The shock factor

Someone asked me a while back: What was the thing that shocked you most when your husband left you? I’ve been putting my response off for a while, to the point where days of avoidance have turned into weeks. I think I was a little fearful that raising old memories might hurt my heart all over again, but I’m actually sitting here laughing at how ridiculously horrible we can be when we’re parting ways with our partners. If I could give one piece of advice to anyone about to end a relationship and break a heart, it is simply this: Be kind.

That said, here is my answer… 

As any jilted wife will tell you, having your husband leave you for another woman is unbearably painful. There’s the heartbreak and the humiliation to contend with, but there is also plenty of shock value. It really is an experience that just keeps on giving.

There were many things that shocked me when X walked out the door… Firstly there was the initial horror of realising that he had been fully engaged in another relationship for quite some time, to the point where he had obviously been mapping out a whole new life for himself.

Then there was the realisation that our 17-year relationship really was completely over and there would never ever be any going back – X had absolutely no intention of returning and I was officially separated and a single parent.

But the thing that shocked me the most was how he suddenly started treating me as a complete hindrance to his happiness. I was no longer his loving and loyal wife or someone that he cared deeply about; instead I was an insufferable pain who he now had to endure on a regular basis as we began the process of shared parenting and headed down a one-way street toward divorce.

From one day to the next I was quite literally discarded and told by X that he had “transferred” his affections. Apparently I was no longer attractive to him, we had little in common, I was too old for him (there’s a six-year age gap), I was an imperfect mother and I just wasn’t needy enough.

I had been lied to, cheated on and dumped, but it was entirely my fault.

My personal favourite parting comment, however, was that he had NEVER BEEN IN LOVE WITH ME! Obviously those magical feelings he had developed for the girl from work were so overwhelming that the previous 17 years of our lives no longer held any meaning or currency.

He seemed to forget that he had relocated from London to live with me, that we travelled the world together, made lifelong plans, celebrated our marriage on two continents, bought our first home together and were both completely ecstatic when our first son was born. He had also clearly forgotten about the love letters he penned every week when he was overseas studying, and the beautiful things he would make for me when we were apart for long periods.

 

Made on a UK beach by the man who had never been in love with me.

There were times when the situation was just laughable, like when X would arrange for me and our boys to have some “family time” with him, but he’d spend the whole time texting his new love. Needless to say, I put an abrupt end to these pseudo family outings – they were untenable on so many levels and I just didn’t want to spend any more unneccesary time with this man I no longer seemed to know.

My diagnosis was that X had a bad case of being in love with love… A fatal disease that kills good and honest relationships, builds new relationships on sandy foundations and leaves behind a trail of heartbreak and destruction.

All I could wonder at the time was: At which precise moment were his affections transferred? And exactly how long had our relationship been a farce? I remember yelling at him on more than one occasion: "You watched me give birth to your children!"... Not that it made an ounce of difference.

Initially it was excruciating to think I had become nothing more to X than the woman he had children with. This man I had been so devoted to was treating me with absolute contempt and did everything possible to exclude me from his life. But as time passed and the sessions I spent with my counsellor became more focused on me and less on him, the pain subsided. Unexpectedly meeting another man just a year after X left me also went a long way toward piecing my broken heart back together.

Even though my heartbreak had been cured, for a long time it would still hurt whenever X said anything remotely nasty to me – sometimes it still surprises me that he has been quite cruel but seems to live without remorse. I’m of the opinion that he still needs to apologise to me for the way our relationship ended, but am not holding my breath. And as my counsellor so reassuringly said: “The Universe will apologise to you on his behalf.”

Nearly nine years on, my skin has thickened and the impact of X’s words is pretty minimal these days, and nothing about his behaviour really shocks me any more. I’m actually extremely thankful he left me and was so utterly awful in those early days – he made it pretty easy to fall out of love with him and his actions led me directly into the arms of a man more worthy of my heart. The Universe seems to have said sorry in the most perfect way, and I'm willing to accept that.