The pain is much less now.  It's still there, but not so bad.  When it starts to creep up I say those words again, I forgive you and I love you.  I say it over and over until the pain stops.  It helps.  It works like a cooling salve applied to a burning wound.  I'm getting better, and with each I fogive you and I love you, my heart feels a little less heavy.  Yesterday I was still angry at the other woman.  Today, not so much.  I try to look at the bright side.  That although I saw her as a storm that nearly destroyed my family and took my husband away from me, now I try to see that if she had not, that I might not have been able to get my husband back. I said to my husband this morning, that one good thing that came of this was that I had him back, that he was loving me again the way he used to. And so now that the storm has passed, and we are cleaning up the mess and repairing the damage, we are making plans for a better stronger relationship and a life together, fully committed to one another. We spoke softly of these things this morning, as I lay in his arms. I am taking a great risk by believing you, I told him. He told me I wouldn't be sorry, that he would not be unkind to me again. I believe him. I forgive him. I love him.

I refuse to carry pain and anger and hatred.  I refuse to waste my time and energy on that.  I know that I could wallow in self-pity and misery and drag every one around me into a pit of despair with me.  I won't do it. As a nurse, I have seen enough grief and loss and regret over love not given, over anger not released.  I choose to be happy.  I choose to love and be loved. I want to treat each new day as a gift to be cherished and enjoyed.

Yes, he hurt me, but I forgive him and I love him, and I must move on. I have a hard-working husband who loves me.  I have children who are healthy and beautiful. I live in a nice home. I have more than enough. I am blessed and I am grateful.