Love your husband or I Will

Chatham was funny and passionate. He kissed me like he was devouring me. He looked at me  with such desire and maybe love. He frequently said he loved me He did all the right things – he was interested in my life. He helped me around my home. He sent me flowers. He met me for coffee before work to just hold my hand and talk to me before work. He brought lunch to me at work. I brought lunch to him at work. He stopped by just because he missed me. We went out for dinner. We acted like teenagers, making out in bars, on the sidewalk, in parking lots. The world disappeared when he held me.  Physically, we fit together perfectly. Unlike GI Joe, he was here, he was local. However he too was unavailable. He has a wife. He has children, four to be exact.  He already has one ex wife and another divorce would bankrupt him. If he left his wife he would not be able to see his daughters every night. That would kill him, he said. So our affair continued. One day he texted me, ‘What is kate short for’ and without much thought, I responded, “home wrecker.” I didn’t want to be a home wrecker and told him that he would have to either leave me to fix his marriage or leave his marriage for me. But I was hooked. I couldn’t let him go and he wasn’t ready to leave his life. He would disappear from his home and his wife and he would meet me, often staying with me until late in the evening. We had plans to go away for a weekend. It was all derailed, and probably for the best. The reality is that he was never going to leave her.

During a careless moment someone who knew his wife sent her an email outing her husband as a cheater. We were seen kissing on a busy street during rush hour. Oddly I was angry at Chatham for not telling her the truth about himself. About me. After we were seen, I became impatient, it was like the universe was sending a sign to him to make his choice. Me or his current life. Ironically before we were spotted, I wanted him to go to her and fix his marriage apologize. I wanted him but only once I knew he was free.

A couple of months have gone by and we have not had contact. I contemplate reaching out to her and apologizing for loving her husband. Even though I have not had contact with him or her, I want to.

As a wife who was cheated on by her second husband. As wife who cheated on her first husband. Now, as a woman who knowingly was with another woman’s husband. I have perspective. Ironically this is near his wedding anniversary so maybe my thoughts to his wife may inspire others.

  1. Your husband is funny. He is witty and sarcastic and has a beautiful smile and laugh. Enjoy him. Enjoy watching him find humor in things. Your husband is like a grown up 13 year old boy. He is raunchy and funny and adorable.
  2. Your husband is sexy. He loves with his whole body. His eyes shine and lips dance into a smile when he kisses. His embrace is comforting and makes the weight of the world disappear.
  3. Your husband needs space. He likes to be alone and have no one expecting him to do a thing.
  4. Your husband needs to feel appreciated. He works hard so you can stay home with your children. He needs to be thanked and not nagged. He loves to just be thanked and held. When he comes home, he doesn’t want to hear about your hard day. He would gladly trade places with you and have your “problems” at the community garden or the community pool.
  5. Your husband is afraid. He is afraid to leave you and afraid you will leave him. He loves you and your children. But it is weighing on him and his health is suffering. He is depressed and anxious.
  6. Your husband loves sex. he loves to have spontaneous sex in the kitchen, on counters, in the back of a jeep. outside on the deck. wherever and whenever the mood strikes. It is not so much the physical act but the act of being wanted, cherished and craved. I crave him. I want him. I anticipate each time seeing him. You treat sex like a chore. Scraping dirty dishes and cleaning toilets are chores. Have sex with him. On purpose. Be loud and joyful and let him make you scream with pleasure. Would you please do that for him? He would be a lot less depressed and probably healthier.
  7. Your husband loves being a dad. He loves his older boys. He adores his daughters. But he wants to be loved like a man too, not just a dad. The best part of his day is snuggling up with his littlest ones.
  8. Your husband is more than a co-parent. You are not tag team parenting. Parenting is a joy and should be done together with love for the lives you’ve created.
  9. Your husband resents your ‘breaks’. you have the luxury of getting to stay with your children all day. You have friends, hobbies, and opportunities that most women don’t. You do not need a break. he sees that as you escaping opportunities to be close with him.
  10. Your husband wants you to go back to work. You were interesting and had ideas and thoughts outside of the kitchen, garden and nursery. You have become boring and complain about things that just don’t matter to him. You are not the person he fell in love with and have turned into someone who he doesn’t’ like. Remember who you were and try to be her again.

My final request of you  – treat your husband well. Love him. Appreciate him. Be kind to him. Be sexy and fuck his brains out. Give him blow jobs when he least expects it. Quit complaining and treat him instead like a cherished friend. If you would make love to him and treat him like a husband, not a breadwinner, mulch spreader, kid watcher so you can go to boot camp person he would be happier as a dad and husband. He would be less likely to stray. I am not his first affair and I am certainly not going to be his last.

If you don’t want to, then please let him go peacefully without a fight so that he and you can live the best life you can. I miss him and if you won’t love him I will.

A therapist would have a field day diagnosing this. What do you think?

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Ringmaster of my Circus

The laundry has piled up – not the dirty laundry – the clean laundry. Piles of washed and folded clothes. Clothes the Girl and Boy haaaddddd to have. Hundreds of dollars of A&F, Hollister, American Apparel, the list goes on. All folded and ignored. On their bodies are their gym shorts and mis-matched shirts. I think it is the equivalent of how I have aspirational sizes in my closet. I used to be a size 2. I still purchase things that used to fit hoping someday that they will fit again. Perhaps my children feel the social pressure to have certain clothes but just are not comfortable in them. I don’t want to get angry and demand that they wear what I bought, but at some point the comfy gym clothes will need to get laundered and they will be in the clean basket.  In the meantime, I am having my own special brand of feel sorry for my self melt down that is completely self absorbed and unwarranted.

All brought on by a pile of clean clothes.

I have a perfectly lovely home in an safe town. My kids go to an amazing public school. No one wants for a single necessity. I have a very good job that I happen to enjoy. I work with smart people (aside from the couple of random tools and douche bags); I have not a single legitimate complaint. So why am I so irritated over a pile of clothes that have not been put away? My annoyance manifested itself into a full blown mommy melt down.

A therapist would seek to understand some repressed moment in my childhood. Perhaps, if i had the time or the inclination, I might explore that. But that is it. I don’t have time. The bottom line is I want help from my children. We do not have another adult in this house. I am the ring master of this circus and I want it all. I want Fun in ring one, Order in ring two, and Success in ring three!

The fun I want to have for myself is a few more yoga classes a week. I thought I could train for a triathlon too. But instead I spend my time doing the laundry that no one puts away, skipped the triathlon and squeeze a couple yoga classes. I am constantly running around ensuring my home is kept up, the laundry is done, my kids are where they need to be (4 more years until the boy can drive!!) and I am tired. Yes, I know, all you overachievers and problem solvers who say I could wake up at 4:45 a.m. and go to the gym by 5, be home by 6:15 to wake my darlings. I could. But I am TIRED! “Order in the house” to me means that I am not tripping over the path of backpacks, shoes, lunch boxes, and random treasures that make their way into my home. An occasional item here and there is fine, but having to go through an archeological dig in the foyer, looking for a shoe is not my idea of order. Why can’t anyone lift their things on to the hooks provided RIGHT by the door? Success is the hardest one – I want my children to have good grades, find their passion and live life of pure joy and bliss. And why should they not? They are smart. They are funny. They are curious. They have every bit of information available to them in person and over the world wide web. They have opportunity. They are are also exceptionally lazy. I punish them by taking away their screens. They don’t care. They amuse themselves outside on bikes or making forts out of furniture. I send them to bed early and they happily read or draw or write stories. They are easy going and no amount of ‘punishment’ affects them. I reward good behavior with money, movies, toys, games, days to the beach. They are equally unaffected. It’s all good for them. they are easy going, laid back and drama free. They just live. They are present and don’t have a sense of future where they need to rush to be prepared for the future. Their present isn’t defined by picking up stuff from the past and getting ready for the next thing.

Wait a minute….. Perhaps I have solved my own issue by learning from my children and seeing how it ties to my yoga practice!

I sent them to school 5 minutes early so I could make my tea and sip it while I contemplate how to add more time in my day all while being able to maintain my home, feed my children, and remain employed. Instead of obsessing about the laundry that needs to be put away, I am just going to enjoy my tea. right here, right now. in this moment. How exceptionally yoga-y too.

Expectations of no expectations

In yoga our instructor told us to give up expectations. Okay. I normally don’t have any, so that was easy. I don’t expect to fail or succeed. I hope that my strength, flexibility and concentration is enough to keep me from falling on my face or ass, depending on the pose. But if I do fall, I don’t really care. No one is going to die because my Parivrtta Ardha Chandrasana causes me to stumble. I am not somehow more spiritually connected because I hold Natarajasana.  But now that I am challenged to not have have any expectations, I wonder if I should have. Am I doing it wrong? My journey of having no expectations or no goals has been painful. It is a paradox to have no expectations – that is still an expectation. so the chatter in my monkey brain starts. If I wasn’t expecting to fall, isn’t that an expectation?  “QUIET!” I yell to myself. Ah…. my breath. I feel balanced. My breath is filling my lungs. My exhale is smooth. No expectations. Nothing. “I did it!,” I rejoice to myself. I am breathing and thinking of nothing. Oh crap…. I am now thinking of the nothing. so now it’s something. My breath is something.  “Don’t think'” I order my brain! Now here I am  I am thinking of nothing. isn’t nothing something? is this the right nothing. I hear my hear beat. I listen to my breath. I expect to hear my hear beating. wait, that’s a thought. Empty my mind. Is it empty now. Is this nothing? The nothing  is something. Not expecting is still expecting.

My mind wanders. I think how this nonsense is in my life.  I have no expectations of my gay ex husband. I don’t expect him to be kind and generous with our children. I reflect that the lack of that expectation is really an expectation. I expect that he will be a disappointment to them. I am correct more often than not. History informs my opinion. He is a moron. Yes, I am judging. Yes I am aware that I shouldn’t. This journey is a painful one where I struggle with letting go, forgiving, moving on and being present.