I am Not a Lie.

I was in our basement, convinced I had the stamina for a quick workout when the box caught my eye among the Christmas decorations.  Our box.  It held old photos, handwritten letters, and other mementos from more than a decade of shared life. I stared at the closed lid for a few seconds wondering how this would impact me, while intuitively grabbing it and sitting on the cold, dusty basement floor. I sat in front of the mirror I typically used during workouts, as I began creating a makeshift collage.  Photo by photo, note by note, a lifetime of memories in front of me, while catching glimpses of my current self in the mirror, the reflection of a woman who was so distant from the vibrant one I had once been.

Why can’t I cry?  I had asked this question several times over the last few weeks.  I placed another picture down, turning it diagonal as if I was delicately piecing together a school project.  When I finally paused, I placed my hands on my hips and felt the familiar burning sensation beginning at the corners of my eyelids. Photos from a lifetime ago traversed the weathered notes he had written. I caught my reflection in the mirror again, as I began stating out loud, “He lied…he lied.” One tear made its somber fall to the ground. I could feel anger surfacing from my belly to my throat. He lied…he lied.  Anger now in my throat and welling up into my eyelids as I asked God to take it; anger was not what I wanted in this moment. I ran my hand violently across the now painful collage of memory lane as God made the connection I needed to receive.  I caught my reflection once more. He lied…but I am not a lie.  

Dear partner, there are many lies we will tell ourselves in the aftermath of betrayal. Lies that we were fed, and lies that our brain will tell us from the trauma. One of the first things I did after disclosure was put away all of the photos in our home. The images and memories too painful to see; the vivid imagery of placing another woman into their frames. Putting away the photos felt therapeutic. But it was the lie I had started telling myself that was not. My entire marriage is a lie. I would ruminate on this thought daily, moment to moment, mid conversation in a work meeting as this now core belief haunted my thoughts. Asking clients if they had any questions while simultaneously refraining from the interjection, “Did you know my entire marriage is a lie?” It was all-consuming. But that day in front of the mirror was the shift, the reframe I needed. He lied…but I am not a lie.

Gentle ripples from this reframe started replacing the ruminating thoughts. I am the wife that left dinner on our kitchen island, in case he came home hungry. I am the wife that dropped off dry cleaning, reminding them to use light starch and softly smiling as I smell traces of his cologne still on the collars. I am the wife that had dishes done and the trash out before he came home, so he could just come home. I am the wife that was committed, unwavering, and present.

He lied…but I am not a lie.

What lies have you told yourself? What can we name and reframe to give our brain rest from this season of intense rumination?

Write them down. Speak them out loud. Whisper to the universe what you know to be true. Ask God to take the lies.