Justin has been attending meetings for his issue lately. We have also been talking with our pastor on a weekly basis. From both sources people have complemented me on being so strong to stay with my husband through all that has happened. Most women would leave, give up, throw in the towel. But they complement me on sticking it out for so long.
For a brief moment I was flattered. We all like to hear nice things about ourselves and I'm no different. In fact if anything I probably crave it more than many would because my self esteem has been so badly battered in the years I've been married. But the brief feeling of honor died quickly. It made me examine the fact I have stayed through a great many transgressions over many years. And I realized something about myself. I didn't deserve the praise. The fact I have stayed isn't a sign if my strength or courage. It isn't something to celebrate. It's a symbol of my cowardice, and codependency. I should be ashamed that I'm still with an unfaithful man, not proud.
If Justin were a wife beater and I had stayed this long through as many slip ups as I have nobody would think the better of me for it. They would start to say I deserve it, or I'm stupid. They would chastise me for raising my children to think this is an acceptable thing to deal with, and you just have to take it. So I don't understand how anyone can look at me and see strength or resolve rather than a complete absence of it.
I'm a coward. I always have been. Afraid to be hurt. Afraid of the unknown, of being alone, having to run a household and raise kids by myself. Afraid to give his family the satisfaction of being right about me. Afraid to have his happiness with other women flaunted in my face.
Not courageous at all.
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