Trickle truth is awful bullshit. I see that very clearly. It's demoralizing, soul-sapping, hope-robbing, excruciatingly painful, cowardly, and I could easily go on. I subjected my wife to it for a long time. I would confess, she would react and adjust, I would maintain that was it, I would try to minimize and contain, fall back, retreat, mount another stupid defence, maintain steadfastly that was it, look her in the eye and keep lying but say to myself that it was always a little bit less, that we were closer to the heart of it, that I was a little bit more honest while at the same time being double-think and denial enough to not see that I was still lying, that it wasn't nearly enough. And then drop another piece of truth, more anguish, less trust, more emotional betrayal. Another night of heart-wracking wailing and rending that just puts my own crude, selfish asshole-ishness into stark relief. Another night of deep soul scraping, of personal questioning of self-worth, of self-loathing, of wondering how such a complete and total shithead deserves even the ghost of another chance.
Finally, after all this personally-imposed bullshit and abuse of her and recriminations and seeping the truth out one stained drop at a time, I have reached the end. There is nothing left to tell, the basket is empty.
For me, this a remarkable place to be, finally. After all this time, I can return to where we were at the beginning (in terms of honesty, anyway) - real, authentic, no lies, no secrets. I've shit it all out piecemeal and asked her to sit down with fork and napkin, but it's finally all over. I'm done. I still have a load of details she wants that my middle-aged, weed-affected (I was pretty chronic until about six years ago, stopped around then because it was affecting my memory and sociability) brain has difficulty dredging up. Therein lies a big part of the problem, mitigated somewhat that my crappy memory has trouble with almost anything over the last six or seven years - birthdays, Christmases, parties. Who was there? Was I there? I said what? He said what? Seriously?? Shit, I'm glad I drastically damped down the weed. Sometimes it seems like only photographs give me any sense of continuity; I can look up the date taken and fit in into a timeline. Otherwise, it's all my W telling me stories and me going, "Um, yeah, I think I remember that."
P.S. Please pass this info on to your teenage kids who want to smoke weed. Weed affects everyone in different ways, we all have different thresholds, and it may very well be the case that you or your kid is hardly affected, that it is much more benign than, say alcohol. But for others (like me), it's like the brain is primed for degradation. I graduated straight As in highschool, flew threw a a BA in Psych, completed a Masters in Forensic Psych - that last was in the late 90s. Now, I feel like at least 40 points has dropped off my IQ. Bah, stupid self-pity. Just tell them that the weed is not always so harmless (or yourself, as may be).
Big digression. Ok. Shitty memory, viewed as convenient from her perspective, at times. Viewed as massively fucking devastating from my perspective, especially given that after all this fucking trickle truthing I am coming clean but can't provide enough structural detail to satisfy her.
I see it totally from her perspective. "This is it?"
"Yes, this is it."
"You swear?"
"On our kids lives I swear." (Yes, I actually said that. Just another example of how far gone from reality I was at the time, how truly fucked up. I look at that statement now and shudder)
And then, a week later, a month later, more shit.
How many times can one go through that cycle before everything becomes suspect? I totally understand and empathize with why she doesn't believe me after all this time and crap and betrayal and everything else. But there's no magic certificate at the end that I can produce saying, "You have reached the end of all the crap. There is no more."
When I tell her there is no more, she doesn't believe me. Fool me twice, fuck, fool me seven times, shame on me. I get that. But it puts me in a very helpless, impotent place. I keep trying to demonstrate with actions as well as words - being transparent, seeing her as a lovely woman whom I refuse to take for granted, being more involved on a daily basis, being there for questions and talks (until I reach saturation - sometimes self-loathing makes me put on the brakes after an hour or two), being more involved with our boys, just being there and committed to us. At the same time, I know I could do much more, and I want to, and I will, but the demands of life keep getting in the way. Shit, ignore that, it's a cop-out. *Sigh*
I've done quite a bit of IC in the past, we've done some MC, she's in IC now, and I have to step up to the plate and take on IC again. I know that. It's scary, I'm procrastinating.
Ok, now that I've wandered all over the place, let me bring it back. I trickle truthed, I came to the end, she doesn't believe me, what can I do?
