Firstly, I want to thank you for taking my remarks in the manner they were intended. I know it can be difficult to accept these sorts of comments from strangers on the internet, and I genuinely appreciate your open-mindedness. Secondly, I appreciate your optimism, and as I've stated before, I could certainly be wrong in my assessment. I truly hope you are right, and that your unique situation defies the patterns I've observed. My inability to envision a truly happy and secure relationship emerging from the circumstances you've described doesn't mean it's impossible. So yes, have hope. Sometimes though, as you may be aware, it's the hope that ultimately causes more pain.
Regarding the comparison between your husband's gambling and your infidelity: while both are destructive behaviors that involve lying and hiding, and both betray trust, they are not morally equivalent in the context of a monogamous marriage. Infidelity is a direct, intimate breach of the core vows of sexual and emotional exclusivity. It introduces a third party into the marital bed and heart, fundamentally altering the relationship's foundation in a way that gambling, while devastating, does not. The unique trauma of infidelity stems from the violation of the most intimate boundaries, the shattering of the illusion of exclusivity, and the profound sense of being replaced or devalued.
I understand you've offered your personal history as context, not an excuse, for your actions. However, I urge you to read other accounts from wayward spouses at the beginning of their healing journeys. You'll find that the "reasons" they cite for their infidelity can range from seemingly minor grievances like a partner not doing enough housework, to feeling neglected, or even working too much. While these are certainly genuine issues within a marriage that need to be addressed, to draw a moral comparison between them and the act of infidelity itself is, to me, quite ludicrous.
It's akin to someone supposing, "Yes, Your Honor, I burned his house down with his pets inside, but you know, he borrowed my lawnmower without asking." The initial grievance, while perhaps valid, is utterly dwarfed by the destructive act that followed. Infidelity is a fundamentally different animal. It's not just a symptom of marital problems; it's a profound betrayal that shatters trust, violates sacred boundaries, and often inflicts deep, lasting trauma on the betrayed partner and the family unit. It's an active choice to seek intimacy or validation outside the marriage, often involving sustained deception and emotional manipulation.
I believe you need to fully come to terms with this critical distinction—that while underlying issues may create fertile ground for infidelity, they do not diminish its unique severity as an act of betrayal. This is a crucial point of understanding for genuine accountability and healing. I would strongly recommend further discussions on this specific distinction with your therapist, as clarifying this perspective will be vital for your path forward.
In my experience, I have never met a man who would be genuinely willing and happy to bear the immense, long-term burden of a relationship recovering from such repeated and prolonged infidelity. While it's true that some couples navigate infidelity and "recover"—sometimes even claiming to be "stronger"—my observations suggest a crucial distinction. You might see relationships where longer-term affairs are discovered, confronted, and perhaps, after immense work, genuinely healed. You might also see couples who've had shorter term affair, upon discovery the wayward may have a few relapses but ultimately commit to recovery.
However, your situation involves both long-term and repeated betrayal, which compounds the damage exponentially. The burden on the betrayed partner is not just the initial shock, but the continuous psychological weight of years of deception and the profound insecurity it instills. This includes the constant questioning of reality, the erosion of self-worth, and the deep-seated fear of future betrayal. Whilst, after enough digging, you may find a few examples of relationships surviving this sort of scenario... I would assert that it's extraordinarily rare and would be highly interested to see the accounts of both partners when it comes to how truly happy they are.
What I have encountered more frequently are individuals who are simply too emotionally frozen, too overwhelmed, or too deeply wounded to leave situations that are clearly detrimental to their well-being. This isn't a judgment of their strength or lack thereof, but rather a stark observation of the profound psychological toll such betrayals take. The sheer exhaustion of repeated emotional trauma, coupled with the fear of the unknown and financial anxieties, can create a paralysis that keeps someone tethered to a painful status quo. They may stay, but it is often out of a complex mix of inertia and trauma response, rather than a joyful, unburdened choice to build a truly happy and secure future.
Unfortunately, after considering the depth and duration of the issues you've outlined, my recommendation remains the same. I believe that upon coming clean, you should initiate a divorce. This is not a self-flagellation, but a pathway for both of you to heal separately. Attempting to maintain the relationship while undertaking the massive amount of personal work you both need to do—especially given the history of repeated betrayals—is unlikely to be beneficial for either of you. Furthermore, I do not feel it is fair to burden your partner with the emotional weight of healing from such a long and recurrent pattern of infidelity. The repeated betrayals represent a heavy and unfair load for anyone to carry, and allowing him to pursue his own healing unencumbered by the complexities of your shared past might be the most compassionate choice you can make for him.
You assert that 'I believe we are each other's best option as a life partner.' Personally, and I do hope this comment causes no offense, I would urge you both to aim a little higher.
If someone were to tell me that my best option for a life partner was an individual who had repeatedly betrayed me for over 14 years, I would interpret that as an immense insult. It suggests a fundamental devaluation of my own worth and what I deserve in a relationship. I think it may speak to your mindset of him. I would suggest it still tells me that somewhere, perhaps subconsciously you think he deserves what you did. Tik for tat. He has his issues, you have yours. Equal. I know that if I had done half of what you had to my partner I would be thinking, I don't deserve them. A truly "best option" partner is one who consistently demonstrates loyalty, integrity, and respect, and who builds a foundation of unwavering trust. To imply that a relationship marred by such prolonged and recurrent infidelity represents the pinnacle of available partnership choices can inadvertently convey a message that one is not worthy of genuine, untainted fidelity. It diminishes the profound impact of the betrayal and sets a dangerously low bar for future happiness and security.
[This message edited by DRSOOLERS at 9:11 AM, Thursday, July 31st]