My faith has to override my fear.
I see A tomorrow. And yes, I lied. And yes, I’m sad. And yes, this touches in to an incredibly painful place. But I need to do something different. This pattern isn’t one I want anymore. I saw it start, and instead of stepping away from A and being afraid, I need to step towards her. I need to let my faith in our relationship and in this process override my fear.
So while I believe there are incredibly valuable things written in that first letter and while I intend to share it with her, my goal is to walk into counseling tomorrow and read her (!!!!) this.
I lied to you last week. I got caught up in a cycle of my limiting beliefs (belief that reduced contact would lead to reduced care, belief that I would lose care by not being needy, belief that I have to earn any scrap of attention, belief that I don’t matter unless I’m in crisis, fear of the unknown and of abandonment) and I told you I was pregnant when I didn’t know if I was. It turns out, as I discovered when I actually took the pregnancy tests, that I am not pregnant.
I am so sorry. I was crushed and I am really afraid of this conversation. But I’m proud of myself for realizing it and instead of following my pattern and creating an airtight narrative to a storyline that doesn’t exist, I am choosing to combat old habits and tell you the truth. It wasn’t easy, I spent at least a day in the beginning stages of concocting a whole story, and four more feeling awful. I even wrote you a five page letter that contains really important thoughts from that brief period of time. A letter I think is worth looking at. But despite all that, I’m here. I’m terrified, but I’m choosing to have faith in this process and in our relationship. I’m choosing to face this head on. I am choosing to have my faith outweigh my fear.
I normally would let this lie run its course. I would use it to avoid the truth, to avoid facing that those limiting beliefs, the reasons I lie, that they come from an incredibly lonely and isolated childhood. I have touched into that this week, and I cry instantly. Even thinking about it takes me there. It’s incredibly painful – and weeks of dealing with fake emotions from a lie I tell would be preferable. But it wouldn’t be helpful. It would get out of control, I would obsess, and I would run away from it all. I am choosing not to do that this time. And I’m trying to find the strength and hope in that.
I’m not proud of lying to you. And I did think I was pregnant. I do have concerns about my ability to be a Mom. I spent the 5 days after our session absolutely hating myself, looking at my reflection in the mirror and telling myself I was disgusting. It was a massive spiral full of painful emotions that need addressing.
I too often believe I have to be perfect, and that admitting a mistake is the end of the world. But I’m not perfect. And I believe you when you say I don’t have to be perfect here. I am going to make mistakes. My instinct is to pull away from you for a variety of reasons. And instead I’m actively choosing to step closer and I hope that I’m right in believing that by understanding this lie, catching it, and cutting it off before it spirals out of control I am starting to create a new, healthier pattern. One that doesn’t involve abandonment or isolation but instead (I hope) care, compassion, and an active discussion around what triggers this old pattern of mine.
I am afraid of the emotions underneath the lie. I’m afraid of changing my routine. I’m afraid of losing you. But I am more afraid of continuing a cycle that has crippled my life for so long.
I am sorry that I lied. But I am not sorry that I am stopping it in its tracks and turning around to face what scares me instead of running.
I mustered the courage to come here today to tell you the truth and say that I am willing to work through this if you’re willing to join me.