I hate making confessions; they are painful, ugly truths I’d rather not share with anyone, much less the world. I seem to have no recourse in the matter at all so, I’m gonna spill the beans if you will. I’ll do my best not to beat around the bush and get to the point.
The bare-naked truth is that when I’m left alone with my thoughts they wonder into places the hadn’t ought to go. I don’t hate *Jon* every day all day. I remember the tender moments, the laughs, the fun, and the over the moon intimacy we shared early on. These emotions are intensified when he calls at all hours of the night pleading for my forgiveness and I’m hovering at the brink of loneliness myself. I know that makes me sound like I’m one brick shy of a load after all the things that I’ve already shared and maybe I am, but I also know that I’m flesh and blood with a heart that pumps syrup through my veins.
What saddens me the most is that I can’t pull the good parts that belonged to *Jon* out of the air and keep them with me and let the ugly parts float away. The sad fact is that I had to take my heart and run.
I thank all that is good that these seemingly never ending moments of deluded memories are trumped by visions of the undeniable truth that he is a broken man that neither I nor anyone else can fix. His capacity for carrying goodness is tainted and there is no point of return to reference.
Because of the battle that takes place in my mind, I have to force myself to search out and see the brokenness of my children and the unwarranted guilt that they carry over the events that led to our final run for freedom. I have no choice but to counter that longing for his carefully constructed illusion with the lies, the condescension, the cruelty, the hate, the battering and the never-ending pain that resulted from it. Of all of the things that I have to remember and relent to, I have to remember and relent to that.
Whatever you do, wherever you are, whatever you think, when the longing for that illusion of love creeps in I hope you join me and choose to “Remember That.”
Some folks think it’s unrealistic to strive to maintain my sense that good lives in everyone, that the road paved with a healthy amount of cynicism is the safest road to take. Is there such a thing as a healthy amount of cynicism? Anyway, I have not one scintilla of a desire to be cold, hard and overwhelmingly disparaging, but I’m finding that to be a difficult task and if one such healthy balance does exist I hope I find it.