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My Husband Cheated On Me—And I Stayed With Him

Prevention Logo By Naomi Chrisoulakis of Prevention | Slide 1 of 4: After the bombshell, everything was a blur, and I knew I couldn't sit in that restaurant and eat gnocchi like everything was okay. We got our coats and headed home in silence. I couldn't look at him, and my eyes were filled with tears. For the next few days, I just felt shellshocked. I cried, in great heaving sobs, when I could get away from the kids and Damien. I told my sister, who was as blindsided as I was. But I didn't want to tell anyone else until I decided what to do. I felt incredibly confused: full of rage and completely shocked, but still aware of how much I loved my husband and how good I felt our marriage was—or had been. Sure, we had our arguments and our frustrations, but we'd always had fun together. We'd always felt like a team. If this had been an affair where he'd become emotionally involved with another woman, I knew I wouldn't be able to stay in the same house with him for a minute. This hurt, but not as much as the thought of that did. Even so, everything felt dark. Still feeling lost a week later, I decided to take Damien up on his suggestion to go into couples therapy. He wanted to work through it, he said, and do whatever it took to repair our marriage. (Here are 9 ways therapists can tell if your relationship won't work.)I wasn't so sure. In those bleak first weeks, I thought we'd never get past it. I became obsessed with this other woman, and I couldn't help but ask Damien whether she was blonde or brunette, had bigger breasts than me, was better in bed... all my insecurities, essentially. Every time, he'd asked me if I really wanted to know. I didn't. I realized that knowing any kind of detail would drive me insane—and it was irrelevant. From Prevention Premium: Solutions For Painful Sex

Everything was a blur

After the bombshell, everything was a blur, and I knew I couldn't sit in that restaurant and eat gnocchi like everything was okay. We got our coats and headed home in silence. I couldn't look at him, and my eyes were filled with tears. For the next few days, I just felt shellshocked. I cried, in great heaving sobs, when I could get away from the kids and Damien. I told my sister, who was as blindsided as I was. But I didn't want to tell anyone else until I decided what to do. I felt incredibly confused: full of rage and completely shocked, but still aware of how much I loved my husband and how good I felt our marriage was—or had been. Sure, we had our arguments and our frustrations, but we'd always had fun together. We'd always felt like a team. If this had been an affair where he'd become emotionally involved with another woman, I knew I wouldn't be able to stay in the same house with him for a minute. This hurt, but not as much as the thought of that did. Even so, everything felt dark. Still feeling lost a week later, I decided to take Damien up on his suggestion to go into couples therapy. He wanted to work through it, he said, and do whatever it took to repair our marriage

I wasn't so sure. In those bleak first weeks, I thought we'd never get past it. I became obsessed with this other woman, and I couldn't help but ask Damien whether she was blonde or brunette, had bigger br****s than me, was better in bed... all my insecurities, essentially. Every time, he'd asked me if I really wanted to know. I didn't. I realized that knowing any kind of detail would drive me insane—and it was irrelevant.                                  

© Photograph by Caiaimage/Tom Merton/Getty Images

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