The electricity was out that evening, and it was hot and stuffy and dark inside the house. We sat on the porch to enjoy the last bit of light and the slight breeze. We sat in silence in the fading light and rocked while he held my hand. I felt complete contentment in that moment right before his confession.
When he started rubbing my hand with his finger I knew something was wrong. Then he softly blurted something out. I didn’t understand right away. If what he just said was true, then everything else wasn’t. He had been successfully keeping something from me for years. And the remarkably few times I had thought I noticed something off and asked him about it, each denial was a lie. He knew how important the truth is to me, it’s one of the things that drew him to me.
I felt sick and fled to the bathroom where I crumpled to the tile. I sobbed over the loss of my certainty. I had years of memories to replace with the truth. Each new connection brought a different emotion…betrayal, anger, humiliation, and fear.
How could he have done this? Why didn’t he just say something? How could I have missed this? How much damage has he done?
Questions filled my mind, each one unanswered before the next one began. He came into the bathroom and gingerly sat down facing me. My frustration was heightened by his inability to answer any but the most factual questions. He was able to explain the what, but not the why. He didn’t fully understand his motivations.
Unfortunately, I thought I did. The worst of the emotions pounding on me was guilt. I was taking an objective look at myself and imagining the kind of reaction I might have had to learning the truth earlier. I shuddered at how punishing I can be, how punishing I likely would have been. Would I have offered him forgiveness, without really letting it go? Used it against him at the slightest provocation? Oh God, probably.
While not an excuse to lie, I certainly didn’t create an environment in which it would feel safe to tell me truths I didn’t want to hear. I wouldn’t have wanted to tell me this either.
What kind of person was I, so intolerant of weakness in others and in myself, and so oblivious to the struggles of others, even those I love? What could I gain if I stopped the denial of weakness and embraced vulnerability? Providing forgiveness was not a sign of weakness, it was a gift to myself to be a person I could be proud of and to build with him what I believed I already had.
By this point, it was almost completely dark and I struggled to make out his features. He looked sad and worried. He didn’t know what I was going to do. He didn’t know I would not leave him. He didn’t realize that I would forgive him. So I told him these things. And I meant them.
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The title of this post comes from the song “Postcards from Hell” by the Wood Brothers, which I interpret to be about the dangers of protecting yourself from things you don’t want to know.
This week’s prompt from the Red Dress Club is about forgiveness.
Fantastic! I love that the actual confession is missing. At first, I was disappointed, since I was in suspense for the entire read wondering, “What?! What IS IT?!” but after a moment I thought about it… The details of such things are not the real issue, not when this is YOUR memoir, it is our reaction to them. Excellent job.
~Nicole 🙂
Well, I got to the end and cursed you for not telling me what it was… so it must be good. I’m always cursing the writers I really like.
“When he started rubbing my hand with his finger I knew something was wrong. ” Mmm, I like this line. It works for me. It’s very tangible.
“Would I have offered him forgiveness, without really letting it go? Used it against him at the slightest provocation? Oh God, probably.” I’m not sure you need the last sentence. It’s almost too much of a realization moment before you’re really done asking questions, for me.
Well done. I quite like this, even if it does make me gnash my teeth at you!
Bobbi
I felt the frantic pace of your thoughts as his news hit you. It was very well conveyed. I’m wondering what it was he told you that set you to this chaotic jumble of mind, and loved how you were able to see yourself so vividly in those few moments and forgive.
I was totally caught up in it. More please.
Oh I can so relate to these inner thoughts and workings. Your self reflection is so powerful, raw and honest.
I stayed with you through every moment, followed the range of reaction, felt the crumple and the fear and the realizations. Very powerful.
I loved this line: While not an excuse to lie, I certainly didn’t create an environment in which it would feel safe to tell me truths I didn’t want to hear. I wouldn’t have wanted to tell me this either.– The turning point. So bare and hard to say/ admit.
This post was really relatable.
There are so many things I liked about this post. At first, I was very curious about the confession but at the end it wasn’t a let down that it wasn’t told. The story of forgiveness stood on its own. I don’t need to know what led you up to that point. I loved the 2nd to last paragraph – talking about the environment you felt you created. You were showing how you took a moment to self-reflect, which is such a large part of forgiveness. Great job with the prompt!
I know my comments are supposed to be about writing, but first I have to say how much I love the concept of this piece. How true is that in order to expect to be told the truth we have to create a space where people feel they won’t be judged for it?
O.k., the writing. You did a very nice job setting the scene. I felt like I was there with you, in the bathroom. I felt cold, crying on the floor. I really liked this line, “Questions filled my mind, each one unanswered before the next one began.” Our minds work like that when we’re upset, don’t they? Thoughts spin out faster and faster. We don’t finish them before I new one pops up. I really enjoyed this piece, though I ached for both of you while I read it.
Is this about smoking?
Yep. I didn’t think it was critical for the point I was trying to make, but it’s not a secret (he said it was OK to say more, but I opted not to). You are a super genius.
It’s funny how I started this blog about productivity and to be accountable to myself for getting more done. Then I just ended up sharing all kinds of personal crap.
Only vice I knew of Dave having. Maybe Michelle Obama can help you out.
Often lies are based on fear of judgement. And it’s so hard not to judge! I love how you addressed this and took a good long look at yourself. Those moments of clarity are priceless and you took us through it all.
Great job!
you had me the whole way. really evocative, and leaves me with some hope for whats happening in my own life.