So here it is….this is my story of the struggle within my marriage. It’s one that I believe many people have, yet never talk about. It addresses that age old question of whether or not you can reignite a flame that seems to have long since burned out. Most people I’ve talked to don’t think you can, while professionals (counselors) think there is hope depending on the situation. All I know for sure is that every marriage has it’s issues, and only the two people involved can decide if it’s worth fighting for or not. No union comes with a guarantee of success and that is the sad, scary truth of the matter. My hope is to tell our story in a respectable yet honest way. Yes, I’m scared because once this is out there, there’s no taking it back. However, my husband has known since I began blogging that I wished to tell our story and has supported me whole-heartedly – because he is amazing! So, I’ll start with what occurred in late 2015 and gradually go back to the beginning, so there’s an understanding as to why all this was such a big deal in the first place.
And there it was. An empty frozen pizza box carefully wedged between the fridge and wine rack. For many, just the sign of an easy meal from the night before. For me, it was marriage kryptonite. I was in disbelief. I could not believe my own eyes. We had come so far in terms of getting to a healthier place and in terms of honesty and communication. The pizza box, this seemingly benign inanimate object, represented ( to me) betrayal of the highest form. But Will was sleeping and I had to leave for work, so no time to address the situation right now- it would have to wait.
All day long I tried to keep busy and otherwise distracted. My mind would inevitably revert back to my discovery nonetheless. We kept a daily food journal, so perhaps I’d return home to find he had written down his epicurean backslide. If so, then it was no big deal. We aren’t perfect, and we had an agreement that any culinary indiscretions would be immediately forgiven if we simply came clean- this was in addition to “planned” occasions to splurge. The thought was if we plan it and are forthcoming about it, it nullifies the guilt associated with it, decreasing the likelihood of a binge on either of our parts.
When I got home, pizza was not on his journal and even worse- the pizza box was nowhere to be found! So, like a crazy person, I was looking through the trash/recyclables trying to find evidence of his dishonesty. Be careful what you wish for is a saying that would soon ring true for me. I found the pizza box along with all kinds of beer bottles, wrappers, etc. I set one of the bottles on the counter and poured myself a glass of wine while waiting for Will to come home from work. It was going to be a long night…
He opened the door and saw the look on my face, then the beer bottle- he knew I knew. I told him I wanted him to leave; I was afraid of what I might say and there was nothing he could say to make me feel better. He then packed and left- just like that. And just like that, I felt our bond of 12 plus years crumbling away. I called his best friend Joe to check on him. I was pissed, but of course I still cared that Will was alright. I continued to drink and cry and then text, which then turned to sexting another man. The way I saw it, what Will did was just as bad ( at this point, given our history) as me catching him with another woman and I wanted to hurt him like I was hurting.
Late the next morning Will came home. He had spent the night at Joe’s house. I spilled my guts about what I’d done, believing my marriage was not salvageable anyway. He tried to explain his side, but in that moment, couldn’t come up with anything I hadn’t heard a million times over the years. I took two days for us to really hash it out, and we were both bawling at the end of it. He finally admitted that he needed help to get to the root of what was causing him to keep slipping up knowing that our marriage was at stake. He wanted to do this whether I could forgive him or not. I had been telling him for a while now that until he dealt with why he kept sabotaging his efforts he’d keep repeating this pattern,but he had to be ready and see it for himself. For my part, I apologized for hurting him yet again.
The following week he proceeded to get counseling- on his own this time. It took me quite a while to truly believe in him again. I kept thinking it was great he was finally on the path to healing, but knowing what I’d discovered that night was just the tip of the iceberg over the course of our marriage, and he’d lied to me numerous times, it might be too late.