Loving Myself More – A Personal Story

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And so I caught my husband yet again with a mistress. Mind you, it was a “pregnant” mistress this time, and yet again, I have a sarcastic look on my face right now. This is not his first extramarital affair. It’s not even his first mistress whom he got pregnant. This is his third whore – and when I mean whore, he found her (well, they sort of found each other) in a gambling house where she worked as a call girl. Seriously, literally.

My husband, the philanderer, the gambler, the stupid, the idiot, the dog – the one I fell in love with for the past 22 years has yet again put shit on my head. This is what Seth Meyers, PsyD defined as emotional infidelity, which according to him, “refers to the behavior that one partner engages in which fosters emotional intimacy in the here-and-now with someone else and sometimes promotes the possibility of sexual intimacy in the future.”

How did I find out? Well, it was effortless. I asked for the Lord to let me see everything. I prayed for a week and one day, and after that short period, it was revealed to me. He worked out of town, and so he has to travel every week to the city where he worked which is roughly 200 miles from our home. He leaves home every Sunday because he has to work from Mondays to Thursdays. Every Friday, he travels back and comes home to us.

Oh well, that all changed. He started leaving even on Saturdays and would stay there for two weeks at a time. What I didn’t know before was that when he goes every Saturday, he sleeps with his whore. His pregnant whore. They’ve been together for the last two years, and they even celebrate monthly anniversaries. I saw everything on the whore’s Facebook account. (Excuse me for saying that she is a whore because she literally is. She sold her body for $20 a pop. A credible source told me.)

Anyway, going back to how I saw all of it. One meaningful lunch, I brought my baby girl to school. The usual route to school was under construction, and so I had to use a back road. Lo and behold! That back road street has a motel, and there, I saw my husband’s jeep. He told me he was in his workplace city and so I wondered why he was there. I parked my car and went inside the motel. Casually, I asked the security of the car owner – pointing at his jeep. God is so good! The security person led me to the room, and I knocked.

I read that “affairs,” wrote psychologist Barry McCarthy, “are the absolutely best example of behavior being multicausal, multidimensional. There are many contributing factors. Sometimes they have nothing to do with the marriage. The most common reason for an affair is high opportunity. People fall into affairs rather than plan them.”

All my insides went out, or dropped to the floor when a girl’s voice answered – “Who’s there?” I said, “Oh, it’s just me. My husband is inside there with you, right?” There was a bit of a commotion inside and after a few minutes, he opened the door.

What I did first when he let me in? I grabbed his almost balding head pulled it hard. After that, I slapped his cheeks until I saw my fingers mark on his face. Good thing I wore my Adidas Neo and that helped with the kick I left in his stomach. I also punched his chest so many times, and I lost count.

Wives – I’m not saying that you should be violent. I know some women who never went down that road when they were in that situation – catching their husband in the act. But at times, it just happens. Be careful though; some nincompoop husbands fight back, and that’s not a pretty sight.

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Anyway, he kept her inside the comfort room, and you know what he told me? “I want a divorce.” Wow. Rich. Creamy. Salty and sweet. This man who I gave up everything for just said to me that he wants a divorce. I just laughed. Nothing else for me to do at that moment but laugh. Who does he think he is? He is not some Jason Momoa or Chris Evans. He’s not even that well-endowed. But you know, because of love, I accepted his weakness (gambling and women). God said – for better or for worse, right? And so I sacrificed, I accepted, I forgave, and I lost myself.

Never will I lose myself again. Never. I walked out that building and I left him there with his whore. His 8-month pregnant whore who is 13 years younger than him. Oh well, I have to let him go. I have to find myself and love myself more this time. If he didn’t see the worth in me, then why should I beg for his love?

I was vindicated by the words of Sheri Meyers, LMFT, who said, “As much as the cheater would like to cast off their guilt by blaming their partner for their bad behavior, it really doesn’t work that way. When infidelity occurs, the cheating partner bears the brunt of owning most, if not all, of the blame.”

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Divorce? Oh, you bet! Why should I sacrifice my mental health any more at this point, right? This time, the priority will be me, even before the kids. All of me and how I will be well.

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