I confess, I got so mad listening to my husband of two decades profess his love for his mistress for days and weeks… that one day, I tried to claw at his neck before leaving the house to go sob at my friend’s house.

There was this one time after he told me after many sessions of therapy that he still loved her, that I had enough.

I confess, I packed a suitcase with his dirty laundry, and his sleep apnea machine and slammed it down in front of him as I told him to leave.

When I found out he hadn’t bought his AirPods himself, but that she had left them for him in their special secret hiding place behind my yard, and how they would talk for hours as he walked and walked, I realized he had lied about so many things.

I confess, I tried to break those AirPods. I tried and I failed.

He shared so many of their texts with me after finally telling me about the affair. He read some aloud to me like horror stories, texted me others to show me her manipulation.

Of course, in between her brainwashing was his betrayal.

“I am in the wrong life,” He texted her.

“When I stood gazing I was thinking that you are the person I deserve. You are exactly right for me.” He texted her.

I confess, there was one time when I took a stool and threw it next to him in anger before I picked up the phone and tried to call her.

Four times.

“You broke my husband,” I wanted to scream, “So you can have him now.”

She didn’t answer.

Months later he shared another text she sent him asking if I knew about them. “Is that why she called me four times?” She asked.

I confess, after he left for real, I found a perfect meme about narcissism. I sent it to him. I typed, “Wow.”

He was deeply insulted.
Deeply.

I confess. Sometimes I wish I had thrown all of this things out the window when he first told me about Heather.

People would have understood the rage.
But my anger didn’t come soon enough.
So now,
I confess,
it trickles
out.