Why do you think so little of yourself? Why do you feel you can’t get a man that doesn’t belong to someone else?
I’d be willing to bet that you’re sleeping right now. Why wouldn’t you be? It’s 3 in the morning. It’d also be safe to guess that you will wake up in a few hours with no remembrance of what happened a year ago. November 12th is just another random day to you. In fact, it was probably just another Sunday for you, heading home from yet another business meeting. Just another short trip to New York playing dress up for all of the company’s traders. I wonder if you had to coordinate picking up your kids that afternoon. Did they stay the weekend at their dad’s?
Me wondering what your weekend was like probably feels weird, I’m sure. Welcome to the world of being the victim of infidelity. As I sit here in a quiet home with the rest of the city enjoying the last few hours of sleep before a busy Monday morning, I’m tormented by thoughts of you. You see, this date has been weighing on my mind for two months now. Ever since finding out what you did with my husband. I’ve known that this date would carry a lot of power with it. Any forward progress I’ve made to recover from the trauma I’ve been put through seems to be temporarily paused. The Mack truck that ran me over has started back up and it’s chasing after me again today.
I should have seen the signs. Honestly.
I liked becoming friends with the woman my husband worked with. You were always the cool chick that understood me, sought me out, eager to chat. But hearing all of your sordid stories about what you allegedly did with [the celebrity who shall not be named] never really gave me that giddy, giggly response that it seemed to give you. After all, he’s a married man. I have no idea of who he is as a man, or what the state of his marriage is, but I do know that married is married. Unfortunately, from what I’ve heard about you, you certainly don’t feel the same. Do you take pride in the men in the office calling you The Big Game Hunter? Does that somehow give you a sense of power in a man-driven industry? As a woman who used to work in the same industry, I will tell you what it makes me think of when I hear it. It makes me feel sorry for you. Those guys aren’t meaning it as a compliment. They view you as a pathetic predator. As someone who thinks so little of herself that she gets her self-worth from how many notches she can put on her belt. It’s sad, really.
But that’s who you are, right?
You saw my husband and said, “Yep, he’s it.” Or was it that you heard all the talk about how controlling I was as a wife? Heck, even I hear that one a lot. Poor guy doesn’t get to go do anything fun with the guys because his wife never ‘lets’ him. You both just needed a little boost to the ego, right? Isn’t that what you said? I will never know what led you to his hotel room a year ago, but I am haunted by the images of that night. This morning. One year ago. And all I can do is pray that God gives me the strength to somehow get through this day. That He will make it possible for me to put one step in front of the other, shake those disgusting thoughts out of my head, and somehow be the mom my kids need me to be.
Ah yes, the kids. Betcha don’t think about my kids today.
So why is it that I’m thinking about your two little boys? Why do their images get blurred in my head? Why do flashes of their sweet faces blend in with snippets of seeing you in compromising positions with my husband? Is it because what the two of you did that night affected not only the two of you, not just me, but four small children as well? Do they know any of this happened? God, I pray not. I pray that this never affects their innocence. I hope that they are able to buck the statistic that predicts that they will carry on this same kind of behavior in their marriages. That will be the true miracle to come out of this yuckiness.
So here I sit, still a ball of emotions, wounded and scarred, wondering why I feel so compelled to write you a letter today on the anniversary of your tryst. What message could be so important that I know I won’t be able to sleep without first writing it down? For you, I’m sure it’s nothing. This won’t change who you are or even make you think twice about anything other than work today. But I will say that for me it’s critical to let you know:
I will make it through this. Only by the incredible Grace of God will that be possible, but it will happen. You will not define me, or – more importantly – my kids. One day I will wake up and to my core not care anything about you or what you did to my life. One day. And until then, I will pray for you. It will most likely be through clenched teeth form quite some time. My words will not be sincere for years, I’m sure. But one day I will find it in my heart to forgive you and your adulterous way. One day you will have no power over me and I will wish you well. I will be able to pray for your happiness and truly mean it. Because I know that God has some pretty incredible things planned for me in spite of you. Instead of taking up residence in my head, you will only be a blip on a screen…far…far away. Or at least that’s my prayer for today.