I've taken on the term "D-Day" to represent the day my husband told me of the affair. . The "D" can mean so many things...Death, Divorce, Destroy, Disgust, Despicable. I can vividly remember how my body felt as soon as the words were coming out of his mouth. I had a huge rush of heat run through my chest and up into my face, I thought I could faint and so I ran into the bedroom. My immediate reaction was, "How could you do this the night before my birthday"? It made the moment all the more sureal. Who does that? Right?
I started wailing so hard and loud that I literally began to throw up. There's only been one other time when I cried like that and that's when my mother passed away. It's a guttural sound and no matter what, theres no kind of consolatory words that can take away the pain at that moment.
Needless to say, I didn't get any sleep that night, as a matter of fact, I didn't sleep for the next 38 hours. My mind was traveling a million miles a minute. It's funny how you know your life to be one way and then in a skinny minute it takes a turn into unchartered territory. Where's my compass? What the hell do I do now? I love my husband but I hate him. How could he do this to me? What did I do wrong to make him stray? What kind of combat zone am I in? I couldn't see through the dense heavy fog and so I had to wait for four days until the " tough love calvary" came to my rescue. That story will have to wait until next time....
