Memories of a Life-Changing Affair

In mid 2003, I learned that my husband was having an affair with a much younger co-worker. As he repeatedly attempted to end the affair, each time unsuccessfully, I journeyed deeper and deeper into major depression. Eventually, I spent two months in a private treatment program for people with anxiety and depression. After I “graduated” from the group, I attended a weekly support group, called a “Hope group.”

After one Hope group meeting, I returned home to this phone message from my husband:

Hi, it’s me. I know you are probably at your Hope Group. I just wanted to say that you made a comment one time that I was losing a “heck of a family.” I know that’s true and that’s why I am trying to come back into the family. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to do that to date. I do feel the pain every day of not being able to do that. I just wanted you to know that I do respect you, and I do care for you. I just need help in doing what’s right.

All right. I’ll let you go then. Bye for now.

I wrote this message down as tangible evidence of hope for the survival of our marriage. Ultimately, our marriage survived 25 years before ending in divorce in 2008. Brian tried to come home dozens and dozens of times, but he could never manage to stay for long. Often he would leave after just a couple of hours, without a word of explanation, and then remain inaccessible by phone for days or weeks afterward. It was a horrible experience for me – it almost killed me.

Sometimes I wanted to die, but ultimately, I decided that I wanted to live. I moved to another city and started a new life as a single woman in my 50s. I was going through the “change of life” – and that change had brought with it truly major changes, far beyond the mere physical changes of leaving the child-bearing years.

It is now 10 years later, and I still grieve for what Brian, my now ex-husband, was unable to do -- commit to our marriage. This small-town Ontario native now lives in Mexico City with his young 2^nd wife, the object of his affections 10 years ago. Meanwhile, I, an American transplant to Canada, live alone in Guelph, near our 28–old-daughter Kirstin and her partner Nick.  

I feel that I am the lucky one, to be near our daughter, to be living in a lovely city like Guelph, to have many wonderful friends, to participate in a welcoming congregation of kindred spirits, and to be free to be the human being that I have always wanted to be, without any need to placate a life mate who did not fully understand my beliefs, hopes, aspirations, and choices. Sure, I disappoint myself sometimes, but if I do, I can change course and try again.

Perhaps I had put too much faith in marriage. However, I still grieve for it, for what it could have been and for what I had thought it was.

Today I share my life with many kindred spirits – some male and some female, but none of them are sexual partners. I miss sex sometimes, but I suspect that I would miss the joy of having kindred spirits much more. I am thankful for the joy.