The Cat's Out Of The Bag!!

Up until a couple of weeks after my hysterectomy the only other person who knew what was going on with me and Dick was my friend Claire. She had been through the infidelity thing with her now ex-husband. I knew she would know what I needed to hear and what I didn't. She understood exactly what I was feeling and why I was handling things the way I was. I told no one else of the recent changes in my marriage. I felt horrible about that because it was as if I was lying to my best friend Ann. She meant the world to me. I always told her everything, but in the beginning, I just couldn't. I don't know why, exactly, but part of me didn't want to tell her or go public because then that would make it too real. It was almost like the whole thing was a bad dream. That same part of me kept hoping I would wake up soon and it would all be over. But, hearing the voicemail from Dick's girlfriend was like someone giving me a massive pinch to prove that I wasn't dreaming. My life was now officially a nightmare. Some of my friends, Ann included, would beg to differ with me there pointing out that my life had been the definition of a nightmare for a very long time. I just hadn't noticed. I was too busy convincing myself that life with Dick was normal. Everybody complains about their spouse now and then. I truly thought that our relationship was not that different than most. Sure it was no picnic, but after 20 plus years I assumed that in most cases the "love affair", so to speak, was over. Ours certainly was. I kept the truth hidden by telling those close to me that it was Dick's drinking that was the big problem. That was why he was going out most every night and stumbling in anywhere between one and three a.m.. My physical look of being run through the mill, as they say, I attributed to lack of sleep because of the hours Dick was keeping. Whenever he was out would try to go to sleep but the anticipation of his return prevented me from sleeping well. I would doze off but any little noise would wake me up. Some nights I would wrap myself in a quilt and sit by the window watching and waiting, sometimes for hours. When he would finally arrive home only then could I really sleep, relieved that he hadn't wrapped himself around a tree somewhere or been arrested for vehicular homicide. That, coupled with the stress of living with an alcoholic, was my cover story. The other reason I had for not sharing was I didn't want to feel pressured into actually having to do something about it. As much as I hated how things were, I just couldn't imagine a life other than the one I was living. I loved my house, my neighborhood, my things that surrounded me. I had so much to lose if I left him. It was far too scary to think about. I didn't realize how much I had to gain, I could only focus on what I would be leaving behind. One afternoon while I was sitting in my favorite chair pondering all this I even considered just trying to come to terms with our "situation" as it just being the way it was going to be. That way we would stay together...in name only...but we would be more like roommates. Yea, that could work, I thought. In exchange for not divorcing him and disrupting both our lives and those of our family's, he would continue to keep me in the style I had grown accustomed to. Ya...that thought lasted about, oh, maybe five minutes, then he came home from work and cracked open a beer. The sound of that can popping open slapped me right back to reality.

The voicemail message from the "other woman" was a turning point for me. I couldn't keep it to myself any longer. I felt like I was going to explode. So, I started with Ann first, then my cousin Anna Maria and one of my neighbors, Gabby. I made them all swear to keep it a secret because I didn't want my parents to find out until I had a plan of action. A lot of good that did because after I told them about "it" I continued on. I told anyone who would listen...my hairdresser, my doctor, various co workers, and the list goes on. I would even tell complete strangers, "Yup, my husband's a cheatin' son-of-a-bitch!" If a waitress asked "Can I get you anything else?" I'd answer "Ya, a good divorce attorney, 'cause my husband's a cheatin' son-of-a-bitch!" If someone said "Have a good day." I'd say "I'll try. Not easy to do though, when your husband's a cheatin' son-of-a-bitch!" A greeting of "How are you today?", would get a response of "Not bad, for a woman scorned. My husband's a cheatin' son-of-a-bitch, you know!" It was like a blood-letting. Yes, once I started talking I just couldn't stop. And as you can see, I'm still at it.