Thank you for your question. It does indeed sound as though the vice-like grip of guilt has taken hold. Painful, indeed. As Pete Campbell from Mad Men said in the show’s final season regarding having an extramarital fling or affair, “It feels good, and then it doesn’t.”
I suppose some might advise you to not tell your wife under any circumstances, that telling her can only cause grievous harm and would only be for your own benefit (such is the certainty of most advice columnists). This may prove to be the wisest path, although before I personally go there, I would be curious about a couple of things. First, what is it that prompted you to stray? It could be any number of things, both general to early marriage and specific to you personally. What stressors were present in and outside the relationship? Some who have experienced past relational injuries or trauma (in childhood, for example) can, later in adult life, find sustained marital intimacy challenging, to the point where some feelings and desires appear or feel “shameful”—needs that, it seems, can be met only outside the relationship, which unfortunately ends most often in regret, guilt, and more shame.
What might have been causing distance between the two of you? And are any of those issues present today? Assuming it always takes two, what do you imagine to be your “side” of the issue—and has this problem or obstacle been resolved? Is this aspect of the relationship (on either side) still an issue?
Could this be what is bothering you today, that this “part” of yourself (however it manifests) might still be unacceptable to your wife, and that by sharing about the affair you’re also testing to see if this particular aspect of yourself is accepted by your wife?
Or is it that you were a different person then, and that this past issue has no bearing on the relationship as it exists today, but that you’re anticipating possible fallout if she were to find out … so better to just come clean?
If the problem no longer exists, it may be wiser to sort it out with your own conscience before taking the complicated and highly unpredictable step of discussing it with your wife, assuming you decide to do so. I think it would be hard to say if or when she would forgive you; she might, but she might not, or it might take years. You, of course, know her better than I do. What is it you feel will help the relationship by telling her? If it is more a matter of your own conscience, is she the best person to offer forgiveness or redemption?
What is always keenly ironic to me is that sometimes partners will stray outside the relationship to “protect” the partner from those shameful or unwanted parts that we are sure will offend the other. We fear being too “needy,” too “kinky” in bed, too angry, too sad, and so on. Those emotional needs and feelings thus find a home outside the relationship, making it more likely that the relationship will suffer, possibly fatally.
Keep in mind your wife may very well, like many partners, take the affair as a rejection of her, proof of her own inadequacy still existing today. In other words, it’s quite possible the affair will feel to her—though it’s long over for you—as if it just happened. This will be new information for her, possibly turning the perception of the marriage on its head. I am curious as to what the benefit of this might be, given the risk. Perhaps deciding how you feel about the affair will make it easier to discuss with your wife, should you go that route. I don’t know that it would be up to her to resolve your own conscience on the matter.
In other words, you may not get the peace of mind and redemption you’re seeking, so perhaps it’s best to make peace with this as best you can before seeking out her forgiveness—because it could take months or years, and meanwhile you’ll be in the same pressure-packed boat while she figures out how to feel about it. Unless by telling her you feel you both might be “in the same boat”?
The other thing that occurred to me is that the impulse to tell her might, even unconsciously, be a way of creating distance again. Some might call it self-sabotage, though I’m not so crazy about that term as such sabotage might also be, on some level, protecting us from intolerable uncertainty and vulnerability. Again, if intimacy is challenging (as it is for most of us in one way or another), there is a part of us that both craves and fears closeness, lest the injuries or abandonments of the past play out again (not literally, but via new hurts or slights that press our old buttons). Maybe it’s as if you’re saying, “Well, OK, you love me, but do you really love me? Try this on for size!” This might spring from a historically recurring question of whether you really “deserve” the intimacy or love you crave and have found now. If it ain’t broke … as the old saying goes. But sometimes, our deep fear of injury or (symbolic) reinjury leads us to distance ourselves or evade our partner in all manner of ways. In other words, is this a genuine, heartfelt question or a desire to rock the boat in disguise? Maybe both?
Behind the morality of “do I or do I not deserve love” lies the deep fear of being rejected or exiled from our beloved, since we have so little control over the love given to us by others. Do you have a fear of receiving love in general, or dread sustained vulnerability? Could it be you are still upset with your wife about something, and telling her this news is a way of transmitting a feeling of betrayal you have felt but never expressed? If so, is there a different way of doing it, as the fact of the affair itself might well be a red herring, since the truth likely lies less with the what and more with the why of it.
You say the affair is “over,” but something about it remains very much alive for you. What is it, and is it more about yourself and your own long-standing personal history, or more relating to the relationship specifically? I’m sure there is overlap, but still these questions are probably worth some self-reflection.
It’s also true that infidelity often happens early in a relationship, where a sustained commitment of love and intimacy is frightening to a person. I cannot tell you how many couples I have seen where one partner strayed shortly before or after an engagement or marriage, especially (ironically) when such engagement or marriage was something long-desired. The only thing scarier than not getting what you want, sometimes, is getting what you want.
The more I think about this, the more I think you are struggling with, quite possibly, an existential or highly personal rather than relational question. Before deciding whether to take it to your wife, try discussing this with a therapist (even if it’s only short-term), trusted friend, or spiritual counselor. My sense is that we first have to get right with our own conscience—or make best efforts—before handing that power over to someone who might need time to understand or get over their own hurt. A partner always has their own subjective filter, and it is hard to see how his or her perspective will or won’t align with ours. (It also occurs to me that your wife may end up forgiving you in a way that feels almost dismissive to you, like, “Well, it’s in the past, let’s move on,” which could feel dismissive of your current angst.)
You say the affair is “over,” but something about it remains very much alive for you. What is it, and is it more about yourself and your own long-standing personal history, or more relating to the relationship specifically? I’m sure there is overlap, but still these questions are probably worth some self-reflection.
You could even try writing out a “confession,” in as honest a way as possible, and then read it to yourself a few days later (or, again, to a trusted confidant). Then imagine being in her shoes and hearing it for the first time. You might ask, how does this serve the “we” and not just the “me”? Who might benefit, really; are you seeking a redemption that—for a while, at least—she may not be able to give? This way, you can make a decision, fraught with emotional risk, that you have thought through and reflected upon as best you can.
Thanks again for writing.
Darren
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