When my asshat had his midlife crisis, he first joined an outlaw motorcycle club. I thought I had gotten off pretty lucky. Ride around on a motorcycle, drink a beer with the other Masters of the Universe from time to time, and watch Sons of Anarchy so we all can pretend the show has captured anything about the real 1%er culture except for the motorcyles. It was a do-able midlife crisis, in my book.
But then he added meth addiction, freaky all-day/all-night pornography binges in our guest bedroom, and a brand new girlfriend that was young enough to be his granddaughter to the mix.
And if that isn't enough to make your brain bleed, add in that the girl worked for him at the restaurant he managed, was a super religious person who actually announced that it wasn't adultery to be sleeping with my husband because God had given him to her and that she had never in her life ever once told a lie, but was also a friend of one of our kids, who also worked at the same restaurant with her father and his new girlfriend. They had been screwing in the walk-in feet away from our daughter.
Now, that's class.
My ex began using drugs in October of 2011. He started to really get hot and heavy with porn in November 2011, and I found out about his affair with the Holy Twit in August 2012. I left him that same day.
Not a complete 24 hours went by before my ex, Chef, had moved the girl into our home. I hadn't taken much because I thought for sure he'd have come after me.
I was wrong. He implemented Plan B, moved her in to the house, and proceeded to give her my family heirlooms I'd been given by my mom, my clothes, jewelry, everything! She even slept on my side of the bed. They literally left the home exactly the way Chef and I had it.
I had set up my blog, Everyone Has A Story, one evening in Feb 2012 because Chef had moved into the guest bedroom so he could get high and get off without me bothering him. He would do anything and everything he could to avoid communicating with me at all.
I initially wrote a bunch of crap that was meaningless. I like writing, but I never figured I'd write anything anyone else would want to read.
Then, I caught the asshole cheating red-handed. I immediately got drunk, took some Ambien, and wrote some spectacularly painful Drunk Posts that really showed my ass. I have no memory of writing them, and they were left up on my blog for a whole day before I found them and could pull them back down. My blog got some actual followers after my drunken ramblings.
I only say all of this to show you that there are people everywhere in the world that understand exactly what if feels like to have their love fatally wounded, and the fear of losing someone you never thought you would walk away from you. I loved my husband more than life itself, and I was as panicked about losing him as I read in your words. I did, however, lose him.
Turns out, time is a pretty decent surgeon, and the pain of all of this horror does fade away into pale scars.
After the first gf cheated on him with a man her own age, and then left him, he tried hard to win me back. It was only then I realized how much I never wanted him back after all. Our marriage was like a butterfly's wings --- He's crushed it, and we just can't fly anymore.
Best of wishes for you!
Bird