Let’s start at the very beginning.
A very good place to start!
When you read you begin with… ‘A, B, C’
When you cheat you begin with… ‘Me, Me, Me’
I don’t know where to begin telling this story. The beginning of the event is rarely the real beginning, as the seeds are usually sown many years before, as hindsight would reveal. I would need to go way, way back in order for any of it to make sense, although sense is not really a word that can be applied to much of the story.
I am reluctant to reveal too much, and I will explain why. My life, when looked at as a whole, has been rather eventful to say the least. So much so that you would probably raise your eyebrows and doubt the credibility of my story. It has been a struggle, littered with traumas and tragedies but at the same time I would hate to give the impression that there have never been any good points. There have been many and I am truly grateful. It’s just that sometimes, I look at my life, and I look at the lives of others, and I can’t help but ask ‘Why? Why me?’. I know it is futile to wonder, and harmful to compare, but that’s just human nature. The uniqueness of my story would make it very easy for someone to identify me, even if they only knew of me. I live in a small village, where everybody knows your business and while I am not particularly interested in village gossip, I really don’t want my kids to become the victim of it.
I want to share my story, I NEED to. But…I am unsure how to do so authentically in an anonymous way. I could omit some details, but that would obscure the bigger picture. I’ve even thought of writing it as fiction, but that would reach a bigger audience and almost certainly give me away!
Infidelity is a lonely, isolated place filled with anxiety and paranoia. While I’m sat here worrying about whether that mum with the two girls from down the street is going to stumble upon my blog and find out my secrets, I have to remind myself that if she is searching for infidelity blogs on the internet, she is likely going through the same thing herself. We assume we are alone, and that fills us with shame. What did we do wrong? What is wrong with us? Of course we are not alone, but people don’t talk about it. The mums at the school gates can seem like a den of vipers sometimes, as I have learned the hard way, and I have found bullying much more prevalent among the mums than the children. Fortunately my children have outgrown the village school and I don’t have to deal with the school gates anymore, but we still live among these people. While I figure out how best to tell the story I will just say this…
Four years ago, I discovered my husband was having an affair with a woman he worked with. You know, just typing that out has made my stomach flip and I can feel butterflies. I feel despondency creeping in again as I face the prospect that I just might never heal from it. But I digress…the affair had been going on for about 9-10 months but had probably been an emotional affair for 6 months longer.