Out of all the different kinds of love in this world, nothing could destroy a person more than falling in love with a married man. I am the dirty mistress. The woman kept as a secret. I am the home wrecker, the embarrassment and the walk of shame.
I fell quick and landed hard on concrete. Having an affair is constantly waiting. Waiting for them to call, to visit, to show affection/attention and lastly waiting to be at the top of their list. I think of myself as a nice girl; genuinely loving and compassionate human being. How does a person who is so kind get caught up in such a wicked relationship. This game is never ending.
All consuming-torturous kind of love. I chose it. I fed my desires and I became enthralled. I fell for a person I trust, I love and respect. I do, despite the circumstances respect him. I was weak enough to let one person become my being. I spiraled down a whirl wind roller coaster and needed someone to pull me out of the black hole.
Yet here I am today knowing in my heart of hearts the only person pulling me out of that hole was myself. I clung onto dirt trying to work my way towards solid ground. The game has been played. My heart was naïve and vulnerable but I, myself, found the tape and glue.
I have known the worst kind of destructive love. I have felt it and I have lived it. I have let it inside my bones. After feeling for a long time God had abandoned me; first with a failed marriage full of emotional abuse and second with an affair to a married man; I am left with also knowing the purest and truest love. The love I have for myself. For if I had never known the worst heartache imaginable, I would have also never known how to love oneself.
