Musings of a ‘Nice Guy’

Warning: messy post of thoughts from a betrayed spouse.

It’s been about a year since the betrayal. Lately, the day has come and gone largely unnoticed over the months, but the day and month together is hard not to notice. Still, I’m not going to acknowledge it out loud in any way. This is all it gets from me, outside of my mind, that is.

I’ve talked to HT about my anger a lot. I’ve told her that I feel safe when I don’t care so much and that the idea of getting my feelings back in full force is not an appealing one. One thing I haven’t told her is that I like the anger and I like ego. I like the monster they both create. They’re intoxicating.

I’ve always been a nice guy, but sometimes I don’t know if I’ve been a nice guy because that’s my nature or because I fear the consequences of doing cruel things. Most likely, I’m just a nice guy who’s been hurt so much that being a cruel person is an appealing fantasy right now, especially since that’s the kind of person I could never be.

Sometimes I stare in the mirror at my face, still handsome, I must say, and I look into my eyes and it looks like something is missing. God, does it ever sometimes look like I’m staring at a photo of a killer, a regular human face masking something terrible within. Again, it’s just fantasy, of course, because I am Jack, a kind man who thinks before he acts. And the truth is, love, caring, and compassion is better. It sure is more peaceful than the alternative, and it will win in the end. I don’t feel that this is true at the moment but experience shows that it is.

If I continue being the person I’ve always been in my heart, and do my best, I can rest easy, knowing that I did right, even when I was so wronged. I rest easier on days when I’m not weighed down by the anger. I feel better on the days when I don’t dwell so much on what happened and instead focus on what’s happening.

But when I do dwell, it’s so tempting to continue to dwell. The fantasy of being a monster under a human mask is tempting because of its wrongness.

I’ve been told that I’m ‘more evolved’ than the average person, especially the average man. My mind wouldn’t allow me to cause such pain to others as they have caused to me. I do not have the capability of convincing myself that harmful acts are okay out of self preservation like cheaters do. Without the cognitive dissonance and compartmentalization, I would be tormented by my own brain until I couldn’t go on. I would punish myself more than anyone or the system could ever inflict on me.

‘More evolved’? Feels like I’m too sensitive. Feels like a curse. And I wasn’t always like this. I was a real bad little boy. I stole, I vandalized, I caused pain, I made threats. I fantasized about the day I’d show them all. Then something happened and all the sudden I felt all the suffering in the world, and anything I’d do that contributed to that suffering in any small way was utter torture to me.

Then, most of my adult life, it felt as if I’ve done right not because I wanted to, but because I had to. Is this the truth? I don’t know. I’m still deeply hurt, so maybe I’m just reading it all wrong. As I said, this is one of those ‘big mess of thoughts’ posts, so forgive me if I’m contradicting myself again. Our thoughts are normally quite messy and contradictory, aren’t they?

The other day, I had to go to my in-laws to take care of their dog. With no one home, I found myself going to Carol’s old bedroom. In her room still sits the bed that we bought brand new the year we moved into our new house. I refused to sleep in that bed after the incident, so I had Carol and her mother remove it from my house. It was put in Carol’s old bedroom for her to use while we were separated. The same sheets I pulled off that bed that day a year ago are on it again, washed, of course. My son, blissfully unaware of why exactly I sent that bed out of my house and bought a new one, likes to sleep in it when he has a night over at grandma’s house.

Obviously, I don’t like that bed. I want to burn it, sheets and all. I know just where to take it, my dad’s farm. It will be a very private ceremony so it’ll have to wait until he and his wife are on vacation again. There are complications, though. My mother-in-law has expressed interest in keeping the bed as it’s an upgrade from her and her husband’s current bed. This tells me that she doesn’t know the specifics of my kicking out Carol. There will be speculations and conclusions drawn about the removal and disappearance of that bed, and I’m done discussing the specifics of my marriage.

I’m going to have to bring this up to Carol. I will not do it on a significant date because I will not acknowledge that date in any way.

All this went through my mind as I stood in Carol’s old bedroom, the room where we lay as a young couple many years ago. The room in which we slept for a month while we waited for our home to be ready in 2017. The room where Carol cried into my chest, saying, “I’m so sorry,” as we sat on that bed the year after.

I gave the bed a little kick. I wanted to really take my frustrations out on it but it’s a bed, what can you do to a soft mattress with your fists and feet?

I saw an article of clothing on the floor from Carol’s former job. Now, that’s another sore spot. I hate that place and the people who run it. Could this have all been avoided if Carol didn’t happen to meet the most toxic person I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing, right after she had to deal with my possible death from cancer at age 30? I stomped on the clothing over and over. I wanted to do more to it but it was not my house. If I was at home alone with it, I would have gotten the proper tools to tear it apart.

Next, I looked into the room where the younger kids sleep. In it is a relatively new bunk bed. Instead of it being first used by the grandkids, it was first used by Carol, as she had nothing to sleep on those first few nights before I told her to take the bed as I wasn’t using it anyway.

Memories. They’re just fading memories. I’m strong, I’ll survive. I always do.

There is a significant date coming up. It’s still a few months away. Technically it’s July 31, but I like to go with August 1, so it’s at least in the same month as my former anniversary. The date is significant because that’s when we officially decided we were giving this another shot. So, this August, we will have been together for a year. The 12th of August will come and it will be acknowledged as an anniversary and there’ll be a much bigger number attached to it, but for me, it will only be our first anniversary.

That’s a much more significant date than when my world crumbled again. The dates in which my world crumbled previously are long forgotten. This one will be too.

Speaking of dates, I learned that our big argument where the ‘divorce’ word came up was actually in January. I remembered that I took an Uber to a bar and ended up drinking enough that I began bitching to my friend about what Carol said to me. Looking up my Uber history, that was back in January 2018. It makes more sense now that I brought up the way Carol treated me during Christmas since it was actually only a few weeks later. I brought up the way she treated me when I was sick during the holidays, and I brought up the way she treated me at the work Christmas party at the Dickheadson’s.

I don’t know if I ever went into detail about what happened at that party that was such an issue. I don’t think it matters anymore. I know that I will never allow someone to treat me that way again. I decided to give it another shot with Carol. She’s treating me right. If she stops treating me right, then it’s over. The huge difference between now and then is that I really know my worth now and I already got used to the idea of being single again so it’s not scary to me now. Yes, it would be sad and I’d have to mourn my relationship again but I have done that already and I can do it again. I practically had it all planned out so I’m ready if it comes to that.

I’m stronger and more sure of myself, but underneath that is still the ‘nice guy’ who won’t cause suffering to others because he just can’t.

During my last hypnosis session, while I was working on shaking loose that awful memory, I was about as close to being in tears as I have been in almost a year, it seems. I was really ready to let go and cry but I just couldn’t get those tears to finally spill over.

I cried a few days after the incident, then a few times after that. The tears came easy for a really brief time. I’m not sure how long it’s been now. Too long for someone who’s dealing with this, I imagine. I need to have a proper cry. A good, big, ugly cry.

When I went on my lunch break today, many paragraphs back, I felt the lump in my throat. I was at work and I certainly didn’t want to cry there, not that it was going to happen anyway. I messaged Carol to tell her I was sad, but at the last moment, I changed it to ‘feeling meh’. Again, vulnerability has brought me nothing but pain in return. Carol responded by sending me a pic of her breasts. I guess I was just looking for some kind words but would any words even help? Probably not.

Besides, this is what I wanted, right? Lots of sex and naughty pictures, not the cold wife I had before. I don’t think as much about why she’s doing this. Whether she’s doing this out of a newfound love for me or just to try to keep me from walking, I don’t know, and I’m tired of guessing or discussing.

Sometimes I feel like I’m really losing my mind.

I’m so tired of being told that I’m a ‘nice guy’.

7 thoughts on “Musings of a ‘Nice Guy’

  1. I’m going to tell you that you ARE still the nice guy – but now you’re the nice guy who is no longer a doormat, who is more aware of what people are capable of, and who has boundaries. This is very powerful and probably why you know without a doubt, you’ll be just fine with or without Carol.

    My big ugly cry came after about a year and a half (maybe a bit longer), probably when the shock wore off and I really accepted the reality of what he had done (although I am still shocked – like – REALLY shocked at times, but that’s the PTSD I’ve been told). I was puzzled why I hadn’t had the big ugly cry until then, like, wasn’t I just as hurt as every other betrayed spouse?? Maybe not?? I was/am just as hurt, it’s ok to just let go and let it happen if you need do, whenever you need to, and however often you need to. But you may not need to.

    Healing takes time, patience, effort, reminders to yourself that the dark part of your ego is telling you shit most of the time, and most importantly – reminders to yourself that you’re SO INCREDIBLY WORTHY of love, honour, honesty, integrity and faithfulness. You have these things now.

    Baby steps is all we have, baby steps my friend xo

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Jack… burn the bed. Don’t be nice and even care for one minute who wants it or who sleeps on it.

    Burn it. It’s symbolic. That thing should be a smoldering pile of ashes. I would love to help you!

    It’s not the same thing as yours, and our story is different… but I have gotten rid of everything that I can that had to do with them. Just this week I trashed the charger that powered up that burner phone. It’s the little things.

    It changed you, no wonder you like the darker side. I feel like our darker side is more safe than the nice side. I’m worried sometimes that if I go back to being the good girl all the time that I will get crushed again.

    You know the therapy I’m going through… do you know I fear who I will be on the other side? I’ve kinda gotten comfortable with this on guard dark thinking girl that won’t allow him to hurt me again.

    Not saying we should stay there, more just saying I get it. 😊

    I love your writing. You are so strong. I will stop rambling on now. 🤣

    Liked by 2 people

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