A Baseball Bat and a Trash Can

I have a trash can and a baseball bat in the back yard.  It’s quite nice to look at it.  I can sip my coffee and look at it and smile.  It’s my creation.  Molded by my anger.  As the events unfolded from his night with Miss A, crazy thoughts swirled in my head about their time together.  It was quite consuming.  The anger and rage that swelled in my soul and in the depths of my heart made it impossible to breathe.  It was overwhelming, the anger that I felt.  Anger from the hurt, from the betrayal and the loss of trust.  Anger for my kids, anger for my life choices.  I mean, I had married a cheater. A cheater!  To think that his body was touching hers….made my blood boil.  It is a feeling like no other. There are no words…but there is a baseball bat and a trashcan.

When I felt the anger rising in me, I would walk outside, without a word and literally beat the hell out of the trashcan.  With everything in me I would pummel that plastic trash can until I could breathe again.  It was exhilarating and quite the workout.  I imagined the face of Satan, since I felt he was after my family.  I felt like Satan had targeted me and wanted my family destroyed.  I imagined my husband, betraying me, on her porch, in her backyard and why he made that decision.  I groaned and yelled.  One night the neighbors called to make sure we were okay…thinking we had lost our minds, when in fact, I had.

I used this bat and can for about 2 weeks, until my anger became more manageable.  I probably should have used it more, since sometimes my kids witnessed my anger (not proud about that).  It’s still in the backyard.  A monument for him to see.  So he can have a physical representation for what he did.  I may need it again.  The grief of betrayal can be a lot like the grief of death.  It’s cyclical.  It comes back around when you least expect it.  Something, a word or object,may trigger it.  I still need it there, to see from my small window over the sink.  So while I sip my coffee in the early hours of the morning I can see how far God’s brought me.

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The call at Panera

He called me on a Friday.  It was October 28, 2016.  I was working on his business stuff, trying to surf the web while the little boys were in preschool.  I can’t remember the weather, but a hurricane was about to hit.  He called to tell me that he had been called into a police station a few towns from where we live to talk about an incident that had happened with a woman in late July (last weekend of July to be exact).  He told me he had gotten drunk, had way to much to drink and Miss A was sad.  Her sister had just committed suicide and her boyfriend was being ugly to her. This girl worked for us. He should not have been over there and there he was, on her front porch.  This girl has been in jail several times for drug abuse and violence.  Her character is not all that great….and here he was, with her.  Not with me.

The hot tears were rolling down my face as I sat in the booth at Panera.  I had to cover my mouth to keep from making a sound.  From that moment on, I would never be the same.  He went on to tell me that she had told the police that his advances to her were not consensual.  So there may be sexual abuse charges.  Oh how the plot thickens.  Shocked wasn’t even the word to describe how I was feeling. I don’t even think there are words in the English language to put in words my heart.  I was devastated.

For better or worse

I,  Chad, take you Candace, to have and to hold
from this day forward;
for better, for worse,
for richer, for poorer,
in sickness and in health,
to love and to cherish,
till death us do part,
according to God’s holy law;
in the presence of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

He lied…almost nine years ago, he lied.  I married a liar. The father of my children is a liar. I’ve thought a lot about that evening in February, surrounded by our family and friends.  I made a choice to honor my covenant with God and he broke his.  SO where does that leave me?  Basically a mess.  A state of chaos.  An emotional nightmare.  Wrestling with divorce. Clinging to anything stable.

Infidelity is a tricky place.  It leaves you raw and angry.  It leaves you bitter about people and un-trusting of others.   It leaves doubt in your mind because everything you once thought was true, is in fact, not.

I want to go back.  Have a do over.  This is a death.  The death of what was, and the death of a dream.  I hope that one day, I will be able to look back and see how far God has brought me.  I hope I see that His love carried me.  I am sure with all that I am, that His love IS enough.  Because it has to be. It’s all I have at this point.