Living in the light

I used to think divorce was the worst thing that could happen to me.

Now I know that there are worse things: like living a lie, like thinking it's all my fault for not fixing it, like trying to pretend everything is fine-oh-fine because we have a "reputation" to protect.

Being real hurts. Hiding is so much easier--or so it seems while you're hiding.

Living in truth is painful. But it sets you free.

Lies bind. Truth frees.

Telling the truth after you've been hiding is like walking out of a dark theatre into the blinding brightness of a sunny afternoon. You squint, you cover your eyes. The light is painful. It takes time for your eyes to adjust.

But when you adjust to the light, you can see everything. You realize you never want to go back to that dark theatre where all you could see was the flickering illusion of reality on a screen.

You want to live your real life in the light.

I used to think it was my job to fix everything, to make everyone happy, to be a "good wife"--whatever that means. I expended outrageous amounts of energy trying not to make mistakes. And even more energy trying to cover up for others' mistakes.

In the end, hiding wasn't easier. It was exhausting.

Now I understand that my only job is to live openly, vulnerably, courageously--freely making mistakes and freely learning from them.

We are not divorcing.

Together, we are stumbling into the blinding brightness of freedom.