Things that don’t make sense to me drive me nuts.
This is one of those non-negotiable, ever-the-same, been-there-since-childhood facts about me. And even if, in my conscious mind, I don’t observe the discontinuity, my subconscious does – every time, and it usually resorts in some metaphysical manifestation to get my attention, like, yeah… a rash.
My earliest memories of this truth involve my father saying, “because I said so,” and ended up with me being grounded for backtalk and wondering what the hell just happened.
More recently, my marriage gave me a heaping dose of the crazies, because when living with an addict, nothing ever makes any sense. Lie after lie from the man who called me “Beautiful,” the one I trusted and who looked at me with the most loving eyes… the bending of the truth… unclear stories… something inside of me knew.
What else would have prompted me to look through his cell phone records and travel bag when I was 9 months pregnant with our first child? Some things just didn’t add up. I was acting crazy, and he was perfectly fine with letting me believe that I was. On the outside, he made the ideal presentation of an expectant first-time father. But my gut was wrenching, and it wasn’t the baby kicking. I ate my frustrations and gained 50 pounds.
So many clues never made it past a quizzical “hmm” from me at the time, but later, they came together in a nice, neat “wrap up the mystery novel” way. Inebriated comments from his secretary at the company Christmas party that year… “work” phone calls at 2:00 am… stopping at a payphone on our way to an event… love poems and cards in his bag that “belonged to a client, who was having an affair…” disappearing from our family baby shower at his mother’s to talk for hours on the basement phone… I truly thought I was crazy, and I was, for trusting someone who was so completely untrustworthy. That’s insanity, for sure.
But when someone tells you you’re insane, the last thing you want to do is believe it, and so I tried to quiet the Truth in my head and just believe the lies. If questioning things meant I was nuts, then I just wouldn’t do it anymore. I would believe him and have a happy marriage of denial.
And so it continued for awhile… until the next round. More on that later.
Presently, I have other liars and addicts in my life for one reason or another. Things don’t make sense. Someone has an undisclosed motive. I attempt the “I’m not going to be crazy – just roll with it,” response, and I end up on steroids to avoid scratching off all my skin.
Keen, conscious awareness is growth, I think.
Gotta find another way to quiet that itch. Maybe some hot sex with someone special… hmm?