HOPE AFTER HURT

Hurting Deeply. Healing Loudly. Rising Stronger.

Tag: marraige

  • 5 Things That Helped Me in the Early Days After Infidelity

    Firstly, if you’re here reading this because you’ve found yourself in a situation similar to mine — I’m so sorry. Infidelity is gut-wrenching. It’s something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. If you’re in the thick of it, please know you’re not alone.

    I created Hope After Hurt to help other women navigate life after betrayal — to share what helped me survive, and eventually start to heal. There are many things that can support you on this journey, and I’ll be exploring them more deeply in upcoming posts. But today, I want to share the five things that helped me most in those early, painful days.

    1. Counselling — Together and Alone

    The number one thing that helped both me and my husband in the initial stages after I found out about the affair was couples counselling. I know how fortunate we are to have had access to it — especially in today’s economic climate. It’s not cheap, and the cost can be a barrier for many. But if you’re considering it, I really encourage you to shop around. In my experience, session prices ranged anywhere from $90 to $500 depending on the provider, and there are more affordable options out there.

    Individual counselling has also been incredibly beneficial for me. It gave me a safe space to vent, reflect, and learn tools to support my mental health. People often say things like, “You’re so strong,” or “You handled that so well.” And while I appreciate those words, the truth is — my mental health took a massive hit. I was shattered. I felt shattered. Therapy helped pull me out of those dark places. It reminded me of my worth and gave me strategies to start rebuilding who I was.

    2. Journalling (In a Way That Worked for Me)

    I’ve had a bit of a love/hate relationship with journalling over the years. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes it overwhelms me. During this time, I threw out the rules and did it my way — no prompts, no pressure. Just a place to unload the chaos in my mind.

    It helped me process intrusive thoughts and also made communication with my husband clearer. I’m the type of person who, if I don’t say something right away, I’ll forget — and then bring it up at the worst moment. Journalling helped me figure out whether something was worth raising or if it was something I could work through on my own. It became a quiet space to organise the emotional mess.

    3. Esther Perel’s Work

    I’ve been a long-time follower of Esther Perel — therapist, speaker, and New York Times bestselling author — so I turned to her work almost immediately. Her book The State of Affairs: Rethinking Infidelity was a game-changer. She explores why people cheat and how, in some cases, an affair can be the beginning of a new marriage — with the same partner.

    She also hosts the podcast Where Should We Begin?, which features real couples in therapy sessions. Listening was eye-opening and validating. It helped me feel less alone, and more empowered by seeing how others faced (and worked through) similar situations.

    4. Being Present with My Son

    My son is the light of my life. But I promised to be honest here — and the truth is, I wasn’t a good mum in the first month after I found out. I was numb, disconnected. I cried — a lot — even in front of him. I didn’t want to parent. I was shutting down.

    Slowly, as I started to re-engage and be present with him, I felt pieces of myself come back. Focusing on the moment — not the pain of the past or fear of the future — helped me breathe again. It’s hard to stay stuck in the dark when a toddler is grabbing your hand and pulling you into joy, giggles, and mischief.

    5. Focusing on Me (For the First Time in a Long Time)

    It’s sad, but true — it took infidelity for me to realise I needed to put myself first sometimes. And that doing so actually makes me a better mum, a better partner, and a healthier version of myself.

    So what did I do? I started small. I set a boundary: Wednesday afternoons are mine. When my husband gets home, I clock off. I go to a Pilates class, I skip cooking dinner, and I take a break from the bedtime routine.

    It might not sound like much, but as someone who cooks most meals, works, and is the primary caregiver — that one evening of freedom changed everything. It gave me something to look forward to and reminded me that I matter too.

    I plan to explore all of these steps more deeply in future posts. But if you have questions or need someone to talk to, please don’t hesitate to comment, email, or message me on social media. I’m always open to chatting — and walking alongside others on this difficult, courageous journey.

    Let’s rise together,
    Sarah xx

  • My Story of Infidelity

    In late December 2024, my world changed. I found out my husband—my partner of 13 years—was having an affair, we had a 15 month old child at the time. What made it worse was that the other woman wasn’t a stranger. She was someone I knew from his gym, someone I’d met multiple times. She was also a mother. 

    I’d questioned their relationship throughout the year, but I never had solid proof. Every time I brought it up, he denied it. Deep down, I sensed something was off. I knew there was an inappropriate relationship, but I didn’t realise the extent of it—or how long it had been going on. When I finally discovered the full truth, I was shattered.

    They had started talking when I was pregnant. He would ask if she was single, and even though she knew he had a pregnant wife, she kept engaging. They slept together for the first time when my son was just six weeks old, and the affair continued for the entire first year of his life.

    I had always told myself that if my husband ever cheated, I would leave. And in that split-second after finding out, that was my instinct—to run. But the decision wasn’t so clear-cut. Seven months later, we’re still together and committed to making things work.

    That first week after finding out, I barely slept. My mind was in overdrive. I couldn’t understand how he could do this to me. Or how she—another mother—could knowingly be part of it. I began questioning everything: Was our whole relationship a lie?

    I went through his phone, his socials, his notes, his photos—everything. I wanted the whole truth, no matter how much it hurt. I don’t know if it was the “right” thing to do, but it felt necessary. I believed that in order to heal, I needed to know it all.

    From the moment I told him I knew, he said he would do anything to fix it. He apologised endlessly. He said he didn’t want me to leave—but he’d understand if I did. We both agreed to start couples counselling, and within two weeks we had our first session.

    I already knew I wanted to try. I wanted to make it work—not just for our son, but for us. I also knew we couldn’t do it alone. The truth is, our marriage had actually been getting better. By the time I found out, the affair had ended almost six months earlier. I’d felt the shift in our relationship—it had been improving. That was a sign to me that we had a real shot. Before she entered the picture, we were good. And after she was gone, we were better.

    Not long after uncovering everything, I decided to speak to the other woman face to face. I needed to know that her version lined up with his. I needed the full story. That first conversation felt surface-level. She didn’t seem genuinely sorry—it felt more like she was defending herself, maybe even playing the victim.

    But the second time we met, months later, was different. That conversation was truly healing. She was remorseful. She owned her part. She seemed to be doing the work to grow, to make sure she never did something like this again. For a moment, I could see her as another human being—flawed, but trying. Some days, I still want to scream at her. Some days, the anger boils over. But I remind myself: hating her won’t heal me. It only keeps me stuck. And I want to move forward.

    After couples counselling, the ball was in his court. I was honest about what I needed. I laid out what I expected in our relationship, in our life, in our healing. I told him: either you can show up for this, or I’m out. And he did. He kept showing up. For months, it felt like we were making real progress. But deep down, I also felt stuck. 

    I realised I was pretending to be okay, avoiding the depths of my pain. Then one night, everything caught up to me. I spiralled into a very dark place—and the next day, I reached out for help. That moment was the beginning of my journey back to myself.

    It felt so unfair. Something awful happened to me, and yet I was the one who had to pick up the pieces. But there’s something strangely freeing about realising no one else is coming to save you. You are the only one who can pull yourself out of the darkness. You are the only one who can reclaim your identity.

    Individual counselling has changed everything for me. It helped me start prioritising myself, set healthy boundaries, and take back control. I’m not perfect. I’m still working through so much—in my marriage, in life, in my messy mind. But I finally feel like I’m healing.

    I have a lot left to unpack and I also have a lot to share.
    If you’re here, I hope you’ll stick around. This space—Hope After Hurt—is for anyone who’s ever been broken by betrayal, but still believes in rising.

    Let’s rise together.
    Sarah xx