June Gloom.

The pandemic affects us in the oddest and most unpredictable of ways. Productive life as I knew it has been suspended until God knows when. I hate doing anything, yet do my best to stay upbeat and doing something for the greater good, even if that means getting my teeth brushed, or taking my medication.

June Gloom is a saying around here, as June is typically grey and foggy - the nice months are September and October.

This June was particularly gloomy. No work, no music except for online (which is just so, so weird). Being at home all the time because that's the only place we can be!

Then, my husband's anxiety went through the roof, brought on by a friend's phone call, reminiscing of the Hacker Days. And my life fell apart.

He came to me, looking for reassurance that he only really hacked two sites, and didn't do anything with the data, and that he wasn't going to be caught by the police. I reassured him, and I went "well, what about THE ONE..." You know, the one that you gave me as a reason you were contacting women and prostitutes, doing research?

Yeah, that one.

"So you only said two.. which implies that the other one was a lie then?"

"Yeah."

Which, interestingly enough, when I asked him about showing me proof of what he was doing (to substantiate all these calls to prostitutes and other women) he got angry and said he had deleted it all. And I think around March or April, I had finally come to my own realization that he lied, and that I have to consider all the good work on himself that he has done in the last two years, and base our relationship on that.

And then he admitted the lie. And my head felt like it was going to blow up and I couldn't breathe. I went about my day, steely and numb.

After the gaslighting, the lies, the blaming me for being so angry about ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, saying how I had anger issues (that I ultimately went to counselling over for three god damned years), and screaming at me that I just had to trust him that he wouldn't call or text other women to do the things I wanted to do with him.  The denial that he didn't call or text, and then seeing pages upon pages of the cell records, and being screamed at for looking.

Oh, and my favorite - the crowning glory on our troubled times - when he set me up to fail by putting prostitute's numbers in his cell address book, telling me not to look at his phone, and then telling me he did it because he knew I couldn't resist looking.

Yes, June was particularly gloomy.

I need to call my counsellor to talk. Of course, it would be nice to talk in private over all this, but yeah, everyone is home.

I mean, how does one handle this? Finally "come to terms" with the past, or so I was let on the past was, and then - boom.  The truth I ultimately surmised, but didn't hear, and was not "his truth" until his paranoia got the best of him, was now "The Real Truth".

I somehow felt better, knowing that I was right all along about what he had been doing, and covering up, and lying about, and making me feel like I was in the wrong about. A big weight had been lifted off my chest, because he FINALLY told me. And then, he clammed up.. won't talk about it because "it was the drugs". Well, the drugs didn't pick up a phone. They didn't make him not think about me, or us, or everything that I and we have done to build something for us together.

How dare I not trust him.

How dare I want him to actually own up to his actions.

How dare I be angry because he strayed from us.

I don't know how to move forward. It's not like he actually came to me for my sake, or for our sake - self-justification and self-preservation only.