We are told from the time we are small not to stare at the sun, that we will go blind. Despite those warnings we are all tempted, at the very least, to risk going blind, just to get a small look at the sun. We do the same in our life experiences. We know that it will not be good to look, but sometimes you want to understand something so much that you will risk the worst to just get a tiny glimpse of what it is all about.
From the moment I sat in our home office, my heart pounding, reading scraps of emails and discovering the truth left behind on his computer, I have wanted to understand it, this not understandable thing. It’s a strange feeling to read words that it says the person you love wrote that don’t look in any way familiar. Words that the brain can read and comprehend, but not from the source they say they are coming from. To this day the memory baffles me. To this day my heart tries to convince my brain that it really isn’t possible that he was involved in any of this.
The brain is designed to protect us. I know that now. Something that sends you into shock will be overridden by the brain, leaked out in bits instead of an overwhelming tidal wave of emotion. The brain, I have found, can reason away most anything, at least temporarily until you can gain your composure. The problem for me is that it never gets easier. No matter how slowly the reality seeped into my brain, I still was in disbelief. I look at him today and I think that there’s no way. I still think that there is no way. He would never cheat in a million years.
Only he did.
Of all the parts of healing that I have went through, admitting that, saying it out loud, and writing the words out in print have been the hardest part for me. I still lack the comprehension to understand how someone who would never cheat…….did. I find it impossible that as I was being run over, he was the one driving the car.
He was the one driving the car. He steered that car toward me over and over again. He didn’t hesitate to run me over multiple times.
Only he would never do that.
Only he did.
I am antsy lately, desperate to end the process. I’m pushing myself and rushing myself to get to the end, only I’m still up in the air about the ending. I want to write here all the time, to get it all out in the hopes that it will all come to an end soon. But what does the ending look like?
I can put my sunglasses on right now, flip my hair back and climb into the Corvette with him and drive until the ground turns blue. Easy. Carefree. A perfect ending to a not-so-perfect story.
Or, I can stare into the sun, risk going blind, for a chance to find out the whys and hows that I desperately want to know, to examine the thing that frightens me. And that would require me to take a leap into the true unknown where the sun may have already gone down.
I just keep believing if I take away the mystery I will take away the fear. And maybe that is worth the risk.