In the cove just north of Bodega Bay, surrounded by sand cliffs that held back the winds, the dudes and I frolicked with Mr. Jackpot. Well, the dudes and I frolicked. Mr. Jackpot appeared to be having fun, but was a tad stoic.
I can’t say I’ve seen him playful since before our trip to Yachats. The dudes are able to tease out happiness and laughter, but there always seems to be a need to dial it back, as if being happy is unacceptable. Being happy means that he’d need to accept that where he is right here, right now is just fine. As it is.
Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not in his head. And clearly my track record of assessing the human psyche is blemished. But I have been in his presence when a perfectly great time can’t be enjoyed through to its end without somehow turning it sour, so it’s more palatable. So it meets with expectations.
Since our day of fishing I have pondered why Mr. Jackpot spoils the fun – that’s how I saw it – on more than a few occasions. Within a few minutes I would abandon the effort because it’s not about me. That’s on him. I’m going to keep moving along and hope that we both continue to grow. One day maybe all of us can have a rip roaring time that doesn’t have to end in a huff.
Then, as I erased this post a dozen times, I realized that it is about me. Of course. Every encounter is about every person involved; we all have our individual takeaway. Mr. Jackpot’s moodiness means what it means for him. For me, it was a call to look back in time. At myself. Something the Universe has been forcing encouraging me to do lately.
My ancient laptop has required some serious maintenance in order to restore such frivolous bells and whistles like the ability to play video. Before I brought it out of the Dark Ages and into the early 2000s (there is no bringing it into the modern era), it was suggested that I do a full back up.
A what? (I kid…kind of)
As I teetered between crashing my hard drive and bringing down the world wide web, IPhoto kept opening and freezing with thumbnails of a half dozen albums showing the dudes in various states of infant and toddler bliss: rolling around on the grass at our community pool with huge smiles for each other, in cozy sweaters with snow falling behind them as they cuddled on the couch, in the high chair (Holy time warp! The little dude was in a high chair not all that long ago!), and curled up in my arms, photo taken by The Genius. Below each thumbnail was a date. As I absorbed each date my mind immediately analyzed it in relation to The Genius’ affair.
Oh, that was Year Two. Year One. Year One. Year Three. Oh, gee, Year Four. Wow, when I was carrying a bucket seat with a baby in it up three flights of stairs to the tall dude’s pre-school he was carrying her over the threshold of some hotel room.
Wow.
Since The Pocket Call I have not once gone back to look at these photos. I thought it was out of lack of desire, but it’s worse than that – I don’t want to go back and look at them because they make me bawl my eyes out. I cry because I can’t look at these photos without thinking about being betrayed. So every picture of the little dude becomes a marker in the betrayal of me as his birth coincides with the beginning of the affair. (That is if I ever really was told the truth about when it began.)
Yea, that makes me angry. And sad. Out of all the challenges his affair has created, the loss of joy surrounding those magical years in the dudes’ lives is the one I have the hardest time accepting. He stole those years from me. Even the optimist in me finds it hard to believe that I will, at some point in the future, be able to look at those pictures and feel joy.
I am so grateful that their shared goal of going to their graves with their adultery a secret was never achieved. My entire adult life would have been a lie. Only shackles and an IV of tequila and assorted chemical sedatives would have held my rage in check. The dudes would have been heartbroken. The upside is I only have to recreate joy surrounding their childhood to the ages of 4 and 6. Everything from that point forward is part of this unexpected and magical journey we’re on. For the dudes, they will have the sadness of their parent’s divorce, but they won’t feel betrayed or used. Had I not discovered the affair and it continued into their adult lives they would have had to bridge the world between the Dad they love and the man who lived a lie.
The Pocket Call saved us all from a great deal more pain.
Seeing those photos conjured up video snippets that live in my brain of encounters with The Genius during that time. Standing at the refrigerator, tears streaming down my cheeks, feeling helpless, unloved, misunderstood, unattractive, not desired, directionless. And him looking at me with eyes that said, I don’t know how to help you. Sitting at a table on the edge of a tropical sea surrounded by hand-holding lovers while I felt short-changed, tears welling up from my heart and spilling over into my salad as he and a friend ogled a girl they named Kitty. (As Jennifer Aniston once famously said of Brad Pitt, He’s missing a sensitivity chip.) A blow up at the shore that sent me out into the humid night sobbing. He said the passion was gone.
I tried to create opportunities for romance, for rekindling our love, but I would never see those opportunities through to a happy ending, instead choosing what I felt was inevitable, a crash landing with both of us disappointed.
Melissa asked me what I gained from staying in my marriage even though on some level I must have known that he was cheating on me. I’ve pondered this question time and again without finding the answer until now, perhaps.
Why did I hold on even though I had already been thrown away?
Because I wouldn’t accept that it was my right to be happy. That it was my responsibility to be happy. Instead of seizing small moments of happiness and nurturing them for my benefit, I shunned them and focused on all that wasn’t right in the world. Instead of losing myself in the beauty of a tropical sea, I begrudged the romance around me, allowing it to shine a bleak light on the lack of romance in my marriage. I fed all that was wrong by not being grateful for what was right.
I wasn’t optimistic.
I was a downer.
I lived only within the walls of my marriage instead of seeing the the full arc of life.
With every failed attempt on my part to turn my marriage around, I can point to the affair as the reason why those attempts never worked. How could I have succeeded when my husband had already checked out of our marriage and into hotel rooms with the Happy Dance Chick? I was given a puzzle that was unsolvable. No matter what I did he was still doing her, which prevented him from ever finding his way back to me.
I didn’t get that I was missing the point.
It was never about turning my marriage around. That wasn’t on the table. The state of my marriage was purely a creation to teach me a lesson. The lesson I was failing to learn was that my happiness on this planet is my responsibility alone, and not tethered to another. It was easier for me to wallow in my mediocre marriage than to accept that happiness is a choice. To be truly happy I must be in love with me.
I was at war with me.
On the eve of the full moon, the dudes and I sat on Stinson Beach with new residents of The Calmmune, a family of four – again straight out of Central Casting – embarking on the next leg of their journey, following their intuition as they settle on this point of land, off the North American Plate and cradled by the Pacific. As our children played tag along the water’s edge, we talked openly about our relationships. She sweetly stated, I don’t know how anyone could cheat on you.
I held her gaze and with total honesty said, I was a completely different person then.
As if to say, I can understand why!
Every missed opportunity, every woe is me, every time I chose to let things fail instead of succeed, I helped to create the ultimate outcome in my marriage. I made it easy for him to cheat. I didn’t give him a reason not to.
I wasn’t supposed to.
Spending precious time in the hyper-analysis of the affair asking How? and Why? is pointless. And it misses the point. How? Simple. He engaged in it. Why? Because he chose to do so. He can’t blame me for his choices, just as I can’t blame him for any aspect of my life.
What matters is that I see the Hows and Whys that are mine to own. Mine to understand. The affair was one of several 3D experiences I could have crafted to teach me a lesson I needed to learn: the Universe is a friendly place and it’s my responsibility to be happy in it.
Twice in the last two weeks the same woman has delivered a very important message to me in the form of a quote from Albert Einstein:
“The most important decision we make is whether we believe we live in a friendly or hostile universe.”
(These days I can tell when someone is speaking on behalf of themselves or delivering a message on behalf of the Universe. This one came from the Universe – Hey! I’m not all that bad! As a matter of fact, I’m pretty darn friendly. As I reflect back on the ways in which the message was delivered I can actually see her shimmering as she handed over the words.)
When I was first married I firmly believed the Universe was a friendly place. It was an unconscious belief, but deeply held. I had experienced some heartache in my life, yet I was always able to see the beauty in it. I appreciated the intensity of emotions like sadness and fear knowing that balance would always return.
I was optimistic.
In my marriage I lost that belief and became wary, cynical. I didn’t trust. I was on guard. I found it easier to lament and complain about things that often had no real impact on me personally than to be joyful. Since I was unhappy I didn’t much care about nurturing happiness with others. I met encounters expecting them to be a letdown, or worse, hostile.
Life was hard! It had to be worked at. It was an uphill battle. It’s supposed to be complicated!
I only half-smiled. For years.
Then the Pocket Call. Lots of lesons learned later, I was still battling away at life, The Genius, myself. Gentle messages came from the kittens. It took quite some time for me to acknowledge that they were right: I was angry. That led to understanding that I was still acting as a wife responsible for the emotions of her spouse, which caused me to be anxious when The Genius was mad at me. Releasing the anxiety by accepting that I am not his wife and that his anger is not because of me created space.
In a cove just north of Bodega Bay, in a moment that lasted for all of five seconds, that space transformed into a playground because I didn’t force it to be a jail instead.
It felt good to be playful. Feeling good didn’t make me feel bad anymore. It also highlighted for me the ways I unconsciously create bad feelings. Like when I build a bullet-proof exterior before seeing The Genius, assuring a tense encounter.
A few days after hearing the Einstein quote for the first time, I prepared to hit send on an email to The Genius that had no signature, as has become the norm. I decided to close with, Have a nice day.
Simple, right?
Typing those four words felt like crossing a frozen ladder hovering over a crevasse in the Khumba Ice Fall, barefoot with a mouth full of spiders. I am not exaggerating.
One hour later I was wrecked by a migraine headache, and four pimples exploded on my face. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. My muscles in my back went on lockdown.
In two years I have not wished to The Genius a nice day, a nice millisecond or anything that could be misconstrued as nice. Those four words (one for each pimple) released an insane amount of toxins that I’ve been stroking and feeding and begging to stick around in an effort to preserve for all time the fact that he betrayed me.
Throwing caution to the wind, I invited The Genius to join the dudes and me at the pool for a Memorial Day BBQ. What better day for a truce? It was simple, easy, and uneventful. For the dudes it was probably a great relief. Dad and Mom can be Dad and Mom in the same place at the same time.
That gesture showed the dudes that the Universe is a friendly place. I’m grateful The Genius chose to join us.
Mr. Jackpot showed me that there’s an easy way and a hard way to move through this lifetime. I chose easy. To him I am also grateful.
My decision is this: The Universe is a friendly place.
It’s just not ‘boyfriend’ly.
I can thank a golf pro, a soccer announcer and a male stripper for teaching me that lesson.
Love yourself,
Cleo
A kitten requested a picture of my dress of icy poofness. Tis here. I posted it to twitter, expecting it to post to my new (TA DA!) Facebook page but that would require the Universe to accept and work with my technical deficiencies. It’s too busy being friendly.
Someday I’ll link the blog with twitter and facebook. That will also be the day I tan naturally, cook only things from my own parcel of land and have a boyfriend.
You get the point…
Oh my Cleo, how I can relate. A few weeks ago I had to find a baby picture of my eldest for his Jr High graduation. I opened a box so full of memories and the sadness was so overwhelming I cried for an entire day. Not only did I cry over the memories, but I cried because the memories of my three beautiful boys brought me so much pain. I feel you – betrayal is such a hard road!
A,
What we’ve experienced as we reflect back through pictures is the painful collateral damage that no adulterer takes into consideration. Perhaps if they did they would have conversations rather than affairs. That’s their burden to carry, even if they decline to admit it exists. I’m going to hold out hope that the dudes early years won’t forever be colored bleak by their father’s betrayal of me.
And to you I say, well done. For crying it out and continuing on. Our children will so appreciate our bravery. Thank you for being here, A. Stay close…
Love yourself,
Cleo
That dress is even more beautiful than I imagined. I’m sure you were stunning in it. Love the color; it’s one of my favorites.
Happy Memorial Day & congratulations for letting playfulness in.
D,
Gorgeous and FIFTY BUCKS! While shopping for planks, I mean shoes, in Nordstrom, the very same dress but in a more subtle color was on sale for close to $200. I’m not a shopper, but when I do I do TJ Maxx.
Thank you for being here, D. So grateful.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Dear Fairy Godblogger,
Your timing is impeccable. Your message heard loud and clear. This has been one of those days in which the universe has been tapping me on the shoulder throughout. In the form of songs, a friend of a friend, and now your beautiful, glimmering words. Seems the planets in my inner solar system are aligning to open the giant black hole I’ve been toting around for years and to show me . . . well, me. Not the suspicious, sarcastic, dubious, glass-half-empty girl I’ve become, looking out from between the bars of this life I’ve created. No. The one that combines all of that experience with the hopeful, adventurous, happy, joyful girl that I was, once upon a time. I think I heard the click of the lock today. I just need the courage and sense of purpose to walk through the cell door. I think it will take less courage than living a life that has become excruciating. I felt the shift today, I felt it.
P.S. Your photo is gorgeous! (I have green eyes, too! must be the mermaid in us!).
S,
Such beautiful words! I am bubbling over with joy for you. You are awake, alive, feeling the tugs and pulls of the Universe. You see the choice in front of you – happy or hostile. You choose happy. You’re brave, fearless and willing to take a gamble that the game of life is designed for us all to be victorious.
Your words, your epiphany, has brought me such joy. Thank you. I’m so grateful to be able to witness your journey.
Love yourself,
Cleo
PS: Thank you for your kind words. Green eyes rock. The dudes want me to be Princess Peach (Super Mario) for Halloween, but I’m aiming for Mermaid.
This post has so many parallels with my story that it felt like I was writing it myself. I was just thinking exactly the same things the other day–about moodiness and gloominess. Yes, I’m guilty of succumbing to my Genius’s moodiness by becoming gloomy and closed. But it was really difficult to keep up the optimism that I had before we met, and for the first ten years or so of our marriage. He didn’t have a sense of play; he had a hard time relaxing and enjoying people–he was always preoccupied with his music career (which ended up including his women eventually, though I didn’t know it until I accidentally discovered them).
Today I spent an afternoon and evening with a delightful couple in their fifties who were professional colleagues for years, but whom I didn’t know as close personal friends until I had to go to their house for today’s meeting. It was a delightful time. Interspersed with the meeting was dinner, wine, and a walk in their woods with the dog. I loved how the husband engaged with her. At one point she was trying to figure out something about the recipe she was cooking, and he jumped right in and figured it out with her, even though he doesn’t cook himself. My Genius never even complimented me on my cooking (but other people do). I don’t need to be patted on the back constantly, but what’s the point of being married if there’s barely any feedback, and you don’t know whether you’re doing something that the other person appreciates? Same thing with house decorating. I could paint a room in yellow and purple polka dots and not hear a peep out of him. (I don’t need to be praised–just a comment would be nice. I’d rather hear “I hate that paint job” over dead air any day.)
I tried to teach my Genius how to loosen up and smell the flowers, but he spurned my efforts. We became like friendly roommates, and eventually the strain of only interacting in a professional capacity (we did a lot of music/art together), turned into a tenseness, and then rage. Thirty years after our wedding day, the third affair (that I know of) came to light, and I decided to throw in the towel.
I truly did try to be loving. He wouldn’t let himself get close enough for it to work. Our therapist told him that he prefers affairs because then he doesn’t have to get really involved in the day-to-day nuts and bolts of living with a wife. He just wants the perks but not real life.
N,
Thank you for sharing this with us, N. You bring to light aspects of my own marriage that have been lost in the chaos of divorce. This most of all: “He didn’t have a sense of play; he had a hard time relaxing and enjoying people…” I don’t have the desire or degrees required to evaluate TG, but that observation was true in my marriage as well.
I need playful. I was playful! Then I became play-less. Which seeped into every aspect of my marriage. It feels so refreshing to feel light, optimistic, enamored with life, and excited to begin each day again!
So many marriages morph into friendships (which do require honesty and loyalty) or even more disconnected – roommates. Something to ponder for a future post, even though I won’t experience that again. Many people who are divorced or divorcing want to have a committed relations, or marriage, again.
How do we allow transitions in our relationships to occur but not to the degree that they undermine the commitment?
I’m grateful you are here, and I’m grateful for the complexities that surround human emotions and love. So much to explore.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Cleo,
That was a great post! See you’re finaly getting it. Chilax, go with the flow and try to have fun. Being pissed off is definitely not fun.
This new formula is guaranteed to rain boyfriends like frogs …and you know the fairy tale…you need to kiss a lot of frogs!
Enjoy!
U
TU,
I’ve been waiting forever for you to comment! Just do me a favor, hold up on the raining boyfriends stuff. I’m not in the mood. It takes me away from you. Stay close…you know how much I adore you.
Love yourself (as if you need me to tell you that),
Cleo
thank you so much for your post today cleo, it hit spot on for me. I have come so way far along since the journey that began with my now ex husband’s adultery. Life is still giving me my tutorials on how to look at life and i am still devouring each lesson whole like i am at a pie eating contest. I am soaking it up and looking for more. The clarity that such dramatic events bring is like nothing i have experienced before. As i tell my friends who ask “how are you doing?” i respond by saying that i am well on my way to becoming the the wise, inspiring, yet happy elderly grandmother. The one my future teenage grandkids flock to at 11pm on a wednesday, for a cup of coffee and an ear looking for the answers to the meaning of life, what is the answer to it all. I will of course respond with just enough advice to calm them, point them in the right direction and let them choose their own path to figure it out. Perhaps to make choices a bit more clear to help along the path One does not achieve such status by having a easy always happy carefree life. Yes, my training for such a position is well on its way.
And my current lesson does not involve my anger but that of my ex husbands. You see, i too have tried to call a truce, wanting open communication for the sake of our 2 absolutely wonderful children. I now envy those divorce couples i see (my sister, my one best friend etc) that have a relatively smooth, easy and as far as i can also see even possibly happy co parenting relationship with their ex spouse. My desire for harmony is huge. However, sad to say, each olive branch is met with anger, distance and i will even go as far to say hositility from my genius. Say what? Yes, you read that right hostility. I end texts with thank you, and take care, and have a good day but it gets no response, I try to be a little more blunt informing him i would really like us to be able to communicate and at the very least go to the same functions of the kids for the sake of our kids. I get, stay the hell away from my family (whom i only talk to very politetly tlike “hello, gee nice weather we are having” ) when i see them at an event. Not like i talk the saga of the death of our marriage to everyone with a pulse. Wait, he was the one who is now married to his affair partner within 4 months of our divorce, right? yep, clueless as to why and where this anger is coming from and is directed at me. I am sure it is the blame game for something like problems in his current marriage, or financial troubles due to his now high child support bill, or perhaps even the strained relationship with his extended family since all know all, how and why. But as you said in your post, – “I made it easy for him to cheat. I didn’t give him a reason not to.I wasn’t supposed. He engaged in it. Why? Because he chose to do so. He can’t blame me for his choices, just as I can’t blame him for any aspect of my life”
Those words, simple, clearly defined in black and white, helped me tremendously today as i struggle with why, for his anger towards me, but that is his problem now, i am no longer his wife, he has a new one at that, and it is for him and him alone to figure out, and if it remains that way, while sad is not my choice or my doing. And i know now my healing is on the right direction when the emotion i felt learning of his speedy nuptuals to happy dance chick was (well after shock of the quickness of it lol) was that i was happy for him. I hope he has found what he was looking for during his affair and that it was worth the desruction of our family to get it, because i know if it was me, it would be entirely difficult to carry the weight of it on my shoulders for the rest of my life if it was not.
grandma building 101!!!! lol Thanks!
N,
Beautiful words, N. Thank you for taking the time to share them with us.
When I have abandoned my desire to remain at peace, sharing unconditional love, as a response to anger directed at me, it has upended me. Sending me back more steps than I care to count. It’s a lesson on remaining true to what makes my heart feel good. I have allowed my tue self to be altered by the energies of others. When I remain fully present in the moment, my Observer Self engaged, I can see how it my overall well-being is fulfilled by living by my values and boundaries.
I’m a loving person, so to be something shy of loving takes me off my course. I have too much to accomplish to allow that to happen. There is no benefit to me to remain cold. Let’s be us, N. Beautiful, loving us.
I’m coming over for coffee at 11PM. I want to be part of those conversations! Thank you for being here. Stay close…
Love yourself,
Cleo
My Genius had anger ans hostility towards me for a long time. I finally figured out he was projecting onto me a ton of stereotypes and representations of every possible bad thing he could ever remember about any woman ever in his life. I also realized it was his defense process- the only way he could justify his actions- which were truly tied to a mid-life crisis and in my opinion, not truly a reflection of who is truly is at a soul level. When i was able to see that and occassionally able to explain that, I could change my view of him, so as not to project back onto him things that did not belong to him, but to me.
Continue to take the high road of kindness and politeness. That is who you are, and be true to that. He may never see why he has that anger towards you or the projections he throws, but you will be able to hold your head high and know that you have been authentic and loving yourself.
Just my thoughts
E,
Thank you for your comment. My apologies for the delay in responding.
Your thoughts are magic! And the grace you have dealing with your Genius! Especially this: “When i was able to see that and occassionally able to explain that, I could change my view of him, so as not to project back onto him things that did not belong to him, but to me.”
I applaud you. That’s me, standing up and clapping loudly. My palms are glowing red.
I will take the high road, yet not so high that I allow myself to be untethered and then crash to Earth to be walked on by TG. Grace with boundaries is a powerful combination. Thank you for reminding me of that. Stay close…
Love yourself,
Cleo
What a fabulous post! And on a day where I also just got out of a chat with my G by saying “Have a great day!” Once upon a time, that anger was my constant companion as well and it took many of my own kittens encouraging me to venture past it and get busy with my own life and that of my daughters. It is indeed a happy place. Welcome
S,
Thank you for taking the time to comment and for sharing with us your experience. Together we’ll create ways to ease the pain without taking shortcuts, making this process of healing from betrayal and working through divorce magical for us and for our children.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Once again you have hit the nail on the head. I can’t look at our “family” vacation pictures without wondering if his affair was going on at that time. “Bermuda 2009″, was he cheating on me then? That is how it is for me. Kudos to you for spending Memorial Day with him for the dudes sake, I ‘m sure it wasn’t easy.
S,
I’m about to post a personal email to me from Mr. Simplicity. It will set us both back on track. His words are perfection.
Memorial Day was easy. Understanding why is not so simple, yet. But I bet there is a simple answer. For now I believe it to be that I have come to embrace the idea that it’s unnecessary to insure that TG knows, through my interactions with him, that his choice to betray me sliced my heart apart.
I’m not responsible for sending him any messages, teaching him any moral lessons, helping his soul in any way. His journey is for him to play out.
That made sitting side by side on chaise lounges just fine. For me anyway.
With each experiment we’ll find the ways to move forward gracefully. Stay close, S.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Man, I wish I could get there “I have come to embrace the idea that it’s unnecessary to insure that TG knows, through my interactions with him, that his choice to betray me sliced my heart apart.” I still need him to know and recognize and feel badly for his actions and truly apologize. That day may never come and I need to NOT need that.
I get this part “I’m not responsible for sending him any messages, teaching him any moral lessons, helping his soul in any way. His journey is for him to play out.”
As for the first comment I quoted, I’m certainly not there yet. An inch at a time, said the caterpiller, an inch at a time. When I look back to the days that people had to actually coach me to breathe, I’ve come thousands of miles. I’ll get there.
Thanks for sticking with this. So many of us count on you and your positive perspective.
D,
You’ll get there at the perfect time for you. I’ll give you a little hint, tho. Ego. It has to do with letting go of the Ego.
Thank you for being here for me! We will chart this course together. And then one day celebrate our magical transformation that goes so far beyond infidelity and divorce. That was our jumping off point!
Stay close, D.
Love yourself,
Cleo
You’re teaching your dudes the world is friendly place and you’re also teaching them to live a graceful life. I know that’s a hard lesson when you’re faced with the person that destroyed your world. Someone told me – show your kids what grace looks like in the role of adversity. I try to remember that when my cheater shows up at one of my kids’ ball games like father of the year even though for the previous three weeks he seems to have forgot he had children at all.
K,
Grace in the face of adversity. I read recently that true happiness (as discovered through months of interviews and experiments by some highly degreed group) comes not from what we experience but from how we react to what we experience. SO very true. Both celebratory and troubling situations can leave us feeling happy. I’ve experienced it. It’s all in how we meet it.
You, m’lady, are all grace and then some. Stay close…
Love yourself,
Cleo