My Husband Was Having an Affair—Her Husband Found Them at Walgreens and Shot Him. But My Story Didn’t Break Me.

I opened the door slowly to three people in street clothes. Eventually, they got me to let them in, and eventually I found myself on my front couch with strangers. I got a lot more than one answer that night. I don’t remember most of anything they said—just words and phrases—but I did hear enough to learn that my husband was having an affair with a paralegal from our office. Her husband had come to find them together at the Walgreens. And in a moment when he could—and should—have used his words or even his fist – he took a gun instead. Emmett was gone. By two shots of a gun, he left this world with a bullet in his heart and in his head.

He died in a moment of fighting for another man’s wife, when he should have been home fighting for us.

The thing I remember most about that night wasn’t the answers that I received, but the fears that shook my very being. The lies that came pouring into my mind—posed as truths—about who I really am. Not enough. A loser. Not worth it. Stupid. Naive. Blind. A waste of breath. Unworthy. An embarrassment. Alone. Ugly. Pathetic. Unimportant. Broken. Disgusting. Useless.

It has been 8 years now. I have seen a murder trial come and go. I have fought many battles and cleaned up many messes for a man I loved. I have spent many moments hating him. I have walked many dark roads because of three people’s choices. I have felt humiliated and betrayed—the whole world found out in the same moment that I did. I have felt ripped off—I didn’t get a chance to choose if I stayed or if I left him. I have felt like a victim, and literally was for almost a month straight on one side of a courtroom. I have suffered from anxiety and severe PTSD. I am deathly afraid of guns. I have felt unlovable, and used. I have questioned what parts of my life were even real—or if I was living a life full of love one-sided all along. I have felt grief. I have felt more anger than I ever knew possible. I have felt pain that I wouldn’t wish on my worst of enemies—including all three of them. Worst of all, I have spent a lot of time hating myself. Letting those lies that took over that night eat me alive.

But, the last 8 years didn’t just take things from me. I have been blessed with a light I didn’t know existed. I have seen miracles. I have watched children who could have used this story to hate—show more love. I have learned what it is like to truly forgive. I have felt God in the walls of my home and in the hearts of my babies. I have seen angels. I have stood on stages airing dirty laundry—that I would have much rather shoved under a rug—to help, even just one family choose each other. I have cried on tv many times sharing our story with a prayer that my testimony can change just one heart. I have written about my darkest hours on a blog, I thought would be used to help my children one day understand it all. And in doing so, met millions of friends who have been stuck in the dark too. I have started a non-profit to help other victims of trauma. This world is full of pain—I am not unique in that—but I am so thankful for a story that has shown me that we can find light even in the darkest of moments. We can stand when we feel we have nothing left to give. We can fight even the battles that we cannot see. My story didn’t break me, and it has been a gift helping others find grace in theirs too.