I'm a veteran of these forums and was active from 2007 - 2009.
I've seen my share of heartache here. I've walked this hard road with some good friends, many no longer post here.
I'm sharing this poem. It's from Ann Sexton. It's written from the perspective of "the Other Women". It may ease our pain, it may not. But it's a gift for you. Remember, dear friend, the other person is a watercolor, they wash off. You, dear DB-ing friend, the faithful spouse, are permanent.
Anne Sexton - For My Lover, Returning To His Wife
She is all there. She was melted carefully down for you and cast up from your childhood, cast up from your one hundred favorite aggies. She has always been there, my darling. She is, in fact, exquisite. Fireworks in the dull middle of February and as real as a cast-iron pot. Let's face it, I have been momentary. A luxury. A bright red sloop in the harbor. My hair rising like smoke from the car window. Littleneck clams out of season. She is more than that. She is your have to have, has grown you your practical your tropical growth. This is not an experiment. She is all harmony. She sees to oars and oarlocks for the dinghy, has placed wild flowers at the window at breakfast, sat by the potter's wheel at midday, set forth three children under the moon, three cherubs drawn by Michelangelo, done this with her legs spread out in the terrible months in the chapel. If you glance up, the children are there like delicate balloons resting on the ceiling. She has also carried each one down the hall after supper, their heads privately bent, two legs protesting, person to person, her face flushed with a song and their little sleep. I give you back your heart. I give you permission -- for the fuse inside her, throbbing angrily in the dirt, for the b***h in her and the burying of her wound -- for the burying of her small red wound alive -- for the pale flickering flare under her ribs, for the drunken sailor who waits in her left pulse, for the mother's knee, for the stocking, for the garter belt, for the call -- the curious call when you will burrow in arms and breasts and tug at the orange ribbon in her hair and answer the call, the curious call. She is so naked and singular She is the sum of yourself and your dream. Climb her like a monument, step after step. She is solid. As for me, I am a watercolor. I wash off
This is Heartbroken - we talked on the phone way back in 2007. You helped me so much and I just wanted to thank you for all your input!
I did bust our divorce - he actually filed but then realized that this did not make him happy either. When he told the OW he was questioning going ahead with the divorce (she was already divorced 8+ mos by this point) she went ballistic and showed her true colors - she hung herself as you always told me she would!
We are doing great and we no longer take our marriage for granted. We used to walk and talk about our sitch – sort of a therapy - for hours each week. We still refer to his ‘dumb-a$$ days’ but not nearly as often. He is so happy he did not make the biggest mistake of throwing our relationship away, after he saw the real OW he realized how much he would have lost!
I am sorry to hear you are still struggling with your sitch, hopefully you find some closure soon!
I am glad to see you are posting again – I know you can help others as you did for me!
Not Heartbroken anymore!
Me41 H44 * M16 yrs * D13 S10 8/06 H wants a D * 1/07 OW Truth 2/07 Searated * 7/07 H moved home First Thread Surviving Separation Now Piecing
