The Broken Pedestal
Throughout our marriage, my husband had always placed me on the proverbial pedestal. He loved and worshipped me, and made it very well known to everyone. Heck, even without saying a word, it was apparent that he absolutely adored me, just by the way he would look at me. My mother often marveled at the sparkle in his eye when I entered the room.
He encouraged me to follow my dreams, no matter how big or small they were. He let me do anything I wanted, as long as it made me happy. His happiness was seeing the smile on my face, and he was always my biggest fan. In fact, we were always each other’s biggest fan, and we both offered encouragement and support in everything we did. We stood by each other, with the utmost dedication. He was MY hero, and I admired him so much. The song, “Wind Beneath my Wings” was one that always made me think of him whenever I heard it. I was safe in his arms, and I felt how much he loved me. His gentle kiss melted this girl’s heart, every time. I loved his morals, ethics, honesty, and his big, sensitive heart.
The woman on the pedestal stood so tall and proud. Her husband placed her there years ago. The pedestal, with her on top, was proudly displayed for all to see.
What changed?
I believed he loved me, but now I know they were MY beliefs. I don’t know if the qualities I loved about him were ever real.
The pedestal is now broken into a million little pieces. I am lost somewhere in the debris.
The visualization in my mind while he was having his affair:
I stood so proudly atop the pedestal, just as I had done for years. Unbeknownst to me, however, He was not looking at me – his attention was elsewhere. He pointed his finger at me and laughed at how foolish I was to believe that I was his everything. I was blissfully unaware of the upcoming massive fall. Naturally my head was held high, and my heart swelled because I knew I was loved. Why would I think any differently? I was ADORED.
I was the woman who stood on the pedestal, thinking her life was pretty much perfect. He stood behind the pedestal and intentionally and violently pushed and kicked it, in an effort to break the sacred pedestal. His efforts were successful, as he then watched me fall with the pieces of the pedestal. My husband let me fall to the ground so carelessly, as he reveled in the knowledge that I only “thought” I was his everything. Silly wife.
From two feet away
Every time he called, texted or sexted the other woman, he was in essence, spitting in my face. Many of these times he was sitting about 2 feet away from me in our family room. It takes some serious balls to do such a thing for years, while I sat near him, oblivious. In OUR home. All of the times he slept with the other woman, he was abusing my lifeless body – the one that landed hard on the ground. This is what it feels like to me, when he was having sex with her:
He stomped his foot into my chest, grinding his heel in deeply, while sputtering ruthless words through gritted teeth. “You aren’t loved enough, and you certainly don’t matter enough. You are not deserving of respect, honor or dignity, OR to be on a pedestal. You are foolish, naive, and WAY too trusting. It doesn’t bother me in the least to deceive you and lie to you, because I just don’t care. I am fucking another woman while you are laying there whimpering, you weak bitch”.
I am crumpled on the ground, curled up in the fetal position. My tear stained face is bruised and bloody.
The broken pedestal will never be whole again, and neither will I, the woman who used to smile so brightly upon it. I am a shell, a broken soul. I have lost every last ounce of safety and comfort I have ever known. I will never trust again, and my gift of seeing only the good in people is forever gone. Not only do I doubt others, but I doubt myself. How can I trust my own intuition after being told I was ridiculous for thinking such things time and time again. He denied it every time I asked, but I knew, I just knew. Thanks to that, the world and people around me are now the unknown. Our previously untainted marriage now feels tarnished, dirty and cheap.
There is no longer sun in the sky, only angry clouds of grey. My tears fall like raindrops amidst a fierce winter storm. The man I have loved for so long, is not who I thought he was. I wear self-doubt like an all-weather jacket, but I only feel cold.
Like a wolf snarling at his prey, he has placed fear inside me. The man who used to protect me, and hold me in his arms, has shown me that I am easily dispensable and replaceable. My husband. My once loving husband did this to me.
My heart is the broken pedestal.
