No worries Wont. I understood what you meant, and I appreciate the correction.
She is not upset I am here. She knows I post, she knows I read. At this point, I think she knows this place has probably kept me more regulated than almost anything else.
Back to your point, yes I think avoidant is a fair word. I do not know if it explains everything, and I am careful with that because I am tired of explanations turning into cushions. I am tired of brokenness, avoidance, shame, validation, fear, trauma, all of it being used to soften what was done. But yes, she avoided truth. She avoided conflict. She avoided shame. She avoided consequences. She avoided the full reality of what she was doing, and then after DDay, she avoided the full truth until I had to drag it out piece by piece. I am sure I still have not gotten it all but the bare minimal version.
That is one of the hardest parts for me. I am not just looking at the affairs anymore. I am looking at the machinery inside her that allowed them to exist, and then allowed the lies to keep going after my world had already been blown apart.
I guess I am a lot worse off than I have been admitting to myself. I keep telling myself I am detached, that I am observing, that I am getting clarity, but the truth is I am still standing in the wreckage wondering if there is more buried under it. I gave her until the end of this week for a full, no-lie, no-omission, no-technicality disclosure. Not another curated version. Not another "I did not think that counted." Not another confession that has to be corrected three months later. Full truth. All of it. Or we are finished. I know I can never believe it fully but I will have to put it to rest eventually.
And what really shook me is that I had to define cheating for her. Her definition seems to be penetrative sex. So I had to spell it out like I was writing a contract for someone who had already found every loophole. Kissing is cheating. Oral is cheating. Hands are cheating. Sexting is cheating. Secret emotional intimacy is cheating. Hiding a man in your phone under a fake name is cheating. Telling another man you love him is cheating. Sharing parts of yourself that belong inside the marriage is cheating. Anything sexual, romantic, emotionally intimate, secretive, or intentionally hidden because you know it would destroy your spouse if they saw it it's cheating. But just the fact she hid it all let's me know deep down she knew it, just wouldn't allow herself to admit it.
And when I said that, her face dropped.
That look I know so well now. So I am pretty sure there is more. Maybe not more men, but probably. Maybe not another whole affair. But more moments. More acts. More "it did not count because it was not sex." More little technicalities filed away in whatever part of her mind allowed her to live beside me while betraying me. And honestly, I do not know how much more of that my mind can take.
I do not think she is a victim in this, I think she is damaged. I think she is ashamed. I think she is probably looking at herself in ways she avoided her whole life. But she still did this. She still brought one affair partner to our wedding. She still texted the other one while telling me about the first one. She still let me build a life on a lie. Whatever brokenness exists in her does not erase the brutality of what she chose, and I need the totallity of it to inform a proper decision.
So yes, detachment is probably the only sane thing I have right now. Not as punishment. Not as a tactic to make her miss me, though that would be nice to see. I am not trying to play games with her fear of loss. I just cannot keep holding both ends of this marriage anymore. I cannot keep being the betrayed husband, the investigator, the emotional stabilizer, the consequence manager, the truth extractor, and somehow also the soft landing for her shame. That has been killing me.
Sisoon, I think you are right that noticing this is a step toward reclaiming power. It just does not feel powerful yet. It feels like grief. It feels like watching the part of me that would have forgiven almost anything finally realize that forgiveness and reconciliation are not the same thing. It feels like learning that love does not automatically mean staying, and that is a miserable damn thing to learn after 19 years.
Hikingout, I agree too. I think I am what reconciliation can look like when the betrayed spouse wants it badly, maybe even desperately, but the damage is so deep and the truth comes too slowly. Maybe people can reconcile from anything if both people do the work. Maybe that is true. But the word "both" is doing a hell of a lot of work in that sentence.
That is where I am stuck. She is changing. I can see that. But some days all I can see is that she is fighting like hell to become the person I thought I already had. I do not know how to celebrate someone finally reaching the floor I was standing on the whole time.
I cannot forgive what I do not know. I cannot reconcile with a version of events that keeps changing. And I cannot keep standing for a marriage if I am the only one standing in the full truth of it. This is by far and away the hardest thing I have ever dealt with in my life and I know this is just the beginning.