Outcasts

We are the outcasts, the broken; but today we belong. I will say this to him hoping it's good enough, hoping that I'm enough. But I don't think it will be.

"You've made your bed," is a saying I've heard from more than a few self righteous people. They're referring of course, to the times when the natural consequences of a certain choice are particularly unpleasant. As if they are unable to resist pointing out their apparent superiority, and higher moral standard. As if they take pleasure in watching the suffering of others. As if they have the right to judge someone deserving of punishment.

I know I did wrong. No matter how badly my husband treated me, having an affair was a rotten thing to do. Just because I was abused and neglected by him, didn't give me the right to look for love and affection elsewhere. I should have recognized my misery for what it was and ended my unhappy marriage before the affair ever began. But I was too cowardly to do that, and now 2 years have passed, and nothing I do or say will change what we did.

Does that mean I deserve to have my child ripped out of my life? Did having an extramarital affair cause me to forget how to be a mother? Did the affair cause me to become a danger? Call me a slut if you want. But I've never been a bad mom.

It's not a shock anymore how my (almost) ex-husband behaves. He feels absolutely justified to withhold my son, and that I deserve nothing but misery and pain until my final dying breath. (Say it again, Amen.)

What shocks me (still) are the other people I have known who seem to agree with him. Other moms whose kids played on the same teams with mine for the last 12 years. These are moms who I'd sit with at practice, whose children I'd cheer for, women I considered to be more than casual acquaintances. And now when I see them, they pretend not to see me, or worse, they ply me with endless questions. As if they give a flying fuck. Their eyes are alight with anticipation, eager to call their besties with juicy gossip at my expense, thrilled to have something different to talk about with their boring husbands. And when I don't play along and give them nothing they can use, I see the disappointment and the conversation ends abruptly. And the worst part is, they still call their besties and rehash all the old gossip at my expense.

More hurtful than old acquaintances are the ones who I considered to be actual friends. These women have been told every lurid detail from my point of view. They are people who were supposed to be on my side. Truthfully, I think many of them did try to remain loyal to me. I think many of them did their best to see things from my point of view. I don't think any of them believe I forfeited my right to be a mother. But that doesn't change the fact that some couldn't resist sharing the juicy gossip at my expense. Or the fact that my very presence causes some of them to feel uncomfortable, since they're still married and The Affair has now become A Relationship With A Younger Man. As if I'm contagious, or they think that remaining my friend would be perceived as acceptance of my relationship, therefore acceptance of the affair, thus tarnishing their own images.

The worst though, is from the people closest to me. My parents, my brothers, my best friend of 20+ years. My father says "What's wrong with you?" My mother instructs me to never call or text again. My brothers say absolutely nothing, and that cuts very deep. Do they not realize how loudly their silence screams? The only one who does address it directly is my oldest and dearest friend, who had never been able to resist a good "I told you so." She knew about the affair since before it had been consummated. I could probably deal with that, but her latest unsolicited advice telling me to "forget" I even had a child is just too much. These are the people I expected to stand by me 100%, through thick and thin. Even if they don't agree, even if I committed the most heinous crime imaginable, I thought that these people would love and support me forever. To have my illusions shattered so soundly hurts nearly as bad as the loss of my son.

So this is how we became outcasts, these are the responses I get from my friends and family. For him, I can only imagine he gets similar reactions, as well as having to deal with the "home wrecker" aspect. Not to mention the jokes and poking (mean) fun at him dating a woman 13 years older than him. Throw on top of that the fact that I can't have any more children, and the one I do have hates him.

I want to tell him that it's okay, we still have each other. We share a love unlike any either of us had experienced before. Yes, we can both be selfish people at times, which is how this mess began, but maybe we can help each other to become better.

This is what I want to tell him:

We can believe in each other. We can trust a little bit more. We don't need approval or acceptance of other people. We can love without hesitation, knowing we are fully committed and accepted. We are outcasts, and we are broken. But we are together. I want to be enough for you, I want you to belong to me. Because today, and forever if you'll have me....I belong to you. I regret nothing, I love you more than words can say.