I will never lie to you

Everything will be ok in the end.  If it’s not ok, it’s not the end.

I got a letter from my dear husband’s lawyer today.  She seems nice.  I think she’s about to be in way over her head.  My lawyer scares even me.  I can’t wait until she gets to interrogate my ex.  When I first threatened divorce, two years ago, I was terrified that he would take me up on it.  18 months ago I began reading:

I loved it.  I dreamed about being free and able to make my own decisions again.  I fantasized about not facing constant judgement and failure to ever be enough, or do enough, to please the man who was supposed to love me unconditionally and forever.  9 months ago my husband announced that he was moving us from Indiana back to Arizona.  This would be our fifth move in five years.  This would be moving me across the country from my family, when I’d only been able to have one year with them as it was.  This would mean me giving up my Girl Scout troop, 18 of the most amazing young women who I adored completely.  Leaving friends, ripping roots, breaking hearts.  I begged him to let us stay.  I told him to go without me, I wasn’t going.  And yet in the end, I went.  I cried and cut ties and packed 18 suitcases and three kids onto a plane and did what he wanted.  Again.  So we could live near his mother and step-dad.  Again.

Six months ago I stepped in between him and our oldest daughter to protect her and ended up with bruises on my arms.  I became afraid of him for the first time.  I had been beaten down emotionally and criticized into the dust, but now I was genuinely afraid of what he might do next.  I still didn’t end it.  It wasn’t enough.  I needed him to give me permission to leave him.  I wished he would cheat on me, then I could leave.  But after living with erectile dysfunction for most of our marriage I knew that wasn’t likely.

Five months ago he told me a lie.  A thoughtless, insensitive, meaningless lie.  And that was it, I was done.  It wasn’t a big lie, but the pain of it hit me and all three of the kids, and I had my “permission”.  I am a typical Aspie in that I almost never lie, and when I do you can tell.  It’s tattooed all over my face.  I also have zero tolerance for being lied to, and if you want to really enrage me, call me a liar.  I have so many flaws.  I have so many weaknesses, it is comforting and exhilarating to be able to say:  No, I will NEVER lie to you.  You can count on that.  No matter how much it hurts me or you, I’m going to be honest.  My true friends love that about me.  My husband hated it.  He would rather have the polite lies than the painful truth.

My message for me today is, even though my life is far from perfect, it’s peaceful.  It’s honest.  It’s free.