Now, I'm so glad I don't have that Hollywood version of love. How exhausting would it be to constantly be thrown into near-death experiences? We would be racking up so much debt in therapy bills. Real life has turned out to be much better.
For example, this past year I confessed something to Ryan I had hid from him for our entire relationship. For the sake of this blog (and my pride, honestly), it's not important what this thing was. We'll just call it "THIS." THIS was yet another way in which I sabotaged myself to try and pacify my ever-present anxieties. Basically, I'm an anxious person and have a history of relieving that anxiety in less than great ways.
THIS was something that I struggled with on and off for a long time. Each time I did THIS, I would think, "Ok, that was stupid, but now I'm done with THIS. That's the last time. I'm done and no one has to know about it." I've done that before, convinced myself that I don't need to tell anyone about self-destructive behavior because "this was the last time."
Well, when THIS happened again, I knew it wasn't going away without accountability. I think I've always known that, but finally decided THIS needed to die. And, as I've learned from admitting previous dumb things I've done, I knew the only way for THIS to die was to tell Ryan. I reached this conviction during a church meeting, of all cliche places. Throughout the meeting, I slowly felt the terrorizing peace that only God's convictions can bring. During a break, I told Ryan I needed to talk with him. He clearly wanted to stay for the rest of the meeting, but I said it was important. Because he's better than any Hollywood man, he immediately grabbed his stuff and we picked up Isaac and left. In the car, with Isaac making adorable cooing noises in the backseat, I told Ryan about THIS. Guh, it sucked, but even as I was saying it all, I knew I was shattering the last remaining division between us. Ok, maybe not the last, because no marriage is perfect, but it was definitely the last LARGE remaining division.
And, without questioning why I did THIS or why I hadn't told him sooner, Ryan kissed me on the forehead and said he was proud of me for being so brave.
While we were still dating, I had confessed another big mistake I had consistently made. My counselor at the time said that by bringing this secret out into the light, I had robbed it of its power. And now I've robbed THIS of its power. The frustrating thing, though, is there's always something I have to keep bringing into the light, something I keep having to force from my secret, evil dungeons. I know that's just part of the importance of God's grace, that we're never "good enough" on our own, but it seems like at a certain point I should be able to get rid of all the "really bad" stuff.
But God's healed me in so many ways that I have hope there's a place where this junk will finally be refused entrance into my mind and body. I can't say I have pure, unshakable faith that this place actually exists or that it's always a comfort to think of such a place, but the hope is there and that's something.
But God's healed me in so many ways that I have hope there's a place where this junk will finally be refused entrance into my mind and body. I can't say I have pure, unshakable faith that this place actually exists or that it's always a comfort to think of such a place, but the hope is there and that's something.
