The Other Thing About Truth

Here’s the other thing about the truth. Sometimes we know it, and yet we still pray for it to be a lie. Suzanne Whitfield Vince

This is post number 10 in the Journey to Truth Series

March 6, 2024:

In our first counseling session our therapist asked if we each wanted to save our marriage. My husband immediately replied in the affirmative. My answer was a little more convoluted.

I talked about the joy, the reasonless joy I felt when I was away. About the recognition that for me, it was the only acceptable way to live my life. There must be joy. And not just when I am away on personal retreat.

But even as I spoke the words, I could feel how far short they fell in explaining something that could only be understood on a deeply personal level. Even to my own ears they sounded some far out, pie-in-the-sky non-answer to the question.

They sounded like an ending.

And I could see him running my words through his own filter, making his own determination about what I meant. In his mind, he heard me say I was done.

And I was, I suppose. Done with life as we’d known it for the past twenty years. I wanted something new. Something different. I wanted our therapist to wave a magic wand over us, change us, heal us, make us fall in love with each other again.

I wanted him to remove all the pain, all the resentment. To wave a magic wand and heal us both of all our wounds. Make us whole. Make us fall in love with our Selves and then with each other. Just like we did the first time. Madly. Deeply. Completely.

Because that love was still there. It was. It was just so badly corroded.

(Too badly corroded?)