
It started with Ted's affair. We’d been married for years, and until then, I thought our relationship was as sturdy as the house we lived in. But something shifted at his office, and before long, I was lying awake at night, wondering if he was seeing someone else. He would go to work events, and every time he left, a wave of dread would sweep over me. I’d imagine him meeting the woman he’d had an affair with again, or worse, finding someone else. The doubt ate at me. They weren't sleeping together, he said, but I knew it wasn’t just physical. He’d betrayed my trust. That’s what hurt the most.
One night, as I was googling “marriage counselling Surrey,” a name popped up—Tracey Brittain. I’d never thought about therapy before, but when I read about her, something clicked. I needed to do something. Ted was reluctant at first, naturally. Who would want to go and air all that dirty laundry? But after one particularly explosive argument, he gave in, more out of exhaustion than anything else.
We walked into Tracey’s office, and the first thing I noticed was the colour of the walls—a calming shade of blue—and the warmth that surrounded the room. Wooden shelves, full of books, lined the walls. It felt safe, like a place where you could finally exhale. I almost didn’t want to be there, but I had to admit that a part of me was desperate for something to change. We sat down across from Tracey, and she looked at us, waiting.
Then she asked, “How can I help?” and that was it. The floodgates opened.
“I don’t even know why we’re here,” I blurted, immediately launching into my grievances. “I’ve been left alone to deal with this mess while he—”
“I didn’t ask for this, you know!” Ted interrupted, his voice rising. “I didn’t want to—”
“Oh, you didn’t want to what?” I shot back. “You didn’t want to destroy our entire marriage? Nice to know!”
“Look, it wasn’t like that,” Ted tried to explain, but before he could finish, I was back in full swing.
“Not like that? You had an affair! How is that not like that?” I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. “And now I’m here, talking about feelings and—”
“Listen, you’re not the only one hurting, Julie,” Ted snapped, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this, okay?”
At this point, I was practically shouting, “You didn’t mean for it? Of course, you didn’t mean to, but—”
“Okay, okay, enough!” Tracey suddenly interjected, her calm voice cutting through the chaos like a hot knife through butter. “Hold on, both of you,” she said, holding up a hand as though she could physically stop us mid-sentence. “This isn’t going to work if you talk over each other.”
“Right, because this totally works when we do it your way,” I muttered, but Tracey didn’t flinch.
“Julie,” she said, looking directly at me, “you get a turn to speak. Ted will listen. Then, Ted, you’ll get a turn to speak. No interrupting. Got it?”
We both just stared at her for a moment. It was like she’d just suggested we breathe underwater. Neither of us was used to listening without interrupting, and here she was, asking us to follow some new-age “don’t talk over each other” rule. But the way she said it was so firm, I almost expected her to start waving a magic wand.
“Fine,” Ted grumbled, like he’d just been handed an ultimatum from a judge. “But she—”
“Shh, Ted,” Tracey said, holding up a finger, like he was a misbehaving child. “I didn’t say anything about your turn yet.”
Ted sat back, crossing his arms, clearly not happy but now too scared to interrupt again. I, on the other hand, just sat there, feeling a little bit like a petulant child who’d just been told she couldn’t have dessert.
For the next few minutes, we managed to speak one at a time, though it was a lot harder than either of us had expected. But as we went on, it became clear—maybe for the first time ever—that we weren’t just shouting at each other. We were actually listening. Well, I was. Ted… was trying. Sort of.
When it came to my turn, I launched into a whole thing about how I felt so unimportant compared to the woman he’d had the affair with. She was better looking, more confident, and here I was, feeling like I hadn’t even brushed my hair properly this morning.
Before I could finish, Ted interrupted—of course.
“No! No, Julie, you don’t look better than her. That’s not—”
“Ah-ah,” Tracey said, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Ted, this is Julie’s truth. She’s feeling like this right now, and telling her it’s not true isn’t going to help.”
I couldn’t help it—I almost snorted. “Well, that’s the first time someone’s actually told him to shut up in the last 20 years.”
Ted shot me a glare, but he stopped talking. Tracey went on, calmly explaining that when we just told each other how we felt instead of trying to convince the other person they were wrong, we’d get somewhere. It was so simple, yet it was like someone had just handed me the answer to the universe.
And that’s how it started. With Tracey stopping us from talking over each other like a pair of toddler siblings fighting over the last cookie. What followed was much harder—listening without immediately rebutting, feeling the discomfort, and realising that sometimes, the truth is just a thing you have to accept, not argue against.
It wasn’t just the affair that left me reeling. The shock of it was overwhelming, but it triggered something deeper, something I hadn’t realised was still there. Every time Ted and I fought or I felt the knot of fear tighten in my chest, it felt bigger than just him stepping outside our marriage. The betrayal magnified everything—the old pain, the unresolved issues. Tracey noticed this early on. In one of our sessions, she suggested I try something different to deal with the trauma: EMDR.
I didn’t know much about it at the time, but Tracey explained that it might help me process the emotions tied to the affair in a way that was less about reliving the experience and more about healing it. It was a leap of faith, but I was willing to try anything to get past the constant feeling of being on edge.
When I first began EMDR, the sessions were intense. My mind would flood with memories, not just of Ted’s betrayal, but of my father leaving when I was young. That event, buried deep in the recesses of my mind, suddenly felt alive again. I hadn’t realised how much that abandonment had affected me, how it shaped the way I viewed relationships and trust. Tracey was patient, guiding me through the process, helping me connect the dots between that early trauma and how it was amplifying my fear over Ted’s affair.
She helped me map it out. She showed me how the loss of my father had planted a seed of doubt in me, a fear that the people I loved would leave, that I wasn’t enough. The affair triggered that old wound, and suddenly, I was back in that place of feeling abandoned and unworthy. It was overwhelming, and at times, it felt like I was reliving the pain all over again. But with Tracey’s guidance, I slowly began to make sense of it. EMDR helped me process the shock of the affair in a way that allowed me to separate my past pain from what was happening in the present. It gave me the space to understand that Ted’s actions were his, not a reflection of something I had done wrong.
As I worked through that trauma, the fear lessened. I wasn’t just healing from the affair; I was healing from the long-forgotten wounds my father’s departure had left. I could see now how much that event had shaped my response to Ted’s betrayal, and by confronting it, I was able to reclaim my sense of self-worth.
The journey wasn’t easy. It took time, patience, and a lot of hard conversations. But with the combination of Tracey’s therapy and EMDR, I started to understand how my past had influenced my present, and how to finally let go of the old fears that had haunted me for so long. And as Ted and I continued our work with Tracey, we both started to heal. Not just from the affair, but from the deeper wounds we had both been carrying for years.
As much as I needed EMDR, Ted did too. He wasn’t immune to the shock of everything that had happened, and as we both sat in Tracey’s office, it became clear that the affair wasn’t just a slip-up—it was a symptom of something deeper, something Ted had buried beneath the surface for far too long. It wasn’t just about me or the affair; there was something more, something that had pushed him into a place where he could even entertain the thought of throwing away everything we had built together. Our family, the life we shared—it wasn’t just a careless mistake. It had roots, and Ted needed to confront those roots just as much as I needed to confront mine.
Tracey suggested that Ted try EMDR as well, and he agreed, though reluctantly at first. I could see the hesitation in his eyes. He had never been one to dig too deeply into his emotions, to examine why he acted the way he did. But over time, with Tracey’s guidance, Ted quickly discovered the underlying reasons for what had led him down that destructive path.
Through the sessions, it became clear that his need to seek validation outside of our marriage was fuelled by a deep-seated fear of inadequacy. Ted had grown up in a family where he constantly felt like he wasn’t enough. He’d buried those feelings for years, pushing them aside in favour of being the strong, reliable husband and father. But underneath it all, there was a vulnerability, a fear that he wasn’t worthy of the love we had. He’d found a temporary fix in someone else, someone who, for a fleeting moment, made him feel seen, validated, and important. But it wasn’t real. He knew that.
The biggest revelation, though, came when Ted had to confront the painful truth of what he was about to throw away. His family—the very thing he treasured most—was on the line. The thought of leaving me, of giving up our home, our children, the life we had built together, seemed absurd when he said it out loud. What had brought him to a place where he could even entertain such a thought? How could he have been so careless with everything he held dear? It wasn’t just a temporary lapse in judgment. There was something much deeper at play.
Ted’s EMDR sessions allowed him to explore those fears, those long-buried insecurities. He realised that the affair wasn’t about the other woman. It was about him—about his need to prove to himself that he was worthy of love, even though he had everything he needed at home. The thought of throwing it all away, of giving up on the family he adored, was horrifying once he saw it clearly.
Through the EMDR process, Ted started to unravel the tangled mess of emotions that had led him to that point. He began to understand that his actions weren’t about me failing him, or us failing as a couple. They were about his own struggle with self-worth. The affair wasn’t a reflection of what was wrong with me, or with our marriage—it was a reflection of what he had yet to deal with inside himself. And once he understood that, he could start the real work of healing, of rebuilding trust, and of coming to terms with the fact that what he had at home—his family, his marriage, his life—was worth more than any fleeting validation from someone outside.
It wasn’t easy. There were times when Ted struggled with the weight of it all, when he wanted to retreat into old habits of avoiding his emotions. But with the help of Tracey, and with the support of me, he started to confront those demons. He realised that the life we had, the love we shared, was worth fighting for. And in doing so, he found a way to step back from the edge and rebuild the relationship we both so desperately wanted.
EMDR gave Ted the space to face his fears, to understand the roots of his actions, and to come to terms with the fact that he didn’t need to seek validation outside of our marriage. What he needed was to be present, to be honest, and to show up for me and for our family. And for the first time in a long while, he did.
Our sessions with Tracey didn’t just fix things—they helped us create the marriage we had always wanted. The one where we listened, really listened, to each other. And the one where love wasn’t just a feeling, but a choice we made every day.
For more information on marriage counselling contact Tracey Brittain Therapy here
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