No Promise for a Happy Ever After

An Honest Consideration of Affair Recovery Outcomes

Written by Tim Tedder

After an affair, can people heal? Can their relationships be rebuilt? Yes. 

In June 2025, I surveyed people who had been affected by an affair at least two years ago and had received help from a professional counselor or coach. 72% of the respondents indicated that they remained in their relationship, and 76% stated that they were either “much better” or “completely recovered” since the start of their affair recovery process. [View the survey results.]

Can they experience change that benefits them for a lifetime? Yes.

Does everyone who commits to the hard work of affair recovery find peace and contentment on the other side? No.

18% of the survey respondents said they were doing “worse than expected” in their recovery, and 12% said, “I am worse now than before the affair.”

Years ago, I received this email: “I’ve used your resources and have been helped by many of them. But I’m bothered by what seems to be a one-sided perspective of affair recovery - that if you do the work, you’ll experience growth and happiness.

“I’ve been doing the work for years, and yes, I have changed and grown. But healing is still painful and lonely. This is not the life I expected, and I’d give anything to go back to what it was. I know I can’t, so my only option is to keep doing the work.

“It’s discouraging to read all the apparent promises of recovery and wonder if I’m doing something wrong. I don’t think I’m the only one who feels this way.”

As therapists, coaches, authors, and podcast hosts in the affair recovery space, we sometimes paint a picture that’s too idealistic. The truth is, while recovery is possible, it’s often messy. Marriages don’t always end up with renewed passion, deeper intimacy, or a picture-perfect second chance. Some who fight hard still lose the relationship. Others find healing, but still carry wounds that never entirely stop hurting.

Here’s a comment I read on a social media thread discussing affair recovery: “It’s been 14 years since discovery, and I am enjoying my life. But do you fully heal? No. You’ve lost your little-girl dreams of a complete family. You're never getting back your innocence or the feeling of being enough. But you can keep working to get to a better place.”

We need to be more honest about what to expect.

The Real Story

For many who enter recovery, the emotional reality looks more like this: Marriages fail. Wounds last. Triggers sting. Doubt remains. Loneliness endures.

These are not signs of failure. They are natural consequences of betrayal.

Not every relationship succeeds. Although statistics vary widely depending on wording and sampling, we know that a high percentage of marriages dissolve following infidelity. And even among those that do survive, not all thrive. Some couples stay together, but emotionally disconnect or harbor lingering resentment. [See the section “Challenges to Long-Term Happiness” in this statistics report: Infidelity in U.S. Marriages—Prevalence and Impact.]

When we only tell the stories that have happy endings, we risk shaming those whose stories don’t. I think there’s a better way.

Why We Need to Tell the Hard Stories, Too

1. Because people feel like failures if they continue to struggle.

A betrayed spouse who still has panic attacks two years after the affair can start to feel like they’re doing it wrong. An unfaithful spouse who keeps feeling shame despite making amends may believe they’ll never be good enough. These feelings go “underground” when recovery is portrayed as linear and quick. It's not.

Author Esther Perel, in her book The State of Affairs, writes: “Some affairs are death knells for relationships; others are wake-up calls. And some, too, are a long, drawn-out sentence of limbo.”

Recovery isn't a fixed destination. It's a wide and varied landscape, and we can’t predict precisely what path a couple will take or where they’ll end up. Perhaps having a more realistic understanding of the possible experiences, even the undesired ones, would better prepare them for the recovery journey.

An overly optimistic expectation can help people start strong, only to eventually collapse into discouragement. A realistic perspective helps them endure when they struggle through inevitable obstacles.

2. Because healing is not a sprint.

There is a toxic impatience in our culture of instant solutions. But affair recovery is not a weekend workshop. It’s not a checklist. It’s a process that often unfolds over years, not weeks.

I recently talked to a woman who had tentatively scheduled a ten-day retreat with a couple who promoted an in-depth approach that would fast-track their affair recovery. The hosts weren’t licensed counselors; they were helpers, perhaps well-meaning, promising more than they could deliver.

Every person and every marriage is unique. Too many variables affect each situation (a person’s history, previous experiences of abandonment or betrayal, personality, relationship patterns, spiritual perspectives, intimacy patterns, etc.) to predict a recovery timeline with specificity.

Over the past twenty years, I’ve been personally connected to thousands of people who desperately want to heal. Some found their way to satisfying stability within a year or two. Most took longer. Some, it seems, will do the work for the rest of their lives.

3. Because supporters need to practice patience.

Well-meaning friends, pastors, or family members may urge betrayed spouses to "move on" or "let it go" before they’re ready. That’s often motivated more by the support person’s discomfort than the hurting person’s healing. By acknowledging that this is a long, uneven road, we help normalize the slow, painful healing process. We also recognize the importance of practicing patience, learning to measure progress in steps, not jumps.

Clinical psychologist Dr. Janis Abrahms Spring notes in After the Affair: “Even if the affair is long over, the betrayed partner may not be over it. The pain may diminish, but the scar remains.”

Sometimes, of course, caring help is expressed by challenging unhealthy behaviors that keep someone stuck. Caregivers shouldn’t ignore someone’s refusal to forgive their spouse, the constant rehashing of the past, or the failure of an unfaithful partner to make any significant effort toward change. They can do all that while guarding against strict expectations or timelines.

4. Because counselors need to offer realistic expectations for outcomes of affair recovery.

Professionals are trained to promote hope in change, and that’s good. But not at the expense of truth. 

When the survey asked, “Did your coach or counselor provide a realistic expectation of what your recovery would be like?” 36% of the respondents indicated, “No, they were too optimistic. My recovery has been harder than they said it would be.”

Instead of saying, “Here’s the path toward satisfying recovery and renewal,” maybe our message should sound more like, “This will be harder than you expect and take longer than you want. I can’t tell you exactly what things will look like on the other side, but I can help you be better instead of staying broken.”

A more balanced message helps clients persevere when things get tough. They’re more likely to stay the course when told that lasting change takes time.

Years ago, I spent a long weekend with a young couple reeling from the aftermath of the wife’s affair. They were bright and thoughtful and did the hard work of recovery. I genuinely believed in their potential and got carried away in my enthusiasm. I spoke about their future as though I could see it, painting a picture of healing and renewal as if it were guaranteed.

It wasn’t just premature—it was unprofessional and unhelpful. They left encouraged, yes, but also burdened with expectations I had carelessly framed as certainties. When their reality proved more complicated and painful, my optimism felt like a lie. That experience humbled me. I had to confront the truth that hopeful expectations can become another form of pressure. Real healing, I’ve learned, leaves room for uncertainty.

Then What’s the Point? Is the Work Worth It?

It’s a fair question. If the outcomes are uncertain and the process is painful, is the work of affair recovery for marriages worth the effort?

Sometimes, yes. 

When both partners are able and willing to engage with vulnerability, truthfulness, and persistent compassion, something new can emerge. Not the same marriage as before, but something different. The scars may never fade, but they can become part of a redemptive story.

Renowned researcher Dr. Shirley Glass once said, “Some of the strongest couples I’ve ever seen are those who survived infidelity. They didn’t just rebuild their relationship—they reinvented it.”

That reinvention can lead to deep intimacy, stronger boundaries, and personal transformation… along with painful reminders, unexpected struggles, and loss of innocent trust.

But sometimes, no. 

Some marriages are too broken, too one-sided, or too toxic to restore. When only one partner is doing the work, when safety and respect have left the room, or when trust is shattered beyond repair, ending the relationship may be the healthiest choice.

Healing doesn’t guarantee a particular circumstantial outcome. It involves learning how to accept the complex reality, refusing to remain a passive victim, understanding the possible outcomes, and working toward the one that is better than the rest.

So What Is a Realistic Hope?

Realistic hope might sound like this:

• “I want to heal, even if I don’t know exactly how things will end.”

• “I won’t let the consequences define me.”

• “We may struggle, but we keep trying—together.”

• “Even if our marriage ends, I want to learn and grow through it.”

• “When things get messy, I won’t try to pretend they aren’t.”

• “This isn’t the story I expected. It’s not the one I want. But I’ll take the parts I can change and do my best to improve them.”

• “I’ll stop running from the pain; I’ll walk through it, find better ways of expressing it, and see if there’s anything to learn.”

Maybe it's time to stop straining for perfect affair recovery outcomes and find satisfaction in progressing toward “something better.” We can’t return to what was, but we can help shape what’s next. And making that effort is preferred over the alternative.

A Better Goal: Growth Over Guarantee

This article isn’t meant to discourage affair recovery work. (86% of the survey respondents said they would recommend counseling for affair recovery.) Its purpose is to clarify the real goal: not a guaranteed happy ending but a committed pursuit of growth, healing, and authenticity. 

With this in mind, I need to examine my message. The articles and resources I create, including those on this site, are filled with messages that I genuinely believe. But maybe I’ve been too one-sided. Perhaps I need to give more attention to sharing a broader range of experiences, even when those stories are uncomfortable. Healthy change isn’t always pretty.

Whether a relationship survives or not, the person who does the work will not come away unchanged. They will have wrestled with truth, practiced grace, confronted pain, and morphed into someone new.

Consider the story of Amanda Gylord, a paramedic. In April 2024, Amanda survived a catastrophic ambulance crash, sustaining over 100 broken bones. A year later, she ran a 5K, finishing at the very spot where her life nearly ended. Despite reduced lung capacity and ongoing pain, Amanda continues to reclaim her life, inspired by gratitude and a yearning to return to EMS work.

Her story, like many others, is an inspiring tale of overcoming adversity. Is it a fairy tale ending? I doubt she would say that. She has had to adjust to permanent changes in her body. Titanium plates now make up the left side of her rib cage. Three ribs on her right side were deformed, limiting her ability to raise or lower her arms. Her diaphragm was herniated in two places. Recovery means managing pain as much as making progress.

THAT’S the real story of recovery—hope that continues to bloom in a field of hardships. So, let’s keep telling stories of aspiration while acknowledging the ongoing presence of pain. When the last page is read, maybe it won’t be a fairy tale ending, but perhaps it will be a really good story of survival.