First off, check out this gem I recently came across:

Also, this: http://fairytalesfor20somethings.tumblr.com/

Ok, now that I’ve got you laughing, it’s time to get serious. Very recently I’ve had to face the worst kind of betrayal a married woman may encounter. I’m not talking about “someone ate the rest of my Nutella and put the empty container back in the cupboard like nothing happened” betrayal, but one that genuinely, absolutely, incapacitates you. The kind that makes you feel like you just lost half of your soul. The ache it leaves behind is staggering.

I have a lot of support from friends and family and it is overwhelming wonderful, especially when it seems like the last week of my life could be made into a Lifetime movie, but when you’re away from the voices that reassure and comfort and offer help, you are still left alone with that remaining half of your soul, the bitter and betrayed half;  it’s the worst kind of company.

That half of your soul wants to obsess about what could have been done to prevent this betrayal. It seethes and smolders and pushes right on your forehead as it consumes your thoughts hour after hour. You develop a form of insomnia as you toss and turn at night, running through the whole experience in your head, rationalizing and justifying events like you can go back in time and change what happened. The fact that there was, and is, nothing you can do just makes it worse.

I am angry. It took a while to let myself feel that way, but I am absolutely furious. I was wronged, disrespected, and deliberately deceived. I feel like society doesn’t let women be angry. We’re supposed to be good and kind heavenly creatures that are only allowed to be “frustrated” and “sad” but never completely and entirely enraged. Just the ability to say out loud “I am angry” without some sort of guilt attached is extremely difficult.

I am broken. It’s like a violent raging party just took place in my chest and I’m left to clean up the broken Red Solo cups and vomit – all by myself. I was the type of person who always looked for the good in people and accepted it as truth, wanting to trust what they said at face value. It will take a long time for me to mend the pieces of that part of myself so it can function again. It’s like a broken plate you glue back together with hope – it may look as good as new, but when you hold it up to the light you notice all the seams from the original broken shards; sharp edges visible, scarred.

I am traumatized. It seems silly to type that, because it’s not like I was just diagnosed with cancer, or assaulted, or survived a horrific car accident, but it’s the only way to describe the shock I’ve felt this past week. I feel like a whole part of my life was a lie, like it never existed, or was just covered up by another reality. I turned around and unveiled a rotting, stinking body of lies that has been slinking through my being, stalking me disguised as something familiar and good. Once this was uncovered I felt like I was unable to comprehend or cope with what was there. The shock of facing those lies was a trauma in itself and the more I uncovered, the more repugnant it became. It feels like I’m being repeatedly kicked in the stomach.

I am bitter. Ooooooh, am I teeth-clenchingly bitter. My mind is constantly full of snide comments, violent accusations, sarcastic jabs, and vindictive declarations. It is all I can do to keep them that way: inside my head. I want to take the high road, be the better person, but it is so damn hard. My mind is a 2 liter of root beer that’s just taken a rocky trip down the Grand Canyon; I may blow at any time.

I am betrayed. You may be able to guess the details, what may have happened to start what will be the ending of my marriage, but the important detail is that I had no control, no say on what occurred. I was completely left in the dark when it came to the real circumstances and the actual mission at hand so I was unjustly left behind to be taken prisoner by self-doubt, anxiety, distrust, and never-ending nausea.

This is not a cry for help or sympathy. If you know me personally, you know this is not something I ever seek from others. This is a statement to myself in order to say that it is okay to feel these emotions. It is healthy. Is it natural. It is good. What really matters is how you act on these feelings and whether or not you let them affect other people. It is an hourly (sometimes a by-minute) struggle, believe me, but I’ll continue until I see a hint of that light at the end of the tunnel. Until then, it’s still pretty freakin’ dark in here.