Going through infidelity twice: as a daughter and a wife

Before getting married, I warned my husband that my father had cheated on my mother and that I would never be able to forgive such a betrayal. I knew I could not go through what my mother went. My mum had stayed firm in our family house and started therapy for recovery as soon as she found out about my dad’s affair. It took years until my father returned home for good, after alternating being with the other woman and my mum. 

I was nineteen years old when a neighbour woke me up to inform me that my father was having an affair with his secretary - that’s how they use to call the personal assistant in the eighties. I woke up in confusion as I saw our neighbour friend talking to me gently. She repeated the statement: “Your mother just found out that your father has been having an affair with X and she is shattered”. 

I was surprised and relieved at the same time. The first thought that crossed my mind was: “I am now free to do as I please since I don’t owe him submission any more. My perfect father has made a mistake and I am not obliged to comply with his impositions”. From that day on, the rest of my life started. Or shall I say, my life started.

I had been the little princess of a young couple who admired each other and wanted to fulfil the dream of a life of comfort and opportunities. My parents were the first generation of University graduates in their families and were living in a time of a booming economy in a developing country with plenty of room for career growth. They were dedicated, proper and old fashioned, like any good parents. I grew up wanting to please them to get my retribution, away from conflict.

My childhood was a very happy one since complying with my parents' requests was not only simple but also felt very natural. I liked the feeling of being proper and having good manners that other people would admire and acknowledge. I was a happy people pleaser. Until I reached my teens and I wasn’t allowed to join my school friends on cinema afternoons. I complied but resented my parents for being so over the top with their restrictions towards me, a very well behaved daughter.

I felt manipulated even when it came to choosing my career. I felt I deserved the chance to study what I really wanted but was instead pushed in a different direction. At eighteen my father trusted me with my own car so I could drive myself to university and to all my other activities. I started to have more freedom but my moves were still under scrutiny by my 45-year-old mother. She was living her own mid-life crisis with all its health and psychological challenges.

So the day my neighbour broke the news about my father’s affair, I heard a voice in my mind screaming “FREEDOM!”.