After the Affair: Dos and Don'ts #6

DO Have Grace for Yourself & Try to Have Some for Your Spouse

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Tenderness Takes Guts

I expected to heal from the affair in three weeks. Three. Weeks.

And when I didn’t? I got angry. Angry at myself. Convinced something was wrong with me. Why couldn’t I just move on? Why was I still crying in the shower, still waking up with a pit in my stomach, still replaying every detail like a horror movie on loop?

Here’s the truth I didn’t want to face: I was terrified of letting myself feel the grief and anguish that lived beneath the rage. Anger felt powerful. Grief felt like drowning.

But when I finally cracked open and let myself feel—really feel—I learned how to hold space for my pain. I learned how to grieve. And it was a long, brutal, beautiful process. One that required more patience than I thought I had.

Grace Isn’t Easy—But It’s Necessary

Having grace for your spouse might feel impossible right now. And that’s okay.

You don’t have to force forgiveness. You don’t have to pretend you’re fine. But if you’re both showing up and doing the work—if you’re both committed to healing—grace will come. Slowly. Quietly. In moments you don’t expect.

This goes back to trusting the process. Not the Pinterest version of healing. The real, messy, soul-cracking kind.

Redefining Your Marriage Is Brave

Healing from an affair and choosing to rebuild your marriage is one of the most courageous decisions you’ll ever make. It’s not romantic. It’s not easy. It’s not a quick fix.

It’s work. It’s tears. It’s sitting in the discomfort and choosing each other anyway.

Take each day one at a time. Take each hour one at a time if you need to. This process will rip you in half—but it will also put you back together in a way that’s more honest, more connected, and more grounded than before.

What I Wish Someone Had Told Me

No one writes a manual for affair recovery. When I scoured the internet for advice, I found timelines and checklists—but nothing that told me how to survive the next five minutes. Nothing that said, “Hey, you’re not crazy. You’re just hurting.”

I didn’t want perfection. I wanted someone to be real with me. To share the ugly truth about what it looks like to walk through the muddy mess of betrayal and still choose healing.

So as I wrap up this blog—and this series—I want to leave you with this:

You are not alone. Your healing won’t look like mine, and it doesn’t have to. But you can count on me to tell you the truth— The downright dirty shit and the magnificent, transformational beauty.

You’ve got this. Even when it feels like you don’t.

From my messy heart to yours,