Who Is My Wife?

This is part fifteen of my story of recovering from my wife’s affair and rebuilding our marriage. If you haven’t already, please start at the beginning with part one.

Throughout this ordeal, it has at times been dizzying to think about who my wife really is. From my perspective, it almost seems like she can be cleanly divided into three separate and distinct people: who she was before the affair, who she was during the affair, and who she is now. I’m sure that’s not how it feels to her. She has been the same person all along, but she agrees it can feel like a different part of her personality took control for those couple of months.

My wife, my daughter and I are currently spending a long weekend at my parents’ house in the mountains. It’s been a bit difficult for me, as the last time we were here was this past Christmas, which is one of the most painful times for me to think back on.

I discovered the affair nine days before Christmas. She broke it off with the other guy immediately, and we started working to rebuild. Or, so I thought. Four days later, he sent her a message and she responded (unbeknownst to me until weeks later), assuring him that her “plan is still the same.”

A few days after that, on Christmas Eve, we were up here at my parents’ house. We went out shopping. I’m notorious for being a late shopper for stocking stuffers, so as we shopped, I started noting things that my wife looked at, and then I’d go back and buy them later. She caught on, and it became sort of a joke. I kept going back and buying her stuff and ended up spending way more on her stocking stuffers than I ever normally would. She even dropped heavy hints about a somewhat expensive hat that clearly wouldn’t fit in her stocking. At that point, I felt like she was milking me for every Christmas goodie she could get out of me, but I didn’t care. I was willing to give it all to her if it meant she would feel better about our relationship and never do anything like this again to me. I bought her the hat, then snuck up behind her, put it on her head and gave her a kiss.

The next morning, her stocking was overflowing with all kinds of bath bombs and lotions and cute socks and on and on. My stocking was full of sour candy. I mean, I do like sour candy, but the juxtaposition of our two stockings was glaring. But I rolled with it. There had definitely been Christmases in our past where the reverse happened on Christmas morning: she had planned ahead and gotten thoughtful gifts for me, and I had made a last-minute run to the grocery store. So, it didn’t bother me at the time.

Now, it does bother me. Why did she allow me — no, encourage me — to buy her all that stuff, knowing that she had only gotten some sour candy for me, and knowing that she was still lying to me about a great many things, and knowing she was still talking to him behind my back — back and forth via her secret email account all day long on both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and still telling him that she would leave me someday? What kind of person does that? Certainly not the kind of person I had known for 25 years leading up to then.

So this is one of the instances I think back on most often, and ask myself, “Who was that person who looked like my wife, but didn’t act like her at all?”

It’s especially bewildering when I consider her behavior these past few months as we’ve started our real recovery work. Because, just like our stockings on Christmas morning, the juxtaposition is striking. My wife has been nothing short of amazing since that day in mid-January when I found out she had still been talking to him — the day we thought we were probably getting divorced. On that day, she fought for another chance. She had already ended the affair for good the day before, and since then she’s been one hundred percent committed to me and our marriage.

She’s so in tune with my emotions, it’s often almost eerie. She sometimes seems to realize I’m having a little bit of a “moment” before I do. And when that happens, she looks at me intently, eyes wide and smiling, and says (or mouths when there are others around) “Icy iffy.” ICY IFFY is an acronym we came up with early on. It means “I chose you. I’m fighting for you.” I say it back to her, too, because it’s also true the other way around. I chose to give her another chance, and I’m fighting to make it work, too. I think it’s a great encapsulation of what’s most important for us to remember. We’re here together, we made that choice, and we’re both working hard toward our goal of having a happy, loving, lasting marriage.

Another thing she started doing was leaving Post-It notes on my bathroom mirror occasionally — just little reminders of her dedication to me and our relationship. These gestures of reassurance are great, but they would be empty if they weren’t backed up by her behavior, and they have been. My wife has been fully engaged with, and enthusiastic about, the work we’re doing. She’s participating in our marriage counseling, she’s getting one-on-one therapy, she’s listening to me, she’s supporting me, she’s patient with me. We talk about our problems before the affair, but she never blames me. She’s open and honest about what she needs, too, and I’m trying harder than ever to give her those things. It wouldn’t work if she was the only one putting in effort while I wallowed in my pain or constantly played the victim card.

I literally can’t think of anything more I could ask of her now. If I only consider her behavior since she broke it off, I honestly feel like I’m married to the most wonderful person in the world.

So who was that woman who treated me so badly back in December and January? She was my wife. But she was confused by her feelings at the time, afraid of her future with me, excited by the affair, thinking selfishly, caught up in her own lies and deception. Her personality was warped by all of these feelings.

Although it’s jarring to think about the stark difference between her behavior then and now, I really don’t have to ask which personality is most true to who my wife is. I know from my life with her who she really is. I know from looking in her eyes today. She’s the person with me right now, loving me, supporting me, and fighting so hard for our marriage.

Part sixteen.