Sometimes I want to shout from the rooftop that my husband has cheated on me. I want to scream it form the front of the church. Why must we suffer in silence. Sometimes I feel like if people knew what I had been through, they would be nicer to me, sweeter, helpful in a way. But then I think how ashamed I would feel knowing that others knew he’s touched another woman other than his wife. I think I still believe it was my fault. In a lot of ways he’s made me feel that it is my fault. It’s my Lichen Sclerosis. It was the fact I had just had a baby. It was the fact that I always turned him down. It was the fact that I was too fat.
So when I think of sharing my secret, I hesitate. There are only a few select people who know my secret. The rest of the world sees an idealistic me, walking around, going about life like everyone else. But this secret is heavy. I still want people to know he’s a scum bag. I want to shout it from the rooftops….HE’S A CHEATER!
Ugh. It’s such a shitty place to be.
Unfaithful: For Better or Worse 