My husband cautiously opened the door when he returned, gave me a pained look, and said, “Oh, sweetheart, I want to die right now. What have I done? What have I done?”
I wanted to scream, ask why, or strike out at him, but all I could do (much to my embarrassment now) was bury my hands in my lap and cry. He asked that he follow me home, promised he would take several days off of work, and we would work this out.
He kept repeating that he was sorry, he would explain, and he kept trying to pull me to him. I would not speak with him when we returned home. This went on for days, where we were just avoiding each other totally. The kids had to know something was up. I slept in the guest room and would not speak to him at all. He immediately called a marriage counselor and got us several sessions. I really hoped that she would help, but it turned out she didn’t. I actually think she made matters worse. (This doesn’t mean there aren’t GREAT counselors out there. There are.) To read about that, click here.
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