My Husband's Affair Became the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me (8 page)

“Also for Brian’s sake,” she told me. “In the event that you do work out your relationship it may be very difficult for Brian if everyone knows about his failure.”

I followed her advice, just in case I later would agree with it, although at the moment I did not. When Brian could go out and betray me, willingly causing me this much pain, should I now be protecting him? If he could do such a thing, should I now have to keep it a secret, so he doesn’t get hurt?

Every time I shared the truth with someone the pain felt a little diminished, but I was expected to keep this pain to myself rather than experience the relief of sharing. I didn’t want to remain sworn to this code of secrecy, but I decided to err on the side of caution. To keep the pain to myself, I avoided people altogether.

By the time I finished getting dressed, there was still half an hour until I would meet Lori. I was really looking forward to our meeting. It was the only thing that was keeping me going at this moment.

I decided I had just the right amount of time to go to the tanning salon. Before yesterday, I had never been to one in my life. Going in had actually felt intimidating, but once inside, the staff had been very friendly.

It was good to lie there, feeling the warmth of the light penetrating my being, listening to music, and enjoying the fragrance of the tanning lotion. When I had finished my session, a clean white towel was awaiting me, with a tempting mint on top.

It looked inviting.
Should I eat it?
I decided not. I was fasting now, completely fasting. The last thing my body needed, I reasoned, was

the equivalent of a spoonful of sugar. I did not allow myself to eat the mint. I left it behind.

Lori and I parked our vehicles side by side in the parking lot, and as I got out of my car, she said, “Anne, you look beautiful today. You are a beautiful and kind woman.” The words were so simple, but exactly what I needed to hear.

Lori and I walked fast as we talked, which helped to diffuse some of the feelings of anger. Lori did a lot of listening. She told me I was amazing, and she couldn’t believe how strong I was, and how well I was handling it. She expressed her pride in me for just carrying on about my life, and keeping busy instead of wallowing in self-pity.

These words of encouragement were like vitamins for my soul. I really needed to hear them, and they strengthened me. Lori was a busy woman, carrying the responsibility of attending to the spiritual needs of many, while supporting her husband in his ministry. Yet she was taking time out of her day to be with me, and she made a commitment to do it every day until I felt I would be alright on my own. Not only that but she was also fasting and praying for my marriage to be restored and healed! This support gave me strength.

Sharing with Lori what had transpired in my time of meditation that morning, the fact that I had chosen to forgive Helen, solidified my decision. I knew I would continue to wrestle with my feelings of anger towards her for some time. That was normal, but fantasies of murdering her were no longer going to be allowed a place in my mind.

I even confessed to Lori that I had felt like killing Helen, but I wasn’t comfortable with sharing any of the details. Some places within our hearts feel too dark and too evil to ever risk sharing with anyone.

Reflecting on my decision to forgive, I knew that I could not control what Helen or Brian or anyone else would chose to do in their lives. However, I did have the ability to control my own thoughts.

I decided I was going to live through this, and I was going to do it well. Two wrongs never make a right even in little things, and they certainly don’t in big things. Brian and this woman may have done what was wrong, but that didn’t mean I should respond by doing what was wrong. I was going to fight evil with good, even in my thoughts.

After I left Lori that day, I decided to take serious action concerning my lack of sleep. I drove back to the shopping mall, and headed for a cosmetics counter, where I spent about thirty dollars on lavender scented luxury bath supplies, which were supposed to be calming. There was definitely a need for “calming” in my life right now.

I went home, with a couple of hours left before my kids came home from school.

I lit “calming” candles in my bathroom, played “calming” music on the stereo, and drained an entire bottle of the lavender bubble bath into the tub. As the lavender fragrance filled the bathroom, I submersed myself in the soothing waters, and for the first time in two days, I started to feel my muscles relax. Half an hour later, I lay down in bed, soothed and relaxed, and at last I fell asleep.

When I woke up an hour and a half later, I felt a little stronger. After spending a little quality time with my kids, I cleaned the house and made supper. I wanted everything about our home to be as inviting as possible, sending a strong message to Brian, “This is where you belong. This is your home. This is where you want to be.”

Before Brian came home, Danielle questioned me privately, “Mom, are you having problems?”

Knowing I was never able to hide things from her very well, I answered honestly, ‘Yes.” I hoped she wouldn’t ask any more questions.

“Problems with Dad? Are you and Dad having problems?”

“Yes,” I said. “But don’t worry, honey. We will be all right.” I felt that I was lying now, and hoped she was finished asking questions.

“Thanks, Mom, for telling the truth,” she said, seeming content with my answers.

As I walked down the hallway, I passed the slightly open door to

our office. I stepped inside and peered at the mess that confronted me. The mess reminded me that I’d neglected the bookkeeping for Brian’s business because of all the stress I’d been under. This was a task I was expected to do just because I was his wife. I had not completed his fiscal year end or filed the business tax returns. Brian had asked if his papers were filed before he told me of his affair and I had answered evasively, making him think they were done when they weren’t.

I sighed as I contemplated the hours of boring, tedious and detailed accounting work. There was no way I was capable of concentrating on this job in my traumatized mental state, and I didn’t care anymore anyway. It was the least of my concerns. I wondered how good Helen’s accounting skills were. Well, if Brian was going to leave me for her, they would be getting a large box, with all the pieces of paper which currently made a mess of the office. They would just have to find out,
wouldn’t they?
As far as the filing of Brian’s business returns was concerned, my contribution was complete.

My thoughts then turned towards my next battle: a dozen people were coming to our house for Bible study that evening.

I had to make it through some of these regular life commitments and routines, I thought, so no one would suspect anything was wrong. I was quite sure I could do it. All I had to do was make coffee, tea and juice, and act normal for two hours. Luckily someone else was already committed to bringing the cake.

Before the guests arrived, I dressed myself in a beautiful Oriental outfit made of a floral print on brown silk. I wanted to look as beautiful as possible for Brian.

The guests arrived, each one an authentic character with a unique personality. First Fred, an older gentleman, whose wife had recently passed away. He bore an unbelievable resemblance to the cartoon character, Fred Flintstone, which he was very aware of, so he inspired laughter by saying “Yabadabadooo” at any opportunity.

I served Fred a cup of coffee and listened to him say again how wonderful his wife was, and how lonely he was without her. On previous occasions, I had felt tremendous compassion for Fred, but on this day I didn’t want to hear about his pain.

Do I have to sit here and listen to him? I thought. He should only know how much pain I feel right now.

Yet, I was almost wishing he were my husband tonight, the way he spoke so highly of his wife. He didn’t look like much, he wasn’t too ambitious, and he struggled with a gambling addiction, but, oh, how I longed for Brian to speak about me the way Fred spoke of his wife.

Then John arrived, the former drug addict. I wondered if the effect of those drugs would ever completely wear off. He always seemed hyper as if he was on speed. As he entered, he looked up at me and said, with unrestrained expression “Wow, you look amazing tonight. You look like a queen. I can’t handle being single. It’s not fair.”

Normally a compliment from John didn’t mean much, but tonight his attention gently stroked my damaged ego.

The next one to arrive was Eleanor, a quiet woman in her early forties, who had endured unspeakable abuse in her childhood, the effects of which were still clearly visible. She took a seat in a chair and watched the others talk, but said nothing herself.

Next Jerry and Mary arrived, the leaders of our group, along with their three adorable children. Jerry was a serious man who loved to study and lacked in humor. Mary was a calm sweet lady, who never had any trouble getting along with anyone.

There was no sign of Brian, so I made excuses about his having to work late unexpectedly. We opened our session with a prayer, led by Jerry, and I was relieved to hide behind my closed eyes for a few moments. I was careful not to think too much for fear that I would start to cry.

Yet this moment in corporate prayer was still precious to me. I became aware of the presence of God in the room, and while we prayed, I felt as if I were on a temporary vacation to a land far away

called Peace.

Next on the agenda for the evening was the singing. Since I had always enjoyed singing, and since I had a reasonably good voice, I found singing to be therapeutic. Fortunately, tonight we were singing a brief assortment of very familiar tunes, which allowed me the precious chance to close my eyes and escape from my present world of pain into a place of beauty, wonder and peace.

As if the music had been selected solely for my own benefit, we ended our worship time with a particular favorite, the words of which suddenly seemed to intensify in their meaning, the melody gentle, yet powerfully moving.

Faithful one, so unchanging

Ageless one you ‘re my rock of peace,

Lord of all, I depend on you

I cry unto you ... again and again

You are my rock in times of trouble

You lift me up, when I fall down

All through the storm, your love is the anchor

My hope is in you alone.

“FAITHFUL ONE” MUSIC AND LYRICS BY BRIAN DOERKSEN

WWW.BRIANDOERKSEN.COM

At this moment I was comforted to embrace the concept of a faithful God who never changed, even when my personal world was crashing all around me.

Jerry read from the scriptures and at that moment, I found myself staring out blankly as if in another world. Where the prayer and music had been helpful, the words from the Bible seemed irritating and irrelevant. Didn’t anyone understand how much pain I was in? As the biblical discussion continued that evening, I found myself wondering how much longer I would have to endure what seemed like nothing but a bunch of philosophical gibberish.

Jerry shared how he had once lost his job, and the fears he went through wondering how he would provide for the needs of his family. As I listened to him speak, I thought he sounded like an idiot. Did he not think he had enough skills to secure other employment?

Mary shared how difficult it was for her to deal with the constant disorganization and disruptions in her home caused by three small children. How irritating! As if it really mattered in light of the suffering in the world.

Fred rambled on about how he should have treated his wife better while she was still alive. I wished he would shut up.

John was shouting about the importance of telling everyone the good news of salvation. He spoke with the intensity of a raving lunatic. I kept Eleanor company in her silence.

Normally, I had many things to say and share, but tonight this social gathering felt more like an Iron Man competition in enduring stupid people, than a time of encouragement and inspiration.

Relief swept over me, when at last the meeting was closed with a prayer, bringing me almost to the end of my charade. I successfully avoided cake, coffee and tea, sticking to my fast without anyone noticing.

As the others carried on with the usual small talk, I was restless, fidgety and irritated. The things that were being discussed seemed trivial and boring. These friends seemed shallow as they wasted their time talking with enthusiasm and passion about what color they decorated their bathroom, that they felt a cold coming on, or that someone at their work forgot to praise their accomplishments.

I’m sure I rushed my guests out of the house that night. I worried about Brian’s whereabouts. Maybe I wouldn’t even see him tonight. Maybe all my effort to look nice, clean the house, and create a pleasant atmosphere was all for naught.

When Brian did come home that night he was cold and aloof. He was purposely late, unwilling to face the group of friends and acquaintances.

We did sleep on the same bed that night, a good two feet between us though. And again he refused to kiss me, which was overwhelmingly painful. I still could not grasp my new reality.