You Forget What You Don’t Need to Remember

Yesterday I woke up disgruntled with myself.  Dreams have always been very powerful for me.  As a child I often dreamed of natural disasters before they happened, dreamed of tests before I ever saw them, and had prophetic visions of my own life that I was unsure if or when they would come true.  Many of them did.  I believe in the power of dreams as a vehicle to heal oneself, to push forward into unknown territories of my comfort and see the world differently than I might have before.

Having said that, the dream I had yesterday was disturbing.  It was of an old boyfriend whom I had considered spending a lot of my years with.  I had put a lot of work into this relationship.  We lived 6 hours apart but we traveled every few weeks to keep the bond current and strong.   A few years ago, on our anniversary, he saw fit to go to a different state, rent a hotel, buy a hooker and then attempt his own life.  There was a mixture of things I felt when I found out the truth a month after it all happened.  A first I only knew that he had made an attempt on his life….this was the second or third time in our relationship.  I felt helpless.  I used everything in my kind heart and nursing superpowers to try and help lift the darkness from him, but nothing ever worked.  I remained hopeful even in the face of this last event.  A month later he confessed to cheating on me with a hooker.

I was devastated.  What I did next was even more devastating as a woman and as a human being.  I told him it was “ok” and that we could “get passed it”.  I hung up the phone and cried.  I grieved a little bit and then started making plans on how we could fix this black spot.  I thought about how I would be able to let him touch me again, how I could ever trust him, or how I could look my daughter in the face and know that I was a god damned weakling that I would rather stay with a cheat than be alone.  I had a moment with myself crying in the kitchen.  I had a coming to Jesus.  Then I got angry.

I wrote him a letter and told him that it was over and that I couldn’t live with myself knowing I would allow myself to be disrespected like that.  We never spoke again.

Currently, I am in the most amazing relationship of my life.  There is truth and honesty.  There is forgiveness and trust.  He knows about this past boyfriend and often in the face of the pain of what happened we joke and laugh about getting hookers for each other.  But when I woke up yesterday morning, after some digging around, I realized it was the 2 year anniversary of this incident that changed my life forever.  It took me awhile to tell my boyfriend why I was out of sorts because once a relationship is over with someone else, I try not to ever discuss it with a current partner.  He is a different breed, this one.  He understood how I must feel even after all these years.

The feeling that you weren’t worth respect and honesty cuts deep.  I had really thought I wasn’t harboring that pain after how wonderful my life has been since then, but I think I have been.  Carrying that around in my subconscious leaves a crack in my armor for a sense of being made a fool in the face of my family and friends.  I considered it a gross flaw in my character having been such an optimistic, supportive, kind sucker.  So with this entry I am shoving it out into the world.  I am ripping the breast plate off and leaving my heart open to the air.  I’m tired of carrying it around.  I have better things to do. Hockey is on.

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