My cat got in a fight the other night. A raucous screeching fight
that jerked us awake at 2am. When you share acreage with coyotes,
eagles, rabbits, pheasants, and stray cats, as we do, the sounds of
nighttime hostilities are not all that unusual. But the unmistakable
absence of the cat the next morning along with the bits of fur near
the patio confirmed my worst fears. He'd tangled with something more
than he'd bargained for.
We spent the day checking outbuildings and walking paths in the
woods – hoping against hope to find him. Preferably in one piece. To
no avail. Finally, at about 4pm, he sauntered on to the patio, took a
sip from the dog's dish and walked into the house as if nothing had
happened. But by evening it was clear he was not feeling well. Our
usually friendly and active pet planted himself in a spot in the
front hall – not moving except to turn around once in a while.
The family conferred and it was decided that unless he was greatly
improved by morning we'd be visiting the vet the next day. When
morning came he was still holding fort in his spot in the hallway,
refusing food, and feeling warm to the touch. I called the vet.
Unlike most cats I've had, Mischief likes to go for rides in the car.
But he's really not all that thrilled about visiting the vet. A
shaved head (to get a good look at his wounds), thermometer reading,
and shot of penicillin later, he was a very unhappy kitty. The vet
sent us home with a bottle of once a day antibiotics and instructions
to clean the wound daily. Yes, a very unhappy kitty indeed.
I have this theory that you can tell when pets are feeling a whole
lot better because they fight like crazy to avoid taking their
medication. This time was not any different. The first day – not a
problem. The second day – he managed to get a good dig into my son's
arm with his claws in the process. The third day – the first attempt
sent the dropper scuttling across the kitchen floor, the second
attempt he spit out all over me and my son. After that, he wouldn't
come near me the rest of the day and treated all attempts on my part
to be friendly with complete disdain.
The fourth day – today – I couldn't bring myself to try again. He was
looking good, acting well, and still mad at me for the previous day's
attempt. I decided not to even try. And then, my son came to me
holding the cat. "Mom, we need to give Mischief his medicine – aren't
you going to do it?" he asked.
"Well, uhmmm, I was thinking I wouldn't, " I said.
"But I want to make sure he's better."
"I know, " I sighed, "but I don't want him to be mad at me again…"
And that's when it hit me. This is exactly what happens to my clients
when I ask them to do what I know is needed to help create the
conditions that bring about an end to their spouse's affair. They
love their mate and don't want him or her to be mad at them. They
want to be the nice one, the good guy, the one who is loving and kind
and supportive. Not the one upsetting their partner's world with all
kinds of unpleasantness.
A sick cat well on the mend is a small issue. I can deal with the cat
being mad at me – he'll get over it – he's a cat, and I feed him. But
how incredibly frightening it is for husbands and wives whose spouses
have done the unthinkable to rock the boat even further. It feels
like the final shove over the edge of a cliff – when the marriage is
already teetering precariously. And yet, like giving Mischief his
medication, it needs to be done.
Illness and the painful steps we need to take in order to overcome it
are easy to recognize and understand. But infidelity hides under the
guise of a love story. It confuses and blinds us to the very real
parallels between an affair and an illness. If we are to save the
marriage and move it away from the cliff and back towards healing we
must first address the illness, the addiction, of an affair. Doing so
requires unpleasantness.
The betrayed spouse, determined to save the marriage, is not allowed
the luxury of giving into emotions or instincts. Instead, they must
steel themselves against the emotional onslaught and take direct
action. Expose the affair. Confront the spouse and the affair
partner. Tell what they know and how they know it. Ask for help from
friends, family, and other influential people in their lives. And if
none of that brings about the end of the affair – they must protect
the marriage by separating entirely until the affair comes to an end
of its own accord. And yes, the straying partner, will indeed be very
angry.
"I don't want him to be mad at me." A normal compassionate desire.
True compassion however, looks below the surface of our own fear of
rejection and abandonment to the greater good. Often times in life we
must cause pain in order to ward off more harm. Infidelity may very
well be one of the greatest tests of our ability to do so.
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