Where has the time gone?
Thank you to everyone who checked in and supported me.
Let me answer the above question. I did have a breakdown and lose control in an airport after over 24 hours travel. Screamed at my dad and made everyone in baggage claim freeze for 30 seconds or so. There were delays and missed connections that resulted in 34 hour travel time. It was too much. But I made it.
Being back in the US had felt like the finish line in the yearlong days between my flights and D-Day. I couldn't imagine anything past that. It was like charting a course to the peak of a mountain without a plan on how I was going to get down.
In the days before the flight, my contact with WH to take advantage of his love-bombing turned into me actually wanting to talk to him and see him in person. The night I landed, I went to his hotel and read through all the messages between him and his AP since D-Day. I read things aloud and made him listen to the voicenotes he sent her. I was shocked by how shallow it was. Two people talking at each other, sometimes with trite, empty words of affection. They didn't have anything specific they liked about each other or any common interests. I also learned that someone I had thought was a friend had sent the AP a comforting message after I called her and my WH "homewreckers" on a group chat with 5 close friends on it. The not-friend was shocked by how rude and inconsiderate such an act was. How dare I be so rude to the woman who came on to my husband and told him every day to run away with her! I also learned that AP was the one who encouraged him to start drinking again after 2 years of abstaining. Wow, telling an alcoholic that he should and deserves to drink. True love? He sent her a selfie with the first of dozens of drinks he consumed in 24 hours. Crazy that this appalling woman was worth risking it all for.
Lots of insanity after I landed. When the adrenaline wore off (it took a while), I descended into an all-consuming depression. My doctor referred me to a psychologist specializing in PTSD. I've only done an intake with the psych so far, but she confirmed the PTSD diagnosis. I'm not a wimp, not faking it for attention. I'm struggling every day. Events I could not control continue to control me.
I'm living with my parents in what my counselor calls "family-of-origin hell." I've come to realize I've internalized my mom's feeling that she doesn't deserve to rest. She saw my blank, bleary movement through the day, frequent retreats to my room, etc., as me being lazy and taking advantage of her support. This culminated in me overhearing her tell my sister that, if she had to choose between her difficult life situation and her husband sleeping with the neighbor, she'd choose her husband sleeping with the neighbor. Yeah. Maybe stop and reread that. WTF. I confronted her, she told me that I was living such a luxurious life and making everyone else watch my children while I took naps. She accused me of crying during that conversation as a manipulative tactic. I told her, "Every minute of every day, I'm on the verge of crying. So, yeah, I'm going to cry. Now let's talk about this." Despite me telling her about my diagnosis of severe clinical depression, she hadn't registered it or perhaps accepted it. She told me that I was impossible to talk to because I was so emotionally volatile that it scared her. I asked when, since I'd landed, I'd shown scary emotional volatility. She admitted I hadn't. That's why she assumed I was okay, because I was calm, because sometimes I smiled or laughed. I told her that I worked hard every day to stay calm, that a lot of my retreating to my room (after making sure someone was watching the boys) was me working through triggers or easing a panic attack before it got to the point of no return. I told her that I woke up every morning unable to get out of bed, that I sometimes took an hour to psych myself up enough to rise, so I set my alarm accordingly. I told her I didn't feel like I was living, just dragging a deceptively healthy-seeming body through each day, my heart and mind barely able to function. She finally accepted the extent of my struggle. She apologized for the awful thing she had said. It was so easy to forgive something like that. Still, it brought up old trauma from childhood, more material to sift through in IC.
I don't recognize my WH. Something internal has shifted in him. He takes initiative, he is compassionate, he stands up for me, he listens and supports. He puts me first in everything, instead of a distant second or worse. He is honest in his communication and respectful of my boundaries. He admires me and pursues me. In these months, I've been waiting for the mask to crack, for him to get tired and revert to his old self, but any time he starts to slip, he admits his mistake and makes amends. He, unlike my parents, doesn't resent me getting rest or occasionally enjoying myself. He expresses approval whenever it happens. Praises me for taking care of myself like I've just done something impressive. He notices me spiraling before I do and attends to me. He's in IC with a PhD who specializes in his sort of disordered behavior (suspected case of Bipolar Disorder and a long period of mania brought on by taking antidepressants), he's read a lot of the major literature, he and I have spent hours doing a post-infidelity workbook, he is back in AA with a sponsor who knows how to hold him to high expectations without triggering his defenses or forcing him to over-extend himself. Here's a big one: upon reflection and a more honest retelling of the story to my therapist, I decided his BFF really was a creep who acted completely out of line and flagrantly justified the affair with such gems like, "You can't deny chemistry" and, "Sometimes the right person ignites parts of yourself you didn't know were there." Instead of employing the time-honored tactic of "Oh, so you don't want me to have friends?" WH zeroed in on the actual issue at hand (my security) and, on his own, contacted the friend, told him that they weren't going to be able to continue the friendship unless BFF made some amends to me, and left it at that. BFF promised to message me, but hasn't. WH hasn't been in contact since. This is just one example.
I'm freaked out. One of my triggers is feeling safe and comfortable. I'm hyper-vigilant about being lulled, once again, into a false sense of security. I am honest about the days that I don't want to see him, the days I want to leave, the days I feel hope, the days I want to trust him but can't, the days when I can see us together in something so much better than I could have imagined for myself, the days I feel like a stone-hearted bitch who's just taking him for a ride. I am not propping him up, not masking my feelings or making anything easy or convenient. When I mention this, he says, "You get to take care of yourself right now, even if that means more work for me. You deserve to have someone doing the hard work for you."
He's not perfect, but I'm struck by the difference. He's not putting on a facade or going through the motions. He's motivated to do the work. He enjoys it. Still, fear and distrust are there. I'm not ignoring them.
I still don't know what the ultimate fate of our relationship is. We've decided to hold off any decision-making until at least October. I might move in with him before then, though, because living with my parents reinforces the ugly feelings of unworthiness on a daily basis. At this point, that pain is more acute than the pain of the infidelity.
Wow. I wrote so much and it's not even the whole sordid tale. Didn't even get to the part about the nanny trying to use me to extort thousands of dollars from someone or any of the other microdramas.
Thank you for letting me share my story. Thanks to everyone who's replied, read, lurked in this thread. I'll try to keep updating things. I can't believe it's only been four months today.