There are so many things flying around in my mind every minute. I sometimes don’t know which direction to take. I going to talk about how things are going better now, between me and Stef. And that is Good. He is working on himself and really trying. He needs to do more. He is still not initiating conversations that he really should, but he is starting to realize the damage he did to me and to our marriage. His therapist is helping. And that is why I guess I will talk about therapy, about how it helps, but how difficult it can be to get it. It’s not cheap. It’s not available to everyone, and not everyone knows that there are people out there that can help them. Plus not all therapists are alike. And I can only speak about three; my husband has one too now, and so far, things seem to be going pretty well for him. I insisted he see a male therapist. I have seen two women and one man, and there really were differences in how the sessions evolved.
Another difficulty is accepting to see a therapist. I was always the type of “God helps those who helps themselves” person – I took that as “You’re the Only one who can help yourself“, and so I never asked anyone for help. I thought that therapy was for serious disorders like suicide or addiction. I never really heard about couple’s therapy until the first time I caught my husband cheating, and then I made (I think) a rookie mistake. I dragged him to couples therapy directly. And I chose a woman (at his insistence). I found someone who was very calm, very empathetic, and very easy to talk to. But Stef only went to two sessions. At the end of session number two, she informed us that our marriage was very strong, and she was optimistic for our future together. I was still extremely fragile though. I went back to see her three times after that because so much was going on. My daughter was getting married, my family was coming over from the US, and all this was happening in three months… and I was numb. Nothing touched me. Nothing made me thrilled or joyful or excited. I felt like a ghost. Each time I saw her, she reassured me, she prescribed antianxiety meds so I could go to work and function. She told me my marriage depended on me, that I did 80% of the emotional work in the marriage. It had been like that since the beginning. There were no perfect marriages, there were just good balances. Equilibrium. Let things go. Don’t worry. Your husband isn’t going to leave you. Then she told me that I didn’t need her anymore and that was it for therapist number one.
After my daughter’s wedding I wasn’t back to normal. In fact, I was spiraling badly. September and October were hard, with polo tournaments and of course, Vic’s name popping up now and then as she played in the low goal club polo games. One day she actually won with her team, and there was a photo in my newsfeed. In an elan of generosity, and buoyed up by my therapists’ insistence I “move past it, it’s over, be free, be compassionate, and be generous“, I showed the photo to my husband saying, “I thought you would like to see this”. He barely glanced at it and said, ‘That’s nice, thanks’, and went back to what he was doing. Looking back, I realize he knew all along. And looking back… well, it does no good to look back in these cases. What counts is what happens next.
I was not doing well, I could feel things were not right. My husband was still defending Vic whenever I did spiral, which made it impossible for me to find a calm spot. I was the crazy one – Vic was innocent, and besides, it was all over. He’d learned his lesson. He never wanted to hurt me again. And I had to stop trying to denigrate the perfect Vic – it was useless, I had absolutely no influence or power. So I went to see another therapist. This time I went to see a man. He was very different from the first therapist. He was ore direct, posed more questions, and was interested in the dynamics of our marriage and of my interpretation of Stef’s affair with Vic. He asked a lot of questions about her, and came up with an interesting theory. She wanted to replace me. Not now, not as Stef’s wife now as he was or in this period of our life – No. She wanted to be the woman Stef took with him to play polo all over the world. She imagined herself as a pro woman player – in her mind, I was useless because I had never taken the time to learn polo and become a player. She didn’t realize that in my time, back then, women were discouraged from playing polo and the few that did dare were treated very badly. I was interested in his theory, and it did make me feel better. He was the first therapist to tell me that the affair had absolutely nothing to do with me, and everything to do with a fantasy constructed by two very dependent people. My husband, he theorized, had addictive tendencies, and Vic was looking for a fantasy where she had a father and where she was a polo wife (no healthy fantasies there) but unfortunately, what he didn’t tell me was that fantasies like that didn’t just disappear from one day to the next. They had been in this bubble for three years – that is a long time for a fantasy to become as powerful as an addiction. And I wish he had told me that, instead of telling me “You are strong. You are intelligent. You will get over this because you and your husband love each other, I can tell from what you tell me.” I should have told him I felt like there was a huge wall between me and Stef. But I didn’t. I was just so glad to hear that I was not to blame.
And of course you all know what happened next. I muddled along for another year, feeling something was very off. Trying to reconnect. Trying everything – and nothing worked, and then Stef got cancer, and Parson Turner Syndrome, and then he had open heart surgery – all in two years – and I was busy, he was sick, and yet three years after I found out, things were looking up. Until I found their last message and all Hell broke out. SO… I needed someone to talk to, like Right Away – or else I was going to do something irreparable. (Besides going scorched earth and publishing on social media) so I found another therapist. My first two were unavailable or had appointments literally Months Later, so I grabbed a new person who did Zoom Calls, and she agreed to talk to me, and thank goodness I found her. She is wonderful. I won’t say she’s the best therapist ever, but for me she is a good fit. She is kind, but she tries to be balanced, and that is important, because I don’t want an echo chamber. She has worked with couples, and has even agreed to take on Stephane and me together, and has had one session with him to see if there was a possible fit. Stef liked her as well, but I was uncomfortable with the thought of starting couples therapy with him so soon. She agreed, so for now, I have my therapist, and Stef has his.
How can we afford it? It is expensive. But in France the social security pays for half the cost, so that makes it a lot easier. Some therapists do not have those reimbursements, but some do, and it’s worth seeking them out.
Conclusions are hard to make. My therapist tells me I have a mountain to climb, that it’s still very early, and that every step forward counts, but not to get discouraged if I slip backwards. Crying, she tells me, is normal at this stage, and one day I will start feeling more peaceful. She is very herbal therapy too, and I like that – so cross my fingers I can keep talking to her. Our conversations are weekly now, Stef’s a bi-weekly, and as soon as we are more stable, we will start therapy as a couple. I was not looking forward to that two months ago. But today, for the first time, there is a spark of interest.
I hope this helps some people who are going through similar things. I don’t think infidelity is a fun topic, but it’s like any other trauma – once it happens to you you find out others that share your story and it helps to feel like one is not alone. Just know, if you are cheating on your partner, you are doing unbearable damage to them. And if you have been cheated on, I hope, that like me, you realize it’s not about you, you could not have stopped or changed anything. If you choose to stay together and work things out, it’s hard. It’s probably easier to just walk out and shup the door behind you, rebuild yourself instead of trying to rebuild a whole couple. But I guess I am a stubborn bitch. I chose to stay. I chose to work on our marriage. And it’s true – it requires compassion past what is comfortable for me. I will try to be compassionate though – to me, and to S
Forty years together, and you still manage to surprise me. I never suspected you’d have a midlife crisis so late, or that it would come with daddy issues and a curfew. We built a whole life, raised a family, and this ridiculous chapter is like a blot of ink on a pristine page. Forty years with you.. that’s a long time to love someone, long enough to see you at your best… and at your very “confused mentor to a 40 yr old” worst. I suppose I should be flattered – clearly I’ve kept you young enough to make questionable decisions. So now, here we are, bruised, hopefully wiser, and somehow still standing. And somehow, after everything, I still choose you. Let’s try for a new chapter – less drama – more us.
Jennifer Macaire 