'My husband of 20 years left me for another woman. There's one part of infidelity no one talks about.'

Unfortunately, I'm a member of a club that I never signed up for and certainly didn't want to join. The only requirements for members are that your entire life has imploded, your heart is broken into many painful pieces and, more often than not, you never saw it coming. Sounds like a hoot, hey? 

Introducing The 'Betrayed Wife' club.

I joined this year when my husband of 20 years dropped the bomb on me that he'd been having an affair for nearly a year and no longer loved me. Correction, he loved me, just wasn't in love with me. There's a distinction and if you do any reading on infidelity, you'll come across this phrase all the time. That phrase alone has circulated throughout my brain many times over the last six months, trying to make sense of the change in his feelings. It's worded in a way to soften the blow. There's still "love", of course, just not the type you need, want and deserve in a committed relationship.

Watch: The signs your partner might be cheating on you. Post continues after video.

So it's been six months of hell. I've cried until the tears quite literally ran out. Screamed into my pillow. Walked a million miles. Absolute gut-wrenching grief, despair, sadness, anger, hope and now, finally and ever so slightly, to be almost imperceptible, a shift towards acceptance. So many times I searched for answers on the internet. When does it get less painful? When will it stop consuming my every thought? For me, the six-month mark was when things shifted just a little. Not appreciably, but enough to give me moments of relief and respite. I think it's probably a physiological response of the body - it simply can't live in that heightened state forever. It's downright cruel and definitely unsustainable.

I think the part that people don't tell you about betrayal or infidelity in marriage, though, is that it's not even really about the cheating. Sure, that hurts unbearably and if you're anything like me, you will ruminate on it 24/7 and drive yourself to the brink thinking of them "together". The mind is a powerful tool, but I've learnt it can really stray into evil over good territory when you're hurting so profoundly. It's hard enough when you know the cold, hard facts, but coupling that with the probable and possible scenarios… it's something that makes both my brain and heart physically ache.

So for me now, six months out, it's more about the "before" and the "after".

In the "before" was everything a lie? The moments you remember looking into your partner's eyes feeling complete love, was that a lie? The laughs, the intimacy, the affection, the shared life experience - was it all a lie? The betrayal makes you question the very fabric of the relationship, and you can't trust yourself that it was real. That any of it was real. Right now, in this "phase" of my marriage separation, I genuinely cannot remember a happy memory with my husband even though, cognitively, I know they existed. I know there were many, many happy moments during my marriage, but I can't access them right now. Perhaps it's self-preservation. Perhaps the memories will come back, and I can appreciate them when it's not so raw, so tender.

The "After" part is not really about the period right after the infidelity. It's more about the future, I guess. The journey into old age that you had loosely or maybe firmly mapped out in your head. Gone. Walking through life, parenting your kids and grandparenting your grandkids together, maybe driving a caravan around Australia in your retirement is now replaced with worrying about finances and your future. Maybe alone, maybe repartnered, but who knows? Security, comfort, peace moving forward - just don't exist for me right now. The feelings and emotional stuff are all still there and taking up so much real estate in my brain, but now it's the practicalities of life that are causing me anxiety. I'm up all hours trying to work out how I'm going to return to work and earn enough to retire before I'm 70. The unfairness that he has no financial insecurity or worry as he built up his career whilst I dedicated my life to him and the kids - that's not lost on me either. It's just something I have to chalk up to "life really sucks sometimes and it's not fair", but really, I just want to stomp my feet and have an almighty tantrum.

Through this process, I've spoken to many people who assure me I'll come out of this okay. Psychologists, counsellors, friends, family. Those who've been through it, and those who haven't. They assure me I'll be better than okay and you know what?  I trust them. My ability to trust hasn't been destroyed completely. I'm grateful for that. I'm sad that I can't help but question the "before", but I choose to have hope for the "after".

The author of this story is known to Mamamia but remained anonymous for privacy purposes.

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