So I have spent the last 17 months in deep thought or trying to hide from the ugly truth, rebuilding my life or picking up the pieces of a life shattered by a modern-day Judas, surviving the loss or escaping from the attempted murder . . . learning to love again.
And still I ask myself how was it so easily possible not to have seen the deceit. They say it’s because love blinds us that we do not see the monster behind the facade, but I say that’s not acceptable. And for those of you who are with others who truly love you, who do not use love as a tool with which to manipulate, my hope for you is that you do not take that precious gift for granted. Until you’ve been brought down by the very thing that lifts you, you don’t understand the true cruelty of this misfortune.
It’s all winding down now, to the final stage, and it seems as if each new stage has been more difficult to survive than the previous. It started with the “opening the eyes to the deceit” stage, and I am convinced that it is the most painful of the stages. The humiliation born from the discovery that “everything was built on nothing” is almost unbearable and it creates a sense of loss more tragic than what we experience in losing another to death.
Mourning the loss is the second stage, and if you are not beaten here, then it will make you stronger. This is the stage that hopes to salvage some of your innocence, if any remains, and will be the only moments of truth, when you connect, for the last time, to the being in which you were in love, and now, that being is gone to you forever, but you still have the memories of loving.
With your precious love, now put to rest or cast to the winds or returned to the sea, you are able to begin the third stage . . . confronting the true beast . . . seeing her in all her ugly but honest glory, and you are finally free to unleash your anger and contempt to the one of which it belongs. You can speak the words from your heart without worry that you are betraying the one you loved, because the one you loved is gone. You let the anger take you to the places of recovery you otherwise would not be able to go, and for the first time you give thanks that you are no longer “involved with that despicable individual”. To even speak her name is an abomination, but you live with the fear that you will never be able to love again.
I expected the anger, but not the hatred, and with this latest stage, I begin to understand why the hatred hangs on so desperately. It is one thing to learn to live with the truth that I was in love with someone who “pretended to love” me . . . this pretense was necessary, I suppose, in order to extort things from me . . . expenses and gifts . . . it is one thing to live with the truth that this “pretender of love” stole from me and still takes credit for things that were only possible because of me . . . it is one thing to live with the truth that unforgivable things were done by someone I loved dearly . . . BUT it is an entirely different truth with which to deal that this vile individual just might “get away” with committing these crimes.
It was 4 a.m. the other morning, when I was awoken by loud, muffled voices from behind the wall. The neighbors were arguing. Just the night before they had woken me with loud groans and moans. But it was their angry words which disturbed me, and how they were on that emotional roller-coaster, and for the first time I realized that I hadn’t been party to such things. Yes, it’s been 17 months since I’ve started rebuilding my life, but it’s been 17 months of a drama-free, argument-free, emotionally stress-free life.
And then, tonight, I was having some “me time”, watching re-runs of “Grey’s Anatomy”, smiling at the extremely warm moments and peering through misty eyes at those touching or painful moments, and it occurred to me that I loved like that once. And then I remembered that my love was in vain, and I thought about hearing Rod Stewart’s song, “Forever Young”, on the radio as I drove home from school the other day. “. . . And may you never love in vain, and in my heart you’ll always remain, Forever Young . . .”
I took a deep breath, knowing that these kinds of thoughts stir that quiet anger that hides deep inside me, but this time the anger didn’t come. It was at that moment I realized that I am OK and that I am happy . . . and I didn’t feel this kind of happiness when I was with the liar who pretended to love me.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust others again, and I’m blessed to have those in my life who understand where I’ve been and are still willing to keep me in their lives . . . I am blessed to be loved . . . really loved and not a toy in another’s twisted game. But, I have actually walked away from this with learning something, and that is . . . love truly is a precious thing, and if you are loved, hang onto that, be thankful . . . treasure it. But if your love is used against you, to hurt you, try to be brave enough to not lose sight of true love . . . and love yourself enough to walk away.
