I Was Lying

I wish I could reconcile, cause deep inside I’m dying So I put on a smile, and I pretend I’m fine 
I’m just another screw up, baby don’t waste your time I told you we’d be different, but we knew I was lying

~Burden

Ok, so not exactly as dramatic as these song lyrics, but I told Adam a lie.

I’m very good at circling truth, sometimes. Adam calls this, sidestepping. Sort of leading him to the conclusion I’m intending, but without explicitly ever speaking an untruth. One thing I just never did, was tell my husband a lie. I did that, last week. For the first time, in literally more than a decade, my lips spoke a blatant falsehood, to him. When the subject was first mentioned, I didn’t lie. I sidestepped, no doubt, but I allowed him to conclude a lie, based on my statement of facts.

To further explain, we have to go back in time, to around two weeks ago. We were about to make our trip to Knoxville. I was busy, the day we were leaving. I’d run errands, got us all packed up, and made a couple tedious phone calls that needed to be taken care of. There was one more thing, Adam expected me to have gotten done, that day, but I’d completely forgotten about it. Fast forward, to Monday. Laying in bed, Monday night, I suddenly remembered what it was I’d forgotten to do, on Friday. It was late. I told myself I’d do it first thing, the next morning. Unfortunately, Tuesday came and went. I had not, in fact, remembered to do so. It wasn’t until that Wednesday morning, I’d finally taken care of it. I hadn’t mentioned any of this, to Adam. If I’m honest, I don’t think I planned to. Except, the very next evening, he specifically asked me if I’d gotten that done. What I said to him was, that I’d actually forgotten, on Friday. I told him, I remembered, on Monday. As predicted, my response was satisfactory…until a few more days passed. It’d come up, once again. Only, he was asking me to clarify that I’d handled it on Monday. I tried to dance around the truth, and asked him, Don’t you remember, we talked about this the other day? I told you I’d forgot on Friday, but remembered it on Monday. Had he drawn the same conclusion he had previously, I’d be guilty of simply sidestepping the truth, again. That’s not what happened, though. He came out, and asked me to verify for him that I’d gotten it done, on Monday. In that split second, I made the choice to lie. I told him, YES. I lied to myself, too. I wanted to believe it was just a harmless fib. I nearly fooled my own conscience, but not for long. The harder I tried to push down the guilt that bubbled up, the sicker I began to feel. I simply could not ignore it.

I spent more than a day, wrestling with my own guilty conscience. My stomach was in knots. I knew what I was going to have to do, as much as I hated to have to admit to Adam the stupid lie I’d told him, and for a stupid ass reason. I felt, at the time, that confessing my absentmindedness had gone on for more than just one business day, would seem much more irresponsible. Instead, what I wound up doing was making multiple irresponsible decisions, in my effort to conceal an insignificant mistake.

I felt so ashamed. I couldn’t hide the truth from Adam for one more day. I vowed to come clean, about all of it, that evening. Which was just last night.

I’d been more quiet than usual, while we showered. Adam was noticing this. We’d finished showering, and I began to wring out my hair. He reached for the faucet, and asked me if I was all done. The tiny pause before I replied with a weak, yes, removed all remaining doubt in his mind. Something was up. He looked at me, and asked if I was sure. I looked down. That’s when he asked me what it was I needed to tell him. I fought the urge to lie, again, and insist there was nothing wrong. I was downright disgusted, with myself. The shame and embarrassment made me want to hide. I wasn’t going to allow myself to evade accountability, though.

I laid it all out. Like one very long, run on sentence, the truth poured out of me. I watched his face, as my words landed in his ears, expecting to see the same disgust I had over what I’d done reflected back to me in his eyes. His expression was soft, though. He looked down at me, listening to every single word I was saying. I made no excuses, for myself. I made no efforts to lay any part of the blame on him. He’d done absolutely nothing wrong. When I’d finished my tearful confession, I looked back into his eyes, and told him how sorry I was. I meant it, too. I can’t remember feeling more sorry.

His hands clasped my face, as he leaned down and kissed my forehead. The first words out of his mouth were, I love you. He insisted, I have to stop thinking I have to be perfect. There’s nothing I can say or do, to push him away. He reminded me of how much we’ve been through, and that he’s not going anywhere. He told me he appreciated that I’d come clean, and that I apologized. He said he probably never would’ve found out, and although it did hurt that I’d lied to him, he was glad my lie had made me uncomfortable enough to admit it. He acknowledged that he understood that wasn’t easy to do, told me thank you, and then informed me I was getting a spanking.

To be continued…