“My husband brought a girl home while I was out… it was not the first time”

His infidelity has broken me in ways I can’t even explain. We had been married just a few months when I first found out that he was flirting with another girl and wanted to take things further with her. But I decided I wanted to make my marriage work—because I didn’t want to be divorced at twenty-two. And…I was also pregnant with our first child.

Looking back, I think the first cut was the deepest. But after that, I had just learned to insulate myself from the pain. I moved to the other end of the spectrum—brushing everything under the carpet. I just wanted to hold on to the belief that I was loved, and that he was making these ‘silly mistakes’—but he did love me.

I remember I would go into long periods of silence, just staring into space, and then randomly start screaming and sobbing. I think at that point in my life, shame played a really big role. I truly believed it was my fault that he was cheating on me. Maybe I wasn’t great in bed. Maybe I had put on weight. Maybe I looked horrible. That shame kept me so bound that I just covered up my husband’s sin—because I thought it was a reflection of me. As a result, I never asked for help.

I didn’t realize the damage that had been done to me—and the damage I was causing in return. I had become a survivor; I had to have my own back. And so, I became a fighter. I always wanted to win an argument. But at the same time, I had given up on myself. I stopped caring about my appearance, gained a ton of weight, spent several days in a depressed state, and gave up on housework.

The resentment was so deeply buried that I truly thought I had completely forgiven him—until we had friends over and I would make a sarcastic comment or crack a joke about him. Then I’d wonder where that came from. Five years later, my husband brought a girl home while I was out. So there I was—a twenty-seven-year-old mother of two—shattered all over again.

When I confronted him, he said it wasn’t because of me. It was him. He didn’t love me. He didn’t know what love was. He believed he could have a wife and still look for sex outside the marriage—because he had grown up in a broken home where that was normal, and his mum had covered for his dad. As painful as it was, it was also the most freeing thing he said to me—because now I knew it wasn’t my fault.

I wanted to do everything to make it work, so I sought help. He also agreed to get help. We both started individual counseling to deal with our own hurts. I had so much pain and resentment that I didn’t even know where to start. My husband began to see his faulty belief system. But he was terrified by the mammoth task ahead of him, and he began to push me away.

By then, I had become clingy because I wanted this marriage to work so badly. By the second month, I felt like a doormat—like some cheap rag that needed to be tossed into the garbage. Every time I looked in the mirror, I would use three adjectives to describe myself: unloved, not good enough, and replaceable.

There I was, trying to make my marriage work, but my husband—the offender—didn’t want me. He wanted anyone but me. I believe something in me broke when I came to that realization. How can I trust a man who has been so careless with my heart? I couldn’t get out of bed for days. Would he divorce me? Would he choose another woman over me? At that point, I truly felt like I was losing my mind.

As a Christian, I was praying, but I was also trying to be my husband’s conscience—trying to fix something. I had to learn to hand over my broken marriage to God. I’ll never forget the day I sat alone at the table in our living room, completely broken, and a gut-wrenching cry rose from my core. I just cried out, “God, my knight in shining armor has abandoned me, but please don’t leave me.” And in that moment, I felt a presence like nothing I’ve ever felt before—there with me. That was my very real moment with God.

Being separated from my husband was the best decision I made. Until I left, he never really believed I would. He thought I would just put up with his lifestyle. My leaving showed him that there were consequences to his choices.

Being a single parent was tough. I couldn’t make up for the absence of a dad in their lives. I always told my kids, “Dada loves you,” but I saw the damage it did to them not to hear it from him. All I could do was try to be a good mum. Some days I was exhausted, emotionally drained, and snappy—but I reminded myself that they were hurting too and didn’t know how to express it.

I had become a shell of the woman I used to be, and I never want to go back to that empty person, filled with resentment and hurt. I’m now pursuing a career I had given up on. I’m on a desperate search for something of my own—something I’m passionate about.

I’m spending more time in prayer and God’s Word. I’ve also taken my physical fitness seriously—eating right, exercising, and taking care of my appearance. I want to be able to look in the mirror and like the person I see—inside and out. Counseling has been the biggest blessing during this tough time. Just being able to cry, get a fresh perspective, work on my fragmented identity, and feel more confident about the decisions I make has improved my mental health and helped me get my life back on track.

Forgiveness and letting go of past hurt and resentment was something I really had to work on—and it hasn’t been easy. My husband has also realized that this way of life is not worth the cost of losing your family. After three months of separation and intensive counseling, my husband has moved back home. He has promised me it will never happen again and that he would rather die than cheat on me again.

We’ve taken this leap of faith and are still trying to work things out through marriage counseling. I trust that God is in control, and whatever happens will be part of His plan for me.

The writer chose to stay anonymous. Family Mantra thanks her for candidly sharing her story and respects her privacy and courage.