I hate people who cheat. Like despise them with a heated passion. Why even cheat? If you truly do not want to be with someone why even bother with the lies and pain of cheating? The funny thing about my views on infidelity is that I have done it. I have been the dirty disgusting cheater. I still hate anyone who cheats, doing it myself did not give me an insiders opinion on the act and in fact made me hate it even more. Worst of all it made me hate myself for doing it, for becoming a statistic, for giving in to the petty and shallow urges I always prided myself for not doing.
The hardest part is that I did in fact learn a lesson from cheating, I learned that there was a very good reason to hate people who commit adultery, and that its not worth it. I had everything and now I have nothing. Its hard to think about the man I would be right now had I not left my wife and slept with another. On the one hand I would have my wife and children with me, I would not have destroyed my family and caused the pain that I did. On the other hand I no long like the man I was one year ago, he was selfish and angry, he was not happy with himself, he was not much of a man at all.
I have traveled not only a thousand miles to be with my wife and children, but also nearly a years worth of personal growth and self reflection. Not all of that distance has been constructive, and much of it may have bordered on self destruction, but without all that pain I would not have been able to let go of my anger and self resentment. I would not have learned to appreciate life like I do now. I would not have been able to open my heart to all the good things I have experienced and have yet to experience.
I destroyed my life as I knew it and as much as I wish I could go back and change things, I cannot. As much as i wish she loved me with all her heart, she very well may never again feel that way. But am I a better person for the lessons I have learned? I think I am.
Flower Pots
The room is dimly lit, there are heavy drapes blocking out all but a few streamers of light. Dust is caught in these streamers, making what little light there is seem almost solid. I am standing in this room next to an old couch that looks like something from the early 70's. Though I stand alone in this room, the house is not empty, I hear screaming from the next room. A man and a woman argue loudly, violently just beyond a dark brown door.
The fight becomes physical at a certain point, banging and shuffling can be heard. I began to walk towards the doorway and as I get closer the noise grows in volume and then suddenly, violently, the door is thrown open. My mother backs out of the door screaming, my father charges towards her with clenched fists, both oblivious to my presence. The two collide and back into me, things become confusing, tangled, I lose track of who is where and fall to the rough carpet....it is a brown color almost like the door. I lay here stunned while the screaming continues. There is a crashing sound and suddenly my face is covered with dirt from a potted plant that was knocked over. The soil stings my eyes, and the earthy taste makes me gag. I do not think the pot is broken, the screaming stops, replaced by sobs.
It is the late 1980's, this will be my first memory of life.
The fight becomes physical at a certain point, banging and shuffling can be heard. I began to walk towards the doorway and as I get closer the noise grows in volume and then suddenly, violently, the door is thrown open. My mother backs out of the door screaming, my father charges towards her with clenched fists, both oblivious to my presence. The two collide and back into me, things become confusing, tangled, I lose track of who is where and fall to the rough carpet....it is a brown color almost like the door. I lay here stunned while the screaming continues. There is a crashing sound and suddenly my face is covered with dirt from a potted plant that was knocked over. The soil stings my eyes, and the earthy taste makes me gag. I do not think the pot is broken, the screaming stops, replaced by sobs.
It is the late 1980's, this will be my first memory of life.
The purpose of things
Well if anyone is going to read this thing I suppose I better give you a reason. I want this Blog to be read by anyone and everyone who ever thought the grass was greener, anyone who ever had doubts about finding help when you are in distress, anyone who ever ignored their families plea's to listen.
This is a cautionary tale of how much can go wrong in your life if you ignore finding help. More importantly, this is not just any tale, it was and now is my life. I will update the blog as often as possible with my memory of things, and memories long past that I believe may help you the reader understand who I am.
Please note that everything said in this Blog is limited to my memory of things, and my own opinions, though I try my hardest to include every detail. I thank you for your time and patience with this work in progress and I welcome questions and comments.
Sincerely,
Blakely Williams
This is a cautionary tale of how much can go wrong in your life if you ignore finding help. More importantly, this is not just any tale, it was and now is my life. I will update the blog as often as possible with my memory of things, and memories long past that I believe may help you the reader understand who I am.
Please note that everything said in this Blog is limited to my memory of things, and my own opinions, though I try my hardest to include every detail. I thank you for your time and patience with this work in progress and I welcome questions and comments.
Sincerely,
Blakely Williams
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)