We worry that we might hurt someone else’s feelings if we write our truth . . .
Yes, I do worry about that and it matters to me. I write to heal. And someday I want to produce my story in a book form that will help my daughters heal. I know there are ways they each hurt.
Once upon a time, a marriage happened. Over time it became dysfunctional and everyone suffered, mother, father and two daughters. It’s not the worst story of dysfunctionality, not by a long shot, but it left emotional scars all around.
I regret my part in the dysfunctionality. The two of us entered the marriage not thinking we would fail, not knowing things buried that would affect our interactions, not knowing our own wounds.
I am writing a confession that tries to look at the big picture. I want to write it for my daughters so that they can break through the patterns their parents modeled. I want them to have happier lives. Is it ridiculous to hope that they might find healing in my book?
I don’t want it to be one-sided, but I cannot speak for my ex. I don’t want bitterness to come through, but I don’t want to lie about things that were deeply hurtful–regardless whether I write as the one hurt or as the one who inflicted the hurt. Am I being hopelessly unrealistic? I know I can’t be completely objective, but I want to be fair.
Does that mean denying my truth? I don’t want to deny my truth. I want to look deep into my truth. I want to look deep into my part in the story and his. Not to cast blame, but to understand what went wrong. To tell my daughters to be careful not to repeat the mistakes. Because, some were generational mistakes. I want them to know, no matter what, that they are deeply loved by both their father and by me.
And, I know, that even if I succeed, they will have their own victories and failures. But maybe they will avoid a few of the obstacles that hurt their parents and ended our marriage.
We met in 1976, married in 1977, divorced in 2016. I am a returned Catholic. Last fall I started the process of annulment. There were things that happened before my marriage that affected my thinking and behavior. Those things are the basis on which I am seeking annulment. (Annulment is completely separate from the civil marriage. It does not, as some people believe, make children of the marriage bastards.)
The annulment process, from my perspective, is brutal. I say that despite the compassion of those who are working with me. I am having to face the worst of who I am or have been. I have to face my biggest failure.
Last year I filled out forms, met with the priest and deacon. I gathered marriage and divorce records. The priest sent it all off to the Church’s Tribunal. Then, I waited. The Tribunal agreed there was sufficient reason to accept the case. It is a tribunal in the sense that there are a Church judge, a priest who defends the validity of the marriage, and a priest who argues for the petitioner (me). My local priest will present my statements at the tribunal.
Yesterday, I met with my local priest again. The Tribunal sent him several pages of questions. He interviewed me. It took nearly two hours. I held it together–mostly.
I went home and called my bestie. Asked her if we could go out to dinner–in the next town over, so our conversation wouldn’t be overheard in our little town of 7,400 people. She drove. Mostly, I sat numbly, hurting for all the mistakes, and more so for all the missed opportunities to heal the gaps.
Can I really write this story for my daughters in a way that will help them heal, or will it bury me under its weight?
I know I have healed greatly through the writing I have done. I just didn’t realize how much more remains.
And if you pray, please pray for me. This process can take a long time.
Naked Soul Thoughts 