Honesty.
I hate it. It terrifies me. I think it terrifies most of us. The very thought of opening up yourself to another and telling all, can send even the bravest of us into a cold sweat.
When Cath first told me she wanted to write a book about our marriage, I was gripped by pure terror, something I hadn’t experienced since watching “Nightmare on Elm St” as a teenager.
What made it worse was that I was driving at the time. There was no escape. All of a sudden I realised too late that this must have been part of her master plan.
I was trapped…cornered…no way out!
This was one of those conversations where I had to participate. I had to say something other than the usual, “that’s nice dear.” She was baring her dreams to me, trusting me with something she hadn’t shared with anyone else. She was making herself vulnerable and scaring me to death.
No words came. My throat was dry.
Say something you idiot! Anything!
Sharing our personal struggles with someone in a counselling situation was one thing but to let the whole world into our bedroom, our personal space, was another.
Were we even ready for that?
I had shared my story publicly on a few occasions, but never really anything that had to do with our marriage.
On the outside I came across calm, composed and collected, all the time constantly checking my facial expression in the rear vision mirror to make sure I maintained my well rehearsal and well used “interested face”. On the inside, that was a different story. Fear wasn’t just speaking to me, it was yelling!
“WHAT! ARE YOU CRAZY! WHAT WOULD PEOPLE THINK?”
More specifically, what would people think about ME?
After all, I am the villain in this story. The bad guy! The one with all the problems. I wasn’t the knight in shining armour who rescued the poor damsel in distress and swept her off her feet. I was the other guy. The one who locked the poor damsel in the tower in the first place.
All I could think about was people’s reaction and how that would affect me.
As in all life and death situations, I found myself thrust into a time of prayer. Urgent prayer! There was no time to go through the standard formula I usually practiced in my prayer life. No time to thank God for His provision or repent of some newly discovered sin.
This was the prayer of a desperate man, trapped and terrified. “HELP! Please God, don’t let Cath see the beads of sweat forming on my forehead. Please God help me keep the car on the road!”
I could see her lips moving but I wasn’t listening. She could have been saying anything for all I cared, I just kept nodding my head like I thought this was the best idea she had ever had. I had to keep the illusion of being the supportive husband alive, after all this may end up in the book!
Was that a green light?
Focus.
Keep driving, keep nodding, keep praying, keep trying to wipe away the sweat without her noticing.
I had to push past this. After all we had faced some huge obstacles in our marriage. These were the obstacles you don’t often hear about or read about.
Maybe it’s time. Maybe we were ready.
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