I was cheated on and what I am about to write is going to hurt. I’m going to do it anyway. I’m sorry if what I write here triggers you, it’s simply my truth.

While I certainly was not the first to have a spouse commit infidelity under an oath of commitment, the experience was deeply painful. It destroyed my ego, which admittedly was bloated. After the revelation I wanted to punish, hurt and destroy. The anger inside me grew day by day as I saw what appeared to me as arrogance and total dishonesty. I was dishonest too, but was unable to admit it.

To say my marriage had ended years before my ex-wife’s affair is true. I’ll use a fake name to protect her and the person she had sex with. Let’s call her Tracey, and her illicit friends with benefits Trevor. To say I held on, for numerous reasons, including those of reputation, is equally true. This was equally the truth for her. The fear of being seen in a bad light is something anyone in a monogamous relationship based on Islam is one you can only experience. My need for approval was great, but not for approval from family, rather the world. Being a pariah from the culture and sub-society you are born into is painful to those who still seek to be part of it. I’d imagine this happens in every sub-sect of the world.

It’s prudent to start from the beginning I think.

Almost two years ago, in October 2018, the Trevor’s wife found recordings of Tracey and Trevor having sex on a toilet. She sent messages to Tracey while I was tending to our two kids, she called me into the room. I saw a call coming from Trevor’s phone. We ignored the calls and she told me she had an affair. I asked with who, she said Trevor. I saw the messages Trevor’s wife sent, showing she knew about the infidelity. She sent the video. Tracey said sorry. I felt dizzy, my breathing quickened and anxiety like I have not felt in my life took over me. I wanted to run and never come back into the house again. I’ve been punched in the gut before in my martial arts training, but this was worse, it was existential dread, looking into the void, and the void staring back, knowing nothing would ever be the same.

I spoke to Trevor’s wife, she told me they had Unprotected Sex and I fell into a world of panic. I forced Tracey to do STD tests, wanting to punish her for compromising something I held to dear to me.

I drove to my mother’s house, asked her, “Am I a bad person?” and broke down crying.

Prior to October I had been absorbing myself in video games and other distractions to not face what I had known all along: my marriage with Tracey was over and I could not accept it.

A few days after, and I still could not speak to her despite profuse apologies. There was a rage inside me, burning, black and red, ready to torture and punish anyone who even remotely appeared to hurt me. Anything triggered me. I’d break down at work, crying while nobody was around, broken inside, wanting to find a way out, wanting to avoid what I felt inside. I excused myself from project meetings, on the verge of tears several times in a day. Tracey went to see a counsellor, who happened to be muslim, asked if I wanted to join. I hated Islam, what it stood for after finding out about the affair. I did not want to see anyone remotely affiliated with it and chose to say no. I was grappling with the religion I was born into prior to this. I felt like I was on the edge. I wanted to be vengeful and burn everything Tracey stood for, push her into the abyss and leave her there for her to die. The rage was all-consuming.

Tracey would not speak about what came up in her counselling sessions. I asked Tracey to cut contact with Trevor while I tried to work out what to do. We had a home together, and it was sold. I was paying rental before a new property was being developed as our new home. Financial obligations were frightening given the current emotional situation and I didn’t want anything to do with the new house, but I knew our kids had to have a home. I would later choose to leave the home with Tracey.

A gut feel kept on telling me something was wrong. Tracey was being too nice with her words. It was not her way. I logged into work systems and looked up conversations between Trevor and Tracey. They were still talking, and perhaps about meeting again. The rage began again, this time more intensely. I held my composure and asked Tracey whether she was talking to him personally and was meeting him. Flirting, even. She denied it. I took note and pulled myself further into video gaming and work, knowing I was falling into a bottomless pit. I looked up resources on how to cope, tried dating apps. Nothing worked.

The gut feeling kept on insisting that I check up on their communications. I found evidence. They had met for coffee and Tracey said nothing. I was burning inside, packed my clothing, ready to leave. Where would I go? My mother’s house was the only option. I opened the door, asked her if she had met Trevor while she slept. She woke up saying she needed to buy food. I mentioned the place, the time. She denied it again. I shouted at her, called her a liar and banged the door close. She ran after me, holding my arm, telling me not to tell her parents. In my rage I said we’d tell them everything the next morning. She had told her parents only part of the story prior to this. The truth was that she had unprotected sex with Trevor and that the risk of a STD and pregnancy were high, but since Trevor had a vasectomy, there was little to no risk of pregnancy. I was still livid.

Angry, hurt conversations later ensued where I would ask what I deserved, not realising that what I deserved was none of her business, and that she felt I deserved nothing. I’ve since forgiven her for that and slowly built on my own version of my life.

The morning after, I went an hour early and told Tracey’s parents everything. The unprotected sex, flirting after being caught, all of it. I wanted to punish her and make her suffer and continued to do so for months after until I decided I had to move on despite everything.

I realise I have not covered everything here, including my own failures. I’d like to talk about those now. Two years later, I admit to being a passive-aggressive person who chose to act out vindictively without talking because of lacking conviction in my own words and actions. I was dishonest and promised things, broke promises. I tried to maintain a lifestyle which would not only destroy me, but mine and Tracey’s children’s lives too. I was vicious, angry in a quiet manner. These were my mistakes, I own them now. I am better, a more complete human being as a result of my spiritual path. I chose to douse my hurts in video games and other distractions. I chose to overspend on the material, not acknowledging that what is needed must always supersede what is wanted. I omitted the truth that our relationship was at an end. I didn’t love Tracey any more because with her, I had lost my soul, not because of her, but because of the systems I was groomed into. No relationship should be ruled by fear of who you really are. Nobody should lose their soul and who they are because of others. My lesson was simple: be you, no more.

Fast forward two years later and having learned to live on my own, there is a sense of contentment words do not describe despite the occasion subtle emotional pattern to deal with cropping up. Accept and move on.

While being born into Islam, I found myself drifting into hinduist and buddhist principles. This was where my peace would lay, and the basis of my own growth would naturally lead me into a deeper, more spiritual vision of life, filled with compassion and assertiveness, ownership and honesty. My children are love and light, my actions the tool to bring them the humanity I denied them through the years of mine and Tracey’s marriage. My story is one of redemption in my own eyes, of forgiveness and self-love. It’s a journey of rediscovering what love and kindness means, that kindness is not submission, but acceptance and truth, whatever form it may take. People are the sum of their experiences and choices, and we must acknowledge that the harm we incur from others may be their way of rediscovering themselves. These people may leave your life and some may stay.

I’m not saying become Jesus, but that your dark side has to be negotiated with and accepted, just like everything else. You are.

The acceptance within me must be for others, and myself, and their own journeys. I know this now and try to live by it the best I can. It’s how I have finally discovered joy after 2 years.

I am. What I was, was. What has happened was. Who I am now is. What I will be, will be. What Tracey and Trevor did was.

It’s really that simple.