I’ve started and stopped this post countless times today – there is no good way to segue into what I have to share, that’s the conclusion I’ve come to. I want to share a secret on this blog – I want to open and candid and honest and true – and I can’t do that without being completely honest for the first time in my life about something:
I slept with my best friend’s husband. And not just once.
I was the other woman.
Oh my god, it’s out. Are you still there?
I’ve never told anyone that before besides my therapist – I am too ashamed.
I came very close to not sharing this on here because I just picture all of the women who I’ve commented with and come to know over the past few months turning their heads away from me and unfollowing my blog without a second thought because I am THAT WOMAN.
That woman that you probably hate and are scared of and wish didn’t exist.
I am her.
I did this.
And every day since I’ve struggled with guilt and shame and self loathing so deep its nearly driven me to suicide – because I can’t bare sharing my truth with anyone – because all this guilt and shame are too much, sometimes, to bear.
I did a terrible thing. Repeatedly. I lost friendships over it. I lost myself over it.
I try to listen to my therapist when he tells me that I’m not a terrible person.
“You did a thing you aren’t proud of, what some might say was a bad thing, but you aren’t a bad person because of it.”
And I wonder every day if he is right, because I just can’t get over this.
I don’t want to go into any details about the affair – it’s not fair to anyone involved, whether they will ever read this or not. It’s been over and done with for over a year now and I just want to put it behind me but I can’t let go of all the emotions and all this guilt and shame for what I did.
I need to be able to write about it. I need to be able to get it out of me – finally.
I did a terrible thing, and I think I’m a terrible person because of it. I am telling this story now so you can make your own decisions about me – I’m being honest now so that down the road no one can call me a liar or a fake.
In the real world, in my real life, this secret’s staying safe, but here in blogland I want to be true to myself. I want to be able to write about the things that are really on my mind, and how can I possibly do that if I am holding this terrible thing back? How will anyone understand my depression without knowing how I got here?
Most importantly, will anyone care? Probably not. Probably some of you are turning away from me now, thinking, whore.
It’s okay, that’s how I feel. Like less than nothing.
But maybe some of you out there will agree with my therapist – that I did a horrible thing but I’m not a horrible person – and maybe some of you could help me believe that, if you are so inclined.
I can’t believe I’ve written this post, I can’t believe I’m sharing it. I feel like I’m stepping up to a firing squad, I have no idea what to expect. But I’m scared of being this honest – it’s terrifying, actually.
I started this blog to be honest – tactless but true. Some may hate me for it, but by God here I am doing it. Being honest. For the first time.
Here I am. Just a woman trying to learn and grow and make up for all her mistakes – just trying to move on with my life – just trying.