An Open Letter to the Woman Who Ripped Apart My Marriage

I had planned on sending you an anniversary card this year.  As in “Happy I-Just-Found-Out-My-Whole-Life-Is-A-Lie-And-My-Husband-Has-Been-Sleeping-With-You” anniversary card.  I had actually already bought it.  It was waiting in the wings, so that I could send it on just the right day.  I wanted to make sure that the exact day that I found out about you, you couldn’t stop thinking about me.

My marriage was ripped wide open a year ago, and I didn’t ever want you to forget your role in that. I had a brand new baby at the time.  A sweet precious boy to love on, and all I could think about was you.  What you did with my husband, to my husband, what he did to you.  How you had hurt me, my babies; how you had hurt your family, your own husband.

I spent the majority of the last year shuffling between creative ways to make you pay, and trying to completely forget that you existed.  No punishment has ever felt thorough enough, and no matter how hard I try, the memory of your face pops into my mind.  How could I ever forget the woman who had shaken my hand, cooed at my babies, and then used those same hands, that same mouth on my husband.

How could I forget you?  The woman who had taken away my marriage?

Today my mind wandered to you, again.

And I was immediately exhausted.

I feel the constant pressure of your existence on my bones, your breath steals my own.  My desire to watch you suffer chokes my heart, and my plans to make you sure you can never forget me control my thoughts.

And then, I just couldn’t any more.

Kathryn Rider
Kathryn Rider
Hello! I'm Katie, I was born and raised in the Midwest and I'm still trying to learn to love the winters. I'm a tried and true boy mom, with four little men, ages 5, 3, 3, and 1. Since 2010, I have had 4 months when I was not pregnant, or nursing, or both. I'm having to actively search out myself again, and learn how to nurture my soul. I am a wannabe runner. I am an accidental writer, an experimental cook, and I'm learning to be a truth teller. I survive on a whole lot of coffee, friendship, little boy bear hugs and sloppy kisses, and about three hours of sleep a night.

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