Should an affair change you?
I know…”What the fuck you talking about Kelly? Of course affairs change you? Are you serious? Is this crazy Kelly at the computer?”
Give me a second to explain my question…
I know affairs change us, the betrayed. They make us trust less, cry more, paranoid, depressed, sad, crazy, and we are broken people. But should they change us?
First month after I found out about the affair? I was looking about getting a boob job, and possibly a tummy tuck. I saw myself in the mirror and could only see my faults, the imperfect things and fixate on them. I was flat chested and had some sag to my flat stomach caused by giving birth to four kids, one of which wasn’t even potty trained. But I was completely off my rocker and just knew this was why my husband had cheated.
Truth was… I was aware the whore was also flat chested, and didn’t have a mere sag to her belly when she leaned over but a whole skin apron to her waist. She wasn’t thinner or had great boobs, instead was way saggier and…well just nasty. So it wasn’t because I was fat or flat, it had nothing to do with my appearance, and yet I considered plastic surgery for a month, because I felt I needed to change.
I wondered in the beginning if it was because I was a nag, if it was because I hassled him to do honey do’s. I decided I would never, ever ask him to help me…with anything. I know, how healthy is that Kelly? To live in a world/marriage where you do everything yourself? I figured if I fixed myself and made myself stronger then I would be a better wife.
I, Kelly, who was already taking care of cattle, pigs, kids, household chores, cooking, cleaning, hauling feed, cleaning pens, delivering pigs by myself, putting in walkways, patios, fire pits, koi ponds, planting trees, painting houses, sanding porches, and rebuilding pens…was now going to repair appliances and figure out how to weld, cuz I would never ask for help again.
Truth was… I was well aware that the whore was a woman who liked to play the damsel in distress…she liked to claim her ex-husband was abusive, she was taken advantage of by men, she needed help moving, help with a fire pit, help with a bear on her porch, help with her girls, she needed she needed she needed…but I was afraid of seeming naggy for asking him to look at a garbage disposal that I couldn’t figure out how to fix or change out.
I was afraid, I was too opinionated, too set in my ways, I needed to be more fun. I was going to agree with him more, stop arguing, stop telling him he was doing things wrong and just smile and agree. I was going to stop being Kelly, and start being a ‘yes’ wife.
Truth was… I knew the whore was demanding and a bitch, but I thought I needed to hide the fact that I was smart, I was a problem solver, and by golly I was right a lot. I was going to dumb myself down to make him happy.
The first couple months after finding out about the affair, all I could do was think about things that I might need to change. I could only compare myself to this image of who the whore must be vs who I was. The truth was she wasn’t near the person I was, inside or out, and that it was never a real competition. Even on my worst days? I was better. But in the crazy that followed the affair, I tore myself apart, looking for reasons why he had cheated, why he had chose her.
The only time I was truly pathetic? Was when I was going to change me, to make him happy. Funny thing was? The parts I was going to change are what makes him happy…I am a strong person who rarely asks for help, with anything, so when I did it made him feel needed. I am a smart person who likes to challenge him, and gives him advice or a listening ear, he doesn’t want a ‘yes man’, he wants a partner. And the sag to my belly? It comes from having his children, and being so little that my skin stretched. As for my small chest? I am okay with it, always have been, and to get implants because my husband slept with a whore? It makes me feel like a whore, like I need attention, like I wasn’t born enough…and I was enough.
I was enough…it was his issues, her issues, it wasn’t mine. I was always here, living a real life, an honest one, as a good person. The truth was I wasn’t the one who needed changing, who was broken and needed fixing, I was good enough as I was.
I know I have changed…but I’m so glad I didn’t change too. I am so glad that in the madness which followed I was sane enough to have an inner voice that spoke the truth.
I hope whatever stage you are at? You listen to yours too…
“I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It’s personal, myself and I
We’ve got some straightenin’ out to do
And I’m gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But I’ve got to get a move on with my life
It’s time to be a big girl now
And big girls don’t cry
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry
The path that I’m walking, I must go alone
I must take the baby steps till I’m full grown, full grown.
Fairytales don’t always have a happy ending, do they?
And I forsee the dark ahead if I stay”