The truth and clarity of the article linked below remind me, as so many other sources do, that I’ve chosen to live with lies rather than leave my husband:
The lie isn’t his. The lie is mine … living as if I’m fine now with the fact he had an emotional affair. I’m not over it, though. It’s just part of the past, still living with me.
Living with the fact of his affair means living with the fact he was so angry and resentful of me (I was clinically depressed and very irritable and withdrawn) that he chose to have an emotional affair with an old girlfriend, rather than have the balls to talk with me.
I *know* I’m wrong in making the choice to stay with him. But I do not seem to have the backbone to leave my familiar life. I don’t want to go through the pain of missing him. The fact that I would be missing a man who demonstrated low character doesn’t escape me, either.
Even my last therapist told me to get over it and just enjoy my husband, who is now trying to please me, but he was wrong. (Fuck that therapist, by the way.)
And yet I still enjoy my life with my husband now, for the most part, despite the memories and the knowledge that he’s still the same guy who opted to hurt me so badly and could do so again.
WTF is the matter with me.