Stumbling Through the Darkness by Cara Fidler

It had been 6 months since Frank and I broke up after I found him in bed with another woman. Devastated, I ran outside, picked up a brick and threw it through the bedroom window shattering the glass. The pain was so excruciating it cut me like a knife. I stumbled to the car, adrenalin rushing through my veins. Shaking like a leaf, I put my keys into the ignition and peeled wheels out of there.

I couldn't believe what I had just seen. The magnitude of the betrayal was suffocating and greater than anything I'd ever experienced. I drove home and unlocked the door to my apartment, then sat down on the sofa in a state of shock and started crying. I couldn't wrap my mind around it. It was like an impenetrable shroud that was pierced by a blinding pain. I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine, then went back into the bedroom. How could he do this to me? I had never in my life been so utterly unprepared for what I saw. Why me, Lord? Why this of all things? I'd been so sure that he and I had forged a meaningful connection, one that would stand the test of time.

The phone rang. I looked at the name on my caller i.d. It was Frank and I didn't want to talk to him. After drinking the wine, I peeled back the blankets and crawled into my bed, pulled them over my head and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning I awoke to an ungodly feeling of an unwelcomed, all-consuming oppressive reality---not a bad dream. Faced with the daunting task of extricating myself from this monstrous blow, I wondered how I was going to get through it and see my way clear to the other side? I couldn't help but wonder if there would be another side for me. It was all I could do to take baby steps. I put everything on hold----everything could wait. At least for now.

I worked as a substitute teacher and wasn't obligated to accept teaching assignments, fortunately. I was in no shape to do so. I had some money in savings. I had just gone grocery shopping so I had plenty of food on hand, despite the fact that I had no appetite. The bills were paid for the month and the laundry could easily wait.

The first month I mostly slept. Slept and cried. I was in a fragile state. My girlfriend tried to comfort me to no avail. Evenso I was grateful for her presence. Frank had called several times and came by the apartment when I didn't answer. 'There's nothing to say." I said staring at him as if he was a stranger. He may as well have been. I was too upset and angry to engage in any conversation with him. Talking wasn't going to change a damn thing.

I was crawling on this bleak, seemingly never ending trek through a maze of churning emotions. When you got right down to it, nobody was going to step into my shoes and do the hard work of getting me through the myriad of dark days and nights that I endured. Of course my girlfriend, Becca, had been a lifesaver camping out on my couch and doing what she could to help out.

Over the next few months, steeped in hibernation mode, I lost ten pounds and sunk into a deep depression. I had gotten myself to the point of admitting that it was a Godsend that I'd caught them in the act. So many women suspect their man is cheating, but have no proof, while he just continues the standard program of denial that any such thing is going on, until one day he tells her, he wants out leaving her for the other woman. At least I knew the truth and what I was dealing with. The hard part was acceptance of the truth, moving on and getting on with the business of living.

On Monday of the following week, I knew in the same way that you know when you receive an electric shock that I actually wanted to wake up, and that I was glad, for once, to see the light of day. This was the turning point for me after what seemed like an eternity of enduring the aftermath of the blow. I noticed that my appetite was coming back and that I felt a subtle shift in how I felt about things. I couldn't deny that I was feeling a bit more hopeful and feeling stronger with each passing day. I even managed to tackle the laundry and accept an assignment teaching third grade. I still had a ways to go, but I was gradually coming out of hibernation. I was appreciating little things a bit more---like my coffee in the morning, the sound of the cool breeze whistling through the trees outside my bedroom window at night, and a nice piece of homemade meatloaf that I put together for dinner one night. I was even putting on a little blush and some lipstick in the morning.

Recovery came in a series of small realizations. In retrospect, there had been a few signs along the way that should've clued me into the possibility that something was a bit off between us. I had noticed that he seemed distant on more than one occasion. When I'd asked him about it, he'd chalked it up to pressure at work and an increased work load. I believed him, never dreaming that he had a mistress. It never crossed my mind. One thing was for sure, I had no desire to involve myself with a new man. It was much too soon for that.

At one time, I'd enjoyed painting watercolors but hadn't picked up a paint brush for a long time. On Saturday morning, I picked up my paint brush and began painting a picture of a beautiful landscape at the peak of autumn. I found this to be a peaceful experience; I wasn't preoccupied with thoughts about what might've been and the overwhelming feeling of regret and unrealized dreams that had plagued me subsided. That night, Becca and I attended a Bruce Springsteen concert. So many great songs and an atmosphere that rejuvenated me as I clapped and cheered my way through the concert. I was actually enjoying myself at last. I had gotten myself over the hump. The hard part was behind me.