Compassion, finally.

Last night, Husband and I were cuddling in bed and he looked at me and said, "I love you," and I looked at him and sighed and said, "it's so sad that I just don't look at you the way I used to. I hate that. I used to look at you so adoringly. But now, it's wrought with so much anger, so much distrust, and so much confusion. You're just not the person I thought you were and I hate that. I used to look at you adoringly, but now, even though I still love you, I just don't have what I used to have for you. Is that hard for you? Did you like the way I used to look at you? Do you miss that?" He nodded and started crying and said, "I broke. I used to be good. And then I broke." And that's really the truth. I married this really good, sweet man. And I felt safe. I trusted that he'd always be faithful. But he somehow broke. Cracked. Couldn't live up to what he was supposed to be. He'd always been a sex addict, that I know. He had a giant porn collection that he was very possessive of when we moved in together. But doing what he did was something that no one in the world would ever have pegged my husband of doing. It's the first time I've felt any compassion for him. I've been waiting for that.