My therapist is a goddess. She has the perfect personality for me. She empathizes, sympathizes, and relates to me exactly as a woman and therapist should. I'm so grateful to have found her.
She also is exquisitely perfect at calling me on my shit.
I want so desperately to villainize the woman who usurped my place in my marriage. I want to make her responsible for everything that went wrong and led me to this point. I want to malign her as a traitor to her gender. How could a woman do that to another woman? We're supposed to stick together, support and uplift one another, right? I want to cast aspersions against her character and morals as my betrayer. She knew my husband was married yet she enticed him and lured him away.
The truth is, she wasn't the one that made the choices that brought me where I am. That's all on my husband. But if I want to be brutally honest with myself, I probably let him go.
Don't misunderstand me, I am not taking all the blame for this situation. I admit all that I did wrong. I should have been more present. I should have been taking the pulse of the marriage for years and I didn't. I should have been checking in daily, even hourly, if necessary. But I didn't. Still, the choices that have me in the midst of a divorce were not mine. My choices put our marriage in distress. His fractured it beyond repair.
So here I sit. On the precipice of love and peace or hate and rage. I want so desperately to use the other woman as my emotional punching bag. My twisted heart wants to excuse everything my husband did based on a stereotypical belief that men are weak and can't help themselves. That way I could forgive him and hate her, blame her, disparage her.
But the little angel that sits on my other shoulder has quite coincidentally taken on the look and voice of my goddess therapist. None of this has anything to do with that other woman. It's all on us, my husband and me. She reminds me that I am more than justified in being hurt and angry. I am entitled to feel betrayed. My inability to forgive (at this point) is understandable. Eventually, though, it will be up to me to forgive and forget; move on to choose joy and happiness over blame and distress.
Logically, she's perfectly right. As usual. And I even know this on my own. What the heck am I paying her for? Haha! Because it's her voice that tells me everything I already know in a non-judgmental, caring tone. The one I don't reserve for myself.
So, I think I'm going to balance here for a while on the fence of the unforgiving staring daggers at the unforgiven. Eventually I will climb down and walk away from it all to a future that is bright and welcoming. Until then, I'll imagine myself as William Munny holding that shotgun as he stares down at Little Bill. Will I pull the trigger?
No. My scene will change and I'll develop a much richer script for the rest of the movie of my life.
April 25, 2017