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Pain begets pain


I am trying very hard to heal myself.  It is a struggle every day to move past what I know, what I feel, and to see a bright future ahead of me full of promise and healing.  To my surprise, my days have been filled with less and less reminders of the affair.  She crosses my mind only transiently now, instead of all the time.  Reminders of the affair come and go and stay with me only a short while and are shuffled along with more ease than before.  But, I’ve come to notice an interesting phenomenon.  Physical hardship brings about mental hardship.  Pain begets pain.

I endeavoured upon a 7km training run today.  We were running hills, and the hill we were training on was like the ones you see in those motivational posters that say “Determination”, or “Perserverance” and show a lone runner making his way up a long hard hill.  I was that runner today, but was being supported by a runner trainer and friend whose running clinic I recently joined.  Since all of this affair stress has packed the pounds on me, I am determined to not allow it to make me fat…I will not let it ruin ME.

We ran the hill, and halfway up the hill, as the searing pain hit my lungs that could no longer expand to gather the necessary oxygen, and I struggled to breathe and simultaneously move my feet, the pain and struggle was almost unbearable.  Suddenly, thoughts of the affair came to mind, and I felt angry, and sad.  As I struggled physically, my emotional struggle also came into play.  How horribly unfair, I thought, as I needed every amount of physical and emotional stamina to focus on getting me to the crest of the hill.  How unfair that at a time when I am doing something for ME that belongs only to ME, that she enters my mind.  I am so tired of it, in so many ways.

To make matters worse, the woman who trains me found out 2 years after her split from her husband that he had been having an affair at the time that he walked out on her and her then 3 year old son.  That topic does come up during our runs from time to time, and I lend a sympathetic ear, but she has no idea what reality feeds my sympathy and that when I say “that must be so hard for you”, that I really want to say “I know exactly how you feel”.  She has no idea, and we aren’t close enough for me to share the story.  Besides, I have been told that keeping the information limited to a very small number of people is best, and I know my husband wouldn’t want me talking about it with MORE people.  It is just that she is someone who has actually BEEN THROUGH IT, unlike my other friends who simply nod and cock their heads sympathetically to one side while making puppy eyes at me.  How I wish there was a support group I could meet up with.  Maybe I will start one.

I pray for a day when I can wake up unriddled by thoughts of her, days when I can see my husband standing in the shower and not have to leave the room and cry because I am imagining her touching him all over, days when I can just have my life back to something close to what it was before.  I have a new reality now…and I am struggling to get used to it.  It’s like learning to live with a disease, I imagine.  The loss, the sorrow, the feelings of “why me”.

OK now I just need a good long cry.  And a stiff drink.

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