It felt as though as I was watching my life from outside my body. My brain was imploding with volcanic anger and relentless sadness. I was obsessed by questions so rampant I could think of little else. I did retain a small part of grey matter in there that was humming along, planning what I would do next. Gotta have a plan. It's my job to fix the mess. If I don't do it, who will? I could handle that teensy function of my cerebral activity. The rest of the psychological meltdown was completely foreign to me.
I was puppet-like. Somebody else was pulling my strings. I couldn't have been running my own life. I hadn't the foggiest notion of how in the hell I was able to get up, have sex, get dressed, get the kids to school and then head to work. My time was completely taken up by thoughts of Richard doing Jaymie on the floor of his office. How could I find time to go to the grocery store and cook dinner? My imagination was sucking the life outta me. But, on I went, hour by hour, day by day, I took tiny steps toward normality. Not truly believing, but going through the motions as if, with the Lovely Dr. K as our head coach, our new found fervent love for each other would save our marriage in no time at all!
Body and mind were not a cohesive unit! Are you getting that disconnect? How do I explain Post Traumatic Stress? My mind could not absorb something it was so unprepared for. How can you comprehend something that your mind NEVER even considered possible previously? I was the most trusting wife on the planet! I never questioned where Richard was or who he was with or what time he'd be coming home. He works with all women on his staff. I used to call them his harem. He works for women in crisis, in the middle of divorce or child custody battles. He is their knight. Not once, in 30 years, did I contemplate he would cross over to the dark side.
Sometimes I wonder if I hadn't had so much faith in the character of my husband, would I have suffered quite so much? If the thought of him commiting this crime against our marriage had been considered before, I might have enjoyed a softer landing than the drop off a cliff I had endured. I don't think I'll ever be able to trust anyone ever again, not with the unconditional confidence I had in Richard. He always loved that about me. He would brag to friends how I never whined about him going out, even to strip clubs. I knew he'd come home. I knew he loved me, so why be jealous?? My response to my friends that questioned my certainty in the faithfulness of my man, "If he cheats on me, he doesn't really love me. So, why in the hell would I want him anyway?" I was as serious as a heart attack, but now we know....Such bombastic rhetoric! Total horse-pucky! The loss of trust feels like a very important part of me, the me I was most proud of, will be dormant forever, if not Dead on Arrival.
Meetings with Dr. K were becoming less frequent and, I thought, less productive. How long can you kick the same damn dead horse? After a month, that stinky thing needs to be six feet under! I thought a month was plenty-o-time to figure out WHY, in the name of the Good Lord, my husband decided to bang a co-ed.
I had been asking the same question for weeks, "WHY?" I think Richard tried to answer, but he didn't try very hard. He didn't strain himself looking into WHY he was a cheating, lying, selfish bastard. The reasons he attempted to relate were so insignificant. So irrelevant. He felt like he loved me more than I loved him. He didn't think I'd ever find out, so it wouldn't matter. And, as I've mentioned before, he felt he deserved it.
I was over it. Time to shake it off. WHY keep asking the same thing over and over at $140 an hour!? I secretly hoped there would be an answer to WHY, some miracle phrase or idea that would help me find some measure of closure. Richard still went to see Dr. K. She wanted him to focus on WHY he did what he did, so he'd never do it again. I surely appreciated her forethought in that regard.
Truth is, I didn't know the truth yet. I wasn't anywhere near done. The coaster was just getting refueled and the wheels had been greased but good. You've probably heard the saying, "God only gives you what you can handle." When I learned the truth, I thought He had mistaken me for someone MUCH stronger.