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What really happened--Part 6
Friday, Feb. 07, 2003, 10:57 a.m.
This would be part 6 of the ongoing series of "What Really Happened." If you missed any of these episodes, please feel free to review them before continuing with this broadcast.
Part 5
And since Part 5 lists out all the previous entries, I won't bore you by linking all of them yet again.
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Right, so, I lived in fear of telling Anthony and my grandmother the truth, afraid to lose the only family I felt I had left. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that me telling the truth wouldn't make my parents accept me... because telling the truth didn't involve denying anything ever happened. For my parents it had to be all or none. If I said nothing happened, I could come back home. But if I said any given piece of it happened, I knew I wouldn't be allowed to. And I was just as certain that telling the truth, explaining that I'd lied and exaggerated, would earn me only the hate of the person I held dearest and the woman who had become my surrogate mother.
And yet... and yet... obedience to God. I knew, just as surely, that I had to tell the truth, that, aside from all the hurt I had caused other people, I couldn't bear living this lie any more. Somewhere around May last year, just before my birthday (just before I started this journal, as a matter of fact) I wrote a letter to my grandmother, detailing for her what had and had not happened, explaining that I didn't even remember all of the things that I'd said, and trying to give her some sort of rational explanation. (Here, look at this entry: Forgiveness and Understanding for more info.)
I know it sounds terrible, but... I thought I could handle Gramma cutting me out of her life a lot more easily than I could handle Anthony doing the same. So... I started with the letter to Gramma. I figured I'd do that first, get my feet back under me, and then go on to tell Anthony.
But Gramma didn't cut me out of her life. She was so angry... and hurt... and disappointed... and so very full of regret for the things she had said. After that, she started acting like nothing had happened at all, and I just didn't have the heart to correct it. I'd caused so much damage with exaggerating, that I couldn't handle the fights, the arguments, the disbelieving looks... so I just wimped out, like I usually do in confrontational situations, and didn't say anything.
Then came the hardest part. I had to tell Anthony. Even though talking with Gramma had gone better than I'd expected it to, I didn't hold out any great hopes for the same happening when I talked to Anthony. I really, truly believed that he couldn't love me more than what I'd done. I despised myself for... for... everything... for what had happened to me while I was still at home, for what I'd done when I got out of there... for lying to him... I couldn't imagine that he could love me more than this would hurt him, and I wrote that letter to him, sure with every piece of my soul that these were the last words I'd be able to say to him. It ripped me apart, but... part of me felt like it was only a just punishment for all the damage.
And that night, the insane fighter pilots were right back in my stomach, I gave him the letter. I watched his face as he read it, trying to store up memories of him--even though I wanted to remember him more while he was laughing and happy than now, when I could see him getting angry, and being hurt...
And he was angry, and hurt, but... he didn't want to walk away, he didn't push me out, he didn't even shout or say terrible things like I was expecting. We talked about it, he asked me questions for more detail, and he was angry and upset with me, no doubt about it. But... it wasn't even as bad as it was with Gramma. I guess because he didn't really know my family that well, he wasn't close to them, the impact for him was personal only, not personal and hurting for my parents, too. Easier on him, somewhat. I was so amazed, really... and I think my aunt and granmother were, too, that he hadn't wanted out. We've been through so much together. And we've both stood by each other when the one of us screwed up majorly and hurt the other. Not an easy start, by any means, between all the Anna stuff (long stories, too, fair warning) and all of this stuff... well... I can't help but think that this has only made our relationship stronger and more sure. Perhaps not the route I'd have chosen to strengthen our relationship, but an effective one, nonetheless. :)
That's pretty much the end of that part of the story, I guess. That's all there is to it. Over the past 6 months or so, my grandmother and I have re-established our relationship. Anthony and I have grown stronger together. And... everything is still shattered with my parents. That's really what prompted all this in the beginning... my need to clarify and purge before I could write them. So, now there are things to apologize for, and things to stand firm on... and so...
There will be a Part 7 to this, and that's going to be the actual letter I write to my family. Wow... It's taken most of a month to get through all of this. I feel like I've run some sort of race and am on the last leg of it... God knows I feel pretty battered emotionally from dredging up all of this...
Take care...