Bringing It HomeI Had an AffairMy husband wasn't making me happy. So why not look elsewhere for intimacy?Lyn Mackenzie| Topics: | Accountability, Adultery, Character, Crisis, Marriage |
| Filters: | Family ministry, Men's ministry, Pastor, Small group leader, Woman leader, Women's ministry |
| Purpose: | Discipleship |
| References: | None |
| Date Added: | August 12, 2008 |
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I don't know exactly when my affair started. My marriage of eight years had brought me three wonderful children and a beautiful home. While I'd like to say it brought me happiness, too, I couldn't. I questioned the direction of my career, I felt guilty leaving my children with a babysitter, and I believed my husband, Allen,* wasn't doing everything he could to make me happy.
I focused on what Allen did that I didn't like. Petty things such as making noises when he ate, telling annoying jokes, or not putting something away became the stepping-stones to what I thought were bigger problems. I thought, He never listens to me, he doesn't support anything I do, he rarely hugs me. By focusing on what he wasn't doing, I overlooked the things he did do: working hard to support us, helping around the house, encouraging me to take a break from my job, reading stories to the kids each night. He loved me, even when I wasn't loving toward him.
Still, I grew impatient and emotionally distant. I blamed my unhappiness on Allen. Soon, he put more energy into his work. When he came home after a long day, I complained about the long hours he worked. Eventually, I avoided talking to him unless I had to. He then started working Saturdays, which added fuel to the fire. I turned to Paul, a coworker. He was easy to talk to, and I enjoyed his company. Thinking I found someone who truly understood me, we spent more time together.
One evening after work a group of us went out for drinks. Paul and I were the last to leave, and as he walked me to my car, he kissed me. While I was surprised at first, I convinced myself there was nothing wrong with it because I didn't love Allen anymore.
Paul and I met often and I told him about my marital "problems." The more I shared how awful my marriage was the more my heart opened to Paul. I thought he possessed all the qualities Allen lacked. I thought he was the one I was meant to be with. I thought I was in love. Our relationship grew physically and emotionally, and eventually we also became sexually intimate.
At first, our relationship didn't bother me. I justified it by blaming Allen. After a few months though, guilt filtered in. The more I pushed it away, the more it consumed me.
Finally after a year, I told Paul we couldn't continue our physical relationship. But I was still emotionally attached to him. I thought I loved him and even though he never said it, I was convinced he loved me. I mentally created this perfect life with this other man. Over the next year, I pushed Allen further away. I hardly talked to him, and although we still shared the same bed, I shunned sex or affection.
Three months later I started to look for an apartment; I figured if I continued to act so badly, he would leave. Then I wouldn't have to accept responsibility for my actions. It almost worked.
