When Your Ex Has Moved On…And You Haven’t
A Letter to My Ex On the Eve of My Wedding
This was first published in The Huffington Post almost seven years ago. It soon became one of my more controversial pieces. Some people claimed I obviously wasn’t over my ex while others related to the way that every relationship we experience becomes a part of our story.
It’s strange to read it now, as it was written on a day when I was feeling particularly nostalgic and contemplative, planning my second wedding naturally bringing up memories of the first. In many ways, this was my “good-bye” letter to him, one born more from compassion than the angry ones I actually sent to him in the beginning.
I wouldn’t pen the same letter today. In fact, today I have nothing to say to him because I’m beyond happy where I am. I rarely think of him anymore and I struggle to capture any images and memories from our time together.
Which is why I am sharing this letter again. It captures a moment in time. A woman standing on the bridge between the long road of healing and the gates to a new chapter.
Dear —–,
Fourteen years ago, I was preparing to marry you. I was so excited but, even more, I was so sure. Sure that we were so good together. Sure that we would continue to weather any storm. Sure that we would be together forever.
My belief in our marriage lasted until the day you left. I remember my shock, my disbelief so clearly. I couldn’t understand how you, my beloved husband, could do those things. Even now, four years later, I still don’t understand the choices you made. I suppose I never will.
In an instant, you went from the man I adored to a stranger I feared. In many ways, you have been dead to me since you left. I remember you as you were since I can’t comprehend what you’ve become. It’s almost as though you are two completely separate men to me — the one I was married to and the one who betrayed me. I just can’t understand how you could be both my protector and my persecutor.
I am no longer the same woman you abandoned four years ago; I’m not sure you would even recognize me now. You ripped everything from me — my marriage, my trust, my dogs, my money, my home and even my health. I had to rebuild from nothing except the support of family and friends and my desire to make something good come from all of this. It has not been an easy journey and there have been many moments where I thought I would fail. But then I think of you and I keep going. You have become my motivation to do more, achieve more, trust more, love more. Live more.
I have found a place of forgiveness and acceptance of our past. In fact, I am grateful for you. I’m thankful I had such an amazing and supportive partner for 16 years. You were my best friend. I smile when I think of our teamwork while working on the house or other projects. I’m grateful for your patience teaching me how to slow down and enjoy touch; I still treasure the memory of the hours spent lying astride you with my head on your chest listening to the calming beat of your heart. I’m appreciative of all that you introduced me to — from the comedy of Opie and Anthony to the details of carpentry. I’m thankful that you always made me feel listened to and respected and that you were a husband that I never had reason to complain about. We had a good run.
And, strangely enough, I’m even grateful that this happened. It has been the most difficult and painful experience of my life, one that I’m still paying for literally and emotionally. But it has also opened up a whole new world for me that I would not have realized otherwise. I faced my biggest fears and survived; I’m no longer bound by uncertainty. I’m happier now than I’ve ever been and I’ve experienced enough to be more grateful for that than I would have been before.
I still wish sometimes that things could have been different. That you would have been truthful with yourself and with me at whatever point you started to go down that dark path. That you could have received the help you needed before it was too late and that the collateral damage could have been reduced. But that’s not how it happened and we have both been left with the consequences of your choices, although you have yet to take responsibility for yours.
It’s strange, although you have been out of my life for a full 48 months, you have been very much on my mind. At first, I spent my time cursing you, assuming you were some sociopath bent on destroying me. Then, I started to pity you when I realized how lost and broken you were. I’ve written a book about you (thanks by the way for leaving me with the story that the officer who arrested you still calls “the top story I share after 21 years on the force”) and untold numbers of blog posts. Your spectacular fall from grace has shocked, entertained and enlightened thousands as they learn about the dangers of marital fraud and the reality of bigamy. The story has given hope to the betrayed and comforted others who have been through atypical divorces. It’s what I wanted — some good to come out of the tragedy.
In the typed letter you left me on the kitchen island, you stated that you knew I would move on to live a “happier and more honest life than (you) could ever give me.” You were right, although it has taken me time to see that. I was so afraid that your multiple betrayals had damaged me permanently, that I would never learn to trust or to love again. Luckily, that has not been the case and I have found love again with a man I am to marry soon.
I’m not sure what you would think of him. He is quite different from you — hard where you were soft, decisive where you were contemplative and most importantly, forthcoming where you were secretive. He challenges me in a way you never did; he encourages me to leave my comfort zone and fully live in a way I didn’t before. He has been so patient and so understanding as I have to worked to purge myself of you. I am excited about my upcoming wedding. Even more so than before, as this one is truly a celebration of love arising from the ashes.
You are not invited to the wedding, although in some ways you’ll be there. You will exist as the memory of the husband I loved and lost, without whom I would not be marrying the man in front of me now. Your name will not be mentioned nor your story told, but your influence will be felt by all as we celebrate the enduring power of love.
Thankful to be your ex,
Lisa
The Many Faces of the Affair Partner
I saw a question posed on Twitter yesterday asking if anyone had written to the affair partner and, if so, what the outcome was.
The responses were interesting and quite diverse. It soon became clear that the type of communication (not to mention its aftereffects) with the affair partner were very much dependent on the relationship that person had to the wayward spouse prior to the affair and their role in the infidelity.
The Relationship of the Affair Partner Prior to the Infidelity
The Stranger
This is definitely the easiest of the horrible options to stomach. When the affair partner is a stranger, they become a blank canvas where you can easily project your own insecurities. However, there is little betrayal felt from them; after all, you’re a stranger to them as well. Additionally, if there is an attempt to salvage the marriage, this is the easiest relationship to cease all contact with and there are not likely many ties that make the disentanglement difficult.
The Acquaintance
We’re venturing into more difficult territory here. You’re likely to replay countless encounters with this person, wondering what was simmering beneath the surface that you failed to notice. There is probably an additional level of betrayal since this person knows who you are and knows who they were hurting in the process. As an acquaintance, it’s more likely that you’ll run into them and there may be mutual connections that lead to difficult or awkward situations.
The Coworker
This relationship is especially difficult if you’re trying to save the marriage. After all, your spouse can go “no contact” with a former friend, but generally bosses don’t look too kindly on that. They have to navigate the transition back to a professional relationship (which may be next-to-impossible if the affair partner has other ideas) and you have to fight the feelings of panic every day when they begin their morning commute.
The Friend
Your spouse and your confidant have been playing you. What a devastating discovery that throws your whole world into question. Who can you trust? The fractures caused by this type of infidelity travel far and wide, splintering friend groups and causing people to take sides. If you decide to try to salvage one or both relationships, building trust again will be especially difficult because everybody seems like a potential threat.
The Family Member
It doesn’t get any worse. We expect that family will always be there for us. And so the betrayal by a family member is equal to or even greater than the betrayal by a partner. You may be facing divorce and family estrangement at the same time, leaving you feeling orphaned and adrift.
The Role of the Affair Partner in the Infidelity
The Victim
They didn’t know that they were having an affair. They were told their partner was single, divorced or in the process of divorcing. Although they may not have been married, they are feeling betrayed as well once they learned that you were still very much in the picture.
The Willing Participant
This affair partner knows about your marriage, although they may have been incorrectly informed that your marriage is awful and that a divorce is inevitable. They may be married themselves or they may be attracted to those that cannot fully commit. In order to justify the affair, they may downplay its importance, minimize the marriage or compartmentalize the areas of their life.
The Instigator
This person set their sights on your spouse and then deliberately set out to win their attentions. They were not afraid to manipulate or lie in order to get what they want. If your spouse tried to set boundaries, this affair partner would attempt to bulldoze them over. They are unlikely to end the affair themselves and may make it difficult for your spouse to end it as well.
The Saboteur
Have you received disturbing messages from the affair partner? If so, this may be what you’re dealing with. These are the people that will not rest until they have left a path of destruction in their wake.
So What Does This Mean?
No matter the role of the affair partner, it’s natural to want to reach out – either to scream or to question. Or perhaps both. You want your pain to be heard and you want your questions answered.
Keep in mind who you’re dealing with. You can have a conversation with a victim, but not with a saboteur. The questions you’re going to pose to a stranger are very different than those you may ask a friend.
In my case, the affair partner was a stranger and a victim. I spoke to her on the phone for several hours while my (actually, our) husband was in jail. I wanted to warn her, protect her. She was never somebody that I had ill will towards. In fact, I desperately hope that she is okay. However, if she had been in a different role, I cannot promise that I would feel the same.
If you do attempt contact, wait until your emotional state is out of the red zone. By all means, scream or write those words you need to release, but release them into a safe space that will not have repercussions. Also, be aware of your expectations going into the contact. You most likely will not receive the response or answers you crave. There is no magic balm that comes from confrontation. No answers that illuminate everything. You’re not going to find healing from them.
So have your say. Ask your questions. Set your boundaries. And then let it go.
5 Things We Hold On To After Divorce
Divorce requires letting go – of the marriage, the dreams, the regrets and even the promises. Yet we often struggle to let go. If feels wrong. Scary. Unfamiliar and untested.
So instead, we grip, holding on even when the thing we’re holding on to only causes us harm.
We Hold On to An Image Of Our Former Partner
Maybe you still see them as they were in the beginning of the relationship. Or, you see them as you want them to be. Regardless, you’re holding on to an image of them, a picture that is more in line with your wishes than their reality.
We Hold On to Our Dreams of What the Relationship Should Have Been
If only the affair hadn’t happened. Or the addiction. Or the growing distance after having children. Then, we tell ourselves, the marriage would still be okay. We cultivate this image of what our lives are supposed to be like and even when life trajectories change, we have a hard time letting go of Plan A.
We Hold On to Our Anger and Blame
We rail against our ex-partner, or their affair partner or some other factor that we blame for the relationship’s demise. We feel powerful in our anger, righteous and also purposeful. As long as we are angry, we at least have something.
We Hold On to Our Pain and Victimhood
It’s scary facing the world alone. And so we curl up in our cloak of “wronged one,” prompting others to render aide and support. Our pain becomes our identity. It’s proof that the relationship was important. That we were important.
We Hold On to a Need For Fairness
We place our faith in the courts. Or God. Or karma. Thinking that bad things come to exes for those who simply wait long enough. We hold on to the idea that in order for us to be okay, we need for them to not be okay. We just want them to feel the pain too.
Bouncing Back
My ex was right. Well, partially right, at least.
In the typed letter (which, for some strange reason, was in duplicate) he left on the kitchen counter after leaving me via text message, he wrote this –
“I know that once you recover from the shock of this you will bounce back and live a happy and satisfying life – a life better and more honest than I could ever hope to offer you.”
I was livid the first time I read those words, almost 24 hours after receiving the text and with no other communication from him. My world was completely shattered. I was honestly afraid that this would literally be the end of me, as the shock and trauma were so all-encompassing. I was fighting to breathe and at the starting line for the fight of my life.
And those two little words – “bounce back” – seemed to minimize and dismiss everything he had done. As though embezzling from, cheating on and abandoning your wife is on par with recovering from the flu and I would “bounce back” and be as good as new after some rest and perhaps some soup.
Needless to say, that’s not what happened.
Well, not exactly.
I collapsed.
I cried.
I shook.
And grieved.
Learned to breathe.
Opened my eyes.
I crawled.
I took some wobbly steps.
And fell again.
I got back up.
Took some more steps.
Got a little stronger.
Went the wrong direction.
Cried again.
Got angry.
Tried to climb.
Too soon.
Declared I would make it.
Secretly doubted it.
Put on a brave face.
Hid a terrified heart.
Started to trust again.
Built a wall.
Started to love again.
Felt foolish.
And hopeful.
Had good days.
And terrible moments.
Wondered if I was broken.
Too damaged.
Tried climbing again.
Fingers bloodied from the effort.
Heart pounding.
But felt good.
Alive.
I hit rock bottom.
And I made it back.
But I never bounced.
I fought like hell for every inch.
Every breath.
Every step.
Yet he was right.
I am now living a happier and more satisfying life than I ever did with him.
And I may not have bounced back, but I got there. And that’s the part that matters.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 