The End of The Affair

Poor Jenny Sanford. You know who I’m talking about, right?  The wife of Mark Sanford, the now fallen governor of South Carolina. The man who just this very week confessed to having a year-long affair with a woman in Argentina. A man who fell in love with someone else — while his wife was home with their four sons. And (so far, at least) she’s standing by his side.

Good for her. I think.

If that’s what Mrs. Sanford wants to do, I believe she has every right to do it. Maybe she’s giving him another chance because she loves him and is forgiving this peccadillo. Or maybe she wants to do everything she can to keep the family together for the sake of those boys. Perhaps it’s a political thing — a détente for appearance sake — and the two of them will sleep in separate bedrooms for the rest of their days.

On the other hand, if she looked at her wandering husband and said, "Mark, you are a scumbag and I’m kicking you and your tailored suits to the curb," I would support that decision as well. It’s her life, her love, her marriage.

You see, just a couple of years ago I was in the exact same position as Jenny. My husband told me that he was “deeply in love” with another woman. You cannot even imagine how deeply my heart sank when I heard that. We were already separated at this point and I was still hoping that we would get back together. And I continued to hope, even after I heard that devastating news. Why? Because I still loved him, and because we had a beautiful son together. Maybe because I also never imagined that something like that would actually happen to me (does anybody?), and the whole situation would resolve itself and we would live happily ever after. Needless to say, rational thinking was not my forte at the time.

I got to the point where I was willing to put just about everything on the line to save my marriage. I surprised myself. I was always the type of girl who told boyfriends right off the bat that I would not tolerate cheating. But I also never had to deal with that situation — at least, not until it really counted. When I did look infidelity right it the eye, it pretty much punched me in the face.

But I still didn’t give up. So, this is what I said to my husband, "I know you love someone else, but you love me too. And if you come back, I am willing to deal with your love for her. I know for a while it will be 50/50, or maybe even 60/40 [against me, mind you]. But that’s okay — because I know that in three months it will be 10% more for me.  And in another three it will be another 10%. We will work on this until we are fully committed to each other again."

After I said this I had to confront my inner demons. Was this really me? I used to be strong. To my own ears, I suddenly sounded so weak and desperate. I asked a friend, "Does saying this make me incredibly stupid?" "No," she replied, "It makes you really brave." That was empowering to hear, and it enabled me to continue to fight for something I believed in.

Finally I could fight no longer and realized that the marriage had to end. (There’s a lot more detail to that story, and if you buy me a drink I’m willing to share….) But I couldn’t let anyone make that decision for me. It had to run its course in my head and in my heart. Until I knew deep down that it was over. 

So, Mrs. Sanford, it’s your decision to make. Go with your gut instinct or think everything through. Listen to your friends or ignore their advice completely. Lay down the law or bend it. I believe that whatever decision you make will be the right one for you and your sons. 

Why?

Because I’ve been there. A lot of us have. We’ve got your back.

Author: Stacey Linden

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