Howdy Petal, Welcome, sorry you find yourself here, but this is definitely the place to start the healing process.
Secret Double Life? Know it well. Was married for 22 years, and 20 of those were a complete lie. He worked in the entertainment business and was constantly travelling. I trusted. He took. And took. And took some more.
This was back before the internet and cell phones. I was utterly oblivious to the behaviour because he was SUCH a great husband when he came home. House frau, cooked amazing meals, cleaned the house from top to bottom. Much later I realized that was just him scrubbing away his sins.
What I discovered after putting spyware on his computer was horrifying. Legions of steady sex partners, one in every town pretty much. Some quite hideously unattractive. He was extremely charming, and would hit up the flight attendants on the shuttle to the hotel, the hotel desk clerks while checking in, the waitresses, coat check girls, the volunteers who brought ice to the dressing rooms. The siren song of the backstage pass to some pretty big rock shows. His clients were very very famous and that's catnip to a lot of folks.
When we got high speed internet I'd come home from work and he'd be cranky because little did I know I was interrupting his marathon porn sessions. He was so addicted that he lost the ability to get it up for me around 15 years in. He'd come home from the road exhausted and I'd give him space to recover. Actually he was waiting for his STD panels to come back.
He almost died of alcohol poisoning after a bender and got fired from a very good gig. Took him three days to get home from that adventure. Quit boozing and weed and transferred all of that into finding more freaky sex.
He had a 'road wife' overseas. I was so happy when he had a layover there for a couple of weeks because he worked very hard and I thought he deserved a nice vacation. (Stupid stupid me.)
He made me sit down and watch a DVD of her dancing at some dumbass festival. She was not particularly attractive, but was into wiccan culture and had enormous breasts. Just his type.
When he got his first cell phone he called it his leash. (THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN A FUCKING CLUE YA THINK?)
Eventually he got sloppy and acquired an in-town side squeeze, a super audacious in-your-face broad who was jealous of the life I thought we had. Found out later she had visited the house we were buying when I was out of town, smudged the place with sweetgrass and tobacco to get rid of the previous owner's divorce vibes, and then gave him a blowjob in the back yard. (Classy!) She eventually put the screws to him and he almost lost his mind when I found out. That included a nasty STD that put me on antibiotics that made me want to just die. All because this asshole liked to bareback the strange and then come straight home to me to give me allll the lurvve.
Everything just fell apart after that. My mom passed and my siblings stabbed me in the back. I divorced the lot of them.
This dude was just an empty vessel really. Shutting down was his go-to when anything serious needed to be dealt with. He was so in the throes that when we took a stab at recovery, he just couldn't stay away from seducing another chick on the next tour after discovery. He just couldn't help himself and didn't really want to get out of it. His heart wasn't in it and he never took any steps to get into therapy because this was where he was most comfortable, and I wasn't about to do the heavy lifting and blaze that trail on his behalf. Fuck that shit.
My advice to anyone in this situation is to just get the hell out. I struggled horribly for 18 months before selling the house and moving on. It took me a good five years to get my feet under me, but after that I never looked back.
The trauma wears off eventually, but I never got into another relationship after that. I decided to just focus on becoming my own best friend because I owed it to myself to make up for those lost years somehow.
I'm nearly 20 years down the road now and semi retired. Live alone and have never been happier. The best part is I don't have to look after a grumpy old geezer who had to have two very painful knee replacements after I booted him out, and his various fuckpals had to put up with him during his recoveries hahaha.
Life is what you make it, and there's a lot of work to do to get to where you feel somewhat sane again. I don't envy anyone going down that road with all this trauma forced upon you. But you'll get there. First you have to leave this guy in your rearview mirror where he belongs. Put. Yourself. First. You're worthy!
Keep posting. We've got your back.
Onward.
FF
[This message edited by FaithFool at 3:31 AM, Tuesday, September 29th]