To any newbies, every few months or so, I check in with Chump Nation for tales of overcoming infidelity adversity. In those early days of post-discovery, showering and eating a tuna sandwich (solid food!) is an accomplishment. That counts. Don’t be shy. Meh may feel light years away, but every day you’re pushing through the shit storm and rebuilding your life is mighty. You’ll overcome one brave little act at time, and pretty soon (it’s a Tuesday) the pain stops. Promise.
I love the Mighty posts. You guys inspire me, and you inspire each other. Usually, I breeze over me, but I thought I’d share some of my own mightiness of late — this blog is coming up on FIVE YEARS (April 19!)
I think Chump Nation has moved the needle a bit on the infidelity conversation. We’re getting uppity and out of the chump closet. Word is spreading.
Every day chumps write to me and tell me how the site has helped them. Thanks for that, guys. Lately, a strange new thing is happening to me — I meet people in real life who were helped by the blog, or know someone personally who was helped by it. And that’s really weird, because I still think blogging is like sending messages in a bottle that you throw into a big anonymous Internet sea.
I had to interview a divorce attorney for my other journalist job, and after we left, she send me a message to say I had helped her best friend through her divorce with the blog! (She mentioned meeting me on Facebook). Okay, one cosmic coincidence…
… Here’s another. As some of you know, my book got picked up by a Hollywood agent to be shopped as a scripted TV series. Super flattering, but the odds are VERY LONG. I got word yesterday that there’s renewed interest, and part of what renewed the interest was that an executive producer had a friend who was helped by my book and Chump Nation. YOU guys did this. Think about that — every day you share your story, however mortifying, sordid, or mordantly hilarious — you’re helping someone. You’re moving that needle. You’re shooting the Reconciliation Industrial Complex in the kneecaps and telling them the relationship will be stronger for it.
Who knows what’s next? But you there, puking your guts out after discovering that hidden burner phone, you there doing the paternity testing on your kids, you there trying to reconcile and ignoring your screaming gut — I was YOU ten years ago. I was alone, unemployed, living in a new state, and utterly FUCKED.
Here’s me 10 years later — happily remarried, employed, living in a place I love, and some Hollywood agent knows my story.
I believe in miracles. I believe in your miracles. Tell me about them.