Starting Over

It’s been 28 days since I discovered that my other half (here by known as Douche Bag) had an affair. Later I would learn it was not one affair and as the truth begins to trickle in, I learn that it has been happening for nearly 18 months. How the fuck does someone hide multiple affairs for 18 months you may ask.

And the answer is fairly simple. I trusted him. I trusted him when he said he was going out with the guys after work. I trusted him when he said he was going to see his family. I worked on weekends and he doesn’t and so he brought our son along for his “play dates”. I don’t check his phone. And he was excellent at seeming like he was in it. We talked about our plans for the future. He seemed invested; coaching sports for the kids, going to family get-togethers, going on regular dates together. Did we have problems? Yes. He was jealous and felt left out after the birth of our son and acted out in a lot of strange ways. I should have seen the signs. I should have questioned his days coming from work late more.

Did I mention that I am 6 months pregnant with a planned for baby? You do the math. I found evidence that he made a date with a girl 2 days after getting our positive test results. So here I am, now a single mother of 5 with one on the way (yes 6 kids, 4 are with my first husband, he is the father of #5 and #6 to be). He moved out of our house and in with his brother.

Yesterday I blocked him. Somewhat out of spite. Somewhat for my own sanity.

Although I would tell myself that I would not talk to him unless it had to do with our child, I find myself texting him angry manifestos until all hours of the night. Long winded angry messages that he would ignore in its entirety, only making me angrier. He would text me hours or even days later not related to any of the things that I wrote to him about. Did you not see any of the texts I sent? I would accuse. His reply: I don’t have to respond to you if you are just talking shit to me.

So I blocked him. I told him he can ask someone else to communicate between us about the kids. I can’t sleep or eat and cry incessantly in big heaving sobs and have days I can’t get up to take care of myself let alone all of the kids… If he can’t even deal with my raging emotions about the mess he caused… what fucking good is he? He can’t handle a few angry fucking texts? YET HE WANTS TO “MAKE IT WORK”?

My intelligent brain knows he doesn’t have to listen to any of the shit I say. My emotional brain is pissed. I can’t make him feel the pain of being betrayed over and over again. Of carrying a baby knowing I wouldn’t have agreed to have if I had known he was cheating. I can’t make him feel the seething hate I get every time I think about what he has done. Not the cheating itself. The cheating sucks and maybe I could have or maybe I couldn’t have gotten over it. Making long term plans with me when he was already checked the fuck out. That is what makes me angriest. Not caring how those long term actions affected me, my other children, our children.

Maybe he is a psychopath?

We were getting pre-approved to buy a house. Who buys a god damn house with someone when they have 15 other women they are seeing on the side? I asked him, “What was your big plan here? Buy a house, have another baby, and make sure you really fucked me over? Do you really HATE ME that much that you would want that for me?”

He said he never planned to leave. He figured I would forgive him. He thought I would want what is best for the kids.

He picked up our toddler the other day. It was a hard day and tried my best to hold back tears until he left but it over spilled. Our toddler clung to me, crying, screaming “Mommy” as I put him in the car seat. I tried to console our toddler but my words were choked up as I tried not to sob. The Douch Bag stood back, just watching. And then I was fully sobbing in front of him, in the street, for the neighbors to see. In front of our baby which just makes him even more clingy and upset.

I turned to him, my face a contorted mess and was able to manage out of my heaving sobs, “Are you fucking happy? You can fuck who ever the fuck you want now. I hope it has been worth it.”

He shook his head and said he wishes he could take it all back.

Too Fucking Late For That Mother Fucker.

I shouldn’t lash out in front of our son. Maybe I need a third party doing pick up and drop off too.