One month on from Dday, and I'm still in hell.

Dday

It should have been obvious from the start. She (46 F) decided to meet up with an ex-boyfriend from before we met. She even told me about it. I (45 M) wasn't crazy about the idea, and told her as much, but she'd maintained friendships with a couple of exes before, and I've always been cool and mature about it - at the end of the day, she picked me, and I got on with them fine. And I'm never going to tell her who she can and can't see. She told me I had nothing to worry about. Ok then. They had a nice catch-up over lunch, and I never heard anything more about it. I trusted my wife. He's married with kids too anyway.

As time went on, like they say, "I just knew." After 22 years together, 15 years of marriage and two children (twins), I began to feel like something was off over the summer. You stay together with someone for that long, and you get to know all their little ways and means. Little things mostly - spending even more time than usual on her phone and looking very pleased with herself, disappearing too frequently to "make a phone call" or "just go for a walk", vague, defensive answers to innocent questions, seeming distracted and unresponsive to my affection sometimes.

One day I managed to get a look at her DMs. Expected to find a bunch of chats with one of her mum friends from school - I just needed proof that I was crazy. I still get flashbacks from what I found. Two months' worth of chatting, flirting, explicit sexting, talking about what they wanted to do to each other, what they did do to each other, where they went, how good it was, etc. etc. Pages and pages and pages. A blow-by-blow account of my wife's affair with another man.

Now I can line up all of the dates they met at a hotel or sexted with our own calendar. Meetings with "clients" in town. The first time they slept together, she came home from a "work lunch" and we watched a film together as if nothing had happened. She completely invented a work event out of town to spend the night with him. She brought him with us on holiday. Chatted with him while I played with my kids on the beach. She would come home from a night out with (real) friends and immediately run to the shower with her VB. Didn't mind that until I knew the context. One night I came to her in the hope of physical intimacy and was told, understandably, that she was tired and going straight to sleep. No problem, I said, another night then, and off I went to watch a film. Now I know what she was really doing. She was having sex with him in our bed. He wasn't there in person, but as good as. She didn't just violate the terms of our marriage, she violated the sanctity of our home, our family spaces.

Couldn't sleep the night of Dday. Eventually woke her up at 4am and gave her the explicit opportunity to tell me the truth. She lied some more, feigned ignorance. So I just had to tell her: I know absolutely everything.

The context

She did not, of course, fall to pieces and beg for forgiveness. She immediately defaulted to blaming me and the marriage. It's true, we had drifted apart. We started out as love's young dream, completely inseparable, absolutely made for each other. Best friends, confidantes, passionate lovers, partners in everything. Destined to grow old together. But life threw a lot of shit at us. Multiple rounds of IVF, several miscarriages, medical problems and procedures, big career setbacks, my many depressive episodes, financial shocks, Covid…

But we weathered the storms, I told myself. And we were gifted beautiful twin babies 9 years ago. Her career was taking off again just as mine was floundering, so I happily took on the role of housedad. It was the most challenging and rewarding thing I've ever done. But it took its toll. I've suffered depression most of my life, and the pressures of handling twins while seeing my personal dreams circle the bowl weighed heavy on me. My depressions got worse and longer and more frequent. Then Covid happened. I felt trapped, wasn't coping, started drinking by myself at night. It got worse. My dear WW just didn't really understand my depressions or seem to know how to help, or even show much interest in understanding. I felt like a burden. She wanted another child, but I couldn't even consider it. I was barely coping as it was, and she would just dismiss my reticence as dragging my feet.

And yet, there were two unplanned pregnancies after our twins were born. I did not handle it well, to my eternal regret. I would retreat into myself and become cold and incommunicative. Not because I wanted to, I just couldn't be any other way. My mind would short-circuit. I still kept one foot in front of the other, played my role as dad and husband. But I wasn't there emotionally. And when she lost those pregnancies, I didn't support her the way I should have. I was there, but not there. I want to blame it on the depression, but I have to take responsibility for that. It must have been unbearably painful for her, and I was a shitty husband not to see it. She didn't feel like she could talk to me, nor me her. So, slowly, we drifted.

I'm still struggling to build any sort of career, I earn literally half what my WW earns, and my social circle has dwindled to almost nothing. I don't do very much leisure-wise. All the things I used to do, that made me who I was, I don’t do anymore. I don't handle stress well, and I've turned into a very anxious, reclusive person. All of this my dear WW pointed out as contributing factors in the affair. So if my self-esteem was in the gutter before, now it's fully down the drain. But this year, after perhaps the worst depressive episode I've ever had, I decided I really had to do something. So I finally sought out psychotherapy. I wanted to commit to getting better, for me, for my wife, for my kids. After a couple of sessions, I was already feeling hopeful, and just having the goal of getting better was giving me motivation. I wanted to do more, be more, share more. This was it now, I had my foot on the first rung of the ladder.

It was during this time, just as I was beginning my journey towards wellness, that she began the affair.

Reading posts on SI about all the other WSs who weren't "having their needs met", how the AP was "giving her everything I wasn't", has been reassuring. You can bet I've beaten myself up over all the shortcomings my WW kindly pointed out after I merely observed that she had been f****** another man behind my back.

Now

I feel like I'll never be well again. I've never known mental and physical pain like I've experienced over the last month. I know firsthand what trauma is now. Couldn’t sleep, Couldn’t eat. Panic attacks. Crying all the time. Sometimes I feel like I'll never stop crying. I’m an absolute wreck. She has kicked away that ladder and set fire to it. How can I rebuild myself, my social circle, my career, when I panic just thinking about talking to another person, let alone the rest?

It's gotten gradually easier to bear. I’ve seen a MH nurse, been given counselling, was on diazepam, now on zopiclone. Might have to go back on SSRIs (but reluctant as the weight gain and loss of libido have their own effects on my wellbeing). I'm going through an endless cycle of the knot in my stomach gradually tightening until I'm able to talk about my feelings to her and it loosens a little. But this means I'm still dependent on her for this. I understand this is unhealthy. Unfortunately for me, she's still my greatest source of comfort, while remaining the very person that did this to me. I read up on Betrayal Trauma. I'm stuck in fight or flight mode because my source of safety is now the source of danger.

She’s still in the fog, it seems. She’s said sorry a million times, but I don’t know if she’s really shown that much remorse. A month out, after much feet-dragging, she’s finally agreed, in principle, to send a No Contact to him. And she’s agreed, in principle, to try to save our marriage, do MC, give us a chance. We’ve had some very tender moments, and finally being able to be honest with each other has been cathartic. But I don’t trust her, and I don’t feel we’re on the same page. I want to work on myself and our marriage because I want to grow old together. She’s still "figuring out what she wants" and what the future might look like for us if we have one.

I’m scared because I’ve built my entire life around her. Without her, I’m nothing. I understand the idea of the 180, but I don’t know how to rebuild my life, my social circle, my career, all from scratch, when merely talking with another person makes me panic. I’m undergoing psychotherapy, have a crisis counsellor on top. But whenever I think about the mountain I have to climb, I crumble. I don’t even know how to begin. How do I get my foot on the ladder again?

3 comments posted: Monday, October 19th, 2026