"The sun is rising, devouring the darkness. It always does; this is the natural order."
-Annette, Castlevania: Nocturne
Not that I ever gave it much thought, but if I'd had to, in the past when hearing the cliche the truth will set you free, I would have said it applied to the person not telling the truth. Lies are so cumbersome, after all; to hold onto them and carry their weight is such a heavy, crippling thing. Over the past nine days, though - ten days; can you believe it's only been ten days? - I've realized the expression isn't about the person holding the untruth. It's about the person who's been untruthed to.
Those of you who have been reading my posts since the beginning of the summer know I've been in bad shape. Awful. Honestly, the worst shape of my life (and I was in a mental hospital. Twice). From June 3 to September 25, I was functioning at probably fifty-one percent. Maybe fifty-five. I got up, I cried. I lay in my bed, I cried. I sat at my table, I cried. I got in the shower, I cried. I walked around my neighborhood at night, I cried. I sat in parking lots, I cried. I sat in breweries, I cried. I went to parties, I cried. I started going to work, I cried. I drove home from work, I cried. I went to Orlando to visit my older son, I cried (at his house, at Leu Gardens, at Winter Park Biscuit Company, at a Total Wine). For 114 days, the only time I felt remotely okay was when the ex-Virgo and I were communicating in some form.
And then day number 115 came along.
But wait. Since I'm not one for untruths, I have to tell you that day number 115 started out exactly the same as the 114 that came before it, possibly even worse. The ex-Virgo and I were on the phone from 10:47 until 2:00 a.m. the night before (leave me alone, I keep good records) when he called me after I messaged him asking if he was Carla's boyfriend and told him he'd better tell me the truth because somehow I'd find out. Not only were we on the phone and FaceTiming until all hours of the night, but we were both emotional wrecks, and when finally I told him we had to hang up because I had to be up at 5:30 and needed to sleep, that was impossible, of course. So starting out day 115 on two hours of sleep, a loss of hope, and a dearth of faith? Maybe one of the worst days I'd had.
As the day went on, though, things started to change. I told some people what had transpired, and between their reactions and the thoughts that had been percolating in my brain, I got angrier and angrier and less and less sad (and, yes, I know all about anger being a secondary emotion, but believe me, people who read my blog. On top of the hurt and rejection I felt, I was just plain pissed). Within a few days, the sadness and anger started giving way to a different feeling. It certainly wasn't constant, but dare I say it? I was feeling happy again.
Fifty-one-to-fifty-percent-maximum functioning Kelly, she of the summer and September blogs? She of the listless crying who thought about buying stock in Kleenex and salt?
Let's take a little look
I swear I didn't purposely set this up to stop on a still of my butt (as evidenced by the fact that I can't even properly align this text)
Seriously, the change boggles my mind.
In addition to dancing around my house, I've moved the ex-Virgo out of favorites on my phone, where I also gave him a new name, and from which I also deleted almost seventy photos, thrown away a bottle of the ex-Virgo's nasal spray that I'd been holding onto because I'm a nut, and have watched none of his videos even once. I've cried exactly three times in the last nine days, the time when writing my last blog post, when watching a scene from That Thing You Do, and yesterday when filling in my gynecologist, who hadn't seen me since the beginning of April and only knew the ex-Virgo and I were having problems, on the rest of my tale. I've also been socializing, I've been singing and dancing on my butt in the car, I've been telling jokes. For fuck's sake, I'm (gulp) going on a date. A date, people who read my blog. A date! (Full disclosure: I have a date; that doesn't mean I'll actually go.)
The point is talk about liberty - although surely not justice - for all. The truth gave me the liberty to be me again, the liberty to begin to move on. Along with writing my Final Fantasy posts, which helped me tremendously, too, the truth gave me the liberty to look at the last three years in a less myopic way, to see so many things clearly that up until so, so recently, I couldn't manage to do.
***
The Scene from That Thing You Do
Right after I found out about the ex-Virgo and Carla and realized all his lies, I couldn't stop thinking about this scene. If you haven't seen That Thing You Do, what's happening in this scene is Faye, who throughout the movie, has been utterly in love with her boyfriend Jimmy to the point of blind worship, has finally seen him for what he really is. I only remembered the sentiment, not exactly what was said, but I knew it was something that resounded with me, and I wanted to watch it since I was wallowing at first.
As you already know, it made me cry. When Faye told Jimmy she wasted thousands and thousands of kisses, kisses that she thought were special because of his lips and his smile, I could do nothing but think that I had done the same, that I had wasted not only thousands and thousands of kisses, but countless I love yous, I love you muchos, and I love you demasiados (boy isn't that the truth?), countless cuddles and snuggles, countless conversations, countless minutes of talk of future plans.
But when I was talking to Maria Claudia (my gynecologist), she made a good point. She made a lot of good points, actually, but I won't go into them all here, just the currently-relevant one which is about all the good times we shared, the ex-Virgo's immaturity, and the appeal of this la-la-la-24-year-old girl, who, sure, will come chock full o' problems of her own, but those problems are a much different kind of problems from the ones accrued throughout my ex-Virgo's and my time (look at that, I guess I did go into most of her points. Throw in the one about how when I mentioned I hadn't met his mother once in three year, she put her hand up to shut me up right then and there and told me I don't need that, I have way too much to give to be in a relationship like that, and I've shared them all).
But I digress. We shared good times. That's it. That's the point. We shared great times. No amount of lies and betrayal can change that, or fine, I supposed they could, but I won't let them. I don't want to regret my kisses like Faye. I don't want to regret that time. Despite what I said about the come pinga robbing me, I don't want to regret how hard and how much I loved him. I don't want to hate anyone, least of all the man I've loved most in my life.
It won't be easy to not give into my dark side. Even as I type this, I think about the things he did to me and that I'd probably be better off. And maybe I will; gods know my feelings are all over the place. But I think about something Giles says to Buffy in "I Only Have Eyes for You," one of my favorite BtVS episodes (and one that's strangely apropos to the whole Jonathan-Kelly situation, at least in my eyes).
He says, To forgive is an act of compassion, Buffy. It's not done because people deserve it. It's done because they need it, and the "they" in my situation? It's not the other party involved. It's me. I need to forgive the ex-Virgo not for his sake, but for myself. Will I be able to? I'm not really sure, but at least now that I have all the facts, now that I'm no longer encumbered by his lies, I have the liberty to decide.
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