The Years Between

It might be easy to assume that all the years between the two stories in my last post were sad and hard. This was not the case. In terms of punctuation, Jon's infidelity in 2014 and then nine years later in 2023 were not an opening and closing set of brackets that held years of heartache and hardship in between. They were more like "periods". The affair in 2014 ended a blissfully unaware stage of our marriage for me. But a new sentence followed. I forgave, but I also gave myself space to grieve and always openly communicated with Jon when any moments of insecurity took hold of me. The new sentence was different, but it was still the story of what I thought was a happy marriage. When it happened again in 2023, it took me a long time to decide if another sentence would follow, or a new paragraph. But I'll get to more on that later.

When I say that I forgave Jon, I mean it to the fullest extent of the word. And I mean that I did it both times; I've forgiven him for the second transgression as well. The best way I can describe forgiving a spouse for being unfaithful is through a hiking analogy. Because who doesn't love hiking?

So, we're all on this great big hike called life and it is awesome and amazing. Sometimes it's all uphill and hard, sometimes there are breathtaking views, and sometimes it's as fun and easy as sliding down a great stretch of trail on snow. And then sometimes, for the sake of the analogy, you're handed a giant boulder to carry. These giant boulders are handed to you when you've been hurt by another person, whether it's infidelity, betrayal, abuse, etc. Now the hike doesn't feel very fun because you're stuck carrying this immense burden on top of the already taxing journey of your hike. So you have a choice: you can keep carrying the boulder or you can set it down, take a picture of it, and continue on your hike. The people who choose to carry their boulders aren't very fun to be around. They like to tell you how heavy it is, how rude it was for so-and-so to hand it to them, or maybe even brag about how strong they are for carrying it around. The people who take a picture of the boulder and leave it behind are happier. Because the boulder isn't taking up all their attention and energy, they're able to move forward faster and further. Sometimes though, when the trail gets tough or they're contemplating how far they've come, they might pull out that picture for a minute to remember: That was a hard boulder to carry, I remember when so-and-so handed it to me. If so-and-so is still on the same trail, they might show them the picture too. Not to hang it over their head though - if they're marching around waving the picture for everyone to see they might as well still be carrying the boulder - but to say, Remember? This hurt. Please don't hurt me again.

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So when I say I forgave Jon, I mean I set that boulder down and took a picture of it. I let go of any feelings of resentment and anger, but I still allowed myself to grieve and I spoke openly with Jon as I did so. Jon also actively sought my forgiveness. He was apologetic and remorseful. He stayed by my side. Slowly but surely my heart healed, and slowly but surely our relationship was nursed back to health by the both of us. What followed were some of the best, but hardest, years of my life. We had three more babies together. We relished parenting and spending time with our kids. We moved to southern Alberta. We eventually moved out of my parents house into a little farm house of our own. We went on the greatest road trip to Tofino. But we also navigated Jon going back to school. Jon searching for jobs. Ups and downs in my mental health. Jon unsuccessfully applying to medical school. Me navigating a hard year of babysitting. Me serving a big calling. And Jon tearing his Achilles tendon. 

Throughout these years, there were a small handful of times that I grew anxious, that I brought the picture out and talked to Jon. The most recent time was shortly after Jon began nursing school. After a summer spent healing his Achilles tendon, Jon was finally cleared to exercise again and he did so with a vengeance. It wasn't a good day unless he had worked out twice. Weights and a swim. Weights and a run. And then there were all these new people he was suddenly best friends with. I'm planning laser tag for my class. I'm going out to eat with my class. What I had initially perceived as excitement for forward momentum and new found confidence, I began to see as Jon changing. On a rare night where we were both going to bed at the same time, I confided in Jon that I was feeling insecure. That I worried I would be set aside and hurt again. Jon quickly dismissed this, I promised I would never do that again. I love you and the kids too much.