Survivors Blog: 

Chase

"Send Lawyers, Guns, and Money, the $#!* has Hit the Fan" Warren Zevon As a Christian, I always understood marriage to be a biblical union of two people, a part of God's plan for companionship as first illustrated in the Garden of Eden. Common text book definitions note a union of two people or a combination of two or more elements. While its roots are biblical, our society recognizes it as an institution, inherent with legal rights and responsibilities. As we all know, healing and reconciliation in this arena takes significant time and work. The problem is, the legal system we use to institutionalize marriage does not give incentive to allow time to "wait and see." While I have great appreciation for the request of AR early on in recovery to commit to giving the "stay or go" decision time, as an attorney I was often overwhelmed by the fact that my legal position in a divorce was at its best in the moment of discovery. In short, my ability to use adultery as a defense to claims of spousal support or character issues in custody diminished with each day I allowed to pass after discovery. Having sex with my wife could be seen as reconciliation by some courts. While I wanted to believe we might have a future, I couldn't "un-know" what I knew to be true as an attorney any more than I could undo the fact we were facing this destruction. About eight months into recovery my wife finally began to show an attitude of being "all in." She became truly committed to her own healing and was showing me she was willing to do whatever she could to salvage what was left of our marriage. While I was already deep in my individual work towards healing me, this seemed like the beginning of the journey towards healing us. I want to be clear, I always wanted to see "us" work. I've never wanted a divorce. In many ways, discovering her affair felt more like finding her passed out intoxicated by a dumpster than being jilted by another lover. She was sick and in need of help, and I knew there was so much more to her than her actions were showing. However, with my marriage pushed towards the literal edge of a cliff, it would have been irresponsible to not have done what I could to protect myself and my child's own safety and future well-being. In hopes of encouraging me to give it time, my wife was full of promises of how we would amicably divide assets and not seek any support if I decided to end the marriage. At that time, I did not know much with certainty. What I did know is she had been capable of going to great lengths to lie to me, for a long time, even when I thought that was not possible. Being an attorney, I knew there was great risk in giving the future of our marriage "time." These fears were exacerbated by the fact poverty was a real issue for me as a child, and the threat of losing what wealth I had accumulated worked strongly against efforts to build hope. Countless times I have seen people disappointed in my office when their understanding of someone else's promises and intentions did not pan out. While I appreciated her commitments to me to be "fair" and equitable if we split, I also knew the worst in people often comes out when they start worrying about how to pay the light bill. The real possibility of divorce meant her gloves could come off at any time, and I was tired of feeling naïve and exploited. I practice law in a small area in the south. While I knew a family law attorney I often referred clients to with success, the idea of calling her and revealing all my personal dysfunction was… well… humiliating to say the least. I truly thank God, I had the strength to swallow my pride in that moment and make the call. Now that I am over two years out, I can look back and see that decision was instrumental in giving me the space I needed to give my marriage a real chance. As we all know, fear will lie and distort your ability to act rationally. Marriage is seen by the eyes of the law as a contract, and as such there are certain inherent rights and obligations to anyone who enters. These rights are complicated and difficult to navigate, especially while trying to make room to be emotionally vulnerable to reconciliation. Some states consider adultery in determining matters of support or custody, some do not. Some judges interpret laws differently within a single jurisdiction. If I want to try separation should I leave or kick her out? The decision could affect my ability to seek custody, to keep a house, or other assets. The point is rules vary greatly and many of the decisions we face have lasting consequences, whether we realize it at the time or not. My state is one that honors the enforcement of post nuptial agreements. As a result, my wife and I were able to come to terms for dividing our lives if we ended up divorcing. No longer did I feel the stress of losing the grounds of adultery, should this attempt at reconciliation not work. This helped give me the ability to open up vulnerably to the idea of submitting myself again emotionally to my wife. I think it also fully opened my wife's eyes to all the security she had given up by her actions. Saying you understand is one thing, signing an enforceable contract expressing your understanding is another altogether. The law inherently affords you rights to your marriage so why not tailor those rights to your specific circumstances. Just as I do not think I could've successfully navigated a path to emotional healing without good therapists, my rights could not have been fully protected while trying to recover without the help of good legal counsel. As an attorney, I was lucky to have had the professional experience with colleagues to know who was best to consult. I know this is not so simple for others. Right after discovery, my wife and I sought counseling for the first time in our marriage. We bounced through several incompetent and incapable counselors before finally landing on good resources. It took time and money. I am afraid finding a lawyer can often be similar. However, the confidence of truly understanding your circumstances is worth the investment. When dealing with infidelity, emotions are high; and clear, rational thinking is hard to come by. In this environment, you are drilled with many decisions that will have lasting and generational effects. While the expense of retaining counsel may seem high, the expense of rashly giving up rights can be incalculable.

Two years ago, I had my first d day. Wow, how my life has changed since. I find myself fighting darkness again lately. Perhaps it's the anniversary, perhaps its fatigue, perhaps it's a little bit of a lot of things… so I write to clear my head. This blog is simply the ramblings of a betrayed man in the weeds. We recently moved. Some events in my working life late last year instigated a domino effect that resulted in my professional world scaling down in a good way. My wife and I made the decision to move from a very large house we had lived in for over a decade into one half its size. The home in which we raised our children, lived what I thought was a dream marriage, then experienced its fall, is no longer where I rest my head at night. The way these events fell into place really made this transition feel like a God sent opportunity to hit the reset button, simplify life, and truly begin to focus on starting over. I have spent the last several months throwing away the old, and buying new. Parts have been redeeming, and parts have dug up old painful bones. As the smoke settles, I think I am beginning to see a glimpse of my new reality. It has its perks, but it definitely ain't all rosy. This truly is a daily struggle, even now... While I suspect it will get easier with time, I am beginning to accept that the effects of my wife's betrayal are lasting and, to some degree, will linger a lifetime. A few months ago, I wrote about how I had come to the decision to stay. I had hoped making this commitment would help push me through some of my lingering doubt and move me into a more present future. The opposite has been true. While my wife continues well over a year of consistent empathy, remorse, and newfound humility, I find myself feeling trapped... She feels grateful... I feel stuck... You see, the old me, the confident guy who sought out impossible challenges, thrived on achievement, ambition, and success would've been so judgmental of the new me... this guy who is choosing to be married to a woman that so easily dismissed and mocked him. I am still struggling to accept that some professional opportunities, political aspirations, and future plans may no longer be in my best interest as the threat of exposure and the damage it could bring my children is too great. I have spent the last 2 years feeling the daily pain of contemplating my wife having sex with other men and I'm tired. Don't get me wrong, the programs and therapy work. EMDR has been a powerful tool and the triggers are much more tolerable and manageable. But the reality is, in all my group work and the many relationships that I've developed with betrayed men on a similar journey over the last 2 years, I am yet to meet one who has stayed with his unfaithful wife and no longer triggers at some level during sex – and some of these men have been more than a decade out from discovery. I have had highly qualified, well intentioned counselors tell me these men exist, yet none have been able to introduce me to one. The consequences of the selfish and immature acts of infidelity are still constantly evident... at times even overwhelming... even now, after years of constant work. Through this process I have developed friendships with a number of betrayed men on similar journeys. One group of these men communicates often and recently the conversation turned to the loss of the feeling of a special bond with our wives and the loss of that "loving feeling" we all seem to experience. I value this group's thoughts greatly. Many are much further down the road than I. It left me thinking, I am not even sure I know what love "feels" like anymore. My new perspective is love is a choice, not a feeling, but I do miss the desire to pursue her. I have chosen to act in her best interest by staying to raise our children, providing financial and emotional support, therapy resources, protecting her as best I can from exposure caused by her humiliating acts, even when her actions practically destroyed me. At times, I am attracted and aroused by her, at times I am repulsed and pity her, at times it all mixes together simultaneously and leaves me withdrawn, broken, or angry. Once again "feelings" prove fickle and unreliable. One of the members of the group who is often wise in his insight noted trust had to rebuild to a high level before the desire to pursue her returned in earnest. I like that thought and perhaps that is in my future.... While there are resources to help, nothing can erase reality, it can only be accepted. I have to learn to live with being misunderstood by many I consider friends. My choice lies in perspective, but the positive choice, the one that draws me closer to His purpose for my life, is not always easily ascertained... nor swallowed and believed.... So, what is the point? Why tolerate it all? Truth is I do not have a choice. While I am sure my newly recovered wife, free of the bondage of all her secrets, could easily find a new relationship without all this baggage and likely enjoy more uninhibited admiration and desire from another man, I will carry the struggle of overcoming being defined by this forever. If I am to survive, then I have to keep facing the darkness head on, and refuse to succumb to the temptation to try and sweep it away. I am not sure of much these days, but I am certain that complacency will breed the self-contempt shame needs to overcome me. I'm tired but I know I cannot stop. Shame is powerful. It cannot be easily dismissed. It is demanding and impatient. It lies and manipulates and can squelch joy in an instant.... But it isn't real... it isn't authentic... and somewhere deep down in all this darkness I will find the power inside me to truly put it in its place. To that end I patiently aspire. Meanwhile, looks like my counselor has a cancelation tomorrow... so I press on....

As a real estate and small business attorney, I have always been drawn to the processes that emerge during real estate and business deals. Emotions run high at the hope of future opportunity in the early stages. As particulars are investigated, uncertainties become clearer and some risks become calculable. There is always a gap between what is known and what can only be projected. Ultimately, the constraints of resources and time merge to force a decision. It is in that moment that instincts prevail and the process becomes poetic. It is also in that moment that the uneasy feelings of uncertainty rise and the warm sense of hope and safety take a back seat. Much like standing on the edge of a cliff and looking over, the greater the stakes, the greater the "pucker factor." Lately, I find myself in that spot in my marriage. I am a little over 20 months out from D-day. My wife and I have committed ourselves to tons of work through various resources. She is leading her 4th Hope for Healing Class, I've completed a couple of my own classes, we attended EMS Weekend, as well as countless hours of individual therapy for me, her, and our children. Early on, I grasped onto the promise of an opportunity for a "better marriage." Somewhere in the process I allowed myself to interpret that idea as hope for transformation in a way that erased the pain of the infidelity and reversed the clock back to a place in my marriage where the hurts from being betrayed no longer clouded my views of my wife and marriage. Now, I see that was really fantasy. A better marriage is not one that "feels" better. If I have learned anything, it is that feelings are fickle and unreliable. They can indicate all kinds of things both real and imagined. They can enhance a moment or crush a spirit. They can entice, and they can lie. I accept that I am forever changed by this process; vulnerability and trust are not as easy. I still trigger at times and experience that empty panic that my perspective of security may not be real. I carry shame for being here, trying to find a way to make this work. However, these times are becoming much more infrequent, and my perspective on His truth shines through this darkness, when I give it space to. I understand what has happened to me, I believe my wife when she tells me she is also disgusted by the person she had become during her affairs and has no desire to be that person again. My individual work has allowed me to see my codependence and begin to carry a confidence defined by how God sees me, instead of the world around me. I am comfortable that I am capable of experiencing a good life whether I stay married or not. I have worked through forgiveness, am continuing the journey of acceptance, and have reached a point where I've realized how sitting on the fence not only holds me back, but others around me who I hold dear. My daughters need stability from their parents. My grandchild needs me engaged. My work has a chance to prosper again if I return my focus to it. And my wife and I need to be grounded in what we believe. Immediately following discovery, I chose to love my wife by providing whatever resources I could to assist her in healing individually. Over time she fully submerged herself in the process. Obviously, we are both still broken people in a fallen world. That will never change. What has changed is our perspective of who we are, what we want to be, and how better to pursue those intentions. I am willing to take the leap of faith needed to trust my understanding that this shared perspective is true and reliable, but it is not without effort. I am willing to once again take a risk on her and see what a life in marriage, after so much work by us both, may be like. It will truly be unique, and certainly more authentic, than what we previously had. So . . . I guess what I am trying to say is "I'm in. . . I'm staying." Those words are hard to write. This doesn't necessarily feel "good," but it feels right. I am still deeply disappointed to be here. I want to admire and respect my wife as I once did, but my eyes are now open to just how self-absorbed and hurtful she can be. I fight the shame of being betrayed, but I realize this fight will likely follow me regardless of my future path. Early on I fantasized this moment would be filled with celebration, perhaps new vows and another honeymoon. Now that it is here, I can only describe it as somber and sobering. It is an authentic perspective on just how fragile the things we should value most in this world really are. The old marriage was one I took for granted and often used to fill in my weak spots. I now see this marriage as an opportunity to grow, to come closer to His will for my life. I hope my wife will continue to share in a commitment to the same intentions and that we both use this experience as a catalyst to wisdom, authenticity, and a greater purpose in our life. In that regard, I do hope for a "better" marriage. I sense she will join me in this commitment but. . . nothing is certain. . . Is this as good as it gets or is it simply where we are now? Regardless of my future path, there will be times of joy and pain, support and hurt. My hope is that my marriage now will be one valued and respected for its fragility. That we both seek to guard against the influence of friends and family who have proven toxic in the past. That we seek to understand each other instead of being understood. That we never forget that love is our individual choice. It is one of the few things in our lives we truly have control over. I'm sure it will "feel" great at times, just as I'm sure it will not as well. In the end, perhaps this will be a union of two broken people. That journey through infidelity is but one of the many tools that brought us slowly into His path. Perhaps our transformation through this process may even serve as some small witness for a few bystanders of just how incredibly God can use pain for His good. I have come to a point where I want to see what is on the other side of the door but cannot do so unless I open it. A true marriage, one worthy of desiring, requires commitment from both parties. There is no way to safely experience this goal from the sidelines. She has not only told me, but shown me repeatedly she wants to humble herself to do whatever she can to never be that person again and to help me heal. Occasionally, she has asked what recommitment would mean to me if I chose that path. It has been hard to answer as it was simply something I never thought I'd contemplate – it simply shouldn't be a part of marriage. But for us it is and we have to make the most of the hand we have been dealt.

Acceptance, The last stage of grief or the beginning of the true journey? I've had the urge to write this blog for some time, but I keep finding myself putting it off. I know it will take some effort and may not flow as easily as some of the earlier ones. This process started for me when I heard a well-known quote from the famous philosopher, Soren Kierkegaard: "Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forward." I have a cousin that is an avid skier and spends half the year living the dream in a resort town in Colorado. We have a lot in common in many good (and some not so good) ways. While she is adventurous and a loving mentor to me, she can also be obsessively driven and hypercompetitive. I love to ski, but seeing as I spend most of my year near sea level, I only get to do it a handful of days in a season. Years ago, she played into our kindred spirit when she confronted me with the declaration she was tired of having to dumb down her skiing when I visited; we were going to the extreme slopes. We have skied together for years, and she knew I could safely handle what she was proposing. I, on the other hand, wasn't so sure and was comfortable in my usual routine. As she forced me towards the lift to "no man's land" she yelled back through a laugh, "Do you really want to go home a wimp?" As I followed her down the run, I quickly learned the skill of finding simpler lines when the conditions started to feel overwhelming. The trick was to focus on the terrain I knew I could handle and block out the hazards that seemed too dangerous. Fear lost its grip and exhilaration took its place. Looking back, I see how that experience changed my perspective on skiing forever. You see those slopes, the ones labeled "out of bounds" or "extreme". . . the ones only accessible by small lifts or Cats, offer views and experiences that feel worlds away from the commercial bustle below. Skiing became a true escape into the wilderness, not just an activity. It was a liberating step, and I needed a push to get there. In many ways my journey through recovery seems to parallel this experience. It has been a long one. I've lost count of the books and hours of counseling. Weekly group calls now seem as natural as showing up at my office each weekday morning. However, it also feels like it has just begun. The process has transformed me individually in ways I longed for far before the discovery of my wife's infidelity. I find myself with a new self-awareness, a better understanding of God's purpose, a greater appreciation for healthy relationships. The taste of authenticity and the calm confidence of true purpose is sweet. For the first time, I find myself truly contemplating with wonder. . . dare I say excitement. . . what could be up ahead? This point feels like a transition. This point feels like. . . acceptance. While I acknowledge that recovery from the dysfunctions, pains, and transgressions of this world is a life long journey, I now realize that grieving my wife's indiscretions is not. At times, I have tried to push to get to this point, only to find it slipping further away. Grieving is an ambiguous process that has to take its own time and form. I see that now. Only when I immersed myself in the process completely, quit trying to control it, and applied the principals learned through all the hours of study and counseling with patience and without expectation, did this clarity emerge. My acceptance is not of what was negatively done to me by another, but the condition and state of my own life. My acceptance is realizing that I am not above having to face this indiscretion, and that I can grow from how I choose to experience it. My acceptance is a new found understanding of my own strengths, and how better to protect them from my own dysfunctions and unhealthy ways. My acceptance is in the fallen world we live in, and understanding my place in it is only temporary. My acceptance is peace. So why the hesitation? I think I have come to realize my acceptance is also a release of the crutch of grief, the role of a victim. By no means am I suggesting anyone rush to get here. It has come in its own due time, but I have been noticing for a while now that allowing myself to wallow in the pain feels more like a tether than a new discovery. There comes a point when hanging on simply keeps me looking towards the past when there is so much of the mountain in front of me that I have yet to experience. God wastes nothing. Do I really want to have gone through all this work. . . to have fully faced arguably the greatest relational pain known to mankind. . . to not fully experience His rewards for enduring it? While I am sure I will have to reread these words for a time to come, I am also sure the need for the reminders will fade as I turn to present day opportunities and experiences with a new-found awareness. . . and peace. This will undoubtedly not be the end to the pain, but an understanding that the tools I've learned will guide me towards a safe line when all seems overwhelming. A choice to allow the wound to begin to scar. . . a scar that will not only remind me of the pain, but also the growth of His will and intentions.

Oh the anger . . . The visceral experience of being betrayed has triggered thoughts that consume my mind yet again. I haven't slept more than three hours straight in many months and the Benadryl I regularly take just leaves me feeling groggy. I only have two hours before I have to be in front of the first of many demanding clients today. My efforts to make it through the motions of my morning have been interrupted by my teenage daughter's demands. She desperately wants me to accommodate her schedule in order to have time with friends this afternoon. I tell her it's not going to work today. As the demand relentlessly continues, I blow a gasket . . . An intolerable feeling of pressure rises up in my stomach. Negative emotions of frustration build and finally give way to rage. I try not to speak but I can't help myself . . . so I yell . . . belligerently. I hate myself in this space. Is this what I've become? A hare trigger waiting to be bumped- stimulating fear in those I want close to me? I wallow in pity as I'm consumed with what this affair has done to me. I found myself in these situations over and over after D-day. The smallest thing would set me off and I would spiral into a space of self-loathing. Finally, I decided to face this demon head on. The truth is my anger has been unhealthy for much of my adult life. Infidelity, like it or not, definitely shines a beaming light on any negative traits or coping skills whether you're the betrayed or unfaithful. It took me a while to realize that my wife's infidelity caused me pain, but it did not create dysfunction in me. You see, that was already there. Who knew? Turns out I'm imperfect as well. Anger is an odd emotion in that it's not just a feeling but it creates such a discomfort it motivates action. It can drive me to seek justice and truth, or, in its darkest state, can drive me to destroy. As I've wrestled with this power, I have come to understand it in two parts: the feeling and the reaction. The feeling is intense. It creates anxiety and pressure in my stomach that causes my mind to focus on a hurt or injustice in my life. At its core, it is fed by my fears. It can be intense, frustrating, and deactivate my ability to think rationally at times. This part can come out of nowhere, and without any anticipation or intention by me. This part I cannot control, I can only accept. On the other hand, my reaction is completely within my power to manage. I've discovered that it's not the experience of feeling anger that leads to lingering negative consequences but rather how I choose to respond to the anger. When I acknowledge my circumstances and give myself space to experience the discomfort without verbally or physically responding, my dignity is left intact and my perspective returns without harm to my self-esteem or others. It is only when I try to transfer the pain of the emotion that I am left with regret. This seems elementary to write but I have found simple awareness is extraordinarily powerful in confronting and overcoming dysfunction. Infidelity stimulated anger in an intensity I had never felt before. I suspect I am not alone in that regard. When you feel it rising up, I hope you too can acknowledge it and find your own perspective to help keep your self-esteem in check, as it will pass again . . . it always does.

During college, I had five very close friends. After graduating, we all moved off to separate parts of the country and began to conquer our small piece of the world. As time went on, somehow, we all wound up marrying women that got along with one another. A few summers later, we all rented a beach house together for a week just to reunite. The trip was such a success it turned into an annual ritual. One we have all kept sacred for over a decade. The first night of our yearly reunions we would gather on the beach to catch up on the prior year. Conversation would go late into the night and often into early morning. The drinks flowed freely, and the time was redeeming. Over time, the houses grew grander and, as the dragons we slay in our professional lives became more significant, the experience became more polished. The cheap whiskey turned to fine bourbons and scotch. Life was good and these friends were a true blessing. Our lives were ones to admire. These guys truly knew who I was. They had my back. Six years ago this all changed. We all arrived to spend the first night consoling my friend John. He had discovered his wife was having an affair. We couldn't believe she'd do such a thing. They were trying to work it out, but she seemed so wild, self-consumed, and out of hand. John spent two years trying counseling and working desperately to find a way to save his marriage. His wife continued the patterns of lies and deceit. She'd declare her commitment to her family, only to be unfaithful again. Finally, he felt things had stabilized-- perhaps counseling was working. He invested a large part of an inheritance in what she described as her dream house. Unfortunately, not too long after John found a secret phone and once again faced the discovery of another betrayal. My heart truly hurt for John, but man I was glad I had a wife that would never do that to me. . . I wanted to be a good friend to him as best I knew how. Even though I lived states away, I'd talk frequently with him as he went through a highly contested divorce. I continued years of regular conversation with him as issues of custody of his three children and support were litigated. . . then re-litigated. I always admired how John handled himself. He sought counseling for himself and his children as he was able, despite constantly facing irrational and hostile responses from the woman that previously had befriended us all. It was truly baffling. Over time he seemed to rise up, his character grew, and the strength in his sense of self became truly inspiring. Looking back now, through the lens of my own experience being betrayed, I see clearly that I had no idea of the intensity of what John was experiencing. I am thankful I had the empathy to know to be consistent and supportive, but my comprehension of his pain was just not possible. I remember thinking if only he could just meet a nice woman, all would be well. . . Years later I found myself in a similar boat with the discovery of all that my marriage had in common with John's former one. My law practice had grown into a fairly public profession in our small rural part of the world. I was devastated by the betrayal of my wife yet consumed with trying to keep a lid on it, making sure no exterior cracks showed in my façade. I was more isolated than I ever knew possible yet constantly surrounded by friends and colleagues that had otherwise known me for years. I was convinced no one could know - they just wouldn't understand and I'd be ruined. One of the few fortunate parts of the intensity of the pain was its overwhelming and debilitating ability to humble me into realizing I couldn't do this alone. I found my way to competent professional help within a couple months, but still did not share this with any of my friends. Overtime, I began to see the truth through the lies the negative voices in my head had been spewing. Lies that had somehow convinced me I was defined by my wife's destructive behaviors. I developed a few new meaningful relationships with people walking a similar path through recovery. However, I still longed to be known by those that had always known me best. Finally, after a year into my recovery journey I saw John for the gift he was, and told him my story. He was floored, just as I was when he first told me of his wife's infidelity years earlier. He shared with me more details of his struggle, and I explained the resources I had found. Now he is the one calling me daily, even when I can't bring myself to return his calls. You see, I saw myself as helping him all those years earlier, but in hindsight, he was actually preparing me for an upcoming battle. I had seen him face the demons and now be able to stand as a healthy father. Although his marriage went down in flames and his former wife still does not take responsibility for the destruction caused by her transgressions, John has refused to become bitter. He has grown extremely involved with his children, and now serves as the common source of updates among the original beach crew from years earlier. At John's insistence, my family and his returned to the beach this past summer where he made sure my wife knew things would not be awkward between them. He was a living example that I could survive. He will no doubt laugh out loud when he reads this particular sentence, but this perspective made me realize God uses imperfect people in perfect ways. . . John is a true living angel to me. As I grow, and acceptance and authenticity lend me their strength, it comforts me to see just how readily God can use such dark experience. Clearly, God was using John's walk as a testimony for me before my friend even knew what was going to become of him. We simply have no idea how or when He may already be using our struggles for good, even when all hope seems gone. When darkness seems to be all there is or will ever be, who knows. . . maybe God is already casting light from your experience. Just maybe, you too are a living angel.

"Should I stay or should I go? If I go, there will be trouble. If I stay, it will be double . . ." ~The Clash I am a child of schoolhouse rock, a product of the age in which skate parks were invented, parachute pants were high fashion, and most of the girls I wanted to date had big hair and blue eye shadow. Lucky for me I made one of those beauties my wife. Rebellion for her in our southern catholic high school (yes, I see the irony . . . especially considering we were both protestant) was wearing too many rings which violated dress code. Wow - how did things escalate so wildly into the destructive behaviors of late? With a wife willing to try to save the marriage, the biggest question post d-day quickly became: should I stay, or should I go? I'm thankful that early in my journey I was told I was not healthy enough to make such a life altering decision. My mind was telling me to forgive and forget, find a way to put this behind me quickly, and just get out of the pain. However, the true healing journey wasn't going to be that simple. After enduring six months of trickle truths, continued lies and cover-ups, and ultimately a polygraph, I finally arrived at ground zero. At that point, I began to comprehend the enormity of what I was truly dealing with but still tried to balance the investment of 22 years of marriage. Fortunately, I decided not to decide for at least another year. I have taken the last 18 months day by day and now believe there just might be a glimmer of light up ahead. My emotional life is stabilizing and my personal journey is showing significant signs of peace and growth. I accept that my old marriage is dead. In fact, thanks to all the work I have done in recovery I now see it for what it was. Frankly there is not much left about it to desire. My prior understanding was simply an inflated illusion and I find much more comfort in my new walk of authenticity. My wife has transformed in ways I never thought possible. The empathy and love she shows me now is a consistent flow of compassion. Her own self-awareness and desire to find out who God made her to be is nothing short of inspiring. Her talents as a teacher have transpired into an effective and empathetic guide for wayward women through regular leadership in Hope for Healing course work. I still love her no doubt. In fact, my choice to love her now is made when there is every reasonable excuse not to. Yet, I still hesitate when I contemplate if I should stay married. Why is that? My individual journey has been one of education and awareness on my own codependent dysfunction. I needed validation from my marriage that caused me to rely on it in unhealthy ways. As I begin to see this personal weakness clearly, it leaves me feeling like I'm sitting on the edge of a huge cliff looking down at the abyss I just climbed out of. While I feel accomplished at the mountain I have climbed, I also feel tired which causes me to wonder if I'm willing to risk having to climb it all over again. I have learned that recovery can be fickle. And I reserve the right to dispute even my own blog in the future as my mind often changes as my perspective grows. But in this moment, I think my question is: can she really change that drastically on a permanent basis? I have never been one to shy away from a challenge. At times this has resulted in remarkable achievement. I was the first in my family to complete college, and this translated into an academic scholarship to law school where I graduated with honors. In my 30s I needed to lose some weight; five years later I ran a full Ironman Triathlon after completing my 4th marathon. The list of large and small personal accomplishments was long, but I continued to find myself empty and feeling unworthy. Only now am I able to see that the flaw in all this was the constant search for something worldly to define me -- the greatest of which was my marriage. By giving my marriage this power, I gave my wife the power to destroy me. So how do I accept that I can only control myself? That I only have the power to implement healthy boundaries when I lean back into a relationship that caused me so much pain and destruction? I am still looking for an answer that satisfies me. But maybe I have some unconquered fear clouding the fact that this question is more about self-reflection. Perhaps the question of whether she can change is hindered by my personal doubt of wondering if anyone can change so drastically. Without accepting the idea that someone is possible of change, how can I believe it is possible in me? It seems that in losing the trust I had in her, I let go of the trust I had in my own instincts and my own ability to risk . . . to love. Regardless of what path I follow in my marriage, trouble is sure to come around again. No doubt, pain will rear its ugly head in some form; this I know is certain. But what has this recovery process transformed me into? When another loss or transgression comes around will I be in a higher place of comprehension and self-awareness? Will she? And will we be stronger facing it together? Stay tuned . . .

I drive a relatively new truck so I found it especially frustrating to pull out of the dealership repair shop only to find my "check engine" light was on. Again. This was the 4th time in a month I had gone back to the same dealership for the same repair. My witty and wise 14-year-old daughter was enjoying my frustration when she asked, "Why do you keep going back to the bad haircut place?" "What?" I replied confused and irritated. In her light but direct way she explained, "You have been back to this dealership again and again, but each time you leave with the same result. If you get a bad haircut, why would you go back to the same place next time expecting a good one?" My original D-day was 8:00 p.m. Thursday, May 4, 2017. It's a night I will always vividly remember. By that point in life my faith had been tested a few times, but never like this. I remember doing what I thought was praying . . . demanding that God do something... immediately. Anything . . . scorched earth, revenge, judgment day on earth, a Zen like peace to wash over me, even death . . . ANYTHING . . . just to get me out of it. In a desperate attempt to regain control of myself I told my wife, "I forgive you" two days after discovery. At the time my rationale was something like: "Okay God, I did the Christian thing and forgave; now You do Your part and relieve me of all this pain." When this didn't work, I responded in anger and frustration and dismissed my faith. I lashed out at others, tried to ignore my circumstances, sought comfort from fine bourbon but nothing worked. Each time I was left empty, I'd circle back to declare my forgiveness yet again and expect the pain to disappear. This became my "bad haircut place." I can now see that the problem wasn't that my efforts were towards the wrong goal, but in the expectation that my declaration of forgiveness should be the end act, and not the beginning of the journey. After all the return trips to the "bad haircut place," I think I'm finally starting to see some clarity. Forgiveness has crystalized as an alternative lens through which to see my day; another option to the inevitable daily darkness of the pain of being betrayed. Therein lies its power. Practically, I needed a long time (about 9 months to be exact) to work through material and counseling in order to gain an understanding of what forgiveness for a transgression as large as infidelity even looked like. Only after gaining this understanding could I really commit myself to the process. For me, this commitment involved writing a letter where I listed every specific loss I had experienced. This letter is over 7 pages and took several months to write. It includes not only obvious losses like the comfort of a faithful wife and the joy of uninhibited sex, but also residual losses like the ability to be known by my closest friends who are not aware of the betrayal. This letter has served as a reference point when the pain resurfaces. Each time I begin to feel pain, I evaluate if I'm going back to a transgression I have already dealt with (a loss on my list) or if it's something new. If it is new then I ask myself a few questions: Has she owned it? Is it something that needs to be discussed? Do I have a role in it that needs to be owned? Depending on the answers, I add it to the list. I've come to realize that forgiveness is simply a commitment to evaluate what I'm doing and whether it's consistent with God's purpose for my life. Though I have forgiven my wife for betraying me, I have to consistently remind myself. The intense pain still surfaces. But for me, forgiveness is not undermined by this fact; rather, it is proven by my response to it. As I read, receive professional help, take classes, continue to understand how I got here, and begin to seriously contemplate a future relationship with my wife, I now crosscheck my actions to see if it they are consistent with my path to be free from being defined by the sins of another.

Around age 10 or 11 they finally allowed us to steal bases in little league. This change transitioned the position of catcher from a simple filler spot that shagged stray pitches into an athletic position that saw action every play. I remember being pulled from the field and given the mitt. Game time came. A few pitches went by and a batter was on first. I found myself constantly distracted by the runner. As I anticipated his steal, the pitch would get by me. After multiple times I could hear the crowd's mumbled voices full of advice. I desperately began trying to apply everything I was hearing. Still, more pitches went by and more runners advanced. My coach finally stepped in and called a timeout. The critical voices in me rose up . . . "You're in over your head" . . . "You can't do this" . . . "You're not good enough". Head hung low, I made my way out to the mound. Believing this was the end of my career as a catcher I tried to take my helmet and pads off. The coach put his hand on my helmet making it impossible to remove while he finished some instruction to the pitcher that I couldn't comprehend. I started mumbling excuses and shuffling the dirt. Finally, he turned to me and said, "Look at me." I couldn't. "Look at me!" His abruptness startled and quieted me. He firmly took my helmet in his hands and forced me to look into his eyes for what felt like an eternity. Once my breathing calmed he simply said, "You got this." We had a great season that year. I worked hard on the position and by late summer found the processes instinctual and natural. Without a second thought I could anticipate the runner's intentions to break for it, the pitch coming at me, and the motion of throwing off my helmet to fire the ball at the baseman's glove to tag the incoming runner. I couldn't hear the crowd, but I could acutely hear my coach's whispers from the dugout. This was the first experience I can recall of truly being "in the zone" and it felt free and effortless. There was no denying I was intoxicated with the experience. It was primal in the way it moved me. After finishing Harboring Hope, I followed the curriculum's suggestion for men to read John Eldridge's book Wild at Heart. I was growing weary of the dozens of infidelity and therapy books I had read and invited the chance to have something else circulate between my ears. Eldridge speaks of how God created every man with an unanswered core question in him, "Do I have what it takes?" This book brought me back to that day on the mound. My coach was speaking to my core when he held my head in his hands and calmed my fears with his firm words. I had what it took. Eldridge explained that God put that question in me so that I would seek Him to answer it. The problem is we obviously live in a fallen world and we are often tempted to seek the answer to our core question through worldly things. For me that fruitless chase exhibited itself through my income, my lifestyle, and even my wife. Somewhere along the way I had gone astray and took my core question to my wife. My wife proved to be an imperfect human, and by allowing her a power over my life that only God should be trusted with, her infidelity wounded me squarely in the center of my soul. Right after D-Day I was overwhelmed with a sense of emasculation. I could hear voices saying: I was not enough; I was unlovable; I was small; I didn't have what it took. I should have been more attentive to her needs. Maybe there was there a retreat I could buy. Maybe an extravagant vacation would show her what a great catch I am! These voices became the large and noisy, an overwhelming crowd in the stands. I see now God was on the sidelines coaching me the whole time. He was coming at me through various resources, one of which being Affair Recovery, but the pain and trauma became loud static, preventing me from hearing His words. Finally in the pages of that book, He grabbed my helmet just before I was able to take it off and firmly said, "Look at me. Look at me." For the first time in my 47-year life, I understood that core question was designed by Him to draw me into His will, into an intimate relationship with Him, and for no other reason. I am told the "therapeutic" word for this struggle is "codependence." This is a core explanation of why we cannot look to others, even our spouse, to define who we are. These worldly sources will always fail us and leave us empty. We cannot act in order to get a response and expect it to feel real. The truth is prayer often leads me to day dreaming. I babble some portion of the Lord's prayer . . . forgive me . . . bless me . . . save the world . . . but it all feels so insincere. I need tangible instruction. But when I simply shut up, clear my mind and allow myself to stare back into His eyes, I am clearly reminded of the simplicity of many scriptural instructions. God is Love (1 John 4:8). We are imperfect and fallen but we were each made in God's image (Genesis 1:27). Therefore, that image must be one of love. He has a plan for me, and it is good . . . it is even described as prosperous . . . (Jeremiah 29:11). I can't say for sure what His plan is, but I know I am not "in the zone" when I am enraged, transmitting pain, full of fear, or when I let my wife's sins speak to who I am. As for baseball, it turns out the majors did just fine without me. My baseball career ended abruptly when I was cut in 10th grade. That wasn't where my true talents were found. However, I feel certain God's path included me playing that year of little league, if for no other reason than to have these lessons to fall back on 37 years later. Life is funny that way.

Our community is used to the threat of tropical weather. Usually, the early notices start with escalated threats that ultimately result in a windy rain storm passing over our area causing very little damage. In the hours leading up to the arrival of Hurricane Michael it became obvious this storm was going to be different. At 100 miles inland, we were too far north to be part of the normal evacuation plan. Meteorologists began forecasting that the storm would still be holding hurricane strength by the time it reached us. Our home was well within the forecasted cone of the most intense blows. We hunkered down watching the news and tracking the storm through every available medium. Then, just as the storm made landfall on the coast, all power, internet, and cell service was lost. So, we sat . . . and waited . . . not knowing what was coming. As the hours passed, it was impossible to know if what we were experiencing was the worst or just the beginning. My D-day was May 4, 2017 at 8:00 P.M. I always thought the initial discovery was similar to that feeling you get immediately after hitting your thumb with a hammer. While you can't feel it yet, you know it's about to hurt like hell. As we sat and waited during the storm I realized D-day was also similar to the feeling of waiting on a hurricane. A destructive force beyond my control was on its way, and I had no idea what my world was going to look like in the morning. As I sat in reflection I began contemplating what the "present me" would say to the "18 months ago me" on the initial night of discovery. No doubt, I have changed in many ways since the night this recovery journey began. I think my insight would've sounded something like this: You have just experienced major trauma, and this is going to take a lot longer to make sense of than you can comprehend right now. While some of the unexplainable problems in your marriage just became crystal clear, others will not be evident for some time. You only knew parts of your wife. There is a darkness in her that was fostered at a young age by years of abuse and dysfunction that developed her into a woman who was capable of using sex as a coping skill. In her current state, she is unconscionably self-absorbed, allowing herself to be destructively consumed with satisfying an unquenchable need to be validated and praised. You did not create this, you could not have known it was coming, and you cannot fix her. Therefore, we are not going to focus on her. Our energy is needed elsewhere - we have work to do to save you. There is great opportunity in what lies ahead. Whether you accept it or not, it is about to become painfully obvious how little control you have over anyone around you; especially your wife. For a while, you will have great trouble controlling your own mind and emotions. Dark emotions will consume you and visions of deviant and disgusting betrayals by your wife will haunt your thoughts. You will not be able to eat or sleep and you will feel more alone than you ever knew was possible. For the first time in your life, death will seem like a viable solution to your problems. At times, you are going to want desperately to sweep the betrayals away and move on quickly. Fight this urge, it will not work. Walk through where you are now and remember that this pain is really just a feeling. It is small and you are greater than it is. I will have to remind you of this fact often as we walk ahead. The only way to the other side, with you intact, is to fully immerse yourself in grieving all you have lost. The process will have many similarities to the one you experienced when you lost your father too early, but the pain will be greater, and the isolation will be new. Practically speaking, you are going to need some professional help… as soon as you can get it. Unfortunately, it may not be easy to find. Infidelity as a trauma is relatively new science, and it is lagging in its development, especially for betrayed men. Family, friends, your church, even many therapists who mean well and truly care for you, simply do not know how to help. Know that competent resources are out there, but be patient in locating the right source. This is a marathon, not a sprint, and we need to start with the right help. Friendships are going to shift. Some old friends will grow distant while new friends will emerge. Relationships that were safe places to share the struggles of life with yesterday may not be today. Just let this be. Your instincts to be cautious in who you talk to about this are healthy. We are going to lean on God like you never have before; He has you. He will provide help. We just have to humble ourselves to accept it, even when it comes in unexpected forms. For years you have given sound judgment to clients in your law practice advising them not to make decisions quickly or based on emotions. As you say, "If it is a good idea today, then it will be a good idea tomorrow." Now it's time for you to follow your own advice. Do not make any major decisions about anything you do not have to until you know you are ready. This may take a long time. Do you remember that guy in high school? The Ferris Bueller type who seemed to be as comfortable with the nerds as he was the jocks? You remember how people followed you in college, how you could bridge a room divided in opinions and personalities? While you are grown up now and know well how to navigate black tie evenings and complex negotiations, perhaps it's time to admit you are still more comfortable at the kids' table come Thanksgiving. Somewhere along the way we let pieces of you get overrun with ambition and achievement. Let's take the time needed to go find those lost traits again, they are valuable. It is time to remember where you came from, the integrity of your parents and grandfather, the values they modeled for you. Oh . . . and that faith of yours that you've become so casual with… why is that? Time will tell what becomes of her. You allowed yourself to be defined by your marriage and in doing so you created an idol of it. God only wants relationships that grow His will for you, and His will is never to harm you. Yes . . . that means you are greater than your marriage. You are not defined by her selfish and humiliating acts. Patience and grace on yourself my friend. We will rise.

A good friend of mine, and fellow betrayed husband (yes, we met at an EMS weekend), coined it best when he said, "This isn't highs and lows; it's chutes and ladders." All of us on this journey have experienced the hope generated by progress. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the bottom falls out and in the moment all hope seems lost. Which way is up? I am now 16 months out from my first D-Day, 9 months from my last, and if there is one word that can describe the spot I seem to circle when the chutes open underneath me, it's "disorienting". I understand what happened. My wife is doing the hard work of self-discovery: linking childhood abuses to her adulterous behavior, showing empathy and remorse, leading classes, and attending volumes of counseling. I have grown from someone who was convinced that I had never met a shrink who didn't need one, to the guy craving his next individual session. However, even amongst all this work and progress, I often circle back to an empty feeling. How could I have been so wrong about who she was? The day before my first D-day I would've sworn there was absolutely no way on earth she would have ever been unfaithful at any time in our 23+year relationship. But she was deep in her 4th affair . . . Despite having committed myself to my own healing journey, there have been many personal slips along the way. I have turned to old habits of rage, excessive slips with alcohol, intentionally isolating myself, and trying to ignore my reality. In each case, the emptiness just lingers. When I'm in the hole of darkness, it is hard to remember what it felt like not to be, even if that was only a few hours ago. Funny thing is, when I'm not in it, I often do not stop to enjoy the peace of contentment. The more I grow in my own journey of self-discovery, the more I begin to see my situation from a higher level - the forest for the trees. I have learned that when I can only see the trunks of the trees and only focus on an unanswerable question or two, then I am in a space that is simply irrational. I am only passing through this space and, in time, it will end as it always has. As elementary as the words are, it has taken me this long to truly comprehend that every feeling has a beginning, middle, and end. If the feeling is dark, then I have hope that the end of the darkness draws closer with each second. If it is good, then an awareness that I should enjoy and experience it helps extend the peace. I am told the pros call this "mindfulness". In layman's verbage, I'd say it's simply getting my head out of my rear. Regardless of how sophisticated you would like to be in your interpretation, I think we can all benefit by regular reminders to have a little grace on yourself and do what you can to stay in this moment and out of the past. For me, these efforts at self-care have reignited an old passion with bird hunting and all things hunting dogs. Dare I say I have even discovered that some simple childhood pleasures like peanut butter and junk food shouldn't be ignored. Yes, even at 47 years old, puppies and ice cream can work wonders. Find your way out of the hole, make the effort to realize what works for you, and make it routine. Although the specific resource may be personal, the need for it is universal in this journey we have been thrown into. My hope is that each time I climb out of the hole, a little dirt falls back in it, and next time it will not be as deep. Each time I climb out I am reminded again that God's grace in my life is overwhelming. Even this dark betrayal didn't destroy my thriving law practice, beautiful children, and a wife willing to face her demons. I am still uncertain how this will end for me, but perhaps that is the greatest lesson I can take from all this: the ability to accept I do not have to know tomorrow, as He's got me today.