A Letter to My Ex On the Eve of My Wedding

Posted on by stilllearning2b

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

Guest Post: A Letter to Myself

Posted on by stilllearning2b

 

Dear Adriana 2017 by Adriana Verdad

 

A letter to myself in 2017, when I was in the beginning, and the thick of the terror, harassment, and extreme emotional abuse. At that time, I was living on Mountain Dew and cigarettes. I didn’t sleep, or eat. I had lost 20 pounds in two weeks, and I felt physically terrible, emotionally drained, tired all the time, and my heart raced constantly. I was in terrible shape in every sense of the word. Looking back on my facebook memories has reminded me of this time, and how different this summer is, in every way. I wish I could go back and tell myself things, to help ease my pain. Here is what I would say to her. 

 

Dear Adriana two years ago,

You’re tired, I know. You’re not sleeping, or eating, and you’re not well, but I want to tell you that you will be okay. I promise. I know.

First of all, don’t let him get to you. He can’t take your kids away, and there’s going to be no trial like he threatened constantly. There won’t. The divorce will be difficult, and long, but it will be mostly you emailing with you lawyer, and calls with her. He will still harass you, repeatedly, and often, but it will get better than it is now. He will move out, not soon enough, but when he does, life will get so much better. It will just continue to get better, after the divorce is final, and after he remarries, it will only continue to improve each step along the way. Trust me.

You’re taking all the right steps, dear. You are. You’re working hard, and finding new jobs. You are making more money, and setting some aside. Keep doing that love, you’ve got this. Trust me. Two years from now, you’ll be on the eve of starting a great job, making good money, and your life will be totally different, and better. Stay the course when it comes to hustling sister. You are one badass, and you will hit bumps, but keep going. You’re going to find your way out.

 

Breathe. Often, and a lot. Breathe. Deeply.

 

That guy you’re talking to right now, stop. He’s a narc too. Stay away from him. No, he’s not going to rescue you. No one is coming to rescue you. Spoiler alert- you are going to rescue yourself. You are going to fight, and come out of this so much stronger. Much, much stronger than what you can even imagine. You are going to get to where your X’s texts make you laugh, or don’t even phase you. You are going to lose a couple jobs. You are going to find that your home, was always where you were, but you needed to find yourself to come back home.

You are going to cry sometimes. You are going to have days where you leave the bed for the couch. You are going to be lonely. You are going to get hurt. Again, and again. You are going to be okay. You are going to discover just how strong you really are.

I know you feel so alone right now. You’ve lost your marriage, your family, your friends. I know that you don’t even realize the power of the woman inside you, but she is there, my love. She has been pushed down long enough, and while it won’t happen overnight, you are going to uncover a better person than you thought you were. You’ll be far from perfect. You’ll still talk too much, and about yourself a lot, but the difference is, you’ll be more selfish. In a good way. You’ll still be generous to others, don’t get me wrong, but you will make sure that you are good. When you are not good, you will take time to rest. You will take care of yourself. You will do that which you’ve never done before. You are going to realize you’re a better mother, and person, when you heal what it ailing you.

You will be financially stable, to a point. But you will eventually get to where you’re able to set money aside. Did you hear that? On your own! On less! You’re going to rock at the other side of your life.

You’re going to be single for awhile though. And you’ll be okay with it. You’re going to fall in love, once, maybe for the first time, and it’s going to hurt like hell, but stay true to yourself, and always love yourself more than you love anyone aside from your kids.

 

Love yourself.

 

All those things he says. They’re not true. I know you know some of them aren’t, but he’s hurtful, and a monster. Breathe. You are going to get further away from him.

When he gets remarried, right after the divorce, remember that that’s more people to love your kids, and that’s never a bad thing. Love her. Forgive her. It seems like she took a lot from you, but she hasn’t earned anything but a false life that you used to have. She didn’t help destroy anything, because there was nothing to destroy. Hard facts.

Don’t go back to the first guy you’re going to date. After he dumps you the first time, move on. Seriously. Just don’t look back, he’s not worth your time. In fact, most of them aren’t. Nay, none of them are, so don’t kill yourself trying to make it work. Trying to make anything work, You’re better than that.

That brings me back to the one who will steal your heart, and bewitch you body and soul. I know you’re hopeful that it will happen someday, but I can’t tell you how that one will end. I know you feel seeing him is better for your soul, than not having him in your life at all, but only time will tell if that’s the case. I know that right now, my soul needs to see him, but I don’t know that will always be the case.

Don’t pay for dating sites.

You’re going to spend your money wisely, mostly. You’re going to get your bills paid for the first time in your life. You’re going to set aside money to take your kids to see the ocean, and do a little light travelling. You’re going to do awesome! Keep your head up. I know right now you have nothing, but that will change. And you will face big bumps, but you will make it out of this. Trust me.

Don’t sleep with the Sheriff’s Deputy. Don’t. Just don’t.

Do sleep with the cop.

Have great sex. Have no strings attached sex. Enjoy yourself. Explore. Seriously. Let loose, but always be safe.

Complain less. Share less of the bad stuff. Share the good stuff. Smile. A lot. All the time. Well, most of the time. You don’t want to look like the village idiot.

It’s okay if you’re not perfect. It’s really okay to be flawed. It’s okay to be sad. And hurt. 

Smoke fewer cigarettes.

Don’t chase anyone. You deserve better than that. If you find you are the only one chasing, try to let go. It won’t always be easy, but try your best. You deserve someone who will chase you.

Quit smoking.

Most of all. You’re doing the right thing. You’re doing the right thing for your kids, and for yourself. Don’t doubt that. Trust me when I say that you wouldn’t believe me if I told you all you are going to accomplish and do over these next couple years. You are going to learn to work on mowers, and cars, and do things that you wouldn’t have dreamed you were capable of doing.

You are going to be fine. No, you are going to be great in the end. You are going to overcome every obstacle he, and life, will throw in your path. 

Keep your head up, and if you’re going through something difficult right now, stay your course. Know your worth. You are going to come out on the other side of whatever is testing you right now, stronger, better, and happier, if you keep your head up. I hope you’ll share these words with anyone who needs to hear them right now.

Much love,

Adriana

 

About Adriana Verdad:

I spent over two decades with a narcissistic sociopath, but after leaving him, I have found myself. I’m learning to love life on the other side of marriage, love, and life. I write so that I can help others learn to love the other side as well.

Check out Adriana’a blog, Love the Other Side!

Mystery

Posted on by stilllearning2b

The story of this missing plane just keeps getting stranger. It’s interesting to me to watch how surprised people are that we do not yet have answers. How shocked people are that it remains a mystery even in the face of technology and manpower. We like to read mysteries, not live them. We crave the information that can fit the pieces of the puzzle.

I caught part of an interview yesterday with the wife of one of the passengers. I ached for her. She is caught in limbo, understanding that most likely, she will never see her husband again yet also lacking the concrete information that lets her begin to grieve.The questions, the mystery keep her anchored in maybe. And that’s a horrible place to live.

I know. I lived there myself for a few days. Yes, I had a text and a typed letter when my ex left, but I no information. What he left was worthless, gave no real answers. All I knew was that one moment, I had a husband who said he loved me and couldn’t wait for me to get home and the next, I had a brief electronic communication saying he was gone. Disappeared.

For the first twenty-four hours, I had no information. I didn’t know if he was alive or if the letter was really a suicide note. My mind raced, trying on different scenarios for fit. In some, in walked back in the door and explained it was all a mistake. In others, his body was found in a motel. I couldn’t rest. I needed to know.

As with most mysteries, information dribbled in. I learned that all the money was gone. I found proof of another woman. Then, I figured out what state he was in. That was the point where I first filed for divorce (less than a week after the text). The first go-round, the plan was to file by publication because his true location was still unknown.

And I was still restless. I knew some things, but I still didn’t understand why. And then I learned about Uganda and found some more answers. And then the bigamy, which answered some things and raised more. I was dogged. Determined. I needed to know. I searched for information with the same desperate urge as preteen reading the battle scene in the final Harry Potter. I could not stop turning pages even knowing that I may not like what I would learn.

In the end, that search provided the pieces that I fit into the puzzle years later. I still don’t know if I built it correctly. And I never really will. That search cost me, in terms of additional money spent for the divorce and in time spent playing Sherlock Holmes.

But, when I saw the face of that poor woman on TV last night, it’s a cost I’m glad I spent.

If  it was still a mystery, I would always be wondering.

At least now I know. And I can lay it to rest.

I hope that the families of the passengers on the missing place find answers soon so that then they can work on finding peace.

 

Nothing More to Say

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I was catching up with an old friend the other day when she asked the inevitable question about my ex.

“Do you think you’ll ever see him again?”

“Well, actually, I have,” I replied and proceeded to give her a brief synopsis of the encounter this past April.

“I would have yelled in his face,” she shared, her tone and body language suggesting residual anger. “How did you resist?”

I thought about it for a moment. On that day, I had no desire to approach him, much less confront him. All I wanted was for him to go away. But it’s more complex than that, as a particular post starting brewing soon after. Apparently, I didn’t want to talk to him there but I still had more to say.

One of the most painful aspects of a tsunami divorce is that its abruptness takes away any opportunity for discourse. I remember feeling so angry and so impotent at my voice being stolen.

In my early attempts at reaching him, I still believed that I would receive a response. Fear and anger fought for top billing in my mind. The following email was sent less than 24 hours after I received the text:

I’ve been mentally composing this for hours to try to not make it sound too angry. Coming home to a “dear John” letter and finding that you had cleared out while I was away fueled my fire again. I just keep thinking that your last employer got a sit down meeting when you quit while I got a text. You have been telling me, through words and actions, that it was okay & then this? You say you want to be supportive, but I can’t see that right now. I can’t think of a more painful way to do this. I can’t believe you stranded me across the country with this news, with no money, and the responsibility of the dogs. I may well bounce back, but this has shattered me to the core. I gave you time & opportunity before – why do it like this? I would like to think that your love & respect for me would override your cowardice. Please show me that respect now by talking to me – it is time to stop hiding.

You will need to come back soon from wherever you are so that we can disentangle our lives. As much as you may want to shirk responsibilities, we have a house, etc. that we need to make decisions about and I guess we need to file paperwork. I don’t know my plans yet, but can’t stay in the home we built together.

Days passed. Phone calls and emails were not returned. I was starting to understand that they never would. As the depths of the betrayals became clear, my anger grew. I entertained fantasies of tying him down and screaming at him; I wanted to force him to face the pain he created. I sent another email, copying what I thought was his girlfriend.

Uganda is an interesting choice.

You were right about two things: you are a coward and you certainly did let me down.

You can never run away from who you are or the knowledge of what you have done. Even Africa is not far enough.

I wonder how long it will take Amanda to see you for what you are?

You have taken away 16 years of my life, my dogs (true innocents whose lives are now completely changed), my home, my financial security, and what I thought was a wonderful marriage. You stole my youth, my innocence, my love. You hurt me in the ways in which you knew I was the most vulnerable. I refuse to let you have any more.

At least I can be at peace with who I am and the decisions that I have made.

I will not attempt to contact you again unless I find out this week that I have contracted an STD from you. That would be one more thing to weigh on your conscience.

Your betrayal and lies have pierced me to the core. I have never felt such pain, such sadness, such anger. The one I trusted and adored deceived and abandoned me.

I held back in that message. I expressed a sanitized version of my pain and anger. It wasn’t enough. The words I needed to say still ate away at me. Awake at 3:00 a.m., I composed another message, part of which is included below.

You were right.

You were right. I will never understand. I will never understand how you could be so cruel to someone you once loved. How you could repeatedly lie, even to direct questions for many months and years. How you could say goodbye at the airport, knowing it was for good, yet telling me that the week would go quickly and we would see each other soon. How you could continue to act like everything was okay (making plans for the future, sending loving texts, saying you missed me, having sex, even putting your $#&^%^@ dirty clothes in the basket before you left town), all the while knowing what you had done, were doing, and were planning to do. How you could betray my trust: financially, sexually, and in every other way. How you could make me feel sorry for you (sick in Brazil?) while you were *^$#*%@  your girlfriend all the while and spending thousands of dollars from OUR account? How you could continue to lie in your text (talk to you in a few days) and letter (I didn’t drain the account) to string me along as long as possible. Every piece I find out is a knife right through the gut (and trust me, I have found out quite a lot)…. You not only stole my present, you robbed me of my past: I can no longer look back on any of our relationship with any degree of fondness. Was any of it real? I don’t want to understand what you have done because in order to understand I would have to be deceitful and despicable too. I could never do the things you did.

…You are wrong to think that you can run away from your past – the house of cards has collapsed and it will follow you. You are wrong to think that this will make you happy. You were wrong thinking that I would continue to fall for your lies. You are wrong thinking that you can block out what you have done – it takes more than shutting me out of your e-mail. You were wrong to block out your feelings that led to this. You were wrong to think that you could handle this on your own. You were wrong to abandon our dogs in the basement and me across the country with no money to return. You were wrong to destroy 16 years with a *%#@($#  text message. You were wrong to steal money from our accounts – I guess fraud alert doesn’t work when it is from within the home. You were wrong to ask me not to contact your work; I certainly don’t owe you any favors. You were wrong to have sex with me, exposing me to unknown risks. You were wrong to seek my sympathy. You were wrong to pretend, to lie, to hide. You were wrong to do this to me.

I feel raped. Violated. Dirty. You have shamed me with your lies and your deeds. I was living with and loving an illusion, carefully crafted to take advantage of my trust. What did I do to deserve this treatment? Love too much, trust too much? The level of cruelty you have shown is astounding. The only word for it is “mindf***” – from kindness to cruelty, protection to persecution, connection to abandonment. There are no words that adequately describe the vileness of your actions. Everything you have touched is poisoned.

You know what’s sad? I still find myself wanting to share things with you.

We were such a good team, a good partnership. Unfortunately, a marriage takes two to make it work and only one to destroy it. You certainly destroyed it, and in the process, destroyed part of me. I will never be able to love or trust as innocently again. You stole that from me.

You cannot rest easy. Your creditors will find you. The IRS will find you. From what I have seen, the law may even find you. You cannot run from your health issues – did you even get your lab results? You won’t have health insurance soon. How long will your employers put up with your deceptions? They won’t like creditors, lawyers, law enforcement calling them. You better hope Amanda stays put – it seems as though you are going to be rather dependent upon her soon. I wonder what lies you have told her? You have no one else to support you – you have pushed them all away and betrayed their trust. You are alone.

Are you still interested in the devil and angel tattoo? Make sure to leave off the angel – we know who you’ve been listening to.

I felt somewhat better after sending it. I was able to express my anger and pain, but the problem was that I didn’t know if he ever read it. As the court cases (bigamy and divorce) approached, I held on to the thought that I would get a chance to take the stand and speak to him as a captive audience. When neither case allowed that to happen, I felt cheated again. Perhaps that was one of the core reasons why I chose to write and share my story. Even if he wouldn’t listen, others would.

By the time I was finishing the book, I was ready to write to him again, this time from a place of more compassion born from time and perspective.  Since I did not have an email address (nor did I actually want to attempt to contact him directly ever again), I included the letter in the book.

…I still have such a difficult time reconciling what happened to the man I loved. I wish you would have gotten help years ago. I would have joined the fight with you. Instead, I’ve been forced to fight against you. I wish I would have noticed how far you had strayed. I wish I had managed my anxiety better. I wish we could have worked together on our marriage the way we worked together on everything else. The results have been so tragic.

None of that matters now. We’re here. Wishes won’t change that.

You have brought me the greatest joys and the greatest sorrows in life, but I am not dependent upon you for either. I am responsible for my own happiness in life; I choose to make my life meaningful and joyful, regardless of the hell you dragged me through. I refuse to be defined by or limited by your choices; I am only limited by myself. July was my rebirth. But it was a terrible delivery.

I really hope that, wherever you are, you’re okay. I hope that you are making choices that do not harm you or anyone else around you. I hope that you are taking responsibility for the harm you’ve done. I hope that you are shedding whatever demons overshadowed you and that your true self is able to see the sun again.

…Your actions shocked and hurt me more than you can probably imagine. I’ve changed. Possibly so much that you wouldn’t even know me now. Your choices pruned me back to the core, but I have been able to grow new branches from the wounds. Life is beautiful.

I hope that you have been able to find beauty in your life and that you can help bring it to others.

With that letter, I thought I was done. Until I saw him this past spring. WIth my upcoming nuptials on the horizon,  I realized that I still had more to say. I wrote the controversial post, A Letter to My Ex On the Eve of My Wedding for the Huffington Post.

And then I was done. That last letter was the final catharsis, releasing him from me. I no longer feel as though my voice has been stolen. I no longer feel the need to be heard by him. I have said what I needed to say and I no longer care if it has been received. I am at peace now.

I have nothing more to say.

 

A Letter to My Ex

Posted on by stilllearning2b

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.

Read the rest on The Huffington Post.