In her book, Heartburn, Nora Ephron wrote of her husband's infidelity: “You have lost a piece of your past. The infidelity itself is small potatoes compared to the low-level brain damage that results when a whole chunk of your life turns out to have been completely different from what you thought it was. It becomes impossible to look back at anything that’s happened . . . without wondering what was really going on.”
Or one might try poetry to make sense of it.
ON THE SIDE
He loves me definitely of course but
for a little thing on the side
who makes him whole.
One from column A one from column B
better than none better than one
but half of me.
(Juliet, painted in 1888 by Philip Hermogenes Calderon, is at The Athenaeum.)