Affair Recovery Quotes

A nation forgetting its own laughter is in a sad state of affairs

A sex addict is also emotionally anorexic – they must be in order to continue participating in isolated behaviour such as being addicted to pornography and being promiscuous or having multiple affairs. All of these secretive behaviour patterns affect a family and home.

People only believe the truth that their self-esteem will allow.

Life isn't about falling in love as much as it is about learning to get over hatred..

Psychologically abusive people can only maintain normalcy for short spurts of time. Being an authentically caring, decent person isn’t baseline for them. They must fake the behaviors that would show these positive character qualities. These fraudulent acts of kindness have brief shelf lives before they expire and the abusers return to their normal state of affairs.

Narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) causes problems in many areas of life, such as relationships, work, school or financial affairs. People with NPD may be generally unhappy and disappointed when they're not given the special favors or admiration, which they believe they deserve. They may find their relationships unfulfilling. Others may not enjoy being around them.

There are two basic coping mechanisms. One consists of dreading the chaos, fighting it and abusing oneself after losing, building a structured life of work/marriage/gym/reunions/children/depression/affair/divorce/alcoholism/recovery/heart attack, in which every decision is a reaction against the fear of the worst (make children to avoid being forgotten, fuck someone at the reunion in case the opportunity never comes again, and the Holy Grail of paradoxes: marry to combat loneliness, then plunge into that constant marital desire to be alone). This is the life that cannot be won, but it does offer the comforts of battle—the human heart is content when distracted by war. “The second mechanism is an across-the-board acceptance of the absurd all around us. Everything that exists, from consciousness to the digestive workings of the human body to sound waves and bladeless fans, is magnificently unlikely. It seems so much likelier that things would not exist at all and yet the world shows up to class every morning as the cosmos takes attendance. Why combat the unlikeliness? This is the way to survive in this world, to wake up in the morning and receive a cancer diagnosis, discover that a man has murdered forty children, discover that the milk has gone sour, and exclaim, 'How unlikely! Yet here we are,' and have a laugh, and swim in the chaos, swim without fear, swim without expectation but always with an appreciation of every whim, the beauty of screwball twists and jerks that pump blood through our emaciated veins.

Every affair ends in a loss. Even if no one ever finds out, you lose part of yourself. You lose peace. You lose presence. You lose the freedom that comes from living fully in the light.

The car came opposite her, and she curtsied so low that recovery was impossible, and she sat down in the road. Her parasol flew out of her hand and out of her parasol flew the Union Jack. She saw a young man looking out of the window, dressed in khaki, grinning broadly, but not, so she thought, graciously, and it suddenly struck her that there was something, beside her own part in the affair, which was not as it should be. As he put his head in again there was loud laughter from the inside of the car. Mr. Wootten helped her up and the entire assembly of her friends crowded round her, hoping she was not hurt. "No, dear Major, dear Padre, not at all, thanks," she said. "So stupid: my ankle turned. Oh, yes, the Union Jack I bought for my nephew, it's his birthday to-morrow. Thank you. I just came to see about my coke: of course I thought the Prince had arrived when you all went down to meet the 4.15. Fancy my running straight into it all! How well he looked." This was all rather lame, and Miss Mapp hailed Mrs. Poppit's appearance from the station as a welcome diversion. . . . Mrs. Poppit was looking vexed.

Remember that we deal with alcohol—cunning, baffling, powerful! Without help it is too much for us. But there is One who has all power—that One is God. May you find Him now! Half measures availed us nothing. We stood at the turning point. We asked His protection and care with complete abandon. Here are the steps we took, which are suggested as a program of recovery: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

I realised that that was the first time I’d sat in a room with other people who had been through a similar experience. Young people, boys and girls, Black and white, all in recovery from a psychotic event. I felt blessed to be amongst them. My own recovery thirty years before had been almost entirely a solo affair, and now I could look around and see the faces of young people who had also lost touch, momentarily, with reality.

It doesn't matter if she was prettier than you when he decided to cheat. She was treated like trash just like you. He didn't commit to her. He didn't love her soul or cherished any of her accomplishments. He just liked her face and what is that? It is nothing. That is not who she is. He didn't give his heart or time to her. She was the one that was cheated because he stayed with you. You never lost him because he never made a commitment to her. So don't be so hard on the other woman. She was treated poorly also. She was nothing to him. She was only something superficial that he coveted. But loving her? Knowing her? Sharing his deepest feelings with her?... No! She could have been any pretty face. It was never her but a fantasy. He didn't even know her, but for her beauty. And what is beauty? Isn't that something you can buy at a plastic surgeon's office?

again identified myself and each of my teammates, and then I reiterated that we were ready to begin the recovery process of his troops and that we couldn’t begin until he got off the Bradley. With a glassy gaze, he resisted at first, and then slowly his shoulders rolled forward and went limp, and so did the anguish in his face. He finally surrendered his grief to reason, and with a whisper, he quietly begged his staff for help. “My boys…we have to get my boys out of there. Help me get my boys out.

During those periods in which our bitterness of spirit, though steadily diminishing, still persists, a distinction must be drawn between the bitterness which comes to us from our constantly thinking of the person herself and that which is revived by certain memories, some cutting speech, some word in a letter that we have had from her. The various forms which that bitterness can assume we shall examine when we come to deal with another and later love affair; for the present it must suffice to say that, of these two kinds, the former is infinitely the less cruel. That is because our conception of the person, since it dwells always within ourselves, is there adorned with the halo with which we are bound before long to invest her, and bears the marks if not of the frequent solace of hope, at any rate of the tranquillity of a permanent sorrow. (It must also be observed that the image of a person who makes us suffer counts for little if anything in those complications which aggravate the unhappiness of love, prolong it and prevent our recovery, just as in certain maladies the cause is insignificant beyond comparison with the fever which follows it and the time that must elapse before our convalescence.)

Hallmarks of Wife Abandonment Syndrome 1 Prior to the separation, the husband had seemed to be an attentive, emotionally engaged spouse, looked upon by his wife as honest and trustworthy. 2 The husband had never said that he was unhappy or thinking of leaving the marriage, and the wife believed herself to be in a secure relationship. 3 The husband typically blurts out the news that the marriage is over out-of-the-blue in the middle of a mundane domestic conversation. 4 Reasons given for his decision are nonsensical, exaggerated, trivial or fraudulent. 5 By the time the husband reveals his intentions to his wife, the end of the marriage is already a fait accompli, and he often moves out quickly. 6 The husband’s behavior changes radically, so much so that it seems to his wife that he has become a cruel and vindictive stranger. 7 The husband shows no remorse; rather, he blames his wife and may describe himself as the victim. 8 In almost all cases, the husband had been having an affair. He typically moves in with his girlfriend. 9 The husband makes no attempt to help his wife, either financially or emotionally, as if all positive regard for her has been suddenly extinguished. 10 Systematically devaluing his wife and the marriage, the husband denies what he had previously described as positive aspects of the couple’s joint history.

It took Mr. N. four months to make the plunge. The marriageable widow he chose was more than willing, and she subsequently became Mrs. N. Before this happy time came, Mr. N. had to go through a few more difficulties. He developed a case of prematurity; he had never experienced this in homosexual affairs. This is the "trouble" that confronts many ( not all ) ex-homosexuals in their affairs with women in the end phases of treatment. The majority of the candidates for recovery overcome it. A small minority do not; these patients remain bogged down at that point. Fortunately for N., he was able to overcome this hurdle, too. He was cured, and frankly the analyst was no less surprised at the outcome than the patient. "Miracles do happen," was the patient's conclusion. "Never predict the unfavorable" was the analyst's more conservative resolve, remembering his own unfavorable impressions of N. at the beginning of treatment.

Firstly, the Azerbaijanian struggle for a measure of autonomy and self-government is genuine and is locally inspired. The facts of history and existing conditions show that Azerbaijan has always been struggling to overthrow the feudal conditions imposed upon it (and upon the rest of Iran) by corrupt Iranian Governments. Secondly, the extent of Russian interference appeared to be negligible. In our travels we saw few Russian troops, and in Kurdistan we saw none at all. The leaders of the Azerbaijanian Government are not Russians but Azerbaijanians, and with few exceptions their sole aim seems to be the recovery and improvement and economic reform of Azerbaijan. There may be some Russian influence by indirect means, but I would suggest that it is less than our own influence in Iran which we exercise by direct control of ministers, political parties, state financiers, and by petty bribery. As for Kurdish Independence. The Kurds ask for an independence of their own making, not an independence sponsored by the British Government. Like the Azerbaijanians the Kurds are seeking real autonomy, and more than that, self-determination. Our present scheme to take them over and use them as a balancing factor in the political affairs of the Middle East is a reflection upon the honest of our intentions, and a direct blow at the spirit of all good men.

Over To Candleford Chapter XXVIII: Growing Pains "This accumulated depression of months slid from her at last in a moment. She had run out into the fields one day in a pet and was standing on a small stone bridge looking down on brown running water flecked with cream-coloured foam. It was a dull November day with grey sky and mist. The little brook was scarcely more than a trench to drain the fields; but overhanging it were thorn bushes with a lacework of leafless twigs; ivy had sent trails down the steep banks to dip in the stream, and from every thorn on the leafless twigs and from every point of the ivy leaves water hung in bright drops, like beads. A flock of starlings had whirred up from the bushes at her approach and the clip, clop of a cart-horse's hoofs could be heard on the nearest road, but these were the only sounds. Of the hamlet, only a few hundred yards away, she could hear no sound, or see as much as a chimney-pot, walled in as she was by the mist. Laura looked and looked again. The small scene, so commonplace and yet so lovely, delighted her." It was so near the homes men and yet so far removed from their thoughts. The fresh green moss, the glistening ivy, and the reddish twigs with their sparkling drops seemed to have been made for her alone and the hurrying, foam-flecked water seemed to have some message for her. She felt suddenly uplifted. The things which had troubled her troubled her no more. She did not reason. She had already done plenty of reasoning. Too much, perhaps. She simply stood there and let it all sink in until she felt that her own small affairs did not matter. Whatever happened to her, this, and thousands of other such small, lovely sights would remain and people would come suddenly upon them and look and be glad. A wave of pure happiness pervaded her being, and, although it soon receded, it carried away with it her burden of care. Her first reaction was to laugh aloud at herself. What a fool she had been to make so much of so little.

Vinnie wants to be a child, not to have one; she isn't interested in the parental role, but in an extension or recovery of what for her is the best part of life.

I returned to my seat, and immediately, the voices in my head pounced. “Tell me, Stephen. Is Camilla a lie or a secret? Isn’t a secret the same as a lie? Or is she simply a lie of omission? Which is it, Stephen, clandestine love or a cheap soap- opera affair?” Lying is a strange concept because it always relies on someone’s perspective.

My commitment to you today is not based on momentary feelings, but on a full consideration of all that you bring to this relationship, and all that I need. Although there may be times when we hurt, or even hate, each other, I won’t evaluate our relationship on a day-by-day basis. I’m with you for the long haul. I’ll work to keep my occasional disillusionment or dissatisfaction in perspective, and to accept what I consider your imperfections. You are enough for me.20 I’ll try to be patient. I don’t expect our recovery process to be spontaneous or easy. I join hands with you in working to create a shared sense of our future together, one kept alive with optimism and joy. I am so sorry for hurting you. I love you and welcome you back into my life.

The Americans gave it a name, PTSD — Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I had heard about it before: it was something that had to do with army men coming back from the frontline, veterans who had been under a lot of stress. Or survivors of terrorist attacks, bombings, massacres, or big accidents. What I didn’t know was that journalists were also considered a category ‘at risk,’ particularly the ones who had covered conflict or reported in war zones crisis zones. All those who had witnessed episodes of violence, killings, traumatic events, and who had learnt to work and live coping with the anxiety from nearby fighting and constant danger. I saw many of my colleagues devastated — broken — by what they had seen, which often I had seen too. Some never managed to really go back to their normal lives and once, after a crisis that had hit them harder than the many others, decided they had had enough. Among many terrible news came those of the suicide of Stephanie Vaessen’s husband and cameraman — him and Stephanie were two of the people I had shared the tragic days in East Timor with. No worries though. I was doing just fine, as I’d tell myself. At the end of the day, I genuinely believed it: I never really took as many risks as many of the colleagues I had met or shared the most traumatic experiences in the field with, hence I had probably been exposed to a lot less stress. (...)

It is important to understand when a woman is grieving her husband's sexual betrayal she is in the healing process. Men need to be patient, understanding, calm and stay present during these grieving periods. The guys who learn to do this well are the ones who see their wives recover faster and their marriages restored.

Writing a novel is like a two-year love affair. The novel has a formation period ranging from instantaneous falling-in-love to decades. It then generally takes a year or two to write, during which it is consuming, riveting, and eventful. Once done, there is a recovery period. No other story can enter; one must use the hole left behind as a time of settling and reformation. When ready, we can move on, although, the essence of the experience will remain with us forever.

she had read once that the recovery time from a romantic relationship is equal to the life span of the relationship itself.

Sometimes we write to always remember how close we were to losing our soul.

The last thing that I want you to do is to think that you need to become someone more 'conventional', emotionally-flat and unreactive, because this is a). impossible (suppression never equals healing) and b). entirely unnecessary. Serial limerents are normally quick-witted, verbally-expressive, perceptive, emotionally-astute, analytical lovers of life; I am yet to help someone suffering from limerence who has not had a beautiful command of their first language, someone unusual hobbies and a great degree of interest in affairs of the humand mind. This curious essence does not need to be tampered with in any way, and this is why I treat limerence the way that I do; the wonderful thing about considering the pathology from a psychological-touching-on-spiritual perspective is that it allows you to spot-treat your psyche, only altering elements that do not serve you.

The earth is suffering calamities because people on the earth do not want God and do not care for God’s affairs. Therefore, if the saints are to pray to end the time of calamities, they must answer God’s demands and care for God and His needs. Oh! These many calamities today should wake us up to no longer live to the earth! Oh! Today we should truly consecrate ourselves to answer God’s demands on behalf of the church so that God may have a way to come in and to turn this age of procedures into the age of His heart’s desire. (p. 27) [145]

Affairs don’t begin in hotel rooms. They begin with someone seeing you when you feel invisible.

The people who stand by you in the aftermath are the ones who love you for real.

Some people don’t fall in love with you. They fall in love with the way you make them feel about themselves.

Affairs don’t happen in a vacuum. They steal time, energy, and presence from the relationships and responsibilities that actually matter—and they always cost more than you thought you were willing to pay.

The person you become during the affair is not someone you would admire from the outside. And that disconnect between who you are and who you want to be can eat away at your self-respect long after the affair ends.

You think you’re protecting people by hiding the truth, but what you’re really doing is delaying the inevitable. Truth doesn’t stay buried. It surfaces—messily, painfully, and often when you least expect it.

Secrecy feels like safety at first. You tell yourself you’re protecting everyone. But the longer you protect a lie, the more it takes from you—your peace, your integrity, your ability to show up fully in your real life.

One of the most devastating realizations isn’t that you lost the affair partner. It’s that you lost yourself somewhere in the middle of protecting something that was never real to begin with.

The truth doesn’t collapse under scrutiny. Lies do.

Secrecy feels like intimacy, but it’s actually isolation in disguise.

What you protect in the dark will cost you in the light.

Intensity is not intimacy. It’s often just adrenaline plus guilt.

You start lying to protect a fantasy, and end up losing your reality.

Sin isolates. Truth restores.

Betrayal rewrites your story without your consent. Truth gives you the pen back.

Real repentance tells the truth without trying to control the consequences.

You can stop now. You don’t have to lose yourself to find what you think you’re missing.

You never fall for a person. You fall for the story they tell you—and the one you start telling yourself.

It felt like love, but it was really just two people using each other to escape their own emptiness.

The longer you hide, the heavier it gets.

The hardest person to forgive is often yourself.

An affair feels like freedom until it starts to feel like a cage.

When someone hides you in the dark, they are not protecting you. They are protecting their own image.

When someone disappears without giving you the dignity of closure, you’re left holding conversations that never finished and questions that were never answered. That mental and emotional labor can consume you.

You may tell yourself you’re just crossing a small line. But once you cross it, the next line comes faster, and the next, and the next. What feels unthinkable today can become routine tomorrow. That’s how affairs change who you are.

Your mind will try to rewrite the story. You’ll remember the best moments, the thrill, the connection. But the truth is, if it couldn’t survive in the light, it was never built to last.

When everything collapses, you’ll look for someone to blame. But if you’re brave enough to tell the truth—to yourself first—you’ll find the way out starts with taking responsibility, not assigning it.

You will need to forgive your partner often, but there are different levels of forgiveness. It’s human nature to make a rude comment or use an unfriendly tone from time to time. If your partner is willing to promptly acknowledge when this has happened and apologize, I suspect you’d have a high willingness to forgive and get back into a state of positive connection. But with something like your partner having had an affair, it’s not a matter of whether you’ll forgive them. For your own good, you need to forgive. The real question is whether you’re able and willing to get back into a positive connection with your partner. With the affair example, maybe your partner decides they’re willing to go to therapy and other recovery groups. They make an effort to alter your relationship for the better. In this case, you might be willing to get back into connection with them in addition to forgiving them. Alternatively, you might decide that while you understand they’re just a fragile ​human like you and everybody else, you aren’t willing to get back into a state of connection after the affair, though they’re willing to work on themselves. Or you might wish you could get back into a state of connection with your partner, and you might try and try, but your body and emotions say no. A client comes to mind who wanted to get back into a state of connection with her partner

There is no doubt that many renegade spouses do display signs of depression, compulsion, narcissism, attachment disorder, or plain sociopathy. Thus, at times, the right diagnosis finally lends clarity to an inexplicable and distressing behavior, both for the person enacting it and for the person suffering the consequences. In those situations, it is a useful tool that helps to lay out a path to insight and recovery. But too often, when we jump to diagnosis too quickly, we short-circuit the meaning-making process.

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The three ingredients of love, trust, and partnership are supposed to go into the building of a marriage. I thought my husband and I had all three: We had carved out a life together, supported each other's dreams, and even ventured into cryptocurrency investments side by side. I thought we were a team. What I didn't realize was that he was playing for the other side. WhatsApp info:+12723 328 343 It was all because of some silly accusation. From nowhere, he got this conviction that I was having an affair. Without evidence, without rhyme or reason-just pure paranoia. I kept reassuring him, thinking that he would eventually come to his senses. Instead, he let the suspicion fester until it turned into something far uglier. One day, I walked into an empty house. His clothes, his belongings—gone. And so was my Bitcoin wallet holding $450,000. My hands shook as I checked my accounts, praying it was a mistake. But the transaction history lied not. He had drained every last cent. The man I had trusted with my heart and my life had decided that revenge—for something I never even did—was worth more than our marriage. I sat in stunned silence, trying to process the betrayal. My heartbreak was immediate, but as reality set in, so did the rage. I refused to let him get away with it. That's when I found ADWARE RECOVERY SPECIALIST . Their team listened to my story with the kind of seriousness I desperately needed. They wasted no time tracking down the stolen funds, unraveling his clumsy attempts to launder them. Days later, it came-the call that changed everything. The money was returned to me, every last penny of it. And as for my husband, he could have that little victory. It sure as hell wasn't going to last. I left him a message that simply said: Enjoy explaining this to the lawyers. Losing the person I thought I'd spend forever with was gut-wrenching. But priceless was watching him face the consequences of his actions.

The three ingredients of love, trust, and partnership are supposed to go into the building of a marriage. I thought my husband and I had all three: We had carved out a life together, supported each other's dreams, and even ventured into cryptocurrency investments side by side. I thought we were a team. What I didn't realize was that he was playing for the other side. WhatsApp info:+12723 328 343 It was all because of some silly accusation. From nowhere, he got this conviction that I was having an affair. Without evidence, without rhyme or reason-just pure paranoia. I kept reassuring him, thinking that he would eventually come to his senses. Instead, he let the suspicion fester until it turned into something far uglier. One day, I walked into an empty house. His clothes, his belongings—gone. And so was my Bitcoin wallet holding $450,000. My hands shook as I checked my accounts, praying it was a mistake. But the transaction history lied not. He had drained every last cent. The man I had trusted with my heart and my life had decided that revenge—for something I never even did—was worth more than our marriage. I sat in stunned silence, trying to process the betrayal. My heartbreak was immediate, but as reality set in, so did the rage. I refused to let him get away with it. That's when I found ADWARE RECOVERY SPECIALIST. Their team listened to my story with the kind of seriousness I desperately needed. They wasted no time tracking down the stolen funds, unraveling his clumsy attempts to launder them. Days later, it came-the call that changed everything. The money was returned to me, every last penny of it. And as for my husband, he could have that little victory. It sure as hell wasn't going to last. I left him a message that simply said: Enjoy explaining this to the lawyers. Losing the person I thought I'd spend forever with was gut-wrenching. But priceless was watching him face the consequences of his actions.

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