The Trauma of Betrayal

The Trauma of Betrayal (Reposted from FB as it seems to have disappeared!)

I want to preface this by saying that this post will be about my experiences as a woman who has gone through betrayal, but I know that the men who go through this experience feel it equally as deeply; and oftentimes have even less support in healing from the trauma aspect. This post is for anyone who has experienced this kind of pain and trauma resulting from infidelity.

The second thing I want to say is that this post can only be written from a place where healing has begun and moving forward is possible and… it takes time and strength to talk about these things and even more to share them openly.

So… Trauma.

It’s a term that we think about when it comes to physical violence, accidents, war, or serious illness. But so rarely do we give it thought when it comes to the after-effects of what has become a commonplace, yet hidden experience. Betrayal. Cheating. Affairs.

So here’s the thing.

I lived with betrayal for almost 20 full years.

For nearly two decades, I lived with the effects of serial infidelity. Each and every time, I worked hard to work through, heal, and recover from one more incident… but here’s the thing that nobody talks about when it comes to betrayal – there’s often so much more than ‘just’ cheating involved.

In my marriage, there was gaslighting, blame, misdirection, hiding, downplaying, and reversing the focus back to me. At times, I was pushed to the brink and my mental health began to deteriorate over time. As each and every occurrence continued to affect me, I gradually became more and more unstable… not sure what exactly was happening to me, and never really understanding how the two things were connected.

It wasn’t until more than 15 years into our relationship, that I began to accept the reality.

Living in a marriage with someone who committed serial acts of infidelity as well as emotional manipulation, changed me in very big ways.

Because by nature, someone who has an affair wants to protect themselves; it is often at the cost of the actual victim in the situation – blaming, shaming, and redirecting to any and all faults that the innocent party has. There is a form of emotional and mental abuse that occurs which tears down the other person and makes them believe on one level that THEY are the reason why this happens. In serial infidelity, it is repeated over and over again until it is the only truth that is known. I thought I was the toxic one… the trouble… the cause for all of the problems… the reason why he cheated.

Trauma.

The first time I talked about the trauma of infidelity and the effects on my mental health; I was met with three responses – the first was the support, those who had gone through the same thing and quietly whispered ‘me too!’. The second was silence… those not quite sure what to say, perhaps because of generational silence, or because I was so very open about something so personal. The third was disbelief, shaming, and reversing the blame… mostly by family and those closest to him.

I’m not supposed to talk out loud about this stuff. Even still.

But that’s why I don’t want to stay silent any longer.

The trauma inflicted by infidelity in my life is the one of the biggest contributor to a long history of mental illness, suicide attempts, and overall decline in my mental state over the years.

How can I not talk about something this big? This important? And sadly, this common?

Trauma and Infidelity.

It’s a bigger connection than what we acknowledge. It’s bigger than what we want to discuss, and it is a topic that shouldn’t be hidden… the trauma in infidelity is hard enough without having to add more secrecy and shame to the mix.

Those that struggle deserve the chance to know that the trauma is real. There is support out there… and most of all, healing is available when the stigma ends.

*This post is specific to the trauma of infidelity. It is not meant to solely blame infidelity for the choices that I made or the mistakes that I have learned from. It is to highlight a very serious effect that infidelity creates for the betrayed partner.*

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Infidelity – The Chaos and The Confidence – Part 2

A double life.

Secrets, shame, hidden feelings, self-loathing, and guilt.

Strength, smiles, openness, bravery, courage, and love.

This was me. Over the past decade, I have lived with a splitting within my mind: a damaged processor, a flaky connection, and a screen that turns on and off – illuminating selective aspects of my life – depending on the situation, day, or even hour.

For a long time, I didn’t know what was wrong with me or why I couldn’t maintain a stable mindset, a normal functioning, and a mature response system within my life.

I couldn’t control the sides, the split, or the damage that I sometimes caused towards myself and others… though I desperately tried.

The more I struggled against the symptoms – the depression, the shame, the anxiety, and the general unease – the more they affected me, nearly destroying my world with the unpredictable outbursts, angered reactions, and crippling devastation that I experienced. My emotions ran wild and though I chased after them, I could never catch up – never hold them in for long enough to sort them out, validate them, or set them free.

I felt trapped in my body, my head, and my life. I wanted out.

I felt like a fraud. A liar. A damaged, defective, and inferior human.

And yet… the other side of me argued. Constantly lifting me. Masking me. Get up. Get out. Show up. Do your best… because you ARE the best. Stronger, different, more capable. Better.

Not like them at all.

To put it mildly… my head has remained in a constant state of chaos and confusion, for as long as I can remember. A minefield that nobody could possibly navigate without a map and a guide… not even me.

For the past (almost) year, I’ve been working on writing that map.

Honesty and Authenticity.

They sound like honourable goals… fairly easy… calm… freeing.

But it’s probably the most difficult thing I’ve ever chosen to do for myself.

Because for years, I’ve lived with lies. Splitting. Confusion. Indecision. A façade. A mask. Carefully constructed webs of shallow secrets, smiles, and deeper self-hate.

When I was a little girl, I took it to heart when I was told to ‘knock off the tears’ and ‘stop crying about it’. And that mantra carried with me throughout several layers of trauma, abuse, betrayal, and poor decisions. Though I could never fully grasp it enough to believe it would work… I tried to be strong, brave, and better. I hid the tears until I couldn’t. I masked the pain until it burst out. I worked endlessly to do better and be more, until I fell down in exhaustion, collapsing beneath the weight of my own personal expectations.

Gradually I broke… while still trying to hold it all together.

I lied to myself. I believed myself. I confused myself. And I let other people help me do it too.

This year I started to peel back the layers of me… to find the little person inside. The little girl buried beneath the loudness of the world around her. The one that believed that she had to maintain the protective shell around her, no matter how much it cracked or split. For years I tried to mend the breaks with tiny bits of sticky tape – tried to fit the pieces back together like a broken puzzle – only to find that another section was cracking on the other side, as I tried my best to fix this one.

Last February, when I uncovered the truth of my husband’s infidelity… my very first reaction was relief.

I wasn’t crazy after all.

And very quickly, the shell around me burst apart where I had tried to mend it throughout the years, until there was nothing but vulnerability, and a very raw and painful look at my life. But while it should have been easy to see that some of the things I had believed were lies, and some were truth… it was absolute chaos and confusion as I tried to sort it all out.

Honesty and authenticity has not been an easy leg of the journey and I have often been left after examining an aspect of my life, completely terrified and unsure of myself. I have been left feeling alone, ashamed, vulnerable, and lost... as though sharing my grief with even myself was breaking some sort of life rule.

But with each layer that I pull back, with each layer that I sort out and attempt to untangle the lies from the truth, and the pain from the healing, and the trauma from the blame – I feel a merging happening inside of myself. The sides of me that caused the chaos and the constant war in my head are learning to get along. To see that they were never on opposite sides at all, both trying to protect, to save, and to hide from the damage - some of which I created, and some of which was placed onto me. 

Last month I talked about the damage that I’ve experienced in my life, and the impact that I have felt as a result of infidelity in my marriage.  This has been a massive layer for me to not only peel back and examine, but to also assign appropriate relevance within my life. And it’s been a layer that has been riddled with outside opinions, harsh judgement, twisted facts, reactive emotions, and wanting to flee from it all… wanting to revert back to the shell at times. Pick up the pieces. Tape them back together and hide away from not just the world, but myself. Chaos. Confusion.

And then…

Confidence.

Not a false confidence… one that feeds the ego and says ‘I’m right, and you’re wrong’. And not the confidence that has you feeling like a million bucks in a new outfit with perfect hair and makeup and matching shoes.

No, this is a deeper confidence that can’t always be seen. It’s peace-driven, though it is a rocky journey to get there. It;s knowledge that as the web of lies that I believed slowly unravels, that I am able to look at them with new eyes… seeing beneath the words and the actions. Beneath symptoms and pain and grief. Beneath the instinct to solely place blame, though also knowing that it is okay to accept and to advocate for myself and the pain that infidelity has caused, and the direction it has at times steered my story. 

I can see the vulnerable girl beneath the shell taking a step away from the crumbling ruins and stepping into the world alone. Ready to meet others like her who are striving for the same reality. The ones who are also filled with pain and joy, tears and laughter, webs of chaos turned into honesty and authenticity. The ones ready to embrace the past as the beginning of their story, and the now as the good stuff – where the vague glimpses from earlier chapters are revealed in a raw truth that is unparalleled, and the future heading into an entirely new and beautiful, truly authentic direction.

Each day I step further from the shell of chaos that once protected and yet also harmed me. Each day I struggle with the things that I myself have done in reaction and protection, and those things that have been done to me. And each day I not only peel back the layers of deceit in my head, but I also fill my soul with new layers of truth and understanding.

And now, I’m working on stepping out further. Taking another look around me and examining the places where I still see chaos and confusion, and where I need to head towards confidence. I talk openly and without shame, knowing that I have faced the harshest judgement from myself. My story is no longer a secret that I keep hidden deep within; instead I am free from the burden and the weight of carrying the chaos alone. And most importantly, I am working on opening my heart to others… to hearing their story and seeing their journey where they themselves are at. To seeing their actions and looking beneath the surface… to hearing their words and authentically starting to walk alongside them in whatever place they are at.

Everyone has a story. A reason. A why. Everyone has something (or several things) that has significantly impacted their lives (good or bad!) and now that I can be truly confident in my own story, and the place I am currently walking in my life; now I can sit and listen more clearly.

Infidelity within my life has caused significant damage to me mentally… it created a chaos that I couldn’t grasp or control or even recognize. But from the chaos, I have journeyed to find the confidence. A place of openness, truth, authenticity, realism, and comprehension that is beyond what I could have deciphered even one year short year ago. I’m not perfect in my healing. Some days are harder than others. And some days, yes, the pain is still excruciating and at times overwhelming.

But for the first time in years, I walk out the door each day with my head held high, my chest light, and my heart eager to feel, empathize, and understand with a new depth. Each day, more layers of chaos get carefully peeled back and I am able to not only share my story with others, but I am able to hear and reach out, and walk alongside those others as they share their own raw reality, or muddle their own way through chaos in their lives.

"Out of pain and problems have come the sweetest songs, the most poignant poems, the most gripping stories." -- Billy Graham

This year, I will embrace and without apology share my story while I peel back the layers as I work through them. I will welcome opportunities for growth and sharing both in my personal journey and as I sit with friends and family. Because shared pain is perhaps at times, the most beautiful mentor.

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Between - The Things Don't Disappear

The things don’t disappear.

Today I had the house to myself. The kids returned to school yesterday, and Shaun was at work. Originally I had an appointment this morning; but even that was cancelled due to the early morning weather. It’s been a while since I’ve simply sat with nobody around and nothing pressing on my mind. No urgent matters to attend to… and though my house could probably using a good cleaning, it wasn’t on my list of priorities for the day.

It was strange though.

Throughout the day I’ve glanced out the window hoping for this grey and rainy day to magically disappear and for the ground to transform into a thick white layer of snow, while fluffy flakes continue to fall from the sky to create a winter wonderland. I like the winter (heck I almost LOVE the winter)… but I don’t like the in-between.

Right now, it’s gotten darker out and there’s a mist still coming down. The ground is pretty clear though wet, but I know that as the temperature once again drops over the next few days; the snow will return… leaving a beautiful layer of white that will cover this gloomy darkness.

At least that’s what I hope for.

But the more that I watch the weather today, the more that I realise how it perfectly describes the place I’m in with this new year.

I’m determined to find the beautiful… to live authentically… and to continue to grow and change along the continuing course that I’m already on. I’ve found a newness about me; but as I work towards learning and accepting and just being… I’m in the in-between.

It’s like it’s this grey and brooding cloud. It’s the nothing. The between. The calm that divides.

It’s not necessarily a bad place to be. And while I’m here I can think clearly and enjoy some peace. It’s not the joy of sunshine and warmth, nor is it the crisp cleanliness of a fresh layer of snow. It just is.

And while I’m here… while I’m in this place; the things don’t disappear.

The struggle, the journey, the adventure, the rest of life. It’s still there, it’s in me. It’s waiting for the sun to come out or the skies to fill with flakes of frozen ice. But it’s also a part of it all. It’s a bigger part of the journey than we sometimes give it credit for.

It’s in these moments, this between time that I can put my feet up without guilt. Where I can say wow, I needed this break. This quiet. This peace.

Tomorrow I will continue my journey, but today’s a day of reflection among the dullness. It’s a place of appreciating the bare trees and the muddy roads. It’s seeing the world from a darker perspective without a negative undertone. It’s appreciating the beauty beneath it all.

The things haven’t disappeared from my life. But today, today’s an in-between day. Not glamorous and not ugly. Just beautiful in the space between it all.

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New Year Same Journey

When I woke up this morning, I didn’t see today as the last day of 2018. I wasn’t ending a chapter of my life, to begin a new sentence tomorrow or a fresh start with a resolution that I would have no intention of keeping. I didn’t see it as an ending this morning as I rolled out of bed and got ready to go to the grocery store – to which I would face a beginning tomorrow morning where I would wake up fresh faced and ready to tackle a new year.

This morning I did however glance in the mirror at the reflection that stared me down as I brushed my teeth and got dressed. I saw the person who stared back at me with a quiet confidence that wasn’t there last year… the one who didn’t glance away in sadness, frustration, or yes disgust this time. I saw the person that remembered that one year is a long time… but it isn’t the only time.

As I tidied the house today and cleaned up some of the post-Christmas clutter that tends to accumulate; I kept coming back to the concept of time. It’s not the first time this year that I’ve visited this idea… and it won’t be the last I’m sure. For the past few months I’ve been taking some fantastic advice and trying to see the bigger picture within my life… thinking in various increments of time but coming back to the concept of decades or seasons.

If someone asked me to define this year… my word of choice would be hard. It was a difficult year and it seemed to be riddled with dark spots, tough times, and an unsettling uncertainty. There were tears and there were fights, there was loneliness, and there was a sense of loss. Between the rough patches, there were sparks and specks of light and hope… laughter, fun, and joy. But overall, it was a hard year in many ways.

Some days I quite honestly just did not want to continue on anymore, and at some points I felt as though I simply couldn’t.

So as today shifts into tonight; and tonight grows into tomorrow… I want to define my happiness and take control, and walk towards the New Year with passion and fight and resilience. But I am also looking at the path I’ve walked, ran, and sometimes crawled over the past decade and I know that a change in the calendar year won’t magically make it easier. I know that slamming the book of 2018 closed will not lead the way into the changes I’ve worked to make happen, because it was with these lows and this darkest year yet that I’ve finally gained some ground and become the person that I am now.

Tomorrow a New Year will begin for me… a new year which I hope will continue to grow and change me as a person. But the change will flow from now… from last week, last month, last year, and even last decade. Like always, it’s not a whole new me… it’s the same me as today… the one that just wants to walk her journey and learn along the way.

Happy New Year from my journey to yours, may this year continue with growth and love and with new learning each day, with every step we take.

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Infidelity - The Damage - Part 1

• ‘Stop blaming me and get over it.’
• ‘You made the choices you made.’
• ‘I am not responsible for the way that you feel.’
• ‘There is no correlation between what you experienced in the past, and the way that you are now.’

Four years ago I began writing this blog as an outlet… a way to express the nature of the battle that I was facing in my head. A battle with mental illness and depression, suicide attempts and instability, anxiety and overall confusion… at least that’s what I shared with the world.

But the reality - the whole picture was always much different for me.

Sure, mental illness was a symptom that I began to fight with vigor… determined not to let situational depression, chemical imbalances, and the whole genetic pre-disposition thing get me down. I believed that I could fight mental illness and win. I still believe that, but with a much broader perspective, knowing that there is far more to it than controlling the outward symptoms.

Recently I’ve been experiencing another rough patch. It’s not nearly as bad as I’ve been in the past and I’m much better at managing it these days… at least for the most part. But a few weeks ago as I doubted my strength to get through this darkest period, I spoke with a friend whose words were beyond powerful as she texted me.

Read Psalm 88 – darkness is my closest friend.

It’s okay to feel the way you are sister!

You have been so mistreated – disrespected – unloved.

I wanted to believe her words so badly that night. But as I laid awake in bed, unable to sleep… I turned my head back to the bible and read the verses… several times. Going online I read several sources as they picked apart the words and I tried to understand the meaning behind it. And as dark and heart-wrenchingly sad as this Psalm is, in the end I found comfort in that fact alone. It’s dark. It’s sad. It’s okay. Even biblical writers felt completely alone.

The rest of her words hit me harder than the Psalm. It’s okay to feel the way you are sister! – In the past I have often been told that its okay to feel sad, or to feel pain, or to be angry. But those feelings must be temporary… fleeting. In the end there is always an expectation that those feelings won’t last long enough to make anyone else uncomfortable, or to move me into the status of ‘playing the victim’. It’s okay to feel those things, as long as I’m not speaking about why I feel those things… just that I do, because if I tell the whole truth, then I’m somehow crazy, dramatic, vindictive, or looking for attention.

The next words she gave me were such a relief as I felt the pain and the darkness, that at first I didn’t really know how to react. You have been so mistreated – disrespected – unloved. – Again, I’ve heard similar words in the past, but never without a clause attached. You were mistreated BUT you deserved it because you did this. Sure he mistreated you, but you’re no saint either. - To see the words solidly appear across my screen without a hesitation, a clause, or an exception took my breath away.

Ten months ago, I opened up a folder from my husband’s satchel. Out of the folder fell a small bundle of papers… a chart of sorts. When they quite literally landed on my lap, I froze momentarily as the words appeared in front of my eyes. Names. Dates. Descriptions of incidents. Affairs. Too many to count; some of them unfamiliar, strangers; and others too familiar - former friends, acquaintances, and coworkers of his.

Now, to be fair. I already knew about a couple of the incidents… one nine years ago, another five years ago, and one just two years before finding his list. I also know, that throughout my life, I have developed faults of my own, as well as unhealthy coping mechanisms to deal with the difficult parts of life. I also accept that I chose to continue to fight for my marriage, remaining two feet in and ready to heal and move forward… believing that we were on the same page at the time.

Now, from my experience, I know that there are generally two trains of thought that go along with this decision: The first, is that because I chose to stay, I am a fool who brought it on myself. The second is that I must have done something wrong to force him into someone else’s arms… after all, I’m the one with the self-disclosed mental illness.

And those two trains of thought are why I’m choosing to share this now, after all of this time.

I’ve been with my husband for nearly nineteen years now (coming up next week - December 20 - would be our fifteenth wedding anniversary). Around eighteen years ago, I now know that my husband had his first affair, dating all the way back to a friend from high school. Depending on how you’re reading this, it might sound like I’m bitter or angry. But the reality is, that I’m sad… for both of them, as well as for myself.

Because you see, I knew about it… or at least I suspected that there was something... and I even questioned it. And while I truly believe that my husband never set out to harm me through his actions; self-preservation won out and I was told from the beginning that I was imagining things, that I was making too big of a deal out of nothing, and simply that the signs that I saw were in my head. He kept what actually happened a secret until this year… so did she… and I truly believed that I had spent 18 years imagining things until I saw her name on that list.

Eighteen years passed… similar patterns became a part of our life. I questioned what I saw happening before my eyes, and I was nearly driven into complete madness. I became the crazy-lady.

I was mentally ill, depressed and full of rage that was never acknowledged nor allowed. Emotionally, I felt unable to function properly, believing that my head was simply not normal, messed up, or wired wrong.

When I whispered to a friend after I confirmed the first affair that I knew about… nine years ago… I was told to spice up our sex-life. I was told that I was holding onto too much anger. I was told that he ‘seemed remorseful’ and that I was ‘too unstable’. Over the years I reached out to several people... seeking help, guidance, and at times simply a friend that I could talk to. The answers always seemed to ring with the same tone though:

• ‘Let it go’.
• ‘Don’t talk about it’.

The last several years, my own responses became wild. I was unstable. I was angry. I was ashamed. I was trying so hard to do everything right… and yet everything kept falling apart. Three years ago, I wrote a blog-post about my behaviour and the way that it hurt those around me, pushing people away, volatile, harsh, and unpredictable.

Today, I take responsibility for my behaviour, but I also want to hold up a sign and say STOP… my response was unacceptable, damaging, and frightening for those closest to me… but why was nobody around me asking me what happened? What hurts? Why are you in so much pain that you are lashing out in this way?

This is the stigma that needs to end the most.

We talk about ending stigma surrounding mental illness on a regular basis. Depression and anxiety, bipolar, even borderline personality disorder is becoming an okay topic to discuss… as long as we are discussing the disorders themselves and not the experiences that have led to these imbalances in our heads.

I want to clarify for a moment, that I do not blame my husband for my mental illness or even for my choices to stay in the relationship as long as I have… blame is suffocating and harmful, not at all conducive to healing. However, I am learning that our experiences do shape us and mould us into who we become and those experiences NEED to be shared, spoken about, and brought out of the darkness - so that we are not struggling alone.

So often, we don’t want to discuss those horrible things that make people squirm. We don’t want to see them cast their eyes downwards, or walk away, or tell us we’ve had enough time and should be over the pain. Never heard, the pain eats us, until it manifests in other ways. Addiction. Mental illness. Suicide. These are not the problem. These are the symptoms. And until we’re comfortable talking about the physical and/or sexual abuse that little Mikey faced as a child, we’ll never really be able to help him get out of the cycle of addiction or understand why he wants to escape the pain in the first place. If we never get comfortable speaking about the pain of infidelity, betrayal, and emotional and mental manipulation, we will never understand why Suzie decided to just give up and slice her wrists open… believing that she isn’t worth the effort, and that her pain is not that bad... and of course her fault for choosing to stay. And if we never talk about the constant bullying, and the shitty home life that little Billy lives with, we’ll never be able to fully empathize with his never-ending cycle of in-and-out from the psych ward and his inability to function within society.

This year, I made a commitment to speak openly and with authenticity about the struggles that I face… and up until now, I’ve been lying to you.

Because up until now, I took on the entirety of blame and the excuses… I hid the nitty-gritty, mostly out of fear. I didn’t want to embarrass my husband or ruin his life (I still don’t.), and I didn’t want to hurt those who hurt me, or seem like I was using the past as blame for our current situation. I didn't want the truth to get out as much as anyone else; I already felt like I had to hide my face.

I was conditioned to believe that I didn’t have the right to share my story out of guilt, shame, embarrassment, and fear.

Today I walk a very different journey than ten months ago. Working to heal myself has been my priority, but it looks different now that my shell has crumbled and I see a bigger image around me.

Infidelity, and the betrayal that surrounded it within my life, and on my particular journey… played a major role in my mental health issues, both my actions and my reactions… and while I’m working on changing the familiar brain patterns; to an extent, it still does affect me, and it probably will for a while. And that’s not just okay… it’s normal.  

Ten months ago. I was afraid to say that. I believed that I always had to add in a stipulation. ‘Infidelity affected me… but only because I _________.’ or 'Infidelity affected me, but it was my fault for choosing to stay.'

Today I’m ending the stigma. I’m not wallowing in self-pity, and I’m not living in the past or in blame. Today I am reaching out to tell you that you are not alone. It’s okay to talk about it. It’s okay to cry about it. It’s okay to not understand it at all, and to feel alone and terrified and confused. It’s okay to not talk about it, but it’s also okay to reach out. To let someone in. It's okay to not trust yourself. It's okay to feel confused. It's okay to feel nothing at all. It's okay to take your time. 

Today I’m talking about the damage that infidelity caused in my life... and I will continue to talk about the recovery process along my journey. 

Because life is messy. It's never linear. And it's rarely simple.

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