Finding Healing

I’ll start by saying fortunately not everyone will be able to relate to this but for those that can, I believe you will be able to relate to the pain, confusion, and straight up trauma that comes along with being “the other woman.” I will also add that I am by no means proud of anything that happened during this period of time.

My story starts in 2021 (although some would argue that it probably has roots that go back years prior). I was working at a daycare. I had an almost 3 year old at the time and was going through a divorce. I suffered in my own marriage at the hand of lies, infidelity, deceit, emotional abuse, amongst many other things. I felt used and worthless. I was bitter, angry, and ready to start living my life.

There was a parent that came into daycare every day and was always very friendly with all of us in the mornings. One of my coworkers always made comments about him and I remember being grossed out and saying “stop it he’s old.” He was a deputy with the sheriffs department and I remember asking for his advice for something regarding my divorce thinking he would probably have insight due to the nature of his job.  

Long story short that conversation sparked something that I would have never anticipated. I remember sending him a friend request on facebook after he came up on my people you may know. And I can vividly remember the day that things really started to go in a direction that they shouldn’t have. I took my daycare kids for walks every day and that route happened to go by his house. As we were walking that day, he happened to be outside and he asked how his child was doing. The child had some decent behavioral issues but I had a soft spot for him. I replied, “He’s an angel,” to which he said, “well that would make you a saint,” I remember thinking that was probably harmless, but at the same time felt like there might have been more behind that statement. When we got back to the daycare center the kids were playing outside in the sandbox when a facebook message popped up on my watch. It was something along the lines of him thanking me for what I said about his child because he was used to hearing all of the negative comments about him. He followed it up with a “you could always bring the kids by sometime to see the chickens and ducks, who doesn’t love chickens and ducks ;).” 

At this point I probably should have done what the girl in the meme above was doing–running. But something about that message put some butterflies in my stomach (that shouldn’t have been there). Whether it was curiosity or not, I don’t know. I remember telling my friend at the time, “I am sure it’s harmless and he didn’t mean anything by it. Old people don’t understand texting, I’m sure he meant to put a smiley face not a winky face,” (this was a poor attempt at justification). She saw right through that and tried getting through to me, but in my true stubborn nature I didn’t listen and decided to see how it would all play out. 

Some of this time frame is a blur and I don’t exactly remember how things really ramped up. I do remember that he had told me he had gone through a divorce and was on his second. I said, “second divorce?” To which he responded, “lol some days I wonder…” but that he was in his second marriage. 

This sign shows what I should have done at that moment. But that devil on my shoulder said it’s just innocent conversations, nothing will come of it and the “attention” is nice and distracting from my own issues. Boy was I wrong. Next thing I know I am meeting him at a spot on the side of the road near the woods, which would be the first of many times I met up with him. In order to not turn this into an X-rated story I will leave out what those meet ups entailed.

Anyways, he was messaging me on the days he would go to work and I wouldn’t hear from him on the days that he was home. Every now and then he’d send me a message that said “thinking of u, don’t respond,” and I knew better than to text back at that time. I would stay up on the nights he worked so he could call me on his 20 minute drive home. I remember how he would always hang up when he got to the grocery store around the corner from his house so he wouldn’t be coming home on the phone with me. I remember how quickly I became infatuated with him, wanting more, and not caring what, or who, I hurt in the meantime.

I was saving notes in my phone of all the things I wanted to say to him when I couldn’t talk to him. We were using the secret messaging on facebook that would disappear after you closed the chat, as well as snapchat. I remember everything escalating quickly like a snowball rolling down a steep hill and I could not stop the snowball, no matter how badly I did (or didn’t) want to. I lived for the 5 minutes he would come into daycare in the morning, and the short moments I was able to meet up with him somewhere. I was literally living for breadcrumbs, while effectively destroying a marriage, and own self worth. 

There were 3 occasions that I parked at the church down the road and would walk to his house to meet up with him…in the bed he slept with his wife in. For those who haven’t been in my position this is where you would want to place all of your judgement on how wrong I was and how vile it was. You would not be wrong, but you also don’t know what that did to my heart and soul. It absolutely crushed me. I was living in constant cognitive dissonance…knowing that what I was doing was wrong, while simultaneously wanting a loving relationship/marriage myself and knowing that I was not going to get it from him (not at this time at least). I was blowing up someone else’s marriage in a similar way to the way mine was blown up. I had SO many sleepless nights, nightmares, the works.  I would go to bed thinking about how I was sleeping alone while he was sleeping with his wife…even if he had told me they weren’t sleeping together. Spoiler alert: that’s what they all say. 

A few months in he did end up moving into his own apartment. I thought that was the start of a legit relationship for us, but I was oh so wrong. We still couldn’t be seen together, and I was pretty sure he wasn’t being fully honest (with either of us), but I continued to let it play out. Wednesdays were the day that my daughter would be with her father so I’d count the minutes until Wednesdays that I would be able to spend the night with him. On more than one occasion I was devastated after he would tell me at the last minute that he had a headache or his stomach hurt and he didn’t want me to come.     A million thoughts would go through my mind, was it just because he was actually with his family? Someone else? Why wouldn’t he want to see me the one day a week I had no restrictions? This stuff would slowly make me go crazy, while I was also completely devaluing myself…feeling like I wasn’t worth more than this masquerade. 

A prime example of the level of crazy I was reaching…there was a time that he canceled on me at the last minute again. He went cold on me and shut off his phone. So I did what any (insane) girl would do and I drove to his apartment anyway. He was very unimpressed that I was there to say the least. That would be the most angry I had seen him during this time. He even said he was going to call the cops if I didn’t leave. That threat didn’t bother me at the time I was thinking ok let’s do it, call the cops in this small town where everyone knows everyone’s business, and let them know you want your *mistress* to leave.  If ever were a time that I would’ve expected him to lash out physically, that would’ve been the time. I am pretty sure he wanted to put me through the wall. **He did not and has not ever laid a hand on me.**  That almost fueled my fire. I wanted him mad because I was mad. He ended up slightly backing down and saying he would go for a drive with me. To this day I don’t know what was really behind all of that, but I do know that was a new level of crazy for me. 

Another thing you probably have experienced if you’ve been the other woman is the battle of the wedding ring. This man would have his ring on and tell me that it was just for the kids. He would take it off when he was with me (when he would remember) but oftentimes he would forget that he still had it on. I still remember the hook he’d hang it on by his truck keys, like it was just another key on the hook. 

I had gotten COVID along the way, and passed it on to him. I was over at his apartment when his wife texted him that she was going to bring him soup. I might not be a detective but I was gathering that she thought they were getting back together…seeing as you’d never find me bringing soup to my ex husband. This text sent him into a full blown PANIC. He started saying I was going to have to hide in the closet or leave. I lost my mind yelling and left, slamming the door behind me. I drove to the nearest grocery store parking lot and called my best friend sobbing. She naturally told me to get the hell out of there and stop settling for this. She was telling me this should be enough for me to see that he would never actually want me. 

I got a call from him then. I told my best friend he was calling and I’d talk to her later. She told me “Whatever you do, DON’T GO BACK THERE!” I said “I won’t.” She and I both knew I was lying. He was saying that he was leaving his apartment unlocked for me, that he was going to go drive by her house and he would be back. He was telling me how it was a big deal for him to leave his apartment unlocked and unattended. Almost like he was saying I should be really thankful he was willing to do that for me, that it meant a lot. Anyone in this type of trauma bonding cycle could guess that of course I went back to his apartment. I don’t remember what the rest of the night entailed but I do remember being devastated and feeling so insecure.

Eventually some time went by and his wife got a message telling her that her husband was cheating on her with me. He called me absolutely panicking asking what I was going to tell her. I remember that particular weekend I was pretty mad at him because he was being distant and mean so you better believe I told her everything. I don’t know if it was my way of getting back at him or if it was an attempt to clear my own conscience. But I did also find out at this time that she thought that they were separating for space, they were going to go to counseling and work on their marriage. I found out that he had been having family dinners there, holding hands on Christmas, a whole slew of things I didn’t know. She sent me a screenshot from texts from THAT DAY where he was telling her he still loved her.          

The first screenshot is the screenshot of their messages that she had sent me. The following two screenshots are part of a message she sent me directly.

With this new information I didn’t act any differently. That should’ve been my hundredth red flag to literally run. Again, stuck in the cycle of a trauma bond, I stayed and leaned further into him. You could say this started a new chapter of our “relationship.”  But I should’ve known that wouldn’t be the end.

I was sitting in therapy when I got a message from my boss (and friend) at the time that his wife had sent her an email about our relationship and how she had contacted a lawyer. My therapist assured me that there was legally nothing that she could do, and that it would have no impact on my job or the center. I left therapy and went back to work and remember sitting in the office with my boss, still slightly panicked, wondering how else this could potentially blow up in not just my face, but in her face as well. After a little bit the panic wore off when we realized there was no legal recourse, and I went right back to where I was. 

It started to feel like we might actually have a relationship. We started kind of going places. We drove out to Tim’s Gun shop for our first “public outing”… even if I did feel like I needed to duck driving through town. We went to a baseball game where a couple guys from his work were. I felt like this was it, I was actually going to get something out of this. Now leading up to my birthday, we spent the most time we had together, and we planned a trip up to Alexandria Bay for my birthday. Before we left he gave me a card that he signed “love, Randall” a toothbrush for his apartment (a big symbol for me) and some rocks he painted with something cheesy (but cute) on them. I was in my glory. We had an amazing weekend together and I had no reason to believe that my world was actually about to be blown up in a matter of days. 

It was a Wednesday-May 4th to be exact, so it was our night to be together. During that day they were supposed to have mediation for separation/divorce. I went over like always, but could tell something had shifted. She was calling him repeatedly and he wouldn’t answer. I asked what was going on and he shut it down saying it was nothing, that they had mediation, they were never getting back together, they were getting divorced and what else did I need to see. Talk about gaslighting…I pushed that feeling of dread out of my mind and we had a great night together. I wouldn’t have guessed leaving that morning was the last time I would see him.

The next day he was acting weird, wasn’t answering my texts or calls and in my stomach I just knew. I was sitting in the Lowe’s parking lot with my best friend at the time and he started to text me. I can’t remember exactly what he said but it was essentially that we needed to talk. We left Lowe’s and stopped at McDonalds and he called me. He was not making any sense. He was pretty much saying he was confused and needed time and he would talk to me when I got home. Panic ensues.

My best friend who had enough of the garbage the last 9 months was like “don’t even worry about it. This is a blessing. Just let him go.” But why couldn’t I get on that same page with her? I was convinced that I was in love with him and there was no moving on from this. When I got home and he video called me I just knew. I remember he said he felt that he needed to give his marriage a try and he was sorry but that would be our last conversation. It was a very short call, which led to a very long road of destruction and healing for me. 

I remember going insane. Blowing up his phone with texts, pictures, questioning how things changed so quickly.

 In hindsight I probably could’ve used a 72 hour psych hold. He naturally wouldn’t answer any of my texts or calls. He hadn’t deleted me on Facebook yet, but that was only so I would have to see that he changed his profile picture to their hands with their wedding rings on and put his relationship back to “married”. I messaged his wife begging her to make him block me saying I couldn’t handle it, which in hindsight was probably pretty pathetic too. I was still stuck in the twilight zone and could not come to terms with this actually being reality.

I spent days texting him, begging him to just explain things to me, to talk to me one more time. I remember he responded one time and one time only. It was a few days after everything had gone down, on Mother’s Day. I was standing in church during worship when I saw his name light up on my phone. My heart dropped. 

I spent days and nights sobbing in bed. The life had been sucked out of me. I not only had lost him but I was also forced to face what I had done. Being the other woman is NOT all fun and games. It’s not just devastating to the marriage it destroys. It was soul crushing for me. To realize I had actually meant nothing to him and that all of the red flags along the way were really red flags on fire.

I re-lived every moment that we had spent together, the good and the bad. I re-lived telling him I loved him, to having him just look back at me with his blue eyes sparkling, speechless. I would tell myself he was telling me he loved me with his eyes but just couldn’t say it out loud. I was in a vicious cycle of grief and shame, feeling like my heart was being ripped out again, wondering what was real and what wasn’t day after day. 

So what does one do that just had their heart ripped out, stomped on, and thrown into the incinerator? Queue self destruct.

This is when I stopped caring about any and all consequences. I proceeded to make any and every bad decision I could. I was consistently turning towards alcohol. I was going on dating apps and meeting up with guys. My goal was to ATTEMPT to hurt him the way he had hurt me. I wanted to make him jealous, angry…I wanted him to feel SOMETHING because I didn’t believe that he could go from feeling something to nothing just like that. I still had to walk by his house (that he very quickly moved back into) everyday with my daycare kids. I watched as he got the motorcycle he wanted, a new truck, and a boat they named “second chances.” It seemed like he got his ‘perfect’ life back with all his toys, and I had to go through hell to fight my way out of the mess I felt he left me in. 

One of my good friends/coworkers was consistently telling me that it wasn’t the end, and that one day when I was healed is when he would end up reaching back out to me. She told me all of the stuff we were seeing was fake and was just their attempt at making the world think that they had the perfect marriage again. I wanted to believe her at the time, but I just could not handle watching it play out in front of my face.

Back to my bad decisions, I intentionally would “match” with guys on dating apps that looked like they were law enforcement hoping that eventually one of them would be someone he knew or worked with and that he would *hopefully* have to hear about. I’m not a badge bunny-I promise I was just extremely toxic. In hindsight, that was the best way to destroy my own self worth even more, and to ultimately add more scars that will never fully go away.

My friends (and therapist) did the best they could to protect me from myself at the time. They might not have been able to stop me, but when I would go out to meet up with someone, one of them would be around the corner watching/waiting. They watched my location on find my friends and always made sure I was as “safe” as possible. I thank God for them for the ways they protected me. 

Shortly after things had ended, I experienced a sexual assault (ultimately something that nobody could protect me from except for myself). I naively thought I was in a safe situation but learned quickly how wrong I was. I remember hearing him whisper the Lord’s prayer in my ear and waking up to him touching me.  I left quickly and drive around for hours trying to calm myself down.

I came into work the following day, even more of a shell of a human. My good friend/coworker was extremely concerned about me and reached out to Randall on facebook telling him what had happened and saying she was really worried. There was no response but a couple days later when she went into Kinney Drugs she saw his wife and a neighbor from the distance and moments later the neighbor came up to her telling her not to contact Randall ever again.

The more traumatic events that occurred, the more bitter I felt towards him. I was blaming him for the bad that had happened to me and for not protecting me, but refusing to reflect on the fact I was the one pulling the trigger on all of these decisions. 

Until one day… I stopped. I stopped wanting to get back at him, and I started wanting to live for me. I turned to church and regularly reading the bible. I spent (more) hours in therapy.  I took a social media hiatus and got my life back on track…at least I tried to. A year after he had ended things with me, I sent him a text. Not a “I want you back” text. It was more of, “A year later with plenty of time to heal and reflect on everything that happened, I want you to know that I forgive you. You no longer have a hold on my emotions or my self worth, and I am in a better place now. I wish all the best for you,” message. He did not respond, which was no skin off my nose at the time. I was just proud of myself for making it to the point that I did. 

Fast forward a couple months and I got a call from his work. The call ended before I could even pick up. Something in me just knew it was him. And I was mad. I was mad because he didn’t just have the right to pop back into my life because he was having a bad day, or bad life, which is what I assumed was happening. I fought with myself deciding whether to text him or his wife. I ended up texting him a screenshot of the call and said “this better be some kind of sick joke.” He didn’t respond. But the next day I got another call from his work…this time I answered BEFORE he hung up. He had his tail between his legs and was apologizing to me for what he put me through.

My instant reaction was, “let me guess things aren’t all that great at home,” to which he told me they hadn’t been for a while. Ultimately he was wanting to apologize and to give me a chance to say what I never got to. I remember essentially describing the hell that I went through and the effect that entire situation had on me and my life. How it left scars that will never go away. Even writing all of this down now elicits a level of pain that I wouldn’t expect to still have. It’s a dull ache, a reminder of all of the hurt. The actual note I had saved in my phone: 

It took time to get to where we are today but we are now over 2 years into a legitimate relationship. It took true forgiveness, transparency, and work to develop the trusting relationship we have now. We had to talk about all of the things that had happened back when we had a “relationship” as well as everything that happened between then and now. These were HARD conversations to have. 

2.5 years later we have been through more than some experience in their lifetime. From losing our baby boy, moving twice, experiencing back to back health issues, surgery, hospitalizations, to currently going through cancer treatment. We are up against some nasty statistics in terms of chance of divorce with an age gap relationship, chance of divorce after having been divorced before, and the well known higher chance of divorce in law enforcement marriages. But against all odds we have made it this far and we will continue to do so. 

Does this mean that I don’t still have “the other woman” scars? Absolutely not. I’ve had a few friendly reminders from keyboard warriors like the one below…who come to find out now years later was never just a keyboard warrior but his ex-step daughter.

I still get dirty looks and occasionally can feel the stab of pain at the reminder that I was once the other woman. I still feel as though I’m being judged, when I may or may not be. I have moments where I think about everything that happened and I can imagine the pain that I felt then as well as the confusion. I remember the insecurity that I felt and the absence of self worth. I have had to come to terms with the fact that it is part of our past but not our future. The (very difficult) lesson is still there but all we can do is learn from it. Now I am learning to live life AFTER being the other woman. We are not defined by that title, despite the stigma that comes along with it. There IS life after being the other woman (whether your story ends like mine or not)… and it is still beautiful.  

The top lessons that I learned throughout the experience to follow.