I was deep into another season of depression.
Hanging by a thread.
Sitting on a cliff, thinking…
Just end it.
The thought didn’t just appear. It lingered. Grew louder. More persistent. Harder to ignore.
So I made a phone call that would save my life.
“I need you to come over. Please. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
And she came.
My best friend of nearly twenty years.
One of the few people I trusted without question.
When she arrived, she immediately sprang into action. Helping me get dressed, clean up, hiding things she thought might be harmful, and talking me through what I needed to do next.
Seek medical attention.
Call into work.
Ensure the children were taken care of.
All of the important things.
She was my ride or die. Friends for life.
Until everything changed.
The Accusation
My ex was calling non-stop.
He was a large part of my problems.
When I answered and told him that my best friend was there…
there was a pause.
Then he said it.
“I hope you know I fucked her. Ask her. Go ahead.”
At the time, I thought he was lying. That he was only trying to send me spiraling even further.
You see, this was one of the many times we had separated. But it was one of the few times that I was actually trying to end the relationship and move on.
My descent into this bout of depression was largely tied to his behavior surrounding our separation. Any time I went out with friends, worked an extra shift, didn’t answer my phone, or went on a date, he would find ways to make my life hell.
“You’re lying,” I said.
“No, I’m not. If she tells you otherwise, she’s lying. Ask her sister-in-law. She knows.”
My stomach dropped.
I refused to believe him.
I couldn’t.
Denial had become a shield. It protected me when I needed it most.
Because the truth would have broken me.
Of course she denied it.
And I denied that it could be true.
I chose to believe her.
The Truth I Wasn’t Ready For
It wasn’t until I was in a more stable place that I accepted the truth.
She had lied to me.
But deep down…
I knew.
Long before I was ready to admit it.
In hindsight, I was much too fragile to take any more heartbreak. And I think she knew that.
They’d had a week-long affair, where he promised her the sun and the moon. And despite her knowing the intimate details of our toxic relationship, she bought into his lies.
Why it ended so quickly is up for debate.
He said he got bored.
She has never said why, at least not to me.
He used the betrayal in my friendship as a way back into my life, saying he was the only person who ever really loved me and would always be there.
And for a moment…
I almost believed him.
Even though I knew better, I felt like I had no choice.
He had slowly isolated me from almost everyone.
He’d found ways to ruin nearly every relationship I had.
But I didn’t even realize it was happening.
My world had become so small.
And he was the center of it.
I never spoke to her again.
The Paternity Test
Over the next year, our relationship continued its ups and downs.
Eventually leading to another separation.
One where he’d go back and forth between me and his girlfriend… my “sister wife.”
It was during this time that we all learned the full truth.
My former best friend had just had a child.
A son.
And suddenly…
The betrayal cut even deeper.
My ex was being asked to take a paternity test.
Concrete evidence that the affair had indeed taken place.
There was no denying it now.
To be honest…
I wasn’t even surprised.
I had become so accustomed to these shocking betrayals that I felt… nothing.
Not because it didn’t matter, but because I had learned how to shut it off.
Or at least, that’s what I told myself.
He never did go through with the paternity test.
He didn’t have to.
Before he even had a chance to take it, her ex did.
Because as it turns out, my best friend was also sleeping with her ex around the same time, and he was the father.
I’m sure this was to everyone’s relief.
But the damage had already been done.
What It Cost Me
It has taken me years to even begin coming to terms with what this did to me.
It wasn’t just his betrayal.
It was also the betrayal of someone I had trusted for decades.
It changed me.
It changed how I saw people.
It changed how I trusted.
And it took things from me I don’t think I’ll ever fully get back.
For years, I was guarded.
Every time I came close to a new friendship—
I’d push it away.
I couldn’t trust anyone.
I didn’t want to be hurt again.
In many ways…
he made sure of that.
It wasn’t just friends or family.
Anyone he thought I cared about, he found a way to drive a wedge between.
Whether it was telling me he was sleeping with my admin assistant at work, or the cousin I’d had a girls’ weekend with.
He always found a way to plant doubt in my mind.
To make me question my own reality.
He wasn’t just a master manipulator.
He was equally skilled in the art of gaslighting.
And it worked.
Eventually…
I stopped knowing what was real at all.
Learning to Trust Again
I had to relearn how to trust myself before I could trust anyone else.
To trust:
- My instincts.
- My mind.
- My heart.
Only then was I able to form real friendships again.
Now, rooted in reality, I don’t question whether my current husband is sleeping with any of my friends.
I don’t back away from friendships because of the past.
I know what red flags to look for.
But getting here…
cost me more than I ever expected.
That admin assistant he said he slept with?
That one…
is a story for another day.
This is part of The Ex Chronicles. Follow the series for more real stories about love, loss, lies, and the lessons I learned along the way.
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