To Accept the Now, I’ve Got to Look Back at What This Ex-Affair Meant to Me
… and it meant everything.
I am in my early thirties. I work in tech, have the flexibility to work remote, with a good work-life balance. I find meaning in my life with supportive family, a good group of friends, and opportunities for growth and travel.
And yet. I hadn’t realized I was feeling mentally and physically stagnant for a while. It wasn’t something I was aware of until the arrival of the ex-AP, that I was yearning for and seeking more emotional connection, to feel myself being built up, encouraged; to feel fun, desired, excited, alive. It took my ex-AP to remind me of all the things I loved about myself, of my capacity to give and to love, though it also brought about the worst of me.
I’ve been with my partner for 10+ years, and together we have built our lives. We own a home together, we now raise pets together. We planned to get married and have kids (a dent/delay in the plans due to my ex-affair that was never disclosed). We are there for each other for all the lows and celebrate all the highs in the deepest of ways. We show up for each other’s family events and have ties built upon a long history of life shared. We have understanding, we have love.
Yet, I didn’t realize I was falling out of love with him, until I acknowledged to myself I was falling in love with my ex-AP. I thought my partner and I were perfect, and this past affair has taught me that we are not, more than that, that there are needs and wants not being met that I’ll need to process, identify, and address. It is confusing how I can love someone so deeply, and yet fall so genuinely in love with my ex-AP in a way that is so full of passion, intensity, excitement and also care, admiration, love, support, and yearning to my core.
It still baffles me to this day.
Growing up, I knew I felt more, absorbed more and gave more energy than the average person. When it came to emotions, my heart was truly on my sleeve. My feelings knew no limits and my sentimentality showed through as early as a toddler; I was teased by family for being a crybaby and being very sensitive and aware of my emotions and how others played a part in shaping it.
I not only felt for myself, I also felt for others. My capacity to understand and put myself in someone else’s shoes really shaped me into an empathetic person to a fault. This meant I could never truly put myself first because I’d always be watching out for the other person as well. I would feel what they felt. I had so much to give so why shouldn’t I (give my support, energy, time, effort, love) where I could?
Yet ... this big heart of mine was severely let down, traumatized when the 15 year old narcissistic boy broke my heart and left me for my friend. All the while gaslighting me whilst commanding control over my actions, thoughts, taking advantage of my heart. This was the first and most profound understanding of not being in control of my feelings. He dismissed that and told me to get over it. I didn’t know this would set the stage for my anxious attachment behavior.
Moving forward in all my relationships, I’d love and give full-heartedly still, yet when there were signs of turbulence or relationship’s end, or I felt the drifting away or distance of my SO, I would cause a scene so that the relationship would end. It was almost like I needed reassurance and validation that they wanted me still, to stay. I feared abandonment and so even when the relationship was stable or good, or healthy, I’d look for flaws and end up leaving. I am a leaver, not a stayer, and I have left heart trails along the way.
I guess it’s only fitting then that one day, I met my match: this ex-AP partner who came crashing into my life. He had just the potent mixture of charm and charisma, paired with killer looks. I swear I saw something in him, a level of self-awareness, or perhaps it is self-preservation, I recognized in myself; I swore there was a magnetic force unlike any other I’ve experienced in the past. We were pulled together with chemistry and attraction like I’ve never known before. And seeing him repetitively at his best in a work setting, socializing in group settings and alone after work, only formed a closer bond between us.
The anxious-avoidant dance is one I know all too well in this affair. When I would reach, he would pull away to gain the distance he needs to make the situation okay. To alleviate his guilt. Breathing room. That would hurt me, and so I’d pull away, and he’d reach out so as to not lose me completely. We’d try to make up and agree that all we care for is to remain in each others’ lives in any capacity. We could never let go fully despite the many attempts from both sides. We both truly wanted to make it work, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough for me. I’d always be left lonely and starved. He knew his guilt towards his relationship meant he couldn’t be vulnerable or open to me. He knew it wouldn’t last so he held back and never let himself fall too deep into this. He acted accordingly. We both knew it was impossible, yet letting go seemed equally impossible. What I didn’t know then, that I know now, is that holding on to an impossible love that would never choose me, is far more brutal to the heart and confusing to the mind than letting go completely.
Yet even still, despite this, I gave my heart so sincerely. Perhaps I was trying to, wanted to, willed for, and believed in a different outcome? I let myself feel truly in ways he never did. And I did in turn see his heart, really, despite all he says — I saw him open up in a few rare occasions where his thoughts came out, all the care, the feelings, the ♥️♥️♥️. I felt it, I saw it, I heard it. His heart, if only for a moment in time, before he pulled back again. And my love, it grew in leaps and bounds. I didn’t put any measures in place, any wall or safeguards that said: HEART, STOP. Your love will NOT be reciprocated.
I saw all the signs of the inevitable end, lived in crippling anxiety for months and years, and somehow still decided what he gave would be enough. I was deluding myself. Funny how you can tell yourself exactly what you need to hear to continue what is not good for you, even when it is destroying you. I saw all the red flags of my heart being broken, and somehow denied it, decided because this unique chemistry is something felt both ways, albeit scarcely from his, I must keep clinging to it, make him realize. Decided that I couldn’t be the one to let it go lest I regret it. Can’t let us down. To not be the bad guy.
It did indeed turn obsessive and became an addiction I could not for the life of me get out of. Because no matter how much it hurt, at least I could still receive those intermittent texts and dopamine rush. And it was always worth it in his arms and looking into his eyes, for an intensity I’d never before felt. I think ... the reason I could not leave it, was because I would feel the pain of the world coming crashing down. I always doubted and second guessed: What if I lose him forever? What if I can’t take this decision back? I was paralyzed and stuck somewhere between lovers and goodbye.
The first few weeks and months of NC were really very difficult to a point I cannot emphasize enough. In all my life, I’ve never felt such defeat ... such pain ... such grief, such loss. Acknowledging the truth that it is ending, and removing myself from denial, it felt like a death. Not just the loss of him, but of myself as well ... who I was and my identity. I felt lost like I was just floating in space. All sense of self went out the door, as if my past 30-something years didn’t amount to much.
This might sound dramatic, but unless you have been in the depths and throes of an affair, battled through the despair and experienced the all-encompassing peaks, you will not have walked these shoes. This was the effect of the withdrawal from my drug. This was something beyond what I could comprehend, much less pull myself out of. It was that dramatic. It was a crisis. One I am still having difficulty processing.
I keep mentioning this but for me, antidepressants played a key role to get my brain chemicals back in balance, to give me a crutch to start mending. I at first thought I was so weak to rely on this, so weak to break down, and the critic in my head, and my shame, halted my recovery. Until I realized the strength it took for me to acknowledge reality and fight for my own self. Until my narrative and mindset changed to have purpose again. If I don’t love myself, who would? If I don’t pick myself back up, who will? So began my profound life lessons on self love through the grief of loss. This lesson I will take with me forever.
In the early days of NC, I lived in repeat and replay of ruminations, beating myself over what I could have done differently, what could have changed the outcome (plot twist: nothing would have changed his mind into loving me or choosing me), beating myself up on why I wasn’t enough. I was also stuck in ruminations of an imagined future I’d built up. And I was losing my focus in my present. I was losing myself and my sanity.
I know he was hurting (he told me so). I know he was at a loss as well. I know it didn’t bring him joy to hurt me. His intention wasn’t to reject, ghost, distance from, or make me feel bad. Yet he had to in order to keep his sanity, to keep his life in order. At my expense. I could no longer put up with this and accept meager breadcrumbs when I wanted more. More love, more affection, more effort, more priority, more genuine, deep connection. More understanding the essence of him which he guarded so tightly. He pretty much told me that if he allowed himself to fall too far into this, into us, he wouldn’t be able to keep up his relationship. In a sense, he chose her but didn’t want to lose me. Whereas I was on the cusp of choosing him. I always had more to lose, even putting my relationship on standby. I no longer wanted to wait around on standby for an impossibility. Hence picking up my self-worth and walking away.
I knew then and accept now that the outcome wouldn’t have changed, but the intention mattered. Knowing he didn’t do it purposefully to hurt me brings forgiveness at times when I’m looking to blame someone for my hurt. I must let go of all hope.
I know it was eating him up and left him confused, excited, and lost on why he was having this charged affair when he loved her and wasn’t going to leave his relationship. His guilt was consuming him. Albeit for different reasons for partaking in this affair (I’m not sure HE even knows as he’s seemed to block out all processing, a master at compartmentalizing), I know we were both hurting nonetheless and reeling from this loss. No one escapes unscathed. Perhaps to varying degree, perhaps I assumed he felt more than he did. Ultimately we are all destroyed until we find it in ourselves to pick ourselves back up and rebuild all we’ve lost. Separately, if not together.
When I finally mustered the courage to ask if he ever saw a future with me, if he’d ever allowed himself to feel completely or in love with me, his answer freed me. He said No.
And by no means does his no mean — I never cared for you, I never thought of you or of us, or that he knowingly played with me or wanted to hurt or reject me. Nope.
It simply meant he wouldn’t and had never considered choosing me. That he didn’t choose to allow his feelings. To be vulnerable or open or honest or authentic. And that was the missing piece; I needed him to tell me for what it was. To let me go. He wouldn’t have done so otherwise, I don’t think. He’d have continued with, “We’re good, everything’s okay 🤗 ” and kept me at arm’s length to keep the peace. I know he may have wanted to let me down gently, to offer his friendship so we could remain in each other’s life. However, I could not take the consolation prize of being his friend when every move he made hurt me so much. I could not pretend, just to keep him in my life. I tried and tried again and that killed me. I could lie about my feelings all I wanted to him, but ultimately I couldn’t live with the lie to myself. I am too authentic and genuine for that. So I told us both the truth, that I was in love and I was hurting, so the kind thing is to let go and let live. I freed us both even when there was nothing more I wanted than to hold on and to make this work. Perhaps I am human and cannot process or fathom how we could be so intimate one moment, then pretend it never happened or go a few days without communicating as he pulled back into his life. Without a choice, the only way was forward.
Whatever the case, I finally realized what I was getting out of this past affair, was never and will never outweigh the despair I was constantly feeling. I could not live like this forever. I had to choose me.
And he had freed me, too. He could have kept me strung along by saying what I wanted to hear when I confronted him. He could have kept me hopeful. He didn’t.
I have to respect that. And that’s why it’s so difficult for me to blame him, or criticize him, or be angry at him. And I could never hate him. Love or hate, it’s a choice that no friend or family or therapist could tell me to make. It’s mine alone, like staying or leaving was. I could remove him entirely in my socials, I could remove him slowly in my heart, but I could never hate him.
Though admittedly, in moments of fragility and feeling down, I do feel angry that he could and would never reciprocate my love. This is moreso because of the pain and reminder of rejection that I wasn’t chosen.
However, as I learn and read and research more, perhaps this is more than about me. Perhaps it’s more complex than just him choosing her over me, similar to how this affair proved more complex than just me looking for a sexual escape or attention. My choices had nothing to do with my partner (or, I’d just compartmentalized so well). Perhaps, his choice, too, was all about him, and as for me, my path forward is to really understand my ex-affair and what this meant to me to move past this.
So that I can understand myself better, so that I can choose to put my best foot forward and always to choose love where it exists, and not chase a love that was never mine to hold.
And it wasn’t a waste of time. I do not regret this ex-affair of mine. I am learning to extrapolate and be grateful for the lessons. But I will say, knowing what I know now, I will work on myself so I never fall back into a situation like this again. Because I would never wish falling in love with your affair partner (a situation doomed from the start) on anyone. The impossibility, then the imagined possibility/fantasy, the push, then the pull, the intimacy, then the distance, the love, then the reality ... it’s all too much for a heart to handle.
It’s better just left as is.
I’m finding writing more therapeutic than ever imagined, though I may sound like a broken record at this point.
Thank you for listening.
PS: I am so intrigued by any guy’s/man’s POV on this? Anyone have true feelings for your AP but still chose not to pursue it? Why was that? Did you not love them enough? Was it that they were too clingy? Too anxiously attached? Please help me see from the other POV as well. It just seems that in the posts I’ve read, that women really feel more wholeheartedly and deeply if you will.
PPS: I am at that place now where after 30 days of no contact, I don’t see a need or desire to reach out — and I know he won’t because I specifically asked him not to. When I miss him or think of him, I continue my research or readings, listening to podcasts, or write on Medium to feel less alone. I don’t really revisit my 2000+ Wordpress posts over the past two years either because they can rile lots of emotions. Instead, I want to be steady and objective where able and remove myself from this situation to view it as objectively as possible, and to try to heal from others’ wisdom as well. I nod so often these days in solidarity to those who are still in it, or are working so hard to break away from it. I smile for those that have made it out. Much support and a 🤗 for us all.
