In the weeks following utter betrayal I did what every discarded, blindsided, soon to be ex-wife does. I thought I wasn’t enough for him:
I wasn’t sexy enough, I wasn’t thin enough, I wasn’t organized enough, I wasn’t fashionable enough, I wasn’t quiet enough, I didn’t buy into conventional beauty the way he wanted me to- I wasn’t arm candy. Maybe if I was thinner, prettier, wore more make up, did my hair differently, didn’t have so many opinions…. maybe it wouldn’t have come to this.
My therapist worked diligently with me. She said there would come a point where the reality would snap into place…. that it had nothing to do with me. Everything was to do with him. I didn’t believe her, I told her I didn’t believe her. I didn’t trust that she could possibly understand the trauma I felt due to his total betrayal. I told her that. My poor therapist. I haven’t pulled punches or filtered out anything. Sometimes I feel badly for her.
Roughly 8 or 9 weeks into this process of recovery, the snap was almost audible.
After a horrid phone call with him, and deciding to only communicate in writing with witnesses to see what I was dealing with; I went to sleep mad as hell. How could he say he was fixing things, but then show no remorse? How could he think it’s ok to be so mean to me… He’s the one that ruined everything! He should be accountable! Such a hypocrite.
In the morning I woke up with energy for the first time in what seemed like forever. As I climbed out of the shower, where I solve all world problems and nobody knows, there was a snap in my mind. It seemed to echo in my head. Like a joint popping, it was almost audible- filling the bathroom space up with sound.
I am not the “problem”. It wasn’t that I wasn’t enough! I was too much! He’s actually the problem. I am not the weak one, he has intense issues that were transferred or projected onto me. He made them my burden, but they weren’t! Those are ALL his issues. Several affirmations flew through my head all at once:
I’m 40 years old, have four kids, wear a size 4…. I have a hot mom body. I’m rocking my bikinis!
I’m as fashionable as I need to be, I’m confident in my clothing. I have my own style, and from that comes intense beauty. He just can’t possibly comprehend.
I don’t wear masks or use filters. I’m unpredictable. Difficult to control, so he had to cut me down.
I’m reasonably intelligent, resourceful, and highly capable. I don’t actually need him to survive. That scares him.
I’m opinionated, strong willed, and outspoken. I wouldn’t bow down, and that frustrated him.
I’m everything I need to be, and if he had been “the one” he would have appreciated and fostered growth in my ability and talents.
He’s simply not for me. He’s all wrong.
By the time I was dressed for the day I felt my badassery starting to return from wherever I’d stored it away. It became clear that I should never store it away or hide it from myself again.
I am who I am, and that’s more than enough. For some it’s too much. I’ll advocate for myself, speak for myself, and act for myself. I don’t need anybody else to live my life and succeed.
Although I think my therapist is amazing, I hated to admit that she was right. I didn’t create this. It’s not my fault. My truth is strong. She deserves props for putting up with me, unfiltered and mask free, for moths. She was right!
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