Don't You Realise the Things We Did, We Did, Were All for Real?

Musings After Coffee

I had a thought for no one's but your ears:
That you were beautiful, and that I strove
To love you in the old high way of love;
That it had all seemed happy, and yet we'd grown
As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.
-William Butler Yeats, from Adam's Curse

Satan Touching Job with Boils
Wm. Blake
What is true, what is real is that we stopped working. Looking back, I remember when the fighting stopped.  I was relieved. Does this mean that I had already given up?  I hadn't been intentionally creating conflict. I was relieved when she was with her friends, it meant one less point of contact in which fighting might occur. But no, we were getting along better before D day.  I was convinced.  My children would say the same.  We had traveled through Europe in 2018 happy as larks--okay with the exception of our anniversary date, when we had a row in front of the kids.  
I am as blind as a drunk with his hat over his eyes.  Yes, even now.  I have no idea how I fucked this up, but I did.  We did.  The part I played is indisputable, although neither a bit player nor the protagonist I played.  I don' t blame myself for her affair, not in the slightest. We drifted so far apart that I couldn't see that she had moved on without leaving a forwarding address or even  leaving a message in a bottle.  In retrospect. during that time I knew when she was home and not out with friends (the latter of which became more and more frequent), that she was markedly changed.  I told myself things were better, we had adapted.  I enjoyed what I thought was a new path in our relationship.  I was right. It was something of a new road in our relationship, but it wasn't a new path, it was the end of the road.  
I am worried about being able to trust again.  I worry most about trusting my own judgment.  None is so blind, yadda yadda yadda.  I would not see. 
Tonight Jenny said in therapy my two month affair lasted 3.5 years.  It was clear she knew she was lying.  Here is how it came to pass.  She expressed her displeasure that I don't believe the affair has ended.  Because, as she asserted, she can't see Eric the pinché motherfucker because I told his wife about the affair.  
Can't.  
That contraction means everything. Nevermind that she told me she was going to see him last week, that she talks to him each and every day whether via voice, text or otherwise.  Nevermind the days she goes on errands that might last a couple hours and she is gone 6 or 7. Nevermind her routine and continual sojourns to the workplace to see the principal Amy, someone she has taken a distinct interest in as of late. Nevermind that I know her dream, in writing each week is that they figure out the relationship, once Eric the pinche motherfucker determines what to do about his wife. Move along please, nothing to see here.  
Nevermind that can't and doesn't indicate a choice, but instead a condition.  I can't eat spinach is markedly different from I won't eat spinach.  
Can't.  She believes if she changes the description, she can gaslight me into believing, well I used to love him, but its all over now.
She is incensed that I won't believe her, or so she said tonight in therapy.  When I raised the issue of continued contact, she did what I call the PeeWee Herman. She said, you saw Sonia for 3.5 years--nevermind that it isn't true. Nevermind that I lived in California 2.5 years. Nevermind that it started in late-May of 2012--while we were separated because you cheated on me and that it ended August 10, when we reunited. Forget it all.  Also, nevermind that it's irrelevant.  Nevermind she is pretending her first affair I discovered didn't happen so as to argue two wrongs make a right.  
I literally explained tonight in therapy after this pointless exchange that I will not engage about the affair in therapy again. The therapist tried to suggest it might come up again.  I responded by ignoring that ridiculous statement--it will come up and I won't discuss--and explained that I want to focus on grieving the losses we are experiencing together.  There is no need to argue about what we will discuss in therapy, I have made clear my resolve not to discuss, and will police myself even harder when we are together at therapy.
In related news involving this revisionist tale, she claimed tonight that she never told me that the relationship had remained intact, that nothing had changed after I told the pinché motherfucker's wife.  Of course she did, and I wrote about it in this journal at the time.  I told Moni at the time that I had discovered that nothing had changed, and she said Jenny had already told her.  There is no mass hysteria occupying the minds of Moni and me.  This is gaslighting, prevaricating, making it up as she goes along, forgetting both that I journal AND that she doesn't hold the key to the banality of her lies nor does what she utters make it truth. And no matter how much you hate the truth and try to beat it up, truth will out.

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