…lay your heart on me and I’ll treat it like solid gold…
Eureka Peak shoots straight up to the sky, reaching 7447 feet above sea level. Bold and tall, she appeared far steeper than she is from our vantage point, tucked right up against her base in the Plumas Eureka Camp Ground.
She breathes. She’s rippled with gold and draped with green and buzzing with energy. Over 60 tunnels plunge into her granite body, some through to the other side. But she’s no less stable – probably more powerful for having withstood the blasts and invasions of those seeking to steal her riches for their own gain without ever crumbling.
The Dudes and I sat on rocks at our campsite and stared up, scanning her bends and curves for mine entrances. Looking for the locomotive engine that, legend has it, waits to be discovered by someone brave enough to go off trail. They talk of climbing her. One day they will. That day I wanted to be high up on her vertical face, alone. My body challenged by the ascension and my mind emptied by needing to be fully present in the moment so I didn’t end up broken in pieces after a thousand foot fall. She would make my heart feel better. Lighter. She would occupy my Ego.
Without a mountain to train for I struggle with feeling empty inside and having my mind far too full of nonsense. Without my Mom here I feel truly without a partner for the first time. Family and friends love me, but no one loved me like my Mom. That night, under the super moon and in the shadow of Eureka Peak, I acknowledged all those feelings. And other thoughts that seemed to own me lately.
How I can’t trust men. Why I should forget about ever having a committed relationship because my heart will never let someone get close enough for true love, real intimacy. How it’s so unfair to be forced to interact with someone who betrayed me. No one would ever CHOOSE that reality, but it’s forced upon those of us who have been betrayed by our spouses when we have children. The realization that the biggest mistake I have ever made was to marry him clung to my psyche. My Ego tsk-tsking me, saying, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING???
Getting away to the Sierras was the absolute best medicine. For all three of us. I had let my former spouse get to me in ways that were not healthy. I allowed myself to become frustrated with not being able to shout from the rafters, Dude! You are the one who lied for YEARS. Stop telling me that I need to do this or be that. Stop acting, as Modern Matriarch said, like a Pillar of Virtue! The absolute last person on the planet that will tell me how I should be acting is YOU.
The LAST LAST person on the planet that will tell me how I should be acting and what I should be doing is my former spouse’s affair partner.
But she felt compelled. She sent me an email because of something I wrote on Facebook. Her words sounded like those of a petulant fourteen year old girl, her fists all curled up and feet stamping. She said she’d had ENOUGH of my lies and she wasn’t going to take it anymore. She patted herself on the back for being FRIENDS (her allcaps, not mine) with her former spouse, insinuating that I was less evolved because I wasn’t friends with my former spouse. Said she had nothing to do with the failure of our marriage. She said I lied. But I have saved emails that I’d be happy to share that show otherwise. Her former spouse and I had a brief dialogue via email. I don’t lie. I’ve offered this challenge before – Tell me the lies I’ve written. Please. And I’ll acknowledge them.
Now, I know hearing that she contacted me inspires you all to go Uma Thurman on her. But that would be like witnessing a battle of wits between Oprah Winfrey and Tara Reid. Or a cook-off between Martha Stewart and Honey Boo Boo.
I could go on…
I never replied to her email. And I only bring it up here because that’s the beauty of HGM. We get to share our experiences so that we can create better, healthier ways to move forward while dealing with infidelity and divorce. She and my former spouse continuously tell me to MOVE ON. What they don’t seem to get is that I write about infidelity and divorce. I don’t write about them. This isn’t about them. I don’t wake up in the morning and think, What can I write about my former spouse today?
In the years since discovering his affair I can count on my fingers the times I’ve thought about his affair partner. She just really doesn’t capture my attention. I’ve chosen this path. I’ve chosen to spend time writing about this epidemic that destroys families. I’ve chosen to try to understand how human beings can be so hurtful. And how they can lie with such ease. And why they choose to complicate things when a conversation instead of an affair would keep many families together, even if the parents divorce.
My path is not unlike that of many writers. We write about our experiences.
I have moved on. I suggest the two of you do so as well. Or not. I can use all the page hits I can get. But honestly, it’s kind of pathetic that you lurk here. Aren’t you busy building your castle and fluffing up the pillows on your thrones? I mean, you are the Queen and King after all.
(Oh, c’mon. Let me have just a LITTLE fun! I really think I’ve earned it.)
In the shadow of Eureka Peak the super moon lit up a tether that ran from me to him. I thought I had severed every remaining chain that linked us. But I hadn’t. And it was my fault. I was still letting him tell me how I should act. And when I didn’t act the way he wanted me to, I was allowing his displeasure to make me defensive. Being defensive with him was making me defensive in other areas of my life. Which led me to be less vulnerable. More susceptible to judgment. Less open. Tense. Signs started hiding. Encounters few and far between. My vibrational energy plummeted.
Nature began to recede. That’s when it got noticeable: I’m losing major ground here. I recall being in the waves and having to force myself to see the beauty of the Marin hills. It was as if I could only look through them. And see nothing on the other side.
Slowly, Nature was going dark on me.
I looked to the moon, thinking of the night just after the Pocket Call when that big pearly ball saved my ass. I’m still here. Just give me a few beats to get these most recent events through my system.
I thought about the morning of our departure for the Sierras. My former spouse demonstrated again that he is a total MENSA candidate, unconscious and incapable of being empathic, when he chose to bring the children of his affair partner to meet me…without a single word via text or email or phone call or carrier pigeon or Morse Code or any one of a million ways available to give me a heads up.
Not a peep. Nope. Just showed up to drop off The Dudes while I waited for the oil to be changed on the car with two young girls who looked like they were going to a wedding. Flower wreaths in their hair and long dresses on. All to drop off The Dudes at garage. Uh-huh.
This time my Mom would have been proud.
I was not at all stunned by the selfish and immature move. Made all the more ridiculous when he tried to blame it on the Tall Dude wanting me to ‘meet his friends’. As if that prevented my former spouse from either discussing it with me first or telling the Tall Dude that it wasn’t the right time.
He was offended that I didn’t roll out the red carpet.
That moment in time changed me forever.
I grew talons. And inside I said, You will never F with me again. Stop trying to cram your instafamily down my throat. I have ZERO obligation to be involved with them in any way, no matter who desires it. ZERO. None.
And that doesn’t make me a bad person. Or less evolved. Or bitter. When I married my former spouse I did not also agree to welcome his mistresses or their children.
But mostly, stop F-ing with me. And the only way to make sure that happens is to NOT LET HIM F with me.
You should see these talons. Massive. Good thing I don’t wear stockings anymore.
A kitten wrote to me the other day and said that she is struck by how little empathy I give to myself. Especially in light of the recent events – and she hadn’t yet heard these revelations. I balled when I read her words. I can still be open and vulnerable and loving and not let him F with me. I can have a hand to his face and still have an open heart.
You know, I thought, as I wrapped my arms around my knees and looked up to the clouds, their edges dripping with silver moon light, I really need to stand up for myself. AND go easy on myself.
I need to trust myself. Trust that what doesn’t feel right ISN’T RIGHT. By feeling that I can’t trust another I am really saying that I can’t trust me. That’s nonsense. I know the difference between right and wrong. I have discernment when my Ego is benched and my heart is heard. I don’t have to put up with the drama of the self-described Queen and King. Really, it’s pretty clear here who has better judgment.
I’m done with being F’d. (Sorry, Aunt Awesome. I know I’ve dropped the F quite a bit in this one. Mom would not be proud. But I just can’t seem to hold back!)
Eureka Peak hummed her agreement. The sound filled my ears. My entire body vibrated noticeably. There was no seeing through Nature here. She was making certain she was heard. I felt a little better. A little relaxed. The tension and anger I felt from the way I was being treated by my former spouse began to ease up.
I took a walk around the campsite in the moonlight feeling each step, feeling Her. FEELING. It became clear that as I tensed up over time, over these last several months, it was as if I placed a tourniquet on the life cord that connects me with Her.
After the embers went dark in the campfire and we were all sound asleep in the tent, the Earth shook me. I woke to some degree to find myself a little off the ground and being jostled about, really vibrating. I’m not exaggerating. I looked down to see that my body appeared as a collection of detached jewels that were in danger of being lost as they bounced away from my center, as if vibrating on a drum skin being pounded by Dave Grohl. I watched them quickly come back together, joining up in a mesh like masterpiece that was both delicate and indestructible. Gold links connected the emeralds and rubies and sapphires together in a perfect pattern of symmetry, all from a pile of stones.
Two thoughts emerged in this strange moment in time – Wow, this feels SO cool, and Wow, I’m well put together!
I awoke in the morning and peered under my sleeping bag.
When I came home I wrote down some rules of engagement for former spouses and debunked some myths for the mistresses.
For them it’s BACK TO SCHOOL time in the next post. For me it’s time to recognize my power, honor my strength, have empathy for myself given the heartache I’ve experienced, and allow others to love me without having to pay a price for the betrayal of someone else.
Love yourself,
Cleo
PS: Please visit my facebook page to read the words of L on keeping affairs a secret. They are worth pondering as we try to find a better way to deal with the epidemic of infidelity. Thank you.
It’s tiresome how cheating spouses and their affair partners all sing the same song. These two have made themselves victims and I’m sure their us against Cleo mentality is increasing their bond. They have to stay together now to prove their love is real and worth destroying the familes of four children.
I feel sorry for those little girls who were used as pawns to hurt you. How pathetic and cruel. What kind of parent behaves like this? It is incomprehensible. I hope those girls have an active and involved father….they are going to need him.
Cleo, you must at least let your sons know that your ex hurt you deeply, even if you choose not to expose the affair. They will wonder why you don’t want to be friends with ow and the girls. They have been thrust into a sham “family” and their father is probably spinning it as the greatest thing ever. You need to love yourself enough to defend your position of no contact. The boys need to learn that it is ok to protect themselves from exposure to toxic people. Rolling over and pretending all is well isn’t brave or honorable; it is self-betrayal and punishment. You aren’t rising above anything by perpetuating a lie.
I know how incredibly painful it is to have to share your precious children with a stranger who helped destroy your family. It’s fucking awful. This woman was willing to be your husband’s side piece for 4 years and now she thinks she has the right to send you an email castigating you????? Big. Ass. Balls.
I have some happy news to report from my life…Ex and OW broke up! It has been a few months and it seems to be final. There was a lot of drama. She actually called my boss and lied pretending to be an old friend to find out my schedule. She showed up at my job and refused to leave for an hour. She accused me of not “helping the kids bond with her” and promised me she would be a GREAT BONUS MOM! My boss had to file a police report. It turns out my ex had been ignoring her because he was too passive to just end things and it flipped her out. She targeted me as the problem and came after me. I had to tell the kids and report the incident to school security because we thought she may show up and try to take the kids. I have learned from this that my gut is impeccable. I knew she was crazypants from the first time I laid eyes on her. She had the glassy, vacant, stare of the mentally disturbed. I tried to convince myself I was just jealous or hurt, but in the end, my initial impression was spot-on.
Know that I am sending you good thoughts. Even though I come accross as a hard-ass at times, I support whatever choice you make in regards to telling the kids or not telling. You will do the right thing, I’m sure.
Why is HDC all up in your Facebook page anyway?
E, Curious, right? One could assume she is making sure I don’t speak improperly about her. But after three years and mainly crickets from me, wouldn’t you think she would move on? Or forget to check? Anyone can view my FB page, which is by design. Although I really wish FB would respond to my repeated requests to change the ‘community’ designation of the page, providing for greater interaction for us. If anyone is six degrees removed from a FB employee I’d love an inside track to accomplish this. I am not a ‘brand’…I am a girl. 😉 Thank you for taking the time to comment, E. Stay close…Love yourself, Cleo
Hi Cleo, I am L, but I don’t know how to change my posting name, so let me introduce myself, my name is Lauren.
One of the interesting things about a relationship based on infidelity – is that it will ALWAYS be based on that, no matter what the participants tell themselves or say to others. I’ve laughed to myself about how, when the grandkids want to know about how Grandpa/Grandma got together, if truth be told, it would still be about an affair. The mediator of my divorce told me that in his 20 some odd years of mediating, he has been witness to the fact that spouses who are brought into this situation involuntarily move on emotionally so much faster than the affair partners. They’re stuck within a situation of their own making. Whether or not they openly acknowledge what’s happened, somewhere there is a level of understanding which they can’t deny and will accompany them forever. Unless they are sociopaths, and even then, I’m glad not to be in their shoes. 😉 We, who are challenged by this, are growing and changing and evolving in ways our former partners just don’t experience unless they choose to take full responsibility for themselves and their choices. Good luck with that.
Today, I was led to the blog of a band I’m going to see tonight and in it I read the following: “the struggle unveils the source of your strength.” So true!
xoxo
L, Thank you for sharing your words. They have resonated with so many, myself included. They chose to complicate their life. I can’t imagine things get easier as time passes. As you point out, the foundation for the relationship is flawed. The fallout from a choice this destructive lingers on. After writing this post I feel lighter, freer. I no longer feel it is even appropriate for me to engage in a relationship with him beyond parallel parenting, and The Dudes will understand why. My focus, as Ms. Pulitzer perfectly stated to me, is to love The Dudes. Which in no way means that I have to forge a fake relationship with their father. Thank you for being here and for taking the time to comment. You rock. Enjoy the show. Love yourself, Cleo
I am late to this post. I have been reading the entirety of HGM from the start. Like Cleo, I listened in on a Pocket Call and it changed the course of the my life forever. L, I just wanted to let you know that your comment above has been extremely helpful for me. I will never understand why spouses decide to cheat (and part of my problem right now is that I wish I did understand!). But being reminded that their relationship will always be based on a lie is helpful at this point. Thank you to L, Cleo and everybody here at divorcedmoms.com. This website has saved my sanity (along with my therapist)!
One more thing to add – I’ve noted the irony in the necessity my former spouse feels to tell me how much I suck as a co-parent. I’ve wanted to tell him (but haven’t) that even if I were the worst co-parent in the world (not even close), he’d have to deal with it anyway. Consequences – they suck sometimes. The irrational idea that he was fully entitled to make his own choices, but that I am not in response, is a joke. I am fully entitled to whatever my experience of this situation is, period. All that matters now is that I do what I need to in order to create a happy life for me and my kids, and he doesn’t get a say. (A bit ranty, but again, strong feelings!) xo
L, This hits home. I am entitled to structure a parallel parenting relationship anyway I choose. To support The Dudes and me. Now, The Dudes may want me to be friends with Daddy – the Tall Dude would like us to be together again – but that’s because they don’t know the whole story. If they did, they would understand. When they do (which I hope doesn’t happen until they need to know) they will understand. And they will respect how I’ve responded to betrayal. I’ve moved on. Hopefully they will, too. And realize that they can only accept how I am, not dictate to me how they want me to be. For God’s sake, I’m not in their relationship! 😉 Love yourself, Cleo
(The comment form of communication has its limitations. I keep thinking of things I wanted to say, but didn’t. Last one, I promise.) When I say my former spouse has no say in what I do, I’m aware he will still try, but that with peace of mind and a full heart, I can appropriately and completely disregard it!
I feel sorry for those little girls who were used as pawns to hurt you. What kind of parent does that? I hope they have a good father; they will need him.
When a couple bonds together over their mutual feelings of victimization by someone, it doesn’t bode well for their relationship. You are essentially the glue helping them stay together. They don’t have anything better to do with their time than to lash out at you? After 4 years of both of them abusing you?
I think you are on the right track. Admitting there is and never will be a healthy co-parenting relationship with a narcissist is a very important first step. You are saving yourself so much grief and frustration by embracing the parallel parenting model. Make NO CONTACT your mantra as much as possible. Do not speak to TG, limit texting, and use very clear and concise information only emails. Basically, your life is none of his business. As far as HDC goes, NO CONTACT at all. Ever. She doesn’t need to exist in your life. I would acknowledge her only if your children complan that she is in any way abusive.
Practicing no contact is not meant to be mean or punishing, it is meant to save you from added pain. Cutting out the cancer is the only way to get better. You deserve peace and with those 2 skankasses around, you won’t get it.
Take care, Cleo. I beleve in you and know you will do amazing things!
M, Thank you for your words of support and for being here. I don’t want to be in this threesome anymore. I barely thought about her and was well on my way to actually needing to remind myself that he’s still around. Then the court issue. It’s got me pondering. As do your words. It’s time, M. Time to be courageous. Brave. Time to SPEAK UP. I hope you and all the kittens will continue to guide me. This is a crossroads, for sure. Stay close, please. Love yourself, Cleo
Hi Cleo!
I have a question that I sincerely intend out of curiosity and not criticism. Obviously you have the right to limit and set boundaries with your former spouse in any way you see fit, including not meeting his affiar partner’s children. I wonder how you navigate conversations with The Dudes about the HDC and her kids, if/when the topic ever comes up? For example, if they mentioned that they played a game with the girls, or the girls came to visit, or whatever. It seems like it could be hard to balance your own boundary about not wanting to talk or hear about the affair partner and her kids with allowing The Dudes to talk about their lives without having to censor themselves or feel like they have to navigate what is okay to share about what happens at one house when they are at the other. Just curious how you manage this!
M, Great question. They don’t bring them up much. When they do it’s usually a snippet of conversation between The Dudes like, Remember when we… If they share a story with me about their time with the instafamily I listen. I don’t ask questions. And when they finish telling me the story I say, That sounds like fun! Or, That’s cool. If it’s something that I don’t agree with like giving a 7 year old boy men’s cologne or watch movies on the iPad till 1AM, I say, I’m not sure that was a good choice. All really basic stuff. At one time several months ago the Tall Dude said, You get quiet when I bring up ‘her’ or ‘them’. Why? My response was something like (it was a while ago), Hmmm…maybe because I don’t know them? I’m not sure, honey. And then I moved on. Here’s how I see it – I’m their Mom. I am not responsible for having any relationship whatsoever with anyone but them. When The Dudes are older they will fully understand. I find it stunning that they judge me for not wanting to have a friendship with them. Simply stunning. And then Look! A chicken! – I get distracted by life and move on. Thanks for being here, M. And for taking the time to comment. Love yourself, Cleo