Are affairs like a drug? It feels that way.

Dear Lauren,

Coming from a history of affairs on my dad’s side, I never thought I’d be the one to also have one. It is absolutely mind blowing to think about, but somehow I’m here. My affair partner and I are both married, have kids and have very busy lives. It’s been going on now for almost two years.

It started out as an innocent outreach for work, to a full on text everyday, sneak out to just see each other at the grocery store, then to sexual encounters at hotels. All of these feelings brought so much clarity, since I’m in an emotionless/loveless marriage of over 15 years. My AP made me feel alive again, I felt wanted, heard, desired, the whole nine-yards.

It recently just took a turn and has become 99.9% sexual and the emotional balance has basically vanished. The insane lack of communication and boundaries has me feeling extremely frustrated, he will reach out whenever he wants to then vanish for a week. I’m so over it, or at least trying to be. I’m going on almost two weeks of no contact, nothing was said, just receiving texts and not engaging.

I felt stronger at the beginning — when something was on my mind I could speak to it, but now I can’t seem to tell my AP why I’m frustrated or sad because I feel so ridiculous for having these feelings towards him. The no contact is affecting my everyday life. Why is this so darn difficult? I feel like an addict, I’m addicted to the feels like a drug.

Sincerely,
Going Through Withdrawal

Dear Withdrawal,

I’ll cut to the chase and affirm that yes, an affair is like a drug. I’ve shared before how the interval nature of an affair lights up and engages the same reward pathways in the brain as an addictive substance — cocaine to be exact.

So the way you’re feeling is appropriate given the effect that this relationship has on your brain. Your neural pathways have been wired for it now, and going through withdrawal, and re-wiring the brain is no easy or quick feat. Like any recovery, it’s painful, it’s grueling, it makes you want to turn back to the source to ease the suffering, and it takes time to stay the course before things get better.

Understanding that the interval reward system that you’ve been reinforcing with your AP for two years now has changed your brain wiring is a helpful baseline — and, at present, your affair has turned a corner, dwindling even further. Without a place for you to process your thoughts and feelings with your affair partner, you’re alone and struggling as you seek to extricate yourself.

I’d encourage you to establish a consistent relationship with a trusted therapist as a receptacle for all of your experience, and as a guide to help you through. Isolating yourself will compound your pain, and healthy and trusted relationships are what heal us when relationships are what’s broken us in the first place.

What’s important for me in reading your letter is the part where you say your affair brought clarity about your loveless marriage.

What if we take the affair for what it is — a spotlight for yourself on your own life — and, keep shining light into the dark corners of what you might otherwise avoid dealing with. If your marriage causes you pain and loneliness, and your affair causes you pain and loneliness, that’s a pattern. The only way we break our own patterns is to finally, once and for all, decide that we’re going to do the uncomfortable thing of changing what we’ll accept in our own lives.

Perhaps your own infidelity has also given you the gift of empathy for your father’s struggle — that, I don’t know. But take this affair for what it’s given you, and instead of looking back or going back to it, figure out what it’s going to require for you to clear space in your own life for your own recovery.

I loved these conversations on recovery — ‘The Nine Truths that Just Might Heal Us’ with Laura McKowen on the podcast “We Can Do Hard Things.” Laura hits on the core of the work all of us have to do in our lives, of taking ownership of our icky bits, being responsible for our own healing, and moving forward.

Your work, dear writer, is that of recovering your SELF. Work that is difficult, scary, and also oh-so-incredibly beautiful and ultimately rewarding. You’re poised to take responsibility for the shit in your own life, and get busy uncovering and discovering your authentic version. Anything else is just delay. Make that your goal, and become unwilling to return to anything else but that. That is the path of recovery.

With all my love and support,
Lauren