A letter to my husband

Okay. Let’s call this what it is.

Completely and utterly fucked up.

Having a physical and emotional affair, on and off over early stages of our marriage, including while I was pregnant with our child, is the most fucked up thing I’ve ever known you to do, and the most fucked up thing I’ve ever had to experience.

I don’t need to tell you how destroyed I was when I found out. You were there.

You saw the moment my heart shattered.

You saw my soul crumble.

You watched me go from a tired but proud new momma to a broken and defeated heap of a woman.

And I saw you.

I saw my best friend, the man I married, whose heart I had held in mine for so many years, who had always gone deep with me whenever I needed to rumble with my demons, whose hand I held through various emotional struggles and mental health crisis’, and whose baby I had just given birth to.

I saw him fall.

I saw a scared, battered man who had lost the battle against his own destructive thought patterns and low self worth. You’re a big, strong guy but through this you seemed so small to me. It was like you shrunk inside yourself as you told me how you had become convinced that I could never love you the way you needed to be…