My message to the 20-year old that's sleeping with my ex-husband


My message to the 20-year old that's sleeping with my ex-husband

I would be lying if I said I have achieved a complete state of peace and acceptance when it comes to this whole situation.

However, given that there's no going back from this, I have come down from my initial rage, fury, and embarrassing fits of sobbing, and leveled out at a more "mellow" simmering pot of emotion.

I wish I could have been this collected the day you showed up with him when he came to collect his crap. You had a great time standing there laughing at me while I went off on the both of you. Admittedly, I probably would have been hard-pressed to not be amused if I had been you at the frumpy woman with mascara down her face and blood-shot eyes from lack of sleep. You saw me at my worst, my absolute rock-bottom worst, and you flipped your pretty hair and got into his car and I could see you both grinning as you back out of the driveway. I have never contemplated going to jail so seriously in my life.

The weeks that followed were some of the worst I have ever experienced. I went through a lot of emotions there, some really dark things I didn't think were possible to feel. I tortured myself at night replaying everything over and over again, I found myself obsessively checking social media. The fact he just left, that he was somewhere out there laughing and happy, while I could be hanging from a shower curtain, it just completely broke me. I spent 15 years with this man and for what? Those are fifteen years I never get back, and now I get thrown back into the singles pot with the disadvantage of a lined face, the beginnings of gray hair, and the lack of all that youthful radiance that makes those second glances happen.

It took so much time to get here. A lot of group therapy sessions, a lot of one on ones. A lot of forcing myself to get out of bed, to clean, to shower, to rebuild my life in a smaller more compact way so that this gaping hole was no longer there.

It was so hard to get over hating you. I was you, 20 years ago, but better. You didn't care about me, or what your fun with him had caused.

And then slowly I began to accept things in a different light.

He was a broken man. He always was, really. He always needed more, an upgrade, another promotion, this years car model. Nothing was ever enough for him. I suppose I should have seen the pattern more clearly to realize that eventually, I was going to need upgrading too.

And the thing is, one day you're going to be me. Time stops for no one. You're beautiful and radiant now. But in 5 years? 10? If he even sticks around that long. His need for something better won't stop. You'll lose the allure when you begin to bicker. He'll stop calling you so often. He'll come home later and later.

And then one day, you'll be sitting at home in your bathrobe, and a woman will call his phone. You'll pick up, and she'll say his name or pet name in a sexy little voice and you'll know the time has come for his upgrade. You'll stand in the kitchen, mascara down your face, hair a mess, eyes bloodshot, and you'll watch him pull away in his new car model of that year with his new and improved younger, more perfect version of you.

Good luck.
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