Friday, May 17, 2013

Fear of Dark Places

2011

My hands are shaking. My breath is short. Am I really seeing this? This must just be spam email. No wait, the emails are addressed to Husband. I must have mistakenly opened his account and not mine. There's more, pages and pages more. Shocking words on the screen. Images. Stories. I'm speechless. I'm frozen in this moment. Husband looks over at me and notices my distress. "What's wrong?" he says. "What is all this?" I respond. His shoulders slump, his face turns pale. "I don't know." he says. "Not a good enough answer!" I yell. "I was lonely. I was just searching. It was really only a few times." he says, not knowing that I've already clicked through pages and pages, years of deceit. I call my sister. "I think I'm going to come with Child and stay with you." I say. Husband interjects, "No, I should probably leave." In my state of shock, I forget that wives can kick husbands out of the house for stuff like this. He leaves. I'm left alone. With my child. I don't even cry. I just stare blankly. Time stops and I stand in the middle of my living room. Dumbfounded. My sister calls back, the phone ring startling me back to the present. "I'm coming to stay with you. I don't know what's going on, but I know you and you need me there."

2013

My hands are shaking. I'm feeling light-headed. The therapist asks me what information I don't want to know during disclosure. And what questions I plan to ask. What details are important to me. I don't have answers. Disclosure day is a week away, and I have no idea what I want to know. What I don't want to know. Don't I know everything? He says that I likely know all there is to know, but Husband still needs to come clean. But do I know everything? What if Therapist is preparing me for another D-Day? Is he going to say something that is just too much for me to hear? Something that puts me over the edge? Therapist keeps talking about patterns, recovery, codependence. But I'm frozen in time. Paralyzing fear. Husband has made great progress. Kind gestures, moments of honest communication. But he's a stranger. My brother texts as I leave the session. "I just want you to know that I'm here for you. I would do anything for you, and I am praying for you."

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