplay and arousal, it is amazing how incredible the slight burn of hot wax can feel. Careful flogging or a well placed smack with a leather strap can make the nerves in my skin so much more responsive. And better than any of those is the feel of my husband's hand reddening the skin on my ass.

But the common thread in all of those activities is what I actually draws me to them all. I love the dominance that my husband displays, and I love to submit to what he wants. There is no happier feeling than having his hand fisted in my hair, controlling me. No safer place to be than trapped beneath him with my arms pinned above my head.

But like every other aspect of my life, there is an amazing amount of trial and error built into these activities. Some days our forays into the world of Domination/submission are exhilarating, freeing and fulfilling, but other times, they frustrate me because I want something more or different than what is happening.

That frustration soon became the subject of my conversation with the other blogger. I was telling her that I am normally pretty good at verbalizing what I need sexually. I have very little difficulty asking for things to be faster, slower, harder, or at a different angle. It takes almost nothing away from my experience to request what I need in order to climax.

It is different though, when I am being submissive. Sometimes I want him to show more force. Sometimes I want a bit more pain. Often, I want my husband to talk to me like he owns me. If I ask, he is more than happy to oblige, but then I loose a lot of the pleasure that these things would normally give me.

My blogger friend tells me that what I was doing is 'topping from the bottom', meaning that since I was telling my DH what to do, I was actually being the dominant partner ... which is not what I was looking for in these sessions at all.

What I want, apparently, is for DH to read my mind. Unfortunately, this has to be a difficult task, because I change my mind on a fairly regular basis.

And it isn't only during sex that I feel that way.

Do you remember the movie, The Break-Up? During a scene when they are fighting, they have the following conversation. (I haven't looked it up, so I'm sorry if it isn't exact.)

Vince Vaughn: Fine, I'll do the dishes.
Jennifer Aniston: I don't want you to do the dishes, I want you to want to do the dishes.
Vince Vaughn: Why on earth would I want to do the dishes?!

I could be Jennifer Aniston's character. I don't just want my needs met, I want DH to read my mind and no what those needs are without me telling him ... even when my needs may be bewildering to him.

I know this isn't fair. I understand that I can't really expect my husband to read my mind. I realize that this is just an exercise in frustration for both of us. But still, I can't help but wish.

Because even if it isn't fair, it's just not satisfying to be topping from the bottom.

A Moment in Time

Things have been going pretty well these last couple of weeks. DH and I are coexisting well, even if we are not exactly connecting on an existential level. But there are more ways to connect than one, and as anyone who has read my blog for any amount of time knows, my answer to almost any marital issue is sex.

Being male, DH isn't opposed to this method - especially when I take matters into my own hands. He minds even less when I take him into my mouth.

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A couple of days ago, DH and I spent several hours doing yard work. We trimmed, pruned, weeded, planted and mulched until we were both streaked with dirt and covered in sweat. We had dinner plans with friends set for that evening, so when we were finished, I sent DH in to shower first while I put away the tools and straightened up the patio. A few minutes later, I went in to clean up, myself.

I was in our walk-in closet, picking the clothes I would wear after my shower, when DH finished his. He walked up to his dresser to get a pair of boxers, and the scent of his soap instantly filled the small space. Despite having quickly wiped off with the towel that was now wrapped around his waist, his skin was still damp and slightly glistening. As I watched him retrieve his clothing from a drawer, a drip of water escaped from his hair and started running down the indentation of his spine until it disappeared into the towel.

I stared transfixed for a short second, but as another drip started to form, I new I had to catch it. Without giving DH any warning, I came up behind him and pulled away the towel. Holding his hips to keep him from turning, my tongue found the base of his spine and I began to lick my way up his back, catching the errant drips and savoring the flavor of freshly clean husband.

As I reached his upper back, I stretched onto my tiptoes pulled him back slightly against me so that I could kiss his neck. After only a moment, DH shivered from the chills I was giving him and turned around to take me into his arm. He kissed me lightly, then looked down at me and chuckled. "Ugh, you're still filthy. Now, I'm going to have to rinse off again."

I pulled back slightly, so that I could look into his eyes, raised one eyebrow at him and said, "Sorry," in a tone that was anything but.

He rolled his eyes at me, kissed the tip of my nose, and started to pull away to grab his clothes. I didn't even realize I was going to do it, but as soon as he let me go, I dropped to my knees. Before he had time to turn away, I took him into my mouth.

He actually stumbled slightly, the surprise of my actions momentarily stealing his balance. He steadied himself quickly with a hand on my head, and as my lips found their way to the very base of his soft cock, his fingers curled slightly to grip my hair.

We moaned almost in unison. He from the feeling of my tongue swirling on his most sensitive skin. Me from the sensation of dominance exuded by his action.

Almost too quickly, his cock began to swell, thickening and lengthening to the point that it was impossible for me to keep him completely in my mouth, and lightly triggering my gag reflex when I would try.

The clean taste of his skin was almost irresistible, and I found myself devouring him voraciously. I couldn't seem to get enough of him in my mouth. Lips, tongue and teeth were all working in unison to elicit more of those low moans.

In a matter of minutes, I could hear the change in DH's breathing. The muscles in his legs were tensing almost rhythmically, and the gentle hand in my hair was becoming a tight fist. I quickened my tempo, using my entire body to bob against his cock.

Moments later, I could feel the telltale twitching of cock against the roof of my mouth. A louder grunt escaped from DH's lips, and his warm fluid started shooting into my mouth. There, on the floor of my closet, I knelt. Swallowing everything he had to give me, and then using my lips to milk every last drop from his cock.

When I was sure he had nothing left to give me, I rose to my feet, gently raking my nails up his legs, across his abdomen and up to his chest. I kissed him slowly, sharing the taste of his orgasm as our tongues danced together.

Then, without warning I turned and walked away to take my shower. Throughout our evening with friends, my smug smile never left my lips. And every time I caught DH's eye, his expression reflected mine.

-

No, things aren't perfect, and one blow job is not capable of fixing a year's worth of problems, but I'm learning not to spoil good moments by worrying constantly about the overall picture. And that was a good moment.

Who knows, maybe my 'fix it with sex' theory has some validity after all. Maybe.

Background Information and Questions Answered

When I originally started this blog, in my head I imagined that I would at some point go back to the beginning and write about my husband's affair in chronological order. But as it turns out, I want to write what I want to write when I want to write it. The downside is that I sometimes forget that all of you aren't living in my head, and sometimes won't have any idea what I am talking about.

I also tend to write about things as they are in crisis in my mind, and when they resolve themselves, I no longer feel an immediate need to write about them. The downside to that is I don't seem to tell about how different things turn out.

When either of these things happen, please feel free to ask me about it. I'm not offended by questions, and if I don't want to share something, I won't. But more often, the act of answering your question helps me figure out my own thoughts. When I try to take a jumble of knotted emotions and make them into an intelligible response, I actually have to sort out my feelings. Since that was one of the purposes of this blog, by asking questions you are actually helping me out.

A perfect example is this comment from Suburban Hotwife:

WOW, your experience and reaction after finding out about the affair was so physical, raw, and all consuming. I have never felt anything like that, so your story fascinates me. I tend to break down and cry, scream, pound a pillow, or throw (soft) things when I am upset. I bet it felt good to tell Kathleen about the dreams, just to get them off your chest. Is your husband a deep sleeper? Did he ever notice you thrashing about in your sleep, hear you run to the bathroom, or hear the shower in the middle of the night?

Sorry for so many questions, but this post makes me wonder, how did you find out about the affair and TOW? Did you know her? Your vivid vision of her made me wonder if she was an acquaintance? Maybe you have posted this info in other entries...I should go back and look, but I thought I had read you from the start.

Well, now you have opened up about the dreams to Kathleen AND your blog followers... how do you feel?

I'm going to start in the middle of this comment with a brief synopses of how I found out about the affair and some of the immediate aftermath, and then work my way to the other questions.

Last February, DH and I had had several months of what I thought was a lull in our marriage. Things were not going well, but I had no idea why. I thought DH was going through a mild depression, and I actually asked him on more than one occasion if he would go to the doctor to have his blood work checked. There is a strong history of diabetes in his family and I was concerned that the noticeable change in his mood and personality might have to do with abnormal blood sugars. An affair never even occurred to me.

February 18th, I needed some information that I new an acquaintance from church had sent to my husband. DH was in a very important meeting that day, and I didn't want to bother him, so I decided to get the info myself. I have always known DH's email passwords, so I went in his personal email to look for it. I didn't see what I needed there, so I accessed his work email to see if they had sent it there.

While I was scanning emails, looking for the info I needed, I found an email from an hotmail address I didn't recognize. The entire email message was "Password:*********". I don't know why I gave it a second look, maybe it was intuition, but I new something was up with that message. The password written down was a password that DH and I frequently used when we needed to sign up for something online, only the words had been reversed.

DH always sent himself emails with various user IDs and passwords, because he wasn't great about remembering what password went with which account. But I had no idea what this email was. It didn't seem to make sense.

Without even thinking about it, I went to hotmail. I logged in with the email address that had sent the message to DH's work email and used that password. Instantly, I entered a space that changed my world.

In this email box, I found access to a multitude of other accounts. Ashley Madison. MySpace. A blog. And then there were the emails. Months worth of emails starting as flirting, moving on to meeting, talking about fantasies, reliving their times together. Pictures. And I know it seems petty, but the most hurtful things were the emails where they would talk about how funny it was that neither of their spouses suspected a thing. How clueless I was.

I honestly don't know how I got through that morning. I was a combination of stunned and disbelieving. My daughter was at school, but my son was home. I remember that at some point I actually screamed, because my son came into the room to see what was wrong with mommy.

After about an half an hour of just breaking down, my mind snapped back into place and I started to print. I printed out every single solitary email. Every saved chat. Every blog post, complete with their comments. I printed his myspace page and all his comments and messages. I did the same with his Ashley Madison account. Some of the pictures on those pages didn't want to print, so I would print screen shots. Then when I finished with everything I could find from there, I went to our cellphone company website and printed months worth of call histories and texts.

I went on his blog, and thankfully, he had installed an analytics program. It took me no time at all to figure out the IP address of TOW's home and work computers. I googled her. I looked her up in the white pages. I found her on Classmates.com.

I found her husband's name, work and call phone numbers.

Honestly, it is very scary how with little computer knowledge, you can amass an incredible amount of information in a very short time.

I spent hours crying and printing. Then I ran out of things I could think to look for. I didn't know what to do.

I called a good friend, told her I needed her to watch my son and pick my daughter up from school. When she asked me why, I told her that I though DH was getting ready to divorce me. I didn't elaborate, but I honestly believed that he was going to leave me for TOW.

The state I live in is one of very few in the country where it is almost impossible to get a no-fault divorce. You have to prove to a judge that there is a reason for the divorce, and custody is largely decided by who is found to be at fault.

I know that in my last post, I just wrote how horrible it would be for my children not to see their father all the time. That is something I feel now. Back on Feb 16, 2008, all I could think of was how I was going to ensure that TOW would not become my children's new mother.

Then... about 5 1/2 hours after I had first opened the email, I called my husband at work. He couldn't come to the phone. I waited about 5 minutes for him to call me back, then I couldn't wait any more.

I did what any insane person wold do. I called TOW.

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This was a long drawn out way for me to explain the fact that although I've never met TOW, I do know what her voice sounds like. I also know what she looks like. I have pictures that she sent to DH in email. I have pictures from her myspace page. I have pictures from her work website. Yes, it sounds scary and stalkerish when I hear myself talk about how much information I have about her. But I have never seen her in real life.



The rest of the questions are much easier to answer.

Clearly, DH knew that I was having trouble eating and sleeping for a couple of weeks after everything went down. I lost about 10 pounds in 2 weeks, and I don't need to lose weight. I am sure that he woke up to me thrashing, vomiting, crying, screaming multiple times. But I am also sure that he never knew about the dreams or the orgasms.

At that point in our relationship, DH knew he was walking a tightrope, and he treated me like I was a grenade with a loose pin. At any moment, I might explode. He didn't push me to say anything or explain any of my feelings.



As far as the question of how I feel after letting you all in on my intimate secrets, well that is a process, but a good one. I have always been a sporadic journaler. When something bothers me, I tend to write in a notebook. Writing helps me clarify my own thoughts, but it also stirs up a lot of my emotions and dredges up a lot of feelings that I don't what to do with.

Talking to Kathleen is also a lot like that. She tends to steer or conversations into areas I wasn't facing, and a lot of emotions are stirred up. But posting on the blog is a little different. For some reason, posting these thoughts and knowing that other people are reading them helps me settle those emotions.

Immediately after I write a post, I tend to be a bit agitated. When I publish the post, I have several hours of nervousness. Almost an anxiety that this is going to be the post that proves that I really am abnormal. That this is going to be the time where who I am is rejected by the world at large. I don't look at my email or any comments while I'm in this phase.

But then, almost magically, a few hours later, I start to feel a weight lifting from my shoulders. The burden of keeping my secrets is slowly being shouldered by others, and it is a relief. I find myself handling the emotions better and resolving some of my issues.

By the time I read my comments and emails, it doesn't actually matter what they say. The simple act of knowing that I don't have to religiously guard that one heavy secret has already made me feel better. Even the emails where people are telling me that I am crazy don't bother me.

And then, there is another sort of catharsis. I have received comments and emails from more people than I realized where reading this blog, telling me that I am saying things that they have been feeling. That they are struggling with the same emotions I have been struggling with. They have had the same dreams. They have the same anxieties.

In reality, everyone has their own issues, but it is nice to know that I'm not alone.

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Rereading this blog, I feel like it jumps around a lot, and I'm sorry if it's confusing, but I'm not going to edit it today. Today, this is a good representation of the jumble in my head.

And by the way, this weekend I will send out invitation for when my blog goes private. If you replied to me in a comment that you want to be included, please make sure that your email address is easy to find either on your profile or your blog. I can't invite you if I don't have an email address to send it to.

Replying to Comments

In the couple of months that I've been blogging, I've been amazed and touched by the people who have taken the time to email me or leave me comments. I never really thought that anyone would be interested in reading this blog, let alone taking the time to comment, but I have to tell you, I really love getting the comments.

I have tried to acknowledge or answer as many of the comments as I can, and I often end up leaving comments that are as long as the blog post to do so. But after my last post, I got a couple of comments that need a bit more than a passing comment from me, so I thought I would put them into a post.

First, I recieved this comment from an anonymous reader. I wanted to reply to it here, because I have gotten multiple comments and emails that ask this same question, and I think it deserves a thoughtful answer. Here's the comment:

Don't take this the wrong way, but why would you let someone else effect you that much? Face it, you married a cheater. I've seen statistics that almost half of married men are cheaters. You don't see half of all married women losing it the way you have. If I were you, I'd divorce him and move on. Why are you staying with someone who makes you feel like shit?

My answers to this are probably going to seem cold, but I'm trying to keep this real.

Have you ever noticed that when someone starts a statement with "no offense", "don't take this the wrong way", or "don't take this personally" whatever follows the "but" is going to be offensive, pointed, and personal? But that's okay, I understand the frustration with my dwelling on the past. I'm frustrated too.

But when you talk about the fact that you don't think other people react the way I have to being cheated on, my question for you is how do you know? I can tell you that if you lived next door to me, or worked with me, or even if you were a member of my family, you would not think that I was feeling the way I have been. I have been very, very effective at hiding this in my real life, and even people who are very close to me have no idea that this is all going on in my life. People know that I've been a little down, a little blue, but all in all, I am a very functional, appearantly normal in my real life. You never can tell what is going on in someone else's life. Also, I really am only showing one aspect of my life in this blog.

The divorce question comes up a lot, so I want to address it. Here's the thing - I am not positive that my marriage is going to survive, but I want it to, and I am trying hard to give it a fighting chance The way this comment said I should divorce my husband and move on actually made me laugh a little. I don't know that divorce is ever that simple, but in my case, I know without a doubt that it would not be.

To start, just from a practical, economical standpoint, it would be very difficult for us to be divorced. Financially, if we were not working together, we could not afford the lifestyle that we are trying to give our children. I know that that is not the reason that people should stay married, but let's be honest, it's a very important consideration.

Next, there is no divorcing and just moving on. Even if we were no longer married, we have two children, therefore we will always have to be a part of each other's lives. We are going to have to find a way to resolve our issues and work together whether or not we're married.

Plus, we are both very hands on as parents. I am relatively sure that if we divorced, I would probsbly retain primary physical custody of the kids. That would mean that my kids would probably be with their father every other weekend and one day a week. I don't know what about that makes me more sad, the fact that my children would only see their father 8 days a month, or the fact that I would miss 8 days of my children's lives every single month.

Most importantly, I don't want to get divorced. I love my husband and despite everything, I honestly do believe that he loves me too. I don't know for sure that that love is going to be enough, but I do know that if it's not, there is going to be a gaping whole in my heart. He has been a major part of my entire adult life. I met him when I was in college. I honestly have no idea what it wouldbe like not to have him in my life.

Lastly, I want to address the part about DH making me feel like shit. I readily admit that in the last 14 months, I have frequently felt like shit. And I am in no way giving my husband a free pass here, but it's not all his fault. One of the few things that I know for sure is that his actions can certainly be a catalyst for my negative feelings about myself, but he couldn't make me feel like shit if I didn't have issues with my own self worth to begin with.

I am learning that for the last decade I have put a lot of effort into being a mom and a wife and not a lot of effort into being me for me. I think this happens to a lot of women after they have kids, and it sneaks up on you when you least expect it. I'm putting myself back together though, and one way or another, I'm going to be okay.

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This post actually took longer than I thought it was going to, so I will answer Suburban Hotwife's questions in my next post. She asked a lot of questions, and it actually did me a lot of good to come up with the answers.

My Mind Is Often My Worst Enemy

I have always been a very sexual person. I have always been up for almost anything my husband had in mind, and my sexual preferences tend to be a little outside of what I was taught was acceptable in the catechism classes taught by nuns. I have never been ashamed of my sexuality, and I am fairly open in real life, but there are a few things that make me feel like there is something wrong with me. Honestly, I sometimes wonder if I am a freak.

No, I am not talking about anything salacious or illegal. I am talking about my response to DH's affair.

I have written before that I try to fix things with sex. When I am insecure in my relationship, I do my best to seduce my husband. When DH seems depressed, I tend to jump him. These may not be the healthiest coping mechanisms, but they don't really bother me.

More concerning to me, was the fact that when I found out about my husband's affair, I just could not get enough rough, mean, angry sex. I couldn't look my husband in the eye, and often there would be tears rolling down my face the entire time, but the orgasms were incredible. I hated myself for this, because I didn't want to be rewarding my husband for his affair, but I couldn't stop myself. Still, this isn't what bothered me most after my husband's affair.

The worst part, was about a week after I found everything out, I started having dreams. Very vivid dreams. Vivid dreams about my husband and TOW. And I would wake up incredibly aroused. And sick to my stomach.

The first dream I remember, was a vision of my husband and TOW in my bed. I could see them, as if I were in the room. He was on top of her, rocking them gently in a tender missionary coupling. I could see him stroking her hair, and bending to kiss the tip of her nose. I watched as their rhythm quickened and his back arched with his release. In that moment, TOW turned her head, looked at me, and smiled victoriously.

I woke suddenly, drenched in sweat, adrenaline coursing through my veins. My hand was between my thighs, sticky with wetness. I throbbed with excitement, and was on the verge of orgasm myself. I jumped out of bed and barely made it to the toilet before I vomited the entire contents of my stomach.

It was the middle of the night, but I had to shower before climbed back into bed and stared at the ceiling until the sun finally rose. I felt violated and dirty.

The dreams came every few days. There was no rhyme or reason to their appearance. I would find myself a voyeur to all sorts of imagined sexual acts. About a week after the first dream, the stakes seemed to increase.

I could see my husband kissing TOW. His mouth traveled along her jaw, down her neck and to her breasts. I could see him taking her nipple between his teeth, nipping and teasing, while all the while his hand was working to bring her to orgasm. The picture in my head was erotic, and I woke up shaking as my own hand brought me to a simultaneous climax. But once again, the last vision in my mind before I lost site of that dream was of her vindictive smile. For the third time that week, I lost my supper as my body tried to forcefully purge that picture from my mind.

For nearly a month, I struggled with these dreams. Sometimes I would climax before I woke up. Sometimes I would wake up sick to my stomach and stop. And occasionally, I would wake up still aroused, yet unfulfilled by the dream. I would lay next to the sleeping form of my husband, and I would bring myself to orgasm, as tears streamed from my eyes.

The entire time I was having these dreams, and for a long time afterwards, I struggled to figure out what they meant. Was I secretly turned on by the thought of my husband cheating on me? No, certainly not while I was awake. Just thinking about it could make me physically ill.

Was I turned on by TOW? I have always thought that women were beautiful, and I experimented a bit in college. I've never ruled out the possibility that someday something could happen between me and another woman. For years, I had considered the possibility that DH and could at some point have a threesome. It seems to be every man's fantasy and back when I felt secure in my marriage, if we found the right partner, I wouldn't have been opposed.

But no, that was not the reason for my dreams. Almost every dream ended with her smiling at me in a knowing, victorious way. In my dreams she was rubbing in my face the fact that she had stolen both my husband's body and his heart. The only thing my conscious mind wanted to do with her was rip her face to shreds with my bare hands.

I never figured out what those dreams were trying to tell me, and I eternally grateful when they finally disappeared. I never told anyone about the dreams. Not my husband. Not my first therapist. Not my best friend. But this week, I told Kathleen.

She sat and she listened passively as I searched her eyes for any sign of repulsion, disgust, or condemnation. When finally, I had run out of words, and could no longer meet her eye, she looked at me and said, "You really need to give yourself a break."

I don't know what I expected to hear, but it certainly wasn't that.

When I met her eyes again, she went on. I'm paraphrasing,but what she said was basically, "Sometimes our minds can't deal with things, so our body tries to find a way to handle them. Sometimes our bodies can't deal with things, so our mind tries to find a way to handle them. Sometimes things are too much for our mind and our body to take together, and we try anything we can come up with a way to survive. It may not seem to make sense. It may be completely out of character for us. But in the end, it is just a way for us to deal with something that is beyond our scope to deal with."

She went on to tell me that most people respond viscerally after an affair, and because of that, unless there is some kind of abuse going on, she advises her clients not to make any permanent decisions about the future for 2-3 months after finding out about the affair.

She says that many women respond to an affair by leaving with their children, and then, a couple months later wish they hadn't. She said that a fair portion of women actually attempt to get pregnant after they find out their spouse has been unfaithful. Another common response is to become either completely celibate or abnormally promiscuous. She said that none of these responses are necessarily conscious decisions, and people need to cut themselves some slack.

I have to say, I felt better after talking to her. This was one of the secrets that weighed most heavily on my mind, and saying it out loud has made it easier to breathe.

I'm Still Here

It's been a couple of weeks since I posted, because I can't seem to keep my emotions going in one direction long enough to write things down. One day I'm optimistic, the next I am sure it will never work. Back and forth, riding my emotional roller coaster, hoping that I have enough momentum to make it through the next loop.

Today I received an email from someone who had been reading my blog, and I knew I needed to write again. Here is a short excerpt from a page long email:

Your blog shows that you are not functioning well in your life. The fact that you are questioning whether or not you are bipolar shows that while you obviously don't know very much about psychiatry, you do know you need help. You talk about your children, and you should think about what's best for them.

At the very least, you should consider medication, but more likely, you need a combination of inpatient and outpatient treatment to get your issues under control before you do something you regret.

Well... I'm not sure what to say to that except ...Thank you for your concern?

I'm not sure what exactly I wrote which elicited this sort of concern, but in reality, I am a very functional person. I get out of bed every day, shower, get dressed, get my family fed and on their way to their various activities. Three days a week, I work outside the home, everyday of the week, I take care of my family. I compartmentalize myself enough that even if I am very worried and depressed about my marriage, I can still function in the rest of my life. I may cry a lot, but I also laugh everyday. People can argue about whether or not that's a healthy way to live, but for me, right now, it's the only way.

I also got a much nicer comment from Suburban Hotwife:

Checking in on you... it's been nearly 2 weeks since you posted and I hope you are OK.

Yes, I am okay. Thank you. I actually do appreciate your concern. I've just needed time to sort out my thoughts a bit.

****

Yesterday, I met with Kathleen, my therapist again. I really do like her very much. She only lets me ramble for a little bit before she redirects me to actually think about what I am saying or feeling. Yesterday, when she did this, I had one of those "Aha!" moments were the light bulb goes off above your head.

I was rambling about some of the guilt that I feel about not being enough for my husband and him then looking to fill that void outside our marriage.

Kathleen: Let me stop you for a moment. I want you to quantify as a percentage, how much of the fault for your husband's affair rests on your shoulders. I'm not talking about any of the other issues in your marriage, just the affair. What percent of the affair is your fault?

Me: (thinking for a moment) 35%

Kathleen: Why do you say that?

Me: Well, I knew there were issues with my job, and I didn't communicate with him very well-

Kathleen interrupts me: Wait, we aren't talking about whose fault the communication issues are, just the affair. Taking out the communication problems, what percentage of the affair was your fault?

Me (thinking again): 25%?

Kathleen: Why?

Me: I know that the kids are busier than ever, and pull us in opposite directions. I didn't make sure -

Kathleen: We aren't talking about parental stress here either. Just the affair. I don't want you to give me a percentage about any other problem or stress in the marriage. Just the affair. His affair. How much of his affair is your fault?

Me (stammering because I don't know what she wants to hear): Well, um, I guess...

Kathleen: Don't make excuses for the affair, or give me reasons why it was okay. Right now I don't want you to make any judgement about the affair except what percentage of it is your fault.

Me (completely at a loss for words): I don't understand.

Kathleen: Yes, you do. How much of the actual affair is your fault?

Me: Ummm....

Kathleen: Did you find TOW online? Did you start emailing her? Did you meet with her? Did you sleep with her?

Me (pouting, but I don't know why): No

Kathleen: Okay, then how much of the affair was your fault?

Me (almost whispering): None.

Kathleen: Why can't you look at me when you say that? How much of the affair was your fault?

Me (starting to cry): None.

Kathleen: Why does it upset you that the affair isn't your fault?

Me: I don't know.

Kathleen: There is plenty of blame to go around in your marriage for many of the other issues, but the affair was a choice. It was your husband's choice. That is not your fault. The affair is not your fault.

Me (crying): But...

Kathleen: Why do you want it to be your fault?

Me: Because it's easier to be mad at myself than him.

Kathleen: Why? Why don't you want to be mad at him?

Me: Because I don't want to get a divorce. I don't want my marriage to end.

Kathleen: If you believe that the affair is all his fault, does it mean your marriage is over?

Me: I don't know.

Kathleen: You just said that you don't want your marriage to be over, don't you think that's more important than the fact that the affair isn't your fault?

Me (stammering again): Maybe.

Kathleen: Do you realize that you can be angry with your husband and still love him? You can be pissed off and still stay married, and if you're honest with yourself, and you both put the work into it, your marriage can come out of this stronger. The affair will always be there. Nothing is going to make it go away, but just like having the affair was his choice, how you deal with it is yours. But no matter what you decide, the affair was not your fault.

****

Hmmm, it's given me a lot to think about.

The Luck of the Irish

I hope that everyone had a wonderful St. Patrick's Day, filled with joy, laughter, and green beer. Although the Irish portion of my heritage is about as prevalent as Obama's, I have always faithfully celebrated St. Paddy's Day by wearing green and stuffing myself with corned beef and cabbage. And while I did those things today, I really don't feel like celebrating because I also had my 2nd therapy session.

I don't know if its just me, or if this is a normal reaction, but after doing nothing but sitting and talking for 50 minutes, I am left feeling tired, wrung out, and introspective. I don't want to do anything except sit on the couch and watch mindless TV. I didn't talk about anything too surprising, I wasn't shocked by any revelations, nothing amazing happened. Yet here I am, feeling like I was run over by a small truck.

So instead of a thoughtful or thought provoking post, I just feel like writing a bunch of unrelated thoughts as they occur to me.

1. - My new nephew is perfect, with his itty-bitty fingernails, his cloudy blue eyes, and his fuzzy head (which has that fabulous baby smell). He and my sister went home from the hospital on Saturday and I am sad that I live an hour and a half away from them, because I would love to drop by every day just to see how quickly he changes. There's just something irresistible about a new baby.

2. - When I was holding my nephew on Saturday, my mom made a comment that she hoped that DH and I decide to have another baby, because I looked more content holding him than I have looked in a long time. So it seems that my family isn't totally oblivious to the fact that I have had an awful year, but my mother is attributing it to my rapidly aging biological clock. For the record, I have no intention or desire to have any more children. I am very happy with the size of the family that I have right now.

3. - The optimism that I was feeling the other day has proved to be an elusive thing, slipping through my fingers each time I think I've finally grasped it. It is just another aspect of the roller coaster of my life.

4. - When DH or I feel insecure, we try to make things better with sex. When we are mad at each other, sometimes we have angry sex, sometimes we have no sex at all. Yesterday, I don't even know what we were fighting about, but for some reason we were snipping at each other. At bedtime, I did my normal 'we've been fighting, so now let's get a little nookie' rub of his arm. (I don't know why I always start by rubbing his arm, but I bet that 90% of the times that I initiate sex begin with my fingernails gently sliding down DH's arm.) He didn't just turn me down, he actually laughed as he turned away and said, " I don't think so. Not tonight."

Then, this morning, he kissed me goodbye when he went to work, as if nothing happened. He's at a HOA meeting right now, but before he left, he patted my ass and very suggestively told me that he'd hurry home. WTF?

5. - Hoodie wrote a post today that talked about the necessity of a complete break when an affair ends. I tried to comment about 3 times, but couldn't figure out what I was trying to say. I've been thinking about it, and from my perspective, on the other side of the affair, I see no possible way of anything working in a marriage if that complete separation doesn't happen.

In my opinion, (having never been there, so you all are welcome to tell me that I don't know what I'm talking about) people think they are feeling stronger emotions than they really are when they are caught in an affair. Everything is enhanced by the adrenaline of the affair, and nothing about the affair is actually real. It is two people constructing a fantasy together in which real life is merely a spice. But it seems that the people don't fully realize that they are in that world of make-believe until the affair ends. If they try to remain friends, they never gain enough distance to acquire perspective, and they keep getting sucked back into the fantasy.

In addition, without that complete break, the spouse will never regain enough trust to help rebuild the marriage, and without both people fully present in the relationship, it doesn't stand a chance. Or at least that's how I feel.

6. - Okay, I didn't intend to write anything that heavy, but I guess it was on my mind. I need to try to get my thoughts more under control before DH gets home, so I am going to stop writing now. I think I will end this St. Patrick's Day post with a couple of my favorite Irish proverbs.


May the Lord keep you in His hand and never close His fist too tight.

May the saddest day of your future be no worse than the happiest day of your past.

Bundles of Joy

My baby sister just became a mother for the first time on Thursday. I stayed with her in the hospital through 13 hours of labor and I was there when her beautiful son made his debut. I got to watch the sweet picture of my sister holding her new baby for the first time, and her husband wrapping his arms around both of them. It brought tears to my eyes as I took pictures of this perfect moment in their lives.

The next day, I was sitting by my sister's bed, watching her watch the baby sleep. She couldn't stop herself from touching him, stroking his fuzzy hair, admiring his little fingernails, laying her hand on his chest to feel him breathe. She was completely smitten. In one fell swoop, her life has been unalterably changed.

Her husband (J) had run home to shower and pick up all of the baby gear that new parents are told is essential, so we were alone for a few hours. We discussed the labor process, the glory of the epidural, the relative ease of the birth, (She only pushed for 15 minutes!) the frustration of trying to get the sleepy baby to latch on to her breast, and her inability to find a comfortable position to sit. It was all of the normal post-birth conversation.

Then, she turned to me and said, "I just hope that J and I can do this as well as you and DH. You guys have such great kids."

I agreed with her that my children are pretty spectacular, and assured her that hers would be (almost) as perfect. We discussed for a little while the sleepless nights that were ahead of her, the sore breasts, the stretch marks that will never completely fade.

Then she said, "I just hope that J always looks at me the way that DH looks at you. You two are kind of sickening, you know." I just rolled my eyes at her.

A couple hours later, after school, DH showed up at the hospital with our kids so that they could meet their new cousin. We watched our 6 year old hold the new baby and tell him that as soon as he got bigger, they would play pokemon together. It was so sweet. As we stood there, DH put his arm around my waist and pulled me towards him a bit.

My sister then threw a wadded up paper towel at me and said, "See what I mean. Sickening."

DH looked questioningly at me, and I told him to ignore her, that she was just hormonal.

She stuck her tongue out at me and repeated, "Sickening."

Later that night, as I was lying in bed with DH, I found myself wondering what people see when they look at DH and me. Do we really appear to be in love? Are we as in love as we appear? Do people see the tension between us, or are we so good at hiding it that no one knows? Does it matter what other people think?

I don't know the answers, but I am feeling a bit more optimistic than usual today.

There's just something about the joy of a new baby that makes everything seem possible.

Blogs

I'm not entirely sure what I expected when I started this blog. I truly believed that it was just going to be a way for me to rant privately, like a diary, only I don't smear ink on my hand writing.

I knew that there was a possibility that someone might stumble upon the blog at some point, but I doubted that anyone would actually be interested in my mental breakdown. Blogs that ooze sensually written erotica are much more compelling than my marital angst.

But surprisingly, my first post produced not just a reader, but a couple of comments and a follower, too.

Over the last few weeks, I've had more people reading my blog, quite a few comments, and a couple more followers as well. Before this happened, I never would have guessed how much I appreciate a few words left at the end of a blog. I expected to get some sort of catharsis from writing, but the comments are actually what have made me feel the best.

I didn't realize until recently how alone I felt after DH's affair. There are only 2 people in my real life who know about something that has become one of the most pivotal events in my life. One of them knows very, very few details, and the other lives 2000 miles away and I haven't seen her in person for over a decade.

Knowing that there are people out there who are interested enough in my story to come back to my blog just to hear me ramble makes me feel a little less invisible. Reading the comments makes me feel less alone.

So, thank you for coming and being a tiny part of my psychiatric break. I appreciate your support as I rebuild my life.

Therapy - Part two

After spending about half an hour ensuring that I was not (technically) psychotic, the therapy session changed from questions about my daily activities, hormonal cycles, and thought patterns to the reason I sought out therapy in the first place.

Unlike my previous attempt at couples therapy, or what I had seen in movies, Kathleen(the therapist) started out by saying, "You wrote that your husband had an affair last year. Since we don't have much time left today, I don't want to spend a lot of time talking about the past. We can do that the next appointment. Instead of telling me what happened last year, tell me what happened the week that you decided to make an appointment to see me. Maybe we can come up with a strategy to help you feel more in control of your thoughts and emotions until you come back again."

I was a bit floored. I always think of therapists as trying to pull information out of the past, blaming everything on your childhood relationship with your mother, and so on. But Kathleen wanted to know what lead to me seeking therapy, so I did my very best summary and said, "I went through my husband's email without him knowing, and I found out that the woman he was seeing last year had contacted him and was trying to meet with him. I don't know why. I don't know what's going on. I don't know how he responded. I just don't know anything."

Kathleen asked me some more detail questions about how I had found the email, how I felt, what scenarios were playing through my mind, and how this news had affected me. She wanted to know things like how many times a day I find myself thinking about DH's infidelity.

After a few minutes of these kinds of questions, she said to me, "Do you realize that when you talk about your husband's affair, you focus more on TOW than you do on DH?"

I thought about that for a moment. I know that I'm a bit obsessed with TOW, because aside from me, I think she is the only woman DH ever fell in love with. Yes, he had a couple of long term college relationships, but they never developed into love. Besides me, TOW is the only person who has ever captured that portion of DH's heart.

So, Kathleen asked me why that was so significant if DH had been willing to end things with TOW in order to stay married to me. She wanted to know if I believe that their is something still going on with DH and TOW. She said she didn't care about evidence, or even if I was correct. She just wanted to know if in my heart I believed that DH was still seeing TOW or not.

I couldn't come up with an answer, so she pressed a bit harder. She asked me if before I had found out about the affair, if I had realized that something was wrong in the marriage. I told her that without a doubt, the answer was yes, but at that time, I didn't know what.

Then she asked what I had felt back then that made me know something was wrong despite the fact that I had no proof.

I told her that back then, DH wasn't fully there in our relationship. He was constantly trying to find proof that I was doing something wrong. He would vacillate between attentive husband and annoyed asshole in a way that he never had throughout our entire relationship. And more than once, I caught him staring off, lost in thought with a look in his eyes that once used to only be there when he thought of me.

Kathleen told me that what I just described is what she calls relationship intuition. She says that the vast majority of men and women who she counsels who were cheated on by their spouse describe some sort of relationship intuition that told them something was going on long before they had proof. But very few actually act on that intuition.

She asked me again, if thinking about those sorts of nuances in our relationship, if I believed that DH was still involved in some sort of extramarital relationship. I thought for a moment, and hesitantly said, "I don't think so, but I think he's thinking about it."

At this point, there were only a couple more minutes left in our hour (50 minutes), and she said to me that she was giving me another assignment ... in addition to the exercise. What she wants me to do is write down anything specific that DH says or does that triggers that 'intuition' response. Even if I have no proof. Even if it doesn't seem to make sense. Even if I feel like I'm imagining it. Until my next appointment, I'm supposed to make a note of anything that leads me to have that 'something is going on, but I can't put my finger on it feeling."

Then, after I write it down, I'm supposed to try not to focus on it. She says that she and I can go through things at our next appointment, but if I find myself focusing on any of those details in the meantime, I'm supposed to physically start doing something that will take my mind off of it.

And that was the end of therapy session #1. I have an appointment to see her again a week from Tuesday.

So far, I have been (reluctantly)exercising daily, and I have written down a couple of subtle things that DH has said or done that made me suddenly, inexplicably insecure... although, I have to admit, there haven't been many of those in the last few days.

I don't know if the therapy is going to help or not, but so far it is definitely not what I expected, and it is making me think.

Interlude

I will write a post about the end of my therapy session tomorrow, but first I thought I'd share DH's reaction to my appointment.

I saw the therapist on Tuesday afternoon. DH seemed to be avoiding the subject, so I didn't bring it up at all, except to tell him that I have been ordered to exercise. His immediate, no hesitation response was, "That's fine if it makes you feel better, but you do NOT need to lose weight." Good answer. DH is a smart man.

We had a very hectic week. Both of us were busy with work. Soccer started for my son. My daughter has basketball and violin. There was a concert on Friday. And mother nature had decided that this was the week to put her monthly kibosh on most of our sexual activities. All together, this means that we had seen very little of each other, and when we were together, everything was a bit strained.

Saturday night, after a busy day of running the kids to their activities, housework, errands, etc., we decided to go to bed a bit early since we were losing an hour of sleep, and DH and our daughter had to wake up early to go to a daddy/daughter basketball tournament/fundraiser.

DH is always restless as he falls asleep, and seemed to be even more so than usual last night. After about 15 minutes of tossing and turning, he turned to me and almost whispered, "Is it okay if I make love to you?"

This is very unusual for DH. Normally, he gauges whether or not I'm in the mood by my reactions to his advances. He may ask me if I'm in the mood, he may ask what position I'm up for, he may ask if we can try something new, but the last time I remember him asking for permission to make love to me was a few days after I found out about his affair.

That time, I had consented without looking at him, and then proceeded to channel all my hurt and anger into an almost violent (me, not him) animalistic coupling. Last night was very different.

The lights were out, so I could just make out the line of his body in the dim light. His hands slid down the line of my body, and his lips kissed along my collarbone then down to my breasts. There was no biting, no sucking, no sharp graze of his teeth, but the soft feel of his lips traveling along my body was enough to raise goosebumps on my flesh.

I started to reach for him, to caress his chest and belly, but before my hands found their way to his groin, he moved himself on top of me. I could feel him pressing against me, before gradually entering. Slow stroke after slow stroke, he opened me a bit at a time before finally pressing his full length deliciously against my inner walls.

Sweetly and gently, he established a slow rhythm. With his hands under my hips, he would push himself all of the way into me, lifting me slightly at the end of each stroke. This subtle change in angle soon had me cresting. The rhythm didn't falter, even as I gripped him tightly and shuddered with orgasm. Not until the last aftershock rippled through my body did he speed his actions slightly, then collapse against me with his own pleasure.

A moment later, he shifted us slightly so that we were on our sides, my head resting on his chest, still connected intimately. We lay there quietly for a while, catching our breaths and enjoying the moment.

After a bit, we cleaned up, and made sure that we were presentable in case one of the kids should climb into bed with us during the night. After a moment of lying in the dark, DH said to me, in that same tentative whisper as before, "So, did that therapist tell you that you ought to get rid of me?"

I sighed softly and shook my head at him. "Honey, I don't think that that's what therapists do. I'm not going to her because I want to get rid of you. I just want to be a happy person again. I can't stand the mood swings, and they're not fair to you or the kids, either."

In an even softer whisper, he replied, "I don't want to lose you." And then, within a moment, I heard his breathing even out, and he was asleep.

I, on the other hand, laid there for sometime staring into the darkness. Just when I begin to feel like I'm getting a handle on things, reality throws me for a loop. It's easy for me to understand the hurt, anger, frustration, and worry that I feel. It's harder for me to grasp the fact that DH feels vulnerable as well.

Why do I feel slightly guilty about that?

I think I'll go exercise.

~sigh~

Therapy - Part one

So the other day, I met the new therapist. She had come highly recommended and I decided to be cautiously optimistic that she would be more helpful than the marriage counselor that DH and I had seen.

I was asked to arrive 15 minutes before my appointment so that I could complete a bit of paperwork. After filling out the standard data (insurance info, health history, etc), I was handed a paper with about five lines on it that said:

Using the space provided, please write down the reason that you have decided to meet with the therapist. Please write down the first thing that comes to mind. Do not worry about details. Do not worry about how it sounds. Please do not write more than will fit in the space provided.

Ummm... I had no idea what to say. I know why I'm there, but being asked to dilute it down into a space big enough for about three sentences. With only about 4 minutes until it is time for my appointment. This is hard for me. You may not have noticed, but I tend to be wordy.

But feeling a lot of pressure, I wrote(in very small print):

My husband had an affair last year, and I can't seem to recover. Sometimes things seem to be improving, but then the bottom seems to drop out. I can't control my thoughts and it affects every part of my life. I used think of myself as a happy person, lately I question who I am.

I hand the clipboard back to the receptionist, and about three minutes later, I am brought back to a room. The therapist introduces herself as Kathleen, and invites me to sit in a fairly comfortable chair. She then explains that often the biggest stumbling block when meeting with a new patient is having them get comfortable enough to verbalize out loud the reason they are there. She says that they have had great luck with having people write a short statement.

She then read aloud what I had written, and asked me to bear with her. She said that most people want most to talk about the first and the last thing they write down, but what she usually starts with is the middle. She was particularly interested in the fact that I felt like I couldn't control my thoughts and she asked me questions about that for about fifteen minutes. She also asked me a long series of questions regarding changes in my mood and what triggers them. She then told me that she was making sure that I didn't have any underlying psychiatric issues or PMDD (premenstrual dysphoric disorder) which is apparently like PMS gone out of control.

She said that from what she could tell in that limited time, I have a bit of sub-clinical depression, which means that I am depressed, but not so depressed that I can't function. Well, duh.

She said that she doesn't recommend medication for this level of depression, because it is usually caused by a life situation and not a chemical problem in the brain. Once again, duh.

However, she said that living with this kind of depression for an extended period of time does cause different chemicals to be released that keep you in a depressive state even after things start to improve. To combat this, she wants me to exercise.

Yes, my therapist wants me to exercise. She was very specific about what she wants. Every day (seven days a week!) she wants me to do something aerobic which causes me to break a sweat. Then she wants me to maintain that level of activity for 20 minutes. That's all. It can be anything I want. Walking, running, biking, swimming, stairs, elliptical machine. Anything at all that makes me break a sweat.

She promises that if I actually do this, in 2 weeks when I see her again, I will feel a difference in my mood. I'm sure this is true, but I would much rather have someone wave a magic wand and make everything better instead.

This part of the meeting with Kathleen took about half an hour, the rest of the time was more like what I expected to do in therapy. I talked. She listened and asked questions to clarify things.

And I will write about that in my next post.

Shoop Shoop

Do you remember the scene in Pretty Woman, where Julia Roberts is negotiating her price for the night and what it will include. She ends her speech by saying, "I don't kiss on the mouth." To which Richard Gere replies, "Neither do I." Then, at the end of the movie, you know that they are going to get their happily-ever-after because they share a big, passionate, tonsils-deep kiss.

The movie was trying to make the point that was that kissing is often more intimate than any sexual act.

It occurs to me today, that DH and I rarely if ever kiss. We peck goodnight. He kisses my neck, I kiss his chest, we both are fairly giving in the oral sex department, but there is no making out whatsoever.

I miss the kisses, and I wonder what it means.

I agree with the Pretty Woman writers. There is something very intimate about a kiss.

I remember a time when we used to kiss for hours. A time when kissing was the main course, and sex was dessert. I remember kisses that made me feel like my lips were attached to my nether regions. There were kisses that made me tingle in the best of ways.

But no more. I tried yesterday to change this. DH was cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, and I came up behind him and tried to get a little frisky. (I've been the one initiating sex these last few days - see my previous post.) DH was receptive, and took me into his arms. I stretched up to kiss him. Our lips met beautifully. My tongue slid against his, and I felt him take my bottom lip gently between his teeth. Next thing I knew, he was nibbling on the side of my neck.

I tried 4 or 5 more times to kiss him. Each time, he quickly moved away from my mouth to someplace else. He won't kiss me, but he certainly is not opposed to any sort of sex.

It makes me feel a bit like I'm his live in hooker rather than the woman he has vowed to love, honor and cherish.

Am I over reacting? Does this post just prove my paranoia?

It's probably a good thing I'm seeing a therapist today.

I don't know how to put a youtube video into my blog, so I'll just leave you all with the lyrics that have been running through my head as I wrote this post.


The Shoop Shoop Song

Does he love me I want to know
How can I tell if he loves me so
Is it in his eyes ?
Oh no ! You'll be deceived
Is it in his sighs ?
Oh no ! He'll make believe
If you want to know if he loves you so
It's in his kiss
That's where it is

Is it in his face ?
Oh no ! That's just his charms
In his warm embrace ?
Oh no ! That's just his arms
If you want to know if he loves you so
It's in his kiss
That's where it is
It's in his kiss
That's where it is

Kiss him and squeeze him tight
Find out what you want to know
If it's love, if it really is
It's there in his kiss

How about the way he acts
Oh no ! That's not the way
And you're not list'nin' to all I say
If you wanna know if he loves you so
It's in his kiss
That's where it is
It's in his kiss
That's where it is

Kiss him and squeeze him tight
Find out what you want to know
If it's love, if it really is
It's there in his kiss

How about the way he acts
Oh no ! That's not the way
And you're not listnin' to all I say
If you wanna know if he loves you so
It's in his kiss
That's where it is

It's in his kiss
That's where it is

Roller Coaster Rides

It been an interesting roller coaster ride this last week. Well really for the last year, but I can only handle things in small chunks, so we'll just discuss the last week or so.

After I discovered the email from TOW, I pretty much shut down emotionally. DH didn't know what was going on, ignored it for a few days, and then tried to fix it with sex. Which works temporarily, but never lasts.

I didn't realize at first that that's what was going on, and I'm sure he didn't either, but we both do that. We try to fix emotional issues with sex.

Back while DH was having his affair, before I realized that TOW existed, I knew something was wrong. There were little inconsistencies in the stories he would tell me, but they always were easily explained away. But after every conversation like that, I could feel DH subtly pull away from me emotionally. How did I try to fix it? I would randomly initiate sex, focusing in on the things that I know he likes best. I would blow him, I would offer anal sex, I would acquire new lingerie.

For a day, maybe two, after each encounter like this, I would feel like we were connected again, but then I could feel us slipping apart again. So I would step up the frequency of the sex. Unfortunately, it doesn't work long term, and the rest is history.

So, back to this week, after several days of emotional egg shells in our house, on Monday, DH initiated sex, focusing on the things I like. I enjoy having my hair pulled, being spanked, being submissive, light pain mixed with lots of pleasure. (It's really all very vanilla.) It seemed to realign us emotionally - for about a day, but nothing had changed, so we started to drift again. So for the next several days, there was more really very good sex.

We have always had an effective sex life, but there is something about the desperation involved in this "emotionally fixing" sex that makes it even more incredible.

That was the status quo until Friday, when I mentioned to DH that I had made an appointment to see a therapist this coming Tuesday. I tried to break it to him gently, but it still seemed to hit him like a kick to the stomach. DH hated every minute of the couples counseling that we did last year. He felt like the therapist was going to berate him at any moment. He would rather have had root canals without pain medicine than go to our appointments.

I - wrongly - assumed that my going to therapy by myself wouldn't bother him nearly as much. After all, he doesn't have to do anything. Nope. He still thinks the therapist is going to be out to get him, only now he's worried that it'll be said behind his back.

But he's not about to tell me that I can't go to a therapist, so what does he do? He pulls back emotionally. Which makes me wonder if he's going to contact TOW so that he has someone to talk to about how he feels. (I realize that sounds paranoid, but I still don't know what he is doing about that email from TOW, so I am paranoid.) Which makes me pull back, too.

Which is exactly the opposite direction of what I want to have happen. I want to feel connected to DH. I want to feel that emotional bond. So what do I do? Last night, I put on a very thin nightie, climbed into bed, and started to blow him. Then I proceeded to encourage him to do whatever he wanted to me.

In the afterglow, I felt much more connected again, but in reality, I know that we are still just riding in circles on that same roller coaster.

Only problem is, I don't know how to stop. It has its own momentum, and it just keeps taking us up and down those same hills.

What Is It That I Want?

In the real world, there are only two people who know what has happened in my marriage from my perspective. One is a local friend who only knows the very basics that DH cheated and that I was having a breakdown and needed someone to talk me down from the ledge the day I found out. She doesn't know any details, and thankfully, she has never asked. She just tries to be there for me.

The other person who knows is a good friend from college whom I haven't seen since we graduated. She lives 2000 miles away from me. We will go months without talking, and then when we call again, it's like we were never apart. I hadn't spoken to her in far too long, and a few days ago, I gave her a call. We have spoken three times in the last three days.

Yesterday, we had a long discussion over the phone while she was caught in traffic for over an hour. She tends to be a straight forward person anyway, but the frustrations of the freeway made her even more direct.

She knows most of the details of my life both before and after DH's affair. Yesterday, I brought her up to speed on the email from TOW (which I still know nothing more about) and the recent sex (which has been frequent and fabulous). Her responses left me a lot to think about.

First of all, she thinks that as far as the frustration of not knowing what's going on between DH and TOW, I'm pretty much getting what I deserve. She asked me what I expected to see when I invaded his privacy and went through his work email. (It's not that she's morally opposed to me spying - she actually encouraged me to spy as much as I could and get as much as possible printed as hard evidence in case we ever get divorced.) She said that in her opinion I was fishing for proof of my insecurities, and then I was surprised by what I caught.

She thinks that I should ask DH directly if he has heard from TOW recently. She said I should try to be non-threatening and non-defensive, and ask as if it's random curiosity. If he tells me the truth - great. If not, then at least I will know that he is trying to hide things from me.

It left me with something to think about, but I'm not convinced that it is that easy.

The other thing she made me think about was what my actual goal is in all of this. don't have her exact words, but her rant basically boils down to this:

"What is it that you want? You and DH have been married for 10 years. He has a good job and doesn't give you a hard time about the fact that you completely gave up the career that he helped you build so that you could stay home with the kids. He doesn't give you a hard time about the fact that you hated being a stay at home mom and went back to work at a part time job that you love, but where you make no money. He is a great dad. The kids adore him. He remembers your birthday. He goes golfing with your dad. You have an amazing sex life, and he understands that you're a bit of a freak in the sack. (I'm pretty sure that she was just giving me a hard time with that point. I think.)

A lot of people would gladly switch lives with you right now. So what is it that you want? You don't get to have a time machine. You can't go back and change the past. Neither can he.

So what do you want?"

Me: I want to be loved.

BF: He does love you.

Me: I want to be appreciated.

BF: What do you think all the freaky sex is about? Or the support of your job? He does appreciate you.

Me: I want to be enough for him.

BF: So, what are you going to do if you're not?

.
.
.
Dead silence. The answer is, I just don't know.

I have a lot to think about.


Oh, and to my musing about potentially having an affair of my own (although I prefaced that part of the talk by saying that I had pretty much decided against it) her reply was, "Man, for a smart girl you say stupid things. Like an affair could possibly do anything except make you even more messed up."

I love the fact that she tells me what she thinks. I only wish I understood what I think nearly as well.

Mind / Body Connection

Sometimes, I think that the wires between my mind and my body have a serious short circuit issue.

For the past few days, DH and I have been cordially coexisting. We are speaking politely, doing normal family activities together, and keeping up all pretenses of a happy, healthy relationship. But there is unspeakable tension swirling in the air because I don't know what's going on with TOW, and he doesn't know why I am a bundle of nerves.

He went to work yesterday. I spent yesterday running menial errands for my son's Kindergarten teacher, as it was my turn to be the volunteer 'room-mom'. We came home. We ate dinner. We took turns yelling at our daughter to do her homework. He channel surfed, fruitlessly looking for anything that involved keeping score, while I poured over seed catalogs and asked his opinion about plants that he has never heard of. We sent the kids to bed. We pretended to watch TV while he reviewed documents for work and I attempted unsuccessfully to fix a broken zipper on my daughter's favorite skirt. Then we went to bed.

Nothing about the day appears out of the ordinary, but there was no connection between us the entire time. The walls of civility were firmly in place, keeping us separated as we fruitlessly tried to pretend everything was normal.

We were lying in bed, each on our own side, curled in loose fetal positions, back to back but not quite touching. I was just beginning to doze off, when DH, who is always restless when he sleeps, began to change positions. After turning to his stomach for a moment, then flipping to his back briefly, he ended up curled against my back, snuggling like spoons.

After lying in that position for a moment, his arm came around me, gently pulling me a bit closer. I didn't even think about it, I wiggled myself tighter against him and hugged his arm to my chest.

It seems that this was all the encouragement DH needed. Suddenly the gentle arm around me tightened into iron, and his other hand was twisted in my hair, pulling my head to an unnatural angle so that his lips would have full access to my throat. Like flipping a switch, my body instantly responded to his show of force by becoming completely submissive.

His fist tightened in my hair and a quiet sigh escaped from my lips. He was roughly kissing the nape of my neck, his teeth as involved as his lips. His other hand sought my breasts, my nipples began straining through the thin cotton tee shirt I wore to bed.

Mere moments later, I was flipped onto my back and he was on top of me, pulling my shirt over my head, but leaving it bunched around my wrists as a soft restraint for my movements. His mouth began to travel down my body, kissing and biting my collar bones, my breasts, the sides of my ribs. His tongue started tracing the quivering flesh of my abdomen, raising goosebumps on my confined arms.

His tongue found the hollow next to my hip bone, and his hands made quick work of the silky pajama shorts I was wearing. His warm breath sighed across my smoothly shaved pelvis and he pulled my right leg onto his shoulder so that he could have complete access to the swollen folds of flesh.

His hands grasped the flesh of my ass, pulling me towards him as his tongue discovered the extent of my excitement. He licked and nibbled for only a moment before pulling away. He chuckled softly at my whimpered protest, and I could feel that he was wriggling out of the boxers he had worn to bed.

Without any further warning, I felt myself bent nearly in half. With one leg still caught on top of his shoulder, he buried the length of his rigid cock in me in a single forceful stroke. He held perfectly still for a moment, our bodies pressed against each other as he stretched my inner walls. Then, he slowly began to rock against me, establishing a rhythm that caused my breath to catch in my throat.

I lay under him, pinned with one leg up, one leg down, and my hand caught in folds of soft cotton. I had no movement, except for what he allowed me, and he was completely in control. Yet despite this dominance, he was utterly tender.

He softly kissed where his lips could reach, covering my temples, my eyebrows, and the top of my head. The slow, methodical rhythm of our coupling was almost frustrating in its gentleness. I found myself writhing against him seeking the release that my body was demanding.

I must not have been the only one who needed that release, because soon his pace began to quicken. I could hear the change in his breathing as he tried to keep control and his body started pounding against mine. The combination of dominant and gentle, tender and forceful was soon more than my body could contain, and I felt myself reaching the point of no return.

My orgasm broke over me like a wave, ripples of pleasure passing through my body. DH must have been holding back to allow my gratification first, because within seconds of feeling the quivering of my inner walls, he followed me over that edge. Our bodies reacted to each other, extending the pleasure we each were feeling.

Breathless and satiated, DH took a moment to release my hands from their cotton bonds and take my leg off of his shoulder before collapsing against me. We lay there, sweaty and intertwined. Still connected intimately, I could feel his heart beating against my chest even as I felt him softening inside of me. And in that moment, all felt right with the world.

We slept soundly last night, wrapped in each other's arms. And when I woke this morning, I felt content for the first time in nearly a week.

The thing is, nothing has changed. I still have no idea what DH is doing or what is going on with TOW. I know that he still has a profile on Ashley Madison, though I don't know if he is actually actively pursuing anyone. My life is still in a state of upheaval, yet all I can think about is the delicious soreness in the overstretched hamstring of my right leg.

My brain, which was sad and hurt, had no control over the way my body reacted to DH last night, but clearly, my satisfied body does have control over the way my mind is working this morning. I doubt that this will last, so I am going to enjoy it now while I can.

Does this make me as much of a freak as I think it does, or do other people have this backwards mind/body connection as well?

Walking on Egg Shells

It's been two full days since I saw the email, and my husband still hasn't said a word to me about it. Then again, I haven't said anything to him either. It's an interesting little stand-off we have here. Neither of us is even sure the other one is taking part in the duel, let alone getting ready to draw.

DH was clearly looking for a way to get out of the house this morning, probably because the tension is beginning to be palpable. After about half an hour of wandering around in the garage, he announced that he needed to go to the store and by something new for the upcoming golf tournament for his work.

This impromptu shopping trip seemed to me to be a perfect alibi to go meet with TOW, so I immediately suggested that he take our daughter with him and buy her the new shoes that she needs for basketball. As soon as the words left my mouth, I instantly regretted them. I have always promised myself that no matter what happens between DH and me, I will not put the kids in the middle. I feel like I came dangerously close to crossing that line.

Regardless, DH didn't hesitate. He agreed that it was a good idea, and now he and my daughter are having a bit of quality time together, shopping and having lunch. He must not have had any sort of meeting planned, because a third grader isn't what most people bring along on their dates.

I'm not sure how I should proceed from this point. I can't try to account for every moment of alone time he has. If he wants to, he will find a way to see her without my knowing.

I feel like my choices are to confront him or wait and hope. I don't especially want to confront him. First of all, it would then alert him to the fact that I have access to his email, and I'm not ready to give that up yet. Secondly, if something is going on, I highly doubt that he is just going to come out and tell me the truth just because I ask.

I'm also not that great at waiting. I know from experience that the longer I have to think about something, the more my mind races. As far as hope goes, I've been treading water in the old River Denial so long that I am beginning to get dysentery.

So, I would appreciate the opinion of any men who may read this. If you were my DH and you got an email from TOW, and nothing was going on, and you refused to meet with her, would you tell me about it, or would you just pretend it didn't exist?

OR

If you were DH and you got an email from TOW, who you haven't seen in months and months, and she said it was important, would you agree to meet with her, but not bother to tell me?

OR

Do you see any potential situation where you would say anything to me if you were DH and you got the email from TOW, but you think I don't know about it?



I'm trying to give him a fair chance, but in reality, I'm going insane here.

Existing

It's been over 24 hours since I read the email from 'the other woman' (TOW). I don't think that my husband knows I can access his work email, but when I checked it again a few hours later, he had completely deleted it and any possible response he may have sent. I'm not sure if that is a sign that he's on to me, or if he is just being paranoid and careful.

That means that I have no idea how he responded to her. I don't know if he agreed to meet her. I don't know if he called her or texted her. I don't know if he told her to fuck off. I don't know, because he hasn't said anything about it to me. Not one word.

I don't know if he's trying to protect me, and doesn't want me upset if she is contacting him against his wishes. I don't know if they have been meeting regularly. I don't know what this is about.

All sorts of horrible thoughts are going through my mind. In her email, she said it was too important to discuss over the phone. What if she wants to tell him that she's leaving her husband? What if she wants to tell him that she's pregnant and it could be his? (This should be impossible, since he was supposed to have ended it with her 11 - 1/2 months ago, but who knows?) What if she has AIDS or some horrible STD and she might have given it to him... and he could have given it to me? (I had myself checked for everything last year, but I haven't been rechecked since.) I realize that it probably isn't anything this bad, but sitting here, not knowing, I start thinking awful thoughts.

What do I do now? Do I wait and see if he brings it up? Do I confront him? Do I stalk him and see if I can figure out when they're meeting? For the last day, I have been trying not to meet his eye, because I am afraid he will see every question written there, and I want to give him the opportunity to come to me about this without me having to broach the subject.

I called yesterday afternoon and made an appointment with a new therapist. A woman I work with had mentioned her name last year when I had "a bout of depression", which is what everyone in the world thinks happened last year. She can't get me in at a convenient time until a week from Tuesday. The way things are going, I should have a lot to talk about by then.

A Day Late and a Dollar Short

Why is it that I am always two steps behind what is going on in my own life? When I think things are perfect, I find out that my husband is sleeping around on me. When I think things are over, I find that my husband and I are making things work. When I think that I am going to do something for myself, I find an email.

You know the affair that my husband had? The one that I was sure was over? The one that I was trying to recover from? Well, last night I intercepted an email that she sent to my husband. She "needs" to talk to him. She says it's too important for a phone call or email, and they need to meet in person.

He doesn't know I can see his emails. How do I handle this without losing the only advantage I have in this craziness that my life has become?

How do I keep breathing?

What do I do?

Does Therapy Work?

Clearly, if there is anyone who needs therapy, it's me. I freely admit to the fact that I have no idea what is going on in my brain these days, but I'm not sure that I believe that therapy works.

Right after I found out that my husband was having his affair, I insisted that we needed to go to therapy. DH was more than willing to go along with anything I wanted at that point, so despite the fact that he wanted nothing to do with it, he dutifully accompanied me to every appointment.

Maybe we got a mediocre therapist, or maybe the whole couples therapy thing was just crap, but for the few months that we went, I don't think it did any good. DH was a bundle of nerves for days before each meeting, because he was sure that he was going to be berated for his bad decisions, and I was annoyed beyond belief that the therapist kept telling me to try to see the infidelity through my husband's eyes.

I was too devastated at that point to see anything clearly. I was certainly in no position to try to see anything that could possibly justify my husband's betrayal.

We didn't talk about anything with the therapist that we weren't talking about at home anyway. We had had many tearful, serious conversations on our own. Her being there didn't make a huge difference. In some ways, it actually made things worse.

And talking was not the only way we handled our devastation. For some reason, as angry and hurt as I was, I was inexplicably, magnetically drawn to have sex with my husband. This was not tender, make up sex. This was angry, animalistic coupling. I wouldn't kiss my husband, I often wouldn't even look at him, but we had frequent, intense, (honestly fantastic, but that wasn't what it was about) sex.

I hated myself a bit for this. I may have still loved him, but I didn't like my husband at all at that point, and I certainly didn't want him to feel like he was being rewarded for sleeping around on me. But I couldn't stop myself.

Couples therapy didn't help me with that, either.

But now, I'm thinking about it again. It's been about a year. I feel like I should be better at this point, but I'm not. I'm still a mess. I'm still grieving for the loss of the life that I thought I was living, but which turned out to be a lie.

Don't get me wrong, DH and I have wonderful moments, great days, even good weeks. But still, I cry more days than not. I don't feel like I'm enough for him. Some days, I don't feel loved. For months, I haven't felt appreciated.

I want to be where I was before, and I realize that that's not possible. I want to feel special. I want to feel beautiful. I want to feel wanted.

So I'm considering therapy again. This time just for myself. I'm not sure if it will help, but at this point I don't know what else to do.

Any suggestions?