Just a quick postscript to yesterday's reflection on the possibility of a tiny Sea Monkey turning into a Fire-Breathing Sea Monster... and the confession about the message (contact) that cannot be unsent.
The implications are broader than just a couple of little notes (one out-going, the other in-coming). Charlie now has the email address that is attached to my faux facebook AND THIS BLOG. That means, if Charlie is clever enough and curious enough, he could find this blog.
That realization could have sent me into a frenzy, scrubbing the internet of all evidence of Bridget and falling back into the shadows where I have been hiding for so long.
I'm not going to do it.
So what if he finds this blog?
I'm trying to reinvent myself as a bolder, braver, and more honest person. I saw the anonymous comment on my last blog entry that suggested that salvation comes through integration... and that the "good girl" I spoke of is only part of who I truly am--that the "good girl" needs to go out to dinner with Bridget and get to know her.
In that same spirit, I must admit that Charlie is a chapter of the story of not only who I was, but also who I am. There may be elements of the Charlie story about which I'm not being totally honest because I've been lying to myself. If Charlie were to read this and recognize himself in the narrative, it wouldn't be the end of the world.
I'm not afraid.
Should I be?
The only reason I see to be afraid is if I'm not telling the truth. (And since it's possible that I have lied to myself about some things that are too painful to embrace, or that in the lying to Todd that has been necessary to keep the peace, I have started to believe some of those very lies. It is possible that Charlie could call me on factual errors I make as I recall the happenings of the life chapter we shared. Lies have done enough damage. I do not fear the truth, but rather long for it.)
True, I may be playing with fire, but fire is not necessarily destructive. It can do good if it burns away the lies that enslave us. I recall the prairie fires of my childhood rolling toward the tiny town that I lived on the very edge of--tongue extending toward our little house, as a panting hungry beast, intent on licking us off the map. But those weren't the only flames. The volunteer fire-fighters set controlled burns to destroy the fuel that the fire-breathing monster needed in order to reach us. If we had been too fearful to allow the controlled fire to be ignited near our house, the fuel would have remained and we likely would have been consumed.
I'm not afraid of Charlie reading this, but I am afraid of Todd reading it.
What is the difference?
One might guess that it's simply because I have to live with Todd, but that's not it. I don't have to live with him--I'm choosing to, for now at least. The biggest difference I can think of is indicative of a deeper problem that will eventually need to be dealt with if I am to stay married:
Perhaps I'm not afraid of Charlie finding this because Charlie always seemed to be a passionate truth-seeker. He didn't care if something contradicted his preconceived assumptions. He would dialogue and really listen, and he wouldn't get upset with someone for disagreeing with him.
Todd, on the other hand, is a master at ignoring even glaring truths if they don't fit in with the ideal landscape he's created in his mind of how things should be. That's why he lies to his parents all the time (and I don't think he even realizes he does this, because he's lying to himself as well). That's also why he stops listening if I say something that doesn't fit into his idea of how things should be. I'm just realizing, as I type this, how stifling that behavior has been to my growth as a person. I don't mean to play the "poor victim" here, I accept the fact that by allowing this to go on for so long, I am guilty of enabling the behavior.
Realizing that, I want change. The truth is hard; however, even if it's a slow smothering death, a lie will eventually kill. I want to be free even if it requires some extra pain along the way. Can I handle the truth? I think so. I really think I can. Todd, however... well, let's just say I'm not so sure. The lies have become so ingrained--so habitual--for him that I really don't think he can handle the truth.
What is the truth?
(Now, this is just off the top of my head, mind you, but I'll give it a whirl at putting down in words the things I cannot presently tell Todd.)
First off, I don't want to be with Charlie. I know he's not good for me that way. We could be friends, but we never should have been anything beyond that.
If I were given the choice, however, between someone like Charlie or someone like Todd, I would have to say that the someone like Charlie would be better for my mental well-being because he would actually accept me for who I am.
With Charlie, I don't think I'd feel relationally secure. He cheated with me, so he would probably cheat on me. But with Charlie I would feel free to be, and to grow, and to express my true self--a person who is not static. I'm at a place in my life where I feel like that is just as important (if not even more so) than physical faithfulness. Emotionally and intellectually, I don't feel safe and cherished with Todd.
I'd like for Todd to understand the differences that drew me to Charlie years ago, as I was simultaneously being repelled by Todd. Charlie made me feel safe in self-expression because he didn't judge me. Even though he treated me as an object by physically using me when he probably didn't really love me, Todd also treats me as an object on an intellectual level by shutting me out when what I'm saying doesn't agree with his plan (end of discussion--he either repeats his argument until I shut up, or "shuts me off" like an object by walking off, ignoring, and/or moping). When I don't fall in line with how he wants things to be, his reaction is similar to how he responds when the computer doesn't act the way he expects--like an object.
These are things that we will have to talk about, and the only way I see to do that safely and effectively would be with a counselor to mediate. We can't afford that right now, so I feel the need to tread water for a while. I know it probably looks like I'm just giving up, settling for the status quo, and enabling... but there are deeper things going on. I know it will take courage and strength to stand up to Todd in the way that I need to, and I'm not there yet. If I were to act hastily and set an ultimatum right now, or leave him right now, or ___, I would probably fall apart. I'm stronger than I was a year ago, but I don't think I'm strong enough to carry through yet, and I know that when I take a stand, I'd better be ready to carry through if Todd blows me off.
I guess you could say I'm in the midst of a control burn process. It's not yet time to unleash the wrath of Todd. There is a tiny scar on my arm, uncomfortably close to a large vein, that reminds me of what came of a confrontation I wasn't ready for. I'm not going to do that again. It may take a little while to get ready, but it will be worth it to take the time to be strong and prepared for success. I've already seen evidence on a smaller scale that when Todd sees me getting my sh!t together, he shapes up a little (even if it doesn't last long, it is an indication that he notices.) So, even if I'm not yet acting in an overtly proactive manner, I'm comfortable knowing that confrontation and ultimatum are not the only ways to affect the relationship.
For now we're on chapter "Get Bridget's Act Together."
And I'm not afraid.
when we take resources from our parents and are not honest, it is STEALING. I used to blame my parents for not cutting me off. I thought they should know that I was dishonest and should not have let me get away with it. The light went on the other day in my head, I have to take responsibility. I have to be angry at myself. No more stuffing the anger down deep in my subconscious. Let the light in! If not, we will become angry old people. Once dementia sets in....the anger will come out. Our souls become incontinent. No thanks! DO your housecleaning now! while there is still time!
ReplyDeleteGood point.
ReplyDeleteI kind of wish I had poured out my heart to my inlaws the last time I saw my mother-in-law alive -- even if it essentially meant "ratting Todd out."
I didn't do it because I'd seen before how vindictive they can be, and how they, too, live in an dream world and only believe what they want to believe. I remembered how they shifted the blame onto me when I let them know why I couldn't allow them to be alone with their grandchildren. They took the painful story of how I was molested as a child (which I shared with them in vulnerable trust) and they distorted, mocked, and belittled it, and then broadcast it to their extended family as part of a campaign to discredit me (and distract from the accusations that had been made toward my father-in-law--accusations he never literally denied). It felt like I was being violated all over again (and this time by people I should have been abel to trust.)
So, I didn't tell them how Todd uses, abuses, and wastes the money they send him. I didn't tell them how he lived off the equity line of the house they helped us buy--thus causing us to now owe twice the amount we initially borrowed. They gave us that money to provide us future security, and Todd's laziness STOLE from that security. Was I complicit in the crime by not telling them? Beyond the issue of just not feeling safe with them, I figured it was between Todd and his parents, and my butting into their dysfunctional patterns wouldn't do any good.
It's too late to tell his mother. Now his father's health is failing. Should I tell him? or should I let him die "in peace" -- not wrought with the grief of knowing just what kind of a son he raised?
I'm trying to figure out what constitutes good housecleaning... Could it be like "throwing pearls before swine" to present the truth to a man who prefers fantasy?