Deep Breath. There is More.

Reading Time: 7 minutes

Dear Husband,

I think over the last week we have come the closest we ever had in this journey to ending our marriage. I said it over and over again in the depths of rage and distress. Tears falling from my face for an entire 24 hours as I processed and it all came from a slip up. We were already having a difficult conversation. You’d said something, I can’t even remember what, which contradicted your ongoing belief that you had convinced yourself during your affair that you weren’t doing anything wrong. You didn’t have sex with her.  You say you didn’t want to. So you didn’t see how you were doing anything wrong until it was far too late. Then you carried on anyway but you were so far gone then.

Turns out, on reflection and careful consideration, your behaviour didn’t really stack up to that. She brought you a birthday card which you never brought home. Secret phone calls. Not mentioning her at all. When I raised concerns about the friendship, the constant notifications of her messages, you just turned off the notifications and eventually moved to another app. Her suggestion, in case her ex husband saw your messages, your lack of critical thinking skills throughout all this is one of the things I’ve most lost respect for you over. You are a bright guy. Usually overly critically analysing everything but her, not a single second thought, she said jump, you rolled over, did a trick and asked how high.


How would her ex husband who knew nothing about you see your phone husband? How would he know to look? Why would he care if you were friends? Why would she call you to call her mother because she couldn’t contact her daughter? Why not call her herself? I know she was abroad but she was asking you to get her daughter on the phone so she could speak to her…whilst.still.abroad. Why have self destructing messages, you aren’t forced to use that feature, it’s an additional bonus of the app. Why did you not mention this person to me at all? Never mentioned your lunches with her, your chats at work, nothing. 

There are so many more but those are just at the front of my mind as I write. Not the actions of someone who didn’t know he was doing wrong.

So now I lie asleep in our bed at night, alone, listening to your breathing and snoring on t he sofa downstairs. Unable to have you next to me in bed. Unable to face the triggers that you bring to me, with your mere presence in my life. Because those words that I’ve already talked about were just the beginning weren’t they. You slipped up over something you had been super strong on since dday 4 (disclosure). You added two things. Then all hell broke loose. I pushed you into a corner and suddenly you COULD remember details. Like the things the pair of you sexted about. You were able to talk me through chronologically in detail the days you sexted, what it was about, what you fantasied about, what she fantasied about. What got you so turned on you needed to masturbate. How you told her you had. How she said she had too. How she messaged you when she was working to tell you how much she would rather have been having sex with you that day rather than working at home. How she wanted to screw you in her car, her office, on her “reading chair”. You told me everything that you said you couldn’t remember up until now. Until you could. Until, with your back against the wall, you could. Then the rest came tumbling out, your porn habit. How low you felt afterwards but how you instigated it as much as she did. How you sexted with our child in the house but not when I was around. The sheer frequency of it, when you were going through those 12 days before you got caught, highlighted to you just how often I had been at work. How hard I was working whilst you sat at home talking about bondage with a random whore from your office.


I didn’t shed a single tear whilst you spoke. You did. The shame and anguish written all over your face. You couldn’t sit still. You purged everything you could. I told you you disgusted me. I was repulsed by you. I wanted to vomit several times whilst you spoke about her. What she told you she was going to do for you, how eager she was to please, but moreso how much you lapped up every second of attention you gave her.

During that time I was begging for your attention. You didn’t touch me. You didn’t show love towards me. You made me feel redundant to you, disgusting, and unloved.

We talked for 10 hours without me shedding a single tear.

I wouldn’t cry for you. I didn’t cry till I was alone. Then I sobbed. I had to medicate myself to sleep. I had to attend a vital and non negotiable court date the next day, and I cried up until the second I got to that room. Cried during and afterwards. I cried on public transport. I cried in the car. I sat outside the house not wanting to come in. I cried talking to friends and my dad. I cried over the conversations we had on the phone. Conversations we had by text. It flooded out of me like it would never stop. My eyes red and sore.

I medicated myself again.

Then we talked. We talked and talked and talked and talked. I told you I couldn’t take it anymore. That the pain I was experiencing was like it was day one all over again. That I was furious that he had held this back for so long. You talked me through your mind and how broken you were. You talked me through what was important about then and what was important about now. You purged yourself of the shameful and disgusting things that you thought, felts and spoke about. You felt that shame all over again. You humbled yourself to me.

I set boundaries. Boundaries that make my son and my life secure. Boundaries which make us safe. Make us able to deal with your mistakes and carry on with our life. I purged myself to, of the anger, the pain, the resentment for what you brought in to my life. I realised that anger was destroying me, and would destroy us.


I found a bit of peace in knowing rather than imagining what you did. Yesterday you spent the day thinking. Thinking strongly about all that happened, what you may have failed to tell me. You told me four things. All relatively meaningless in the grand scheme of things but things nevertheless. I knew vaguely about all of them. A gift she brought you. A way she involved you in her wider life, had you speak to her mother, and involved you in her daughters life. None were shocking. They made me think less of you though. How pathetic you were. How you didn’t think for more than a second about what you were doing and just saw a way to please your master, get kudos and a pat on the head. You were relentless in your quest for validation that you weren’t a shitty person. Whilst.You.Were.A.Shitty.Person.

I’m amazed that neither of you saw the irony of what you were doing at all.

Calling each other such wonderful professionals whilst you spent hours in meetings which weren’t meetings at all, just a chance to chat about her marriage dissolution mainly. Or all the time you spent messaging each other during work time, chatting about how awesome and sexy you both were without thinking that you were supposed to be working.

Calling her “fiercely family orientated” whilst she was actively destroying ours with full knowledge of what she was doing, even more in depth knowledge than I originally thought given her daughter is a week younger than my son. 

Calling me an asshole at every available opportunity in order to both make yourselves feel better about yourselves in between lying, cheating, gas lighting respective partners and being lazy as fuck.

Telling each other how beautiful you both were “inside and out” as you gained weight, binged on junk food, as you talked about not exercising or having a healthy diet – in fact wanting to be “free” of my quest for self improvement, how lazy and complacent you both were as you described how gorgeous each other was. You talked about being beautiful inside as you cheated on your wife, lied about her to your mistress, lied about your mistress to your wife, as you lied about our life, my personality, my actions, bunked off work. 

You made her believe you were a victim as you emotionally abused me day in day out for months on end.

Telling me I didn’t like it when you “fought back” against my criticism of you when I asked you not to be abusive towards me.

I could go on. You know I could. Your affair was selfish and pathetic all rolled in to one.

Where are we now. Surviving. Just about. Talking. Fiercely holding on to one another with new pain to heal and fresh open wounds to tend to. But. It feels like it’s a fresh start. Because I don’t have to guess anymore. Also you know this is it. This is the last time I will ever risk my self esteem, self worth and self respect for you. No more discoveries. No more wounds. I know it will not be perfect but it better be as close as humanly possible to right. You will be brutally honest first with yourself and then to me and then to people around you. You will put financial safeguards in place. You will make sure my son and I are protected. You will put emotional safeguards in place. You will use therapy to explore why you are so avoidant of responsibility and accountability. Why you are afraid of it.

There is so much that you have to do, that wound is open and ripe for infection. It needs to stay clean to heal over, and finally just fade to a scar. 

I need to do some stuff too. I need to care for myself. I need to focus on making my life what I want it to be. I need to get back to work. Make my own life independently secure. I need to let go of the hate for her. She takes so much of my head space and hating her just makes me think about her. Makes me consider her. Makes me feel inferior to her. I have to let that go for my own sanity.

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