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Never in a million years would I have guessed I would be where I am; repairing my marriage after nearly destroying it.

I never thought or imagined I could be capable of something so monstrous as having an affair.

Things don’t exist or happen in a vacuum so here’s a little insight into our world, from my perspective, as I befouled my relationship with my Husband.

In 2006 my husband and I met, fell in love and moved in together.  I had never lived with a man/lover before and was floundering.  Dirty dishes, clothes strewn across the floor and cigarette butts in odd places.  I had no idea cleaning up after someone you love would be so frigging hard and annoying.  Asking my mother for advice, in retrospect a bad idea, I would try to do what she suggested.  Instead of making things, better it made them worse.  My mother’s way of fixing things is to use a hammer instead of trying to find the right tool for the job.  Things started to become strained between me and my husband.

Within a year I was diagnosed with endometriosis.  Because we wanted to have children, in order to save my baby-making bits, I was placed into a false menopause for 1 year.  The medication altered my personality greatly.  I could sort of see I was being a bitch, but couldn’t figure out how to stop it.  I lost my sex drive, gained copious amounts of weight and systematically pushed my husband away through nasty nagging behavior.

For anyone out there – avoid Depo Lupron at all costs!

Luckily, my husband is a patient and loving man so he tried to cope on his own.  All the while hoping his sweet girl would come back.

In the middle of that mess my husband’s brother came to live with us.  Within a couple of months he got sick and was diagnosed with testicular cancer.  My husband was beside himself watching his younger brother get sicker and sicker through the radiation treatments.  What was worse, his wife was still sour, unable to provide the comfort and solace that he needed.  (This my darling is one of the 3 things I will regret until I die.)  But my husband soldiered on, even when he had to send his brother back to their home state after treatment was completed and he was cancer free.

The beginning of 2010 found me off the Depo and on the couch.  Having been laid-off in late 2009, I thought I would enjoy some much needed time off and get my head together.  Instead I fell into a depression and continued to stress eat.  After all was said and done I had packed on 60 pounds since I had first met my husband.  And as my mood plummeted, I pulled away from him.  I thought if I didn’t want to have sex with me, why would he.  Again, bad bad bad thinking.  I should have approached him and discussed it with him, like an adult.  Instead I sunk further into a funk.

By mid year we moved again and were planning our wedding.  Yeah, some men would have run fast – but after all this, he still wanted to be with me AND loved me.  After our ‘i do”s we started to talk baby.   Something positive to focus on.  I shifted all of my energy into losing weight.  I walked, swam laps, ate healthy and dropped 35 pounds.

In August 2011 we saw a fertility doctor, something my gyno suggested because of the endometriosis.  Things looked promising, we did tests, answered lots of questions and started the process of getting us ready to get knocked up.  After a couple of initial procedures, I developed complications.  By the time the dust settled it was mid September, I had a few surgeries and was left with only my womb and one ovary.

“Things will be tricky” was the comment from our fertility doctor.  As it happens, part of the back wall of my uterus is fused to part of my intestines – there is a very high chance I could die while carrying and/or delivering our child.  At this point my husband put his foot down and said we needed to slow down and think.  After talking together about baby possibilities we both decided it would be too great of a risk for us to continue  in-vitro.  “You mean more to me than a baby” is what I remember my husband saying.  So we decided we will adopt.

I never quite recovered from that decision.  While intellectually I understood it, I felt useless, damaged and broken.  And further into a depression I sank.  Both my husband and I started a new jobs and we threw ourselves into them.  We were basically living like roommates.

But the fates weren’t done with us.  At the end of June my mother had a stroke and our world went into a tailspin.  I spent hours and hours at the hospital, more time spent away from my husband.  As she slowly got better we decided that we would move to go help take care of her.

So within two weeks we had everything packed, in a shipping container and were making the move.  During the packing I had a melt-down and lost it.  Thankfully my husband, rock that he is, took charge and got everything done.  Initially I thought what I had was a mini-melt, something I could easily recover from, not knowing it was a full-on psychotic break.

Living with my mother is tough, difficult at best.  We were fighting every day about everything; from her medication to the food I prepared her.  It was non-stop.  At this point my memory of things gets hazy, but the one thing I remember with clarity was thinking ‘this is how my life will be from now until the day I die’.  And I freaked out again and lost my shit.  I retreated.  The need to escape was so great I started chatting online.  I developed an online relationship with another man.  At first we talked about life in general, how I was trying to cope with my mother and the move and the isolation.  We also talked about sex and my need to be a submissive.  It was something that has always been a desire and need for me, but something I never told my husband out of fear.

I don’t remember everything I had texted or said to this person.  But I do know it was disgustingly frequent.  It wasn’t until much later, after my husband pointed out my phone records to me, that I realized how many hours this person and I communicated.  (Husband, I will never forgive myself for not confiding in you and will forever regret hurting you so much.)

Even now writing this, I am so sickened and disgusted with myself for letting that happen.  I should have been confiding in my husband.  I remember thinking at the time that I didn’t wanna shit all over his parade.  He liked living at my parents, well the living in the country aspect of it.  And I saw how happy he was to be working in the yard and how he was getting along with my Dad.  I thought ‘why fuck this up by telling him how unhappy I am?’  ‘I should just let him enjoy being happy.’  ‘God knows after all the shit we’ve been through he deserves happiness’.  Again – wrong course of action!  I should have talked with him, confided in him, begged him for help.

Worse yet, while he noticed something was wrong with me, my husband tried to figure out a plan to get me away from my mother’s negativity and harsh words.  So we moved a few miles away.

For me, this is where things get very hazy.  I remember creating a BDSM profile online and meeting another man.  He lived here locally and we started to talk online and text.  I don’t know why, but we decide to meet.  We had oral sex and afterward I am full or remorse and shame.  (I will never forget those feelings of remorse and shame.  I will not easily forgive myself for all the pain I’ve caused you.)

Disgusted with myself, I try to tell my husband about my kink and the need to be submissive.  Oddly enough, my husband wants to try it.  His logic: if it pleases me, it pleases him.  Fuck.  I am  horrible fucking human being.  At this point things go pear-shaped.  We try a few things and then he discovers my online profile and what I’ve written.

With clarity I remember laying in the dark next to him.  His breath slow and deliberate and filled with grief.  He asks several times if I want to be married to him.  With tears rolling down my cheeks I finally tell him no.  Which is a bold faced lie.  I thought myself to be a horrible person unworthy of forgiveness. In my mind, how could he forgive me? I kept telling myself:

“If I leave he will be able to find someone who will love him.”

“He’ll be able to have a happy life with someone he deserves.”

“He’ll be able to have children.”

I had just felt so psychologically damaged and physically broken.  So I gave up.  About 8 hours after I had left, and tried to tell myself I was doing the right thing, I came to my senses.  All of the sudden I realized my place was with him.  I LOVE HIM.  I can’t imagine my life without him.  I am willing to do ANYTHING to make him happy and love me again.

That’s when I called him to ask if it was too late to fix things.  Thank God he said “it wasn’t too late”.

Since then we have been slowly working on things.  I have finally come clean about EVERYTHING, at least everything I can remember.  We’ve seen a couples therapist and I am in search of a good head shrinker.  I need to learn how to cope with the depression and stress which led me to those heinous decisions.

And while, right now, the bad days seem to out weight the good ones – we’re talking.  Honestly talking and determined to make a brighter, healthier, stronger relationship.

This blog is about our new journey together, exploring BDSM and how it fits in our relationship.  Since, I have discovered the masochistic submissive within me and my husband has revealed the lurking sadistic dominant with him.