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Read the previous entry here.
November 2010
I can't imagine the alter-universe where my husband cheats on me. It couldn't be real. We love each other, we have two children and a life together. We're happy. Working through our problems but we're carving out a life that is full-bodied and real...it's our life, together.
Still, my dreams leave me teetering, barely seeing something dark and horrifying heading my way. Doubting the trust in my man.
A few days later our little family reunites in the airport. His eyes are distant, almost dead. His smile feels fake. His hug feels weak. He leans in for the obligatory kiss, I turned my lips and let him peck my cheek. I began to believe my gut. My gut knew what my mind and heart couldn't conceive.
It's an unreal experience to watch all you know crumble to your feet in a matter of minutes. I was terrified to ask even more terrified of not asking. Of being bamboozled. That night began a 6 month long excavation, unearthing the existence of the hidden life of a sex addict.
I asked, "How was the trip? What did you do? Who did you visit? Did you climb any mountains? Did you have fun?"
He barked, "I don't want to talk about it."
His anger confused me and nagged at the truth settling in my gut.
