How do you tell someone…
they have hurt you so deeply that you cannot sleep until you are exhausted. That every time you are with them you feel as if you are alone. How do you say that the real you is locked deep inside observing the you he created love him back?
It’s easier to forgive and forget someone from your past whom you have not seen in a long time. Easier to forgive and forget someone who has passed away. But how do you forget what you have forgiven when you must face the one who hurt you every day?
There are two kinds of anger. There is the type that rests on your shoulders, clouds your eyes, and hangs on the tail of every word that comes out of your mouth…for all to see and hear.
Then, there is the one that rides the current of your blood and swims with your saliva. The one that sits in your belly resolute and complacent that that’s where it belongs and where it will stay…insidious and menacing, hidden beneath smiles and infectious laughter.
I had the latter. So, when I told him how I felt we were both dumbstruck.
Me, because fear of making him mad at me didn’t matter anymore.
He, because he believed that everything was okay simply because I was still there.
Nothing to Do With Me
If the attention and perks that pretty women get, regardless of merit, is just infatuation and lust, why is it placed higher than the actions of a wife that, out of love, provides an invaluable contribution to her husband and family?
We both came from very traditional families. I went in with my eyes wide open. I assumed the role willingly and enjoyed taking care of my family. But why was that of less value to him, because I wasn’t pretty?
I have seen my husband turn into a spineless, bobbing, puppet when talking to a beautiful co-worker. Believe me, I was truly disappointed, and judging by her expression she was not only used to this behavior in men, she also did not find it attractive.
Her reaction allowed me to look at him objectively, with eyes wide open, without emotion, as if he was someone else’s spouse. And I knew in that moment that his behavior had nothing to do with me. I felt pity for him because, sadly, he was not aware of his own actions.
Love Is, or It’s Not
Of course, I had to point it out, and get this, he didn’t believe me! He thought that he had carried himself as any normal person would.
It bothered me that he felt uplifted by her presence. Yet, I had to put in so much effort to get him to look my way.
I realized that I had been loving him enough for the both of us. His words were telling me all about the love that he was giving. Was my love enough to hide the fact that they did not match his actions?
Was I the source of all this pain? I mean, he had been showing me who he was all along. Sadly, I was adept at ignoring the truth and re-spinning it to justify my staying. I know I was part of the problem. I have said as much. And I have tried and learned to accept him as he is. I could forgive him for his mistakes, truly.
But the simple truth was that he never met me halfway. I’ve had to compromise until I was invisible, until I didn’t even recognize myself.
Love is, or it’s not. There is no in between.
“Man makes holy what he believes, as he makes beautiful what he loves.”
Ernest Renan (1823-1892), France
Leave a Reply