Real life. My husband, who we lived with for 13 years, left me for another woman. She is fifteen years younger than me

My husband, who we lived with for 13 years, left me for another woman who is fifteen years younger than me.

 Real life. My husband, with whom we lived for 13 years, left me for another woman. me fifteen years younger

& ldquo; C & oacute; ż, you are so much more beautiful than she is! , of course she's good, but you, with your luxurious hair, just overshadow her & rdquo ;.

My friend tried her best to console me. It was our pre-Christmas dinner, which we traditionally ate with four former college friends. I didn't want to touch it, so as not to spoil the holidays, but I couldn't help but burst into tears and told them everything.

My husband, with whom we lived for 13 years, left me for another woman. The last months of our joint life were poisoned with suspicion and, at the same time, a denial of what was happening. I finally discovered their correspondence. The man I loved wrote to another woman: “If love is capable of sacrifice, then I am ready for anything”. just be with you & rdquo ;.

It paralyzed me. However, you had to accept a new reality. The husband was honest and did exactly what he said. He sacrificed our house, noisy dinners at the round table with the children he loved so much, the road trips for which we prepared so happily. We will never have a common Christmas morning again, we will not be able to exchange glances and smile to each other, seeing the joy of children unpacking gifts.

He sacrificed it all for another woman fifteen years younger than me. I told my friends this and tears fell into the pasta bowl. “But you are so beautiful!” –that is a comforting and nonsensical sentence that I heard that night and heard it for the next few months. And I have to admit that it did help sometimes. It was nice that someone still saw me as an attractive and desirable woman, even if it didn't scare my husband away from that baby.

My friends, which weren't the most sparing in compliments, also reminded me of my other virtues, which they thought also added to me the point: & ldquo; You cook so well and even bake the bread yourself & rdquo ;. Friends who were trying to lose weight recalled how heroically I lost weight after giving birth to two babies and now wore jeans the same size as when I was young. Is he blind? – they wondered. & ldquo; You gave him two children & rdquo; & mdash; they reminded those who did not have them.

All these flattering words were spoken from a pure heart, hoping to support me and I will forever be grateful to my friends. Now I understand that, first of all, they saw in me those traits and life outcomes that they did not have on their own.

However, I remember well that Saturday afternoon in November when we sent the children to their mother and we were finally able to talk openly. It seemed to me that we still had a chance to fix everything. I was wrong – it was over. He explained it very simply and coolly, looking over my shoulder: “Before, I thought you were the answer to all my questions.” Thanks to her, I suddenly discovered that there were completely new levels, wider than the reality I was used to. I can't live with clear answers that made me happy before I met her & rdquo ;.

He left. It was time for dinner, but of course I couldn't eat. I filled the tub with unbearably hot water, my hands were shaking and everything inside seemed to be shaking too, displacing internal organs. I looked closely at the belly with the skin stretched out after two difficult pregnancies. It will never be as firm as it was when we met and we were unable to break away from each other.

Thought the body of a 24-year-old woman looked more seductive and lustful. Isn't that a changed look? Maybe I put the priorities wrong and didn't pay enough attention to it? I wasn't interested in communication or in bed. He came back from busy business trips, tired and was met by our noisy children, who almost never gave us the opportunity to be alone. I had to rethink our lives in such a way that there was time for the two of us.

For a second, I thought about my future life alone, and panic seized me. The next four months I spent exhausting my worries: dividing and selling the house, restoring my maiden name, re-issuing a document in my old name. However, it was all nothing compared to the b & oacute I experienced when I found out about his engagement just weeks after we finalized our divorce. Now she came with him to pick up the kids for the weekend. She was with him at all common dinners with our family. And all this time I could not stop our & ldquo; competition & rdquo;, strengthening my position with these arguments and compliments that my friends gave me generously: & ldquo; You are beautiful. You are nice and tactful. You were a wonderful wife & rdquo ;. However, even repeating these statements did not help me much.

One day a friend said on the phone a sentence that suddenly shocked me. He said, “Whatever your partner does, it is only his choice, which in no way characterizes you.” What happened has nothing to do with you personally and with what you may or may not do for your relationship & rdquo ;. This sentence came up at a time when I needed it the most. After months of endless comparisons and claims against each other, the feelings of guilt and helplessness began to subside. I fell asleep, returning to these words over and over again, gradually realizing all their truth. His departure has nothing to do with who I was or wasn't for him. And even if we imagine that there is a perfect woman who would match the image 150%, the outcome of our marriage could remain exactly the same.

I am a real person and I have a right to be in a bad mood, to be in a bad mood. tired, feel insecure and ask for help. I accepted and loved my own imperfection. It was a turning point that made it easier for me every day. Yes, I still have periods of despondency and self-flagellation, but deep down I always know that I will not let this state take me over. The whole b & oacute; l, through which I had to go, opened a new page in me: one that no longer depends on the judgments of others, or even my relatives, gives me strength, taste and interest in continuing my journey.