Came back to reiterate:
Please do not take anything I type here as advice, except to take care of yourselves and do what's right for you.
It was right for *us* to stop staring at the infidelity like it was a thing unto itself, to be resolved as a separate issue. Like it was THE PROBLEM. Honestly, for us, the thing itself made no sense until we put in the larger context of our flawed relationship dynamics.
Past a very basic point, there were really no more answers in the incident itself. I suppose it would be quite a different kettle of fish if we were dealing with sex addiction, or a long term affair, or an involvement with an emotional component. Our answers resided in our boundary issues, respect issues, FOO issues, agency issues, immaturity, poor skill sets, etc., not in a single one off incident long ago.
Perhaps the best analogy is that infidelity is like 'cancer.' If you speak with epidemiologists and oncologists, they will tell you that 'cancer' is really many, many different diseases with many, many different causes and treatments.
I believe that infidelity is quite similar in very elementary ways (betrayal.) However, attempting to address all infidelity with a rote approach, I believe, leads to frustration and poor outcomes.
Yes, all infidelity has some basic elements in common, but every couple's experience is as unique as the people involved. It is also as unique as that particular time in the couple's life and in the individuals' lives, as the culture in which the infidelity occurs, etc. etc.
I'm beginning to think that, apart from dissolution of the relationship, which could be seen as a basic response to intractable situations, each couple's journey out of infidelity needs to be custom designed and targeted, almost like DNA based therapy for diseases.
Take, for example, our situation:
Post DDay2, I put myself in therapy.
I'd seen this therapist before, briefly, working out a particular sticking point I was having, we were having.
Great therapist. PhD psychologist, university professor, licensed therapist, forensic psychologist, etc.
Not a slouch.
I really, really enjoyed talking to him. He had great insights and he helped me a lot.
So when DDay2 swept me at the knees, I called him and made an appointment.
We'd already talked about my life and our marriage in previous sessions, so we had a basic framework.
I relayed to him what Husband had told me to date about the long ago infidelity. I did my best to be accurate and consistent with what Husband had told me. Remember, Husband and I were in the throes of trickle truth at this point, so it wasn't a complete picture.
After I finished relating the story, the therapist sat back for a long, silent moment.
Then he looked at me and said,
"Are you sure your husband didn't have sex in that place, that night?"
Dude, I'm sure of *nothing,* especially not at the moment. My whole world just got turned upside down.
But my gut was telling me that Husband's dick did not trip and fall in an orifice. I've known the man since he was 17 years old. Hard to explain, really, to people who are not us, but knowing him as I did, it's easy for me to believe that the physical involvement stopped exactly where he said it stopped.
My gut told me from the beginning that there was always more to this story. Turns out my gut was right. My gut has also told me from the beginning that he was being truthful about where the fun stopped in terms of body parts. Honestly, for us, for me, that wasn't the essence of the situation anyway. The betrayal was between his ears more than it was between his legs.
In our earlier sessions prior to DDay2, which dealt more with life balance and relationship balance, we discussed a female coworker with whom my husband had gotten, reluctantly, enmeshed.
She was a difficult, demanding person.
(I will note here that it's not surprising, understanding more about ourselves as individuals and as a couple, that we end up with these prima donnas in our lives. =/ =/ ) (Also, fuck them.) (Thank you, Belated Awareness, but thank you for finally showing up.)
The therapist zeroed in on her immediately as being perhaps more of a source of our problems than I was ready to face.
He poked and prodded and challenged and held my feet to the fire.
I don't blame him.
Lots of loooooong hours at work, a dead bedroom, a largely absent husband, and now I'm telling him about a female coworker who is sucking all of the oxygen out of the universe.
But here's the deal:
I knew this woman. Not well, not personally, but I'd met her in the flesh several times.
I knew a lot about her work history and even something of her personal history through Husband and through some ancient history we all shared.
I knew, I mean, I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this enmeshment was born of a strange brew of shared responsibility, professional image, territoriality, perfectionism, and competition.
And even though, in many 'work spouse' scenarios, that elixir I described up there would have been Love Potion #9, I knew without a doubt that it wasn't with her and Husband.
The woman simply was not Husband's type on every conceivable level.
He didn't love her.
He didn't lust her.
He actually detested her.
Loathed her.
(He was not alone in that. She was difficult.) (Understatement.)
Just a big ol' NOPE.
I'll put it to you this way:
If I were to ever find out that there'd been any sort of illicit involvement there, I'd shrug my shoulders, wash my hands of it, see my attorney, and leave. No backwards glances. I couldn't even conceive of trying to stick around in the face of that, much less try to, compete? with it? Work it out? I might as well try to compete or cope with Husband falling in love with a can opener. Or with a house plant. Or with a piece of subway tile. Or with a clothesline. Or with a Buddhist monk. Not a description of nor a reflection on her, her appearance (except it firmly was NOT *any* of Husband's 'types.') Just, trying to convey that it would be so non-sequitur as to be unfixable.
It took a bit of conversation but I finally found the words to describe and explain it to my therapist:
My husband is a straight man.
If this coworker was a guy, he'd feel exactly the same way about him that he feels about her: enmeshed, tired of the bullshit, frustrated and uber annoyed.
IN SI WORLD:
Obvs, based on what my therapist said, I'd make Husband take a polygraph to find out if he'd 'had sex that night.'
I'd have put a VAR in Husband's car and pulled phone records to figure out if Miss Thing was indeed A Thing.
I was already managing every single penny that came in or went out of our accounts. All of it. I am meticulous about those details and I received a copy of Husband's pay stub every pay day. If the man was dating, fuck, I felt sorry for his dates. Give me her address, I'll send the woman some flowers.
I might have even hired a private investigator.
None of those things would have been helpful to me, nor appropriate for us.
It would have been a waste of time, energy, attention and resources.
Our answers weren't in forensic evidence. Our answers weren't in the "GOTCHA!" or even in The Blame Game.
Our answers were in FOO issues, damage and relationship dynamics.
One more salient point from my perspective, and then I'll give it a rest:
Never, ever underestimate the FOO and preexisting baggage, FOO related or otherwise.
Hubs and I were discussing this thread, this morning while lazing in bed, waking up slowly.
(Y'all don't know this, but this thread is causing me a lot of angst and stress: not because anyone(s) disagrees with me, disagree at will! offer all of your perspectives! but because I feel really, really exposed by what I've shared here. That's not any of your faults, btw. But it did cause me to turn toward Hubs for support.)
In the process of that conversation, Hubs shared something with me that I'd either forgotten or never recognized/realized.
I think I may have actually explored this aspect more on another thread...
Of the children/siblings in the family, parented by a covert passive aggressive narcissist and a garden variety (loud mouth) grandiose narcissist (both bullies in their own special ways) Husband was the child who was scapegoated.
MIL actually chose a different child as the scapegoat. Not surprisingly, her chosen scapegoat was FIL's Golden Child. That nomination never really got traction, because she was not the 'out there' narcissist. IMHO, she actually was/is the more toxic narcissist (think Lady MacBeth) but she wasn't particularly effective in unseating FIL's Golden Child.
Take a guess, won't you? MIL's Golden Child would have been Hubs.
So I've been up against a passive aggressive narcissistic MIL whose favorite was MY HUSBAND OMG HOW DID I NOT SEE THE LIVING HELL THIS WOULD CAUSE THANK YOU GOD WE'LL SETTLE THIS WHEN YOU BRING ME HOME (or send me to Hell)
... and Hubs is locked (unwilling) into some sort of weird Oedipal drama with his LOUD AND PROUD NARCISSISTIC FATHER who perceives him as MIL's (unwitting and unwilling) 'agent,' who must be vanquished at all costs.
Think Biblical Passover. I shit you not an ounce.
Overwhelming much?
Confusing much?
Fucked up much?
Yup yup yup.
Covert Passive Aggressive MIL was much more interested in covering her own ass than in protecting her 'chosen,' her son, her child.
Once, after FIL literally, physically kicked my husband around the back yard, never allowing him to stand up, much less walk or run away, just for disagreeing with him on an outside of the family/non-disciplinary issue (think some pedestrian opinion, like politics or tv shows or a local news story) (my husband was 14 years old or so at the time)
... my husband looked at his mother and said,
"You see what he's doing here, right? Why are you OK with this? Why is this OK?"
... and Lady MacBeth responded with,
"Why do you rile him up like that?"
Thanks, Mom.
So yeah, that's a little glimpse at Hub's FOO.
Mine is equally as dysfunctional.
I'm no pristine specimen.
SO.
I did not remember this, I do not remember this, I honestly likely blew right past it, not realizing what was happening right in front of my face.
This is not a competition about whose family was worse, whose damage is worse, who suffered more, honestly it's not, but,
My family was so shattered that Hub's family looked positively Norman Rockwell in comparison- and that was and is a large part of their currency.
Husband confided in me this morning that for several years in our early to mid marriage, his father routinely goaded him that I 'wore the pants' in our marriage.
Now, I have described this thoroughly earlier on this thread:
I most certainly did not 'wear the pants' in our marriage. In fact, I was struggling to have my voice heard, and was doubling down on the codependency function just trying not to argue about fucking lunchmeat.
But FIL, who was in fact, in charge of *nothing* in his marriage nor in his household, was actively goading Husband about who was 'in charge' in his house and in his marriage.
And against this backdrop,
that infidelity happened.
"This is just what men do."
Peeps, don't overlook the baggage.
Love you all... <3
[This message edited by marriageredux959 at 5:08 PM, March 20th (Saturday)]