I just read a couple of my wife’s recent posts, “The Jungle Nightmare” and “Tell Me Five More Things.” I began with the latter. Reading her description of how she discovered my affair with the housekeeper and how I ultimately told her about all my other adultery that night caused my heart to sink. As I read, I felt I was reliving that moment, that horrible night. My chest tightened, my eyes teared up, and I felt ashamed. I felt fear, sadness, and guilt. I felt like hiding.
Then I read TL’s memories of how she walked around our kids’ school in a near suicidal daze. I remember seeing her that day. It was as if it were yesterday. I remember feeling shocked and detached. TL was gone. I did not know about the part where she went to the basement of the school to cry. Reading that was another heart-breaker for me. I had taken the most beautiful gifts God had given me, and I had pissed on them, broken them, and left them in the trash. I owe TL more apologies than I can ever express in one lifetime. I just realized, I actually owe God an apology too. He gave me so much, and I appreciated so little.
Then I read her dream story. I knew that dream well. I remember when she first described it to me. Reading it today, it still shocks me. It really does send a chill through my body. It has such archetypal imagery of loss, betrayal, and evil.