|image from colemanzone.com|
If you had a choice between stepping into a Time Machine and travelling to either the past or the future - what would you decide? I'm not talking about jetting to a particular time period or era - what I mean is, would you jump into your own personal past or future? I've been thinking about this fantastical journey in time as I absorb the sadness of a valiant attempt fallen short. Myself, I'm undecided. Would it be more valuable to revisit the past and make decisions that would prove to be less damaging or, would I prefer to jump ahead 6 months to a time when emotions have hopefully been smoothed to a less raw state?
I'm attempting to own my actions, both laudable and despicable. I don't think I've ever claimed innocence with regards to my "personal" life but. in case you have the false impression that I've never shared a kiss with someone other than my husband, allow me to be clear here: I am an imperfect human being and I've done things that were clearly beyond the boundaries of traditional marriage. Am I proud of this? Of course, not. I try not to spend a lot of time with self-loathing (and I have an ability to justify and rationalize my actions), but I must consider why I felt less than satisfied. Is it an unrealistic expectation for marriage? A desire for something new and exciting? An unmet need that simply won't go away? I don't really know - perhaps it is all of the above. Maybe it is an unavoidable awareness that numbness should not be confused with contentment. That creating a family with a person you love deeply does not necessarily translate into happily ever after and that sometimes, just sometimes, staying together holds the promise of more hurt rather than a cessation of pain.
Ripping a bandage off and exposing a wound to light and air is not for everyone. I understand that and find myself frequently apologizing for revealing more than is comfortable for others. I don't do it to malign or rally support or to create a platform for my position. Instead, I bare my thoughts and feelings as an exercise in expression, as well as an attempt to explore the thread of humanity that I truly believe connects all of us. To write is no longer an option for me, but a compulsion. To read, however, is your choice.