We are truly free when we let go of the thought that the past could or should have been different. This is so hard.
Challenges arise from our desperate need to validate our feelings and experiences. It often feels like we are invalidating ourselves if we let go of the thought that the past should have been different. We’ve been through hell, through experiences that most people don’t know, and initially it feels so devastating to think of letting it go as if it never happened. Where is the justice?
I know; I’ve been there. To be honest, I still have moments when I pick up this thought and go with it for a while because it just feels like the right thing to do. To honor myself and my experience, I must connect with the injustice of choices made by others—choices that have dramatically affected my life and caused enormous amounts of pain.
After about nineteen years of marriage, my husband, my high school sweetheart, told me he was gay and had never been attracted to me.
I promise, I know pain. I spent weeks wrestling with myself, trying to think of all the things that could happen or could happen to avoid the situation that caused me so much pain.
I’d pay attention to red flags while we were dating, listening to my therapists as they tried to get me to work through the issues between my husband and I, hoping that I’d never met him or that he’d be honest with me (which would have been best for both of us, because I’m sure the lying hurt him too). I could change a lot of things. It felt overwhelming at times.
For months I didn’t want to even think about accepting my reality. It felt like the most illegal thing I could do. The rejection I experienced during my marriage is not something I wish on anyone.
Was I surprised when my ex-husband told me he was gay? This is difficult to answer. I knew something was wrong. I knew I felt crazy and invisible and ugly. The number of nights I’ve gone to bed in tears unseen by the man I married is too many to count.
Now that I have finally lived the truth, how do I move forward? There I am carrying the mountain of twenty years of sorrow. I personally find this reality the worst: other people’s choices can cut us to the core. Others can hurt us, and the only way to live a healthy, fulfilling life is to connect with other people.
I can’t tell you how many nights this reality has kept me awake. I want more than anything to live on an island alone. Over the years I have convinced myself that I can be completely self-sufficient. I will earn my own money and take care of my own needs. I want nothing to do with getting close enough to people that they lie, cheat and hurt me again.
I want to do this. I wish there was a way, but I’m not there to tell you that I’m here.
You can go that way; Trust me, I tried. It only brings more emptiness and pain.
The truth is, we’re hardwired for connection. We are mammals. We need others to survive. Those who thrive have deep, meaningful, loving relationships. When someone breaks trust they experience the pain of the highest highs and the deepest lows. This is the human experience.
Unfortunately, some of us have experienced deep levels of pain, but I know for sure that we are all capable of healing.
I had to redefine what it means to let go. It will never mean that my ex-husband’s choices were right. I would never say that the pain was worth it or that it wasn’t bad. Being in a catfished relationship for twenty years is never okay. There will always be days that I feel and mourn the pain of the past. Thankfully, those days are becoming more and more rare, but they certainly still happen.
Letting go is feeling the sadness of my reality so I can accept what I can’t change. I can’t change his lies. I can’t change my choice to trust them. I can’t change that I gave up myself and my needs for her and our children. I can’t change it.
I can feel deep, agonizing pain and grieve that pain until it stops tormenting me. When I allow myself to feel, to sit with that feeling for as long as I need to, I validate myself. I’m not looking forward to the day he or anyone else validates my experience.
No one will ever know the true depth of our suffering. The days we cried in our closets or silently cried ourselves to sleep. Although we can verify this for ourselves. We can share our stories so others know they are not alone in their pain.
I know many of you know my pain. Your story may be different, but your pain is not. If you feel stuck moving forward, please know that the greatest gift you can give yourself is to feel all of your feelings fully. “Go there,” they say.
You don’t have to do it alone. Let a therapist, counselor, or trusted friend sit with you as you feel the depth of all your feelings. On the other hand there is freedom. i promise It’s not perfect; My grief is not gone forever, but I am free. I am free from his choices, and I am free to create a life I didn’t know I could dream for myself while I was still bound in his web.
The work is scary, difficult, and only for the brave and the brave. There are many people here to encourage you and stand by you as you work. Be brave and start the journey of letting go. You are worth it.
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I recently heard someone say that mercy is the meeting place of love and suffering. I feel like I’ve suffered for so long, and I know my ex has too. My ability to truly let go and be free came when I could also see my ex’s pain and lovingly let him go.
I met him sympathetically. It was not easy. Compassion didn’t come quickly, and some days it’s still hard. We both grew up in a culture that valued being good and compliant over being happy and looking.
Our tragic story is the product of valuing rules and goodness over love, happiness, and self-expression. I know we are not the first generation to suffer from this mentality, but I pray we are the last.
