200: Nostalgia

Hi everyone, I’m Dr. Marie Murphy, and I’m a non-judgmental infidelity coach.  If you are engaging in anything you think counts as infidelity, I can help you deal with your feelings, clarify what you want, and make decisions about what you’re going to do.  No shame, no blame, no judgments.  A lot of the so-called advice for people engaging in infidelity is little more than thinly veiled judgment, but that is not what I provide.  I give you guidance and support that respects the fullness of your humanity, and the complexity of your situation – no matter what you’re doing.  When you’re ready to resolve your infidelity situation in a way that’s truly right for you, I can help you do it.  There are two ways you can have me as your coach: we can work together one-on-one via Zoom, or you can enroll in my self-guided course, You’re Not the Only One.  To learn more about both of these options, go to my website, mariemurphyphd.com.  I cannot wait to help you find some relief, and a clear path forward.

Okay.  Today we are going to talk about nostalgia.  I was actually planning to focus on another topic this week, but then I realized that this would be the 200^th episode of this podcast, and I thought, you know, maybe it would be kind of fitting – in a very loose sort of way – to talk about nostalgia for this episode.  I don’t often give that much thought to how many podcast episodes I’ve created.  Sometimes people say to me, Wow, you have however many episodes I currently have, as if that’s some sort of milestone, or big deal, and I’m always kind of like, whatever!  Creating this podcast is just a continuous part of my work.  I’m just chopping wood and carrying water.  When one episode is complete, it’s time to create the next one.  It’s just a continuous contribution, not a process filled with goals and milestones, as far as I’m concerned.

That said, I’ve been thinking a lot about nostalgia recently, and I realized that in addition to being the 200^th episode of this podcast, it’s also almost exactly four years since the first episode of Your Secret is Safe with Me came out.  I think the first episodes came out in September of 2020, and that was still very much a time defined by covid, and now it kind of seems like another lifetime ago.  And it also kind of seems like just yesterday.  And although I don’t feel particularly nostalgic for that period of time, or particularly sentimental about anything related to this being the 200^th episode of this podcast, it is sort of interesting to reflect on the passage of time.  So it’s a loose connection – reflecting on the past isn’t equivalent to nostalgia, but nostalgia does entail thinking about the past, so I figured it was fitting enough to talk about nostalgia on the 200^th episode of Your Secret is Safe with Me. 

So what exactly is nostalgia?  Here are several definitions, from various sources:

Nostalgia can be defined as a wistful or excessively sentimental yearning for return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition. 

Or a feeling of pleasure and also slight sadness when you think about things that happened in the past.

Or sentimentality for the past.

Or a longing to go back to someplace faraway or long ago.

Suffering evoked by the desire to return to one’s place of origin.

To that last definition of nostalgia I would add, suffering evoked by the desire to return to a place, or a situation, or an experience you cherish or cherished.  It doesn’t necessarily have to be your place of origin, instead, it might be to a time or place or context in which you felt the most at home, or the most joy, or the most love, or the most alive.  Or simply a time and place that you really loved!  You may really want to return to that place, and it may not be possible to fulfil that desire, and that might create a lot of suffering.

Here’s a distinction that I think is really important.  Sometimes we long for experiences we could have again, if we chose to.  Sometimes we long for things that we can return to, or experience again – if we’re willing to do the things we need to do in order to get there.  And I’m going to suggest that this doesn’t count as nostalgia.  My take is that the defining feature of nostalgia is that it entails longing for something that you cannot return to, or for some irrecoverable condition.

Now, sometimes the reason why we can’t return to something is because it literally doesn’t exist anymore, or we literally cannot go back to it.  If we long to reside in a particular house, but that house no longer exists, we can’t go back to it.  Not physically, anyway.  If we long to be a third grader again, we can’t go back to third grade – or at least, we can’t go back to being the age that most third graders are.  But sometimes the reason why we can’t return to things is because we are different.  Sometimes the thing we long for still exists, but we have changed, and thus, we cannot experience the thing in the way we used to.

And I’m going to talk about why this distinction matters in infidelity situations, but first, I’m going to tell you about the nostalgia I’ve been experiencing lately.  In the last few weeks, I’ve been feeling more nostalgia than I’ve ever felt in my entire life, and navigating this deluge of nostalgia has been really weird and uncomfortable.  I don’t tend towards nostalgia, because I don’t tend to think in sentimental terms about the past.  That’s not to say that I don’t ever think about the past or appreciate the past.  I certainly do.  But I just don’t tend towards thinking in sentimental terms about irrecoverable conditions.  And since I don’t tend to think in those terms, nostalgia isn’t a feeling I feel a whole lot of.  So, I don’t think I’ve ever had to tolerate this feeling to the extent that I have been lately, and it’s been a new and challenging experience of allowing myself to feel an uncomfortable feeling.  Here’s what it’s associated with.

When I was growing up, my family took a vacation to Yosemite Valley almost every year.  I don’t think I went there every single year of my life until I went off to college, but we went most years, and think a couple of years we might have gone twice – once in the winter, and once in the summer.  And I absolutely loved it.  I don’t remember when or why I started loving Yosemite Valley as much as I did, but it was when I was LITTLE.  Like four or five.  Or maybe even younger, who knows.  And that love only deepened as I got older.  Coming back to Yosemite Valley every year felt like a homecoming to me, in a really profound and unique way.  And I could go on and on about that, I could go on and on about my deep love for all things Yosemite Valley, and wax poetic about my appreciation for various specific experiences and places.  But in the interest of being succinct, I’ll just say that it’s hard to overstate the connection I felt to this place, and it’s hard to overemphasize how much I treasured the experience of being there.  Going there regularly was a really important part of my life, and more than that, it was an important part of my sense of who I was.  I am – or was – a person with a deep connection to this particular place.  And that meant a lot to me.

And then, the years went by, I got older, and I kind of graduated from Yosemite.  Part of it was that I came as close as I was going to get to my goal of climbing Half Dome – I didn’t quite make it to the top, but I got very close – and part of it was that I was on the brink of graduating from high school and my family actually decided to take a different summer trip.  And I was okay with that at the time – I was like, okay, the annual pilgrimage to Yosemite was great, but it’s okay for that phase of my life to come to a conclusion.  And so I kind of went off into my young adult life and I was fine with Yosemite being a place that I loved, but had no idea when or if I’d return to.  And the years went by, and I went from being a young adult to being a less-young adult, and I was fine with Yosemite being part of my past.

Then, eight years ago, my mother was having a milestone birthday, and I thought, you know, maybe a nice way to celebrate that would be by convening a little family trip to Yosemite.  And all of the relevant parties loved the idea, so a plan was made, and I found myself going back to Yosemite Valley for the first time in about twenty years.  And in the lead up to the trip, I was looking forward to it, but not in a particularly intense way.  I was kind of like, okay, whatever, this will be nice.

But then I got there.  And I felt like I was returning to a home I’d forgotten I’d ever had.  And I was like, oh my god, how could I have ever left this place?  I just want to stay here forever and never leave. 

And on the one hand, while I was actually there that time, I was enjoying it.  I was present and available to the experience that being there that time was, and it was awesome.  But I was also experiencing something else, and that was nostalgia for the love for Yosemite Valley that I’d felt as a younger person, and longing for the deep sense of peace that I had once experienced there.  I wanted those old feelings, and I also wanted more of what I was currently feeling, and from this emotional state, leaving the Valley that time was hard.  When it was time to go, I was like, I don’t want to go, I want to stay.  I want to spend more time here.  And my spouse was like, we’ll come back, we’ll come back.  And I was like, yeah sure, we can and let’s make that happen, but that doesn’t solve my problem.  Right now I’m just really sad about leaving, and that’s the point!

Three years after that trip, after that initial return to Yosemite Valley, my spouse and I did go back, and we had a really great time, and I felt that awesome sense of being where I belonged, but we only stayed three nights, which did not feel like nearly enough time, so once again, leaving was HARD for me.  Like I was being torn away from my homeland.  And once again, we said, “We’ll go back, we’ll go back.”  And that trip was in September 2019.

So then covid happened, and that kind of scrambled life up for a bit, and we prioritized other travel for a few years.  And then at some point we said, well, let’s make a trip to Yosemite happen, and then we made reservations and changed them a few times, but then we finally committed to going this September, which, as I’m putting this episode together, was just recently.

This time, my expectations for my experience of being in Yosemite Valley were HIGH.  I wasn’t just going back to experience the place however I was going to experience it, I was going back to Yosemite Valley with the expectation that it would feel like MY HOME OF HOMES ON PLANET EARTH, and that I would be filled with pure awe and delight and peace, every single moment we were there.  I wanted my longing for a particular kind of experience of Yosemite Valley to be fulfilled in a particular kind of way.  And although in retrospect, those expectations seem more than a little unreasonable, as I was going into this trip I was not at all aware that I might be cultivating some unrealistic expectations.  Going into the trip, it seemed totally reasonable to expect that I could go back to Yosemite, and have exactly the kind of experience there that I’ve had so often, and have loved having.

But here’s the thing.  Yosemite Valley has changed over the years, and I’ve changed over the years.  Yosemite Valley is a little different than it was when I was eight, or ten, or fifteen.  It’s also different than it was eight years ago.  For one thing, I don’t think it’s just my imagination that it’s more crowded than it used to be.  I’m almost certain the actual numbers of visitors per year have gone up.  Whether or not those visitors are doing more stupid things like trying to touch the deer may be a matter of my perception, but then again, my perception might have some basis in fact.

But even if the number of visitors coming to Yosemite or the number of tourists trying to pet the deer are not actually different, I’M different.  I’m different than I was when I was five or ten or fifteen, but I’m also different than I was five years ago.

So for instance, to the point of Yosemite being crowded or not, I used to LOVE crowds.  I used to love being a part of the throng of humanity.  I loved being on crowded public transportation – even in Bangkok.  I loved all-day music festivals.  I loved being a part of humans in big groups, and all of the interesting human behavior that humans engage in when they’re in groups.  I loved it all of it, and I loved it very much.

But now, well, not so much.  Now I don’t love crowds like I used to.  I’m not very fond of jam-packed public transportation anymore.  I’m not so delighted by ridiculous tourists being ridiculous tourists anymore.  So even if Yosemite Valley isn’t any different than it was, my orientation to some of the features of Yosemite Valley is definitely different.  Or put a little more precisely, the way I think about some aspects of Yosemite Valley is a lot different than it used to be.  And thus the feelings I feel when I’m there are different than what they used to be.

Also, although I’d always known that the Native Americans who called Yosemite their home were evicted from their ancestral land in order for Yosemite to become a national park, I’d never been particularly bothered by that.  And that might sound kind of awful, but we make peace with awful things ALL THE TIME.  We buy products without thinking about the labor that produced them, or the environmental consequences of their manufacturing and eventual disposal.  We buy things from companies that support politicians or causes we find abhorrent – either because we don’t know that they do this, or we like the products so much that we don’t care.  And so on and so on.  Pretty atrocious things happen in this world, and we don’t think about them all the time.  And arguably, if we did think about them all the time, we would literally go crazy.  I know I sure would.

So, one of the many wonderful features of the elementary school education I received was that it did not gloss over the fact that Native Americans got royally screwed – to put it nicely – by the people who came to America and shaped it into what it is today.  My eyes were pretty wide open to that from a young age, and I cared about that a lot from a young age.  And my younger self could have easily found it painfully hypocritical to be a white tourist having a great time in Yosemite, given what had been done to its earlier inhabitants.  I was attuned to stuff like this when I was younger, and it bothered me a lot.  But for whatever reasons, this was not something I gave much thought to when I was younger.  We can’t be simultaneously aware of or concerned about every injustice that is occurring or has ever occurred, after all.  Our brains would probably explode.

But for whatever reasons, this time, when I was in Yosemite just recently, this hit me HARD.  The fact that the reason I’d been able to have the experience of feeling so at home in Yosemite that I’ve had throughout my life was predicated upon people being forcibly evicted from their physical homes just leveled me.  I can embrace a lot of contractions in life.  I can embrace the fact that the world is an unjust place without being consumed by despair or bitterness.  But this contradiction hit me really hard this time.  And on the one hand, I was fine with that.  I don’t want to not be bothered by the injustices that made Yosemite Valley into a place that I could enjoy.  But it was also pretty discombobulating to have my experience of this place change in the way it did.

One of the important take-aways here is that we tend to think that being in a particular place or a particular situation MAKES us feel a certain way, but that isn’t exactly how it works.  Circumstances – such as being in a particular place – do not unilaterally cause us to have certain thoughts, and from there, certain feelings.  But when we’ve had similar thoughts and similar feelings in a particular place over and over again, it can SEEM like being in that place is what makes us feel good.  But really, it’s whatever we are THINKING about being in that place that makes us feel good.  And when our thoughts change, our feelings change.  And what happens a lot in life is that as we evolve and grow and get older and we change, and our thoughts about familiar circumstances change too.  And that does not have to be a problem – but it can create a bit of disorientation.

So even though I long to feel a particular way in Yosemite Valley, it might not be possible for me to feel the way I used to feel there.  I can go back to the place, but I can’t go back to the place within me that used to think the way I thought about being there, and thus I can’t go back to feeling the way I used to feel there.  And this fills me with nostalgia.  I wistfully, excessively, and sentimentally long to return to an irrecoverable condition.  I can still visit the house, but it no longer feels like home.  At least, it sure didn’t this last time. 

And that is what I was dealing with when I was actually IN Yosemite Valley in September.  This sense of, I really WANT to feel a certain way since I’m here, but I don’t – and what I made that mean at the time was, SOMETHING HAS GONE VERY WRONG.  My thinking at the time was, something precious has been taken away from me, and I don’t like that one bit.  And so, not only was I feeling nostalgia, I was feeling resistant to feeling nostalgia, and frustrated with my nostalgia.  And profoundly sad and disoriented.  It was a lot.

Then, as we were leaving Yosemite Valley to go home, it once again felt like something had gone horribly wrong.  Being there and not feeling the way I wanted to feel was bad enough, but leaving felt even worse.  If this thing in me had died, I at least wanted to sit with the body and grieve for a little bit longer.  But when the time came to go home, we got in the car and went home.

And I felt really WEIRD.  I felt all out of sorts.  I still kind of do, actually – I’m still digesting this bout of nostalgia.  Intellectually I KNOW that there’s really no problem here: I’m just feeling a feeling that I find very uncomfortable.  There’s nothing that I really need to DO about this, other than be willing to feel the feeling.  Intellectually I know there’s nothing to fix.  But on another level, I’m still feeling resistant to all this nostalgia, and I still kind of believe that something has kind of gone wrong in the cosmic scheme of things.  Even though I also know that isn’t really the case.

This does actually have to do with infidelity, I promise.  Here’s one of the connections we can make.

One of the things my experiences with Yosemite illustrate is that a lot of us really value having a sense of home.  Not everyone values having a sense of home, of course, but plenty of people do.  And people derive their sense of home from different things.  For some people, it’s a particular house, or dwelling.  For some people, it’s a relationship, or a set of relationships.  For some people, it’s a set of relationships within a particular house, or physical structure.  For some people, it’s something else entirely.  But whatever it comes from or is associated with, the sense of having a home or being at home is super important to a lot of people.

Within infidelity situations, sometimes people have a house and a family in that house, and they really value the sense of home they’ve experienced with that family and in that house.  But they’ve also met someone new who they love, and really want to pursue a life with.  Folks in this position sometimes know they don’t want to stay married to their spouse.  They know they want to have a robust romantic and sexual relationship with whoever their partner is, and they know don’t have that with their spouse, and they don’t even want to have that with their spouse.  They want to have that with their affair partner, but in order for them to have an above-board relationship with their affair partner, they have to reconfigure their family, and possibly leave their house, and they don’t like the idea of doing those things because being with their family in a particular house is what has felt like home to them for a long time.  And even if they really want to pursue a non-affair relationship with their affair partner, the idea of giving up their sense of home may seem like a TERRIBLE idea. 

And for some folks, this tension seems really bewildering.  Some people wonder, how is it possible that I can want to leave my marriage and also not want to lose what my marriage has represented to me?  And also, of course, some people wonder how this can be true for their affair partners!  Some people wonder, if they really love me, and they really don’t want to be married to their spouse anymore, why are they being so slow to leave their marriage?  This is one of the answers.

So I want to normalize this experience for those of you who are going through it, and for those of you who are dealing with someone who is going through it.  It is totally possible to feel like being with your spouse and your family in a particular house is your home, and to feel very reluctant to do anything that might compromise your sense of having a home, and ALSO truly not want to be romantically partnered with your spouse anymore.  This is definitely a Thing, and it’s important to know that this experience is common and “normal.”  And as usual, I use the word “normal” lightly.  The idea that there is any such thing as normal is a funny one.

But even if this is “normal,” there’s still the question of what to do if you’re in this situation.  So here’s what I encourage you to consider if you’re in a situation like this. 

First and foremost, I urge you to consider that it is legitimate to want to feel at home in the world.  And I urge you to consider that it’s legitimate that your sense of home may seem completely related to or dependent upon living with your family in a particular house.  Or any other kind of dwelling, for that matter.

But I also want you to consider that sometimes, there is great value in choosing to leave home, literally or metaphorically.  And also, sometimes we are forced to leave home, literally or otherwise, and even if this is deeply unpleasant, we can find ways of coping with this, and we can find a sense of home again, if we want to.

To echo what I said earlier about Yosemite, I want to suggest that having a sense of home is more about what we’re thinking and feeling than it is about particular people and particular dwellings or particular places.  But here comes the paradox.  Even though particular people or places or dwellings do not, in and of themselves, create our sense of home, it’s totally reasonable to associate our sense of home with particular places and people.  Many of us go years or decades or even our whole lives very happily associating our sense of home with being with particular people in a particular dwelling.

But sometimes, we get to a point where we think we’re making a choice between leaving home and having the new life that we want to live, or staying home and making compromises that we don’t really want to make.  More specifically, we may face a choice between staying married and staying in a particular house and preserving our sense of home, or leaving home to pursue a life that we really want to explore.

And if you’re at that point, here’s what I want you to ask yourself.  Does your marriage, or your committed relationship CURRENTLY feel like home to you?  Or are you running off of memories of what your relationship once felt like to you, or once meant to you?  Are you running off of nostalgia, or a desire to return to the way your marriage USED to be?  If you are dissatisfied with your marriage to the point where you’re seriously considering leaving, but you think you can’t leave because your sense of home is predicated upon you staying married, I want you to ask yourself if your marriage really does feel like home to you in the PRESENT. 

When I ask my clients that question, they often say, “No, my spouse does not feel like home to me in the present.  But they used to, and I can’t shake that feeling.”

Those kinds of memories can be pretty powerful.  Case in point, my memories of feeling profoundly at home in Yosemite are potent.  And wanting to go back to what I remember, or wanting to re-experience what I remember, exerts quite a pull on me.

But the thing is, even though I can go back to Yosemite Valley, I can’t experience it in the way that I once did.  I’m different, and it’s different.  If I were to radically shift my thinking, would I be able to have a different experience of being in Yosemite Valley?  Possibly.  But trying to get myself to radically change my thinking so that I could effectively re-live the past might be completely futile, and it might not be desirable, anyway.

Sometimes, the answer is not to try to return to an experience that we’ve valued and cherished.  Sometimes a set of experiences that we’ve associated with feeling at home is just over – and there’s very little point in trying to return to or recreate those experiences, if we want to continue evolving.  And yes, this may be painful, but a) it may also be productive, and b) it may be a lot less painful than the alternatives.

For instance, trying to stay in a marriage you really don’t want to stay in may be a lot more painful on the whole than allowing yourself to leave your marriage – even if leaving entails feeling profoundly unmoored at times.

Even if you would like to feel at home in your marriage, you might not be able to feel at home in your marriage now, even if you once did.  No matter how much you appreciated the experience of feeling at home in your marriage at one point in time, things may have changed, and there may not be any way to go back.  Now, is it ever possible to reconnect with a partner after a period of disconnection, and create a NEW sense of home with them?  Yes.  And that kind of reconnection is something I’ve talked about in other episodes.  But the point for today is that sometimes there just isn’t any going back, no matter how much you may long for the past.  You may be different, your spouse may be different, and other things may be different, too. 

So I want to suggest that we may want to learn how to tolerate feeling nostalgia, instead of making decisions that are driven by nostalgia.  And if you have no idea what it means to learn how to tolerate feeling nostalgia, I can teach you.  Let’s work together, and I will help you learn how to tolerate nostalgia, and all of the other uncomfortable emotions you may feel in relation to your infidelity situation.

When we make decisions that are driven by nostalgia, we often create results for ourselves that we don’t really like.  For instance, we may stay in a marriage that was once great, but isn’t anymore.  If we think there’s value in trying to return to something that once was, this may seem like pretty good choice.  But it might not turn out that way at all.  On the other hand, if we’re willing to be sad that some things are over, while also accepting that endings are a part of life, we’re much more likely to make decisions that help us create the kind of present and future life that we want to live.

I could actually go and live in Yosemite Valley, if I wanted to.  People who work there live there year-round.  And if I was determined to try anything to return to the kinds of experiences I used to have there, I could pack up and move there and try that out.  But if I were to chase the past in that way, I’d have to give a lot of things up!  Pursuing that option would cut off others.  And moreover, there’s no guarantee that I’d be able to go back to feeling the way I once felt in Yosemite Valley even if I ditched my current life and moved there and worked there.  And I highly doubt I would.  Sometimes it’s better to live with a longing rather than to chase what we long for.

Now, it is also true that sometimes we CAN have what we’re longing for.  Sometimes we CAN return to something we once enjoyed or valued, but don’t currently have.  And sometimes that return can be very satisfying.

So, for example, some of my clients have built the house they live in or lived in, either with their own hands, or through their own design and planning and time and money and love.  Some people have created their dream houses – only to then have an affair, and with that, face questions about the future of their marriage, and their living situation.  And ultimately, some people in this position decide they want to leave the spouse they shared their beautiful house with.  And then the question of what will happen to the house presents itself.  Will they to keep it?  Will their partner get to keep it?  Will neither of them keep it?  Sometimes people REALLY want to keep their beautiful house, but they don’t believe they have any right to it, because they’re the one who had the affair.  They did the so-called bad thing, so they can’t have the house – or so the thinking sometimes goes.

There’s a lot I could say about the question of who gets the house in a situation like this, but for today, I’m simply going to say that sometimes, longing for a home means longing for a specific house, or a specific dwelling, and no other conditions need to be met.  Sometimes people yearn to live in a particular house and if they’re able to live in that place, that’s enough for them to think they’re at home and feel at home.

And in situations like this, you may want to consider going after what you’re longing for.  If you really want the house, you might be able to have the house.  If that house is what you consider home, and you really want to feel at home in that house, you might want to do everything you reasonably can to continue or resume living in that house. 

Are there reasons why you might want to consider letting your ex or soon-to-be-ex partner have the house?  Sure.  That’s a topic we could devote a whole podcast episode to, but for now, the point I want to stress is that you can consider letting your ex-partner have the house, while also considering YOUR desire to keep the house.  You can take your preferences seriously, while also keeping theirs in mind.  It is legitimate for you to want a particular house to be your home.  Perhaps forever!  And it is entirely possible that you can retain your sense of a particular house being your home, even if things change within it.  Even if your spouse no longer lives in the house you once shared, you might continue to feel totally at home there.  This is exactly how it works for some people, and if you think this is how it will be for you, why not do what you can to keep your house, if you want it to be your home?

Sometimes the things we long for are totally attainable, and yet we don’t go after them.

And sometimes, we spend a lot of time longing for things that really aren’t attainable.

I think this is a little tragic.  We can mourn the things we long for but can’t return to, and we can allow our new desires to emerge, and we can allow ourselves to pursue them.  We can be sad about life’s endings, without closing ourselves off to new beginnings.  And, if we really want something, we can do our best to have it.  Why not?

As we start to wrap up for today, I want to mention that a little longing for something we can’t return to does not have to be a bad thing.  In some ways, my nostalgia for Yosemite Valley is just a reflection of how much I loved my experiences there as a younger person.  Longing for an experience that was great but can’t be replicated can be as enjoyable as it is sad, and that doesn’t have to create any trouble for us.  As one of the definitions of nostalgia I gave at the beginning of the episode noted, thinking of the past with wistfulness can be enjoyable.

But getting STUCK in nostalgia usually isn’t very fun.  Longing for something that can’t be replicated, and not doing much of anything to create the experiences we want to have in the present isn’t very fun.  So if you find yourself paralyzed by nostalgia in relation to your infidelity situation, I want you know that there is a way out of this particular sort of stuckness, and I can help you find it.  When you’re ready to be done with nostalgia-induced paralysis, there are two ways you can have me as your coach.  We can work together one-on-one via Zoom, or you can enroll in my self-guided course that contains powerful teachings and assignments that go beyond what I offer on the podcast.  To learn more about both of these options, go to my website, mariemurphyphd.com.  The rest of your life – beyond the drama and difficulty of your infidelity situation – is waiting for you, so let’s get to work.

All right everyone!  Thank you all so much for listening.  Bye for now.