I knew enough to realize I'd used my memories of Peter and I to shield myself from the horrible truth. I had the day to myself, accompanied only by the listlessness of a kind of depression seeping in over me, and I saw the day speeding away. I wanted comfort so badly.
I wanted to buy a big packet of chocolate and go and see a film. Get away from everything.
But, I had a great deal of self control these days. I'm not the bumbling little "package of automated response" Peter first got to know. I had learned about myself in the years I spent with Peter, and I had developed my intuition.
A lot of that switched off while we had the children. Now I saw the mistake. Peter and I had no way of associating the kind of people we are, with raising a family and rather than finding a way to make it work, we tried to change ourselves into the kind of people who can raise a family. At least the kind we thought ought to raise a family.
I saw, with the starkest of all realities, it didn't work. I had no idea why Peter considered cheating on me, but this betrayal went deep. It spat on all my efforts to close off the erotic woman. He'd asked me to shut down the potent side of myself for the sake of the children. I suspected also because he couldn't handle that side of me while we had the kids. When I do shut her down, he took stimulus elsewhere.
This is the biggest betrayal.
And it filled me with rage. A rage wanting revenge.
I know I need my inner potent woman again. Besides my fear she may be dead all together, I needed her for myself. I so badly want to sink into depression, it's going to take everything I have in me to avoid that indulgence. I ached for the stronger part of me to emerge and protect me.
And Peter? I no longer cared he might be concerned about that part of me. He had betrayed what we'd built and I no longer trusted his advice on how to manage the situation.
Instead, I wanted him to have the experience of betrayal. I wanted him to know what it's like to lose a thing he loved.
However, he appeared unmoved by the threat of the loss of me – he already risked everything. I knew he be keeping the affair from me so he did not lose his wife and kids, but risking it all didn't bother him. So he playing with fire and his subconscious took him to places he wouldn't normally go.
And of course in all of this my children had to be protected. I don't want a situation where they might suffer. I didn't want them to see their parents get divorced. I wanted to be sure of no painful moments for them as I got all of this sorted for myself. My kids were not going to partake of the pain I am determined to inflict upon my husband.
Even amidst the rambling chaotic fury in my mind, I knew I wouldn't hurt Peter. Perhaps that was at the base of the pain. That he wouldn't have to experience this. I wanted the safety I felt a few days ago. I wanted his maturity back again and my peace of mind.
Then my mind retaliated against itself, curing my perceived weaknesses. Revenge felt good when nothing else did.
I slowly began to see I have to win Peter back if I were to inflict the kind of pain on him I wanted him to experience. It felt good inside to be thinking of how to hurt him. How fast we go from love to hate. I surprised myself at the violence of my feelings – the relative ease with which they rose to the surface, even though I knew I used them to mask my pain.
My life as I knew it was over and things will never be the same again. And the man who had given it to me had taken it away. I knew compassion for him could only return if I saw him suffer also. And at the moment I am the woman scorned. I had too much pain to be anything else.
Revenge is a dish best served cold. And my revenge had to be brilliantly conceived and well executed. I rely on it as a project so I pour myself into it.
