Ugh. I know what I have to do. I just don't want to do it. My heart is screaming. 3 people this week have reiterated it. But I still feel the need to run.
I have to tell my husband more than he knows. I have to tell him what really happened. But doing that means admitting once and for all that it was real - and it wasn't just a bad dream. And that it really was as bad as I'm being bombarded with remembering it.
Admitting that I was trash. At least to my father, I was.
It's killing me. I don't want to be this person. I don't want to have this past. I don't know how to deal with it. I don't know how to handle it. I don't know that I can live with the label forevermore. I can't. It's like letting him win. Succumbing to him being right about me.
It sounds stupid, but I went off to college thinking I'd just make a new identity. No one knew me. No one knew my family. I could be anything I wanted. No one would ever have to know the difference. It's the only time in my life I was not afraid to make friends. I decided what I wanted to be and people liked me and life was good. I laughed, I played, I fit in. I never wanted this to catch up with me. I liked my new life. I just thought if I did a good enough job at creating the new me, I could make it go away and it would never have to be an issue again. That's not so bad, right?
Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! I can't disappear. No matter how much I run, it catches up with me. This is all I'll ever be.
I wished it was all a really horrific nightmare - just a bad dream. I wished it so hard that for a long time I didn't know what reality was anymore. I did a good job. I did it so well, that I still wonder. But as I sit here and type this, and think about how I've agonized over telling - thinking that if I was wrong and it was a bad dream that God would make me burn in hell for lying and the whole world would hate me - I realize that the lie was that it didn't exist. The lie is this facade I've worn for so long while I've run.
But I like the lie better. I don't want what I was. I'd rather be happy and well adjusted and fit in. But I can't keep it up anymore - the pressure is killing me there, too. As much as I want that, I'm not that.
Telling my husband means making a commitment to a decision - which side of the line am I committing to... there will be no going back. I'll have to live with it for the rest of my life - sitting there beside him knowing he knows what I really am and that I can never, ever, ever make it go away again. Unlike a counselor or a friend, who might go away or be scared off, this is the man who committed his LIFE to me - he's not going anywhere. There's no going back. No more hiding. No more running. It becomes reality. The battle is lost. Forever.
Ugh! I know what I have to do. I just don't want to do it.
2 comments:
You are not trash. You may feel like it. You may have been treated like it. However today you are a treasure. God made you. Your dad didn't and you didn't...God did. If He made you, He made you perfect. God don't make trash or mistakes. He made you on purpose. You are not your past. You are a child of God and that is what your husband sees and will see when you tell him. It will be hard for both of you but he will be there and he'll accept you just how you are. You are brave to want to get over your past. I know you can do this. God is there every step you take. He will help you when you don't have any idea what to do. He'll let you cry. Then He'll give you strength. I am going to continue to pray for you and I know others are too. You will make it and you will shine.
The battle is not lost - it is won. That is where you are wrong (and I love 'ya in saying that). Satan loses his power - his grip - his hold he has had on you - the lie that your husband won't understand or won't care. You are nothing but beautiful in the eyes of God AND the eyes of your husband. It's not going to change when you tell him. Keep on truckin' my friend. We're in this thing together.
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