I feel like I'm bingeing on lies. It all came to a head the other day - I was caught in my own web of disgusting lies. It was time for me to vomit all of them back up. The years over which I had been lying to myself, to my wife, nearly crushed the life from her. I cannot do this again. I will not do this again.
I spoke with my father-in-law about lying recently. We were both very sullen when engaged in this discussion, and this is important because emotions seemed to have run dry in the last few years. I was embarrassed, sad, guilty, ashamed to be admitting my wrong-doings; ones that so badly crushed my wife. I truly feel devastated that I allowed myself to do that to her. I will not let myself forget this catastrophe I have created.
Look what I was raised by: a mother who lived for herself, a father who did the same. I am convinced that, when they found they were pregnant with me, did not want a child yet. I was an unplanned, unexpected, unwanted mistake. When I was born, I believe they said something to the effect of, "oh well, he's here now, I guess we can love him", only their love was a "what can you do for me" thing. I've seen pictures of my father and I when I was very young, and we look happy. It could not have been all good since my mother and father divorced only 3 or so years after I was born (which by the way, I didn't find out until I was 24 - I had previously thought my mother and I were on our own since I was one).
I concluded that I didn't and still don't know who my mother and father are as people. My father's priority list has me in fourth, behind God, his wife, and his family with her. My mother's priority list has me in last, behind all of herselves she's placed in front of me.
Besides the cat anus incident, I have only a few memories from 0-10 years of age. I have a scene in my head - the only time I can remember my maternal grandfather - where I'm in a long white hallway being led by the hand to see my ailing gramps. The hall was huge, and everything was white. It was a nursing home I later found out. I walked into the room and I remember one of my uncles sitting on the window sill. It must have been some sort of party because there was a cake to my right. I remember not liking the cake, but I don't recall what kind it was. I turn my head towards the bed and the image blurs: I cannot see a face or a body, but I know my gramps is there. Then I am led out of the room and I don't know how I know this, but the reason was so that he could have his temperature taken in his rear end.
This is the only memory I have of my grandfather, and I hold tight to it. I was three at the time of his death, so I must have been about that age in the memory. I didn't know him at all, but my mother tells me several things about him:
-he loved me fiercely
-he was an alcoholic
-he may have had another family back in his Russian homeland
Given who my mother is, I am not sure if these things are true. She taught me to be an expert liar, as she is one herself. She was viciously lying to her family (me, my sister, and her husband at the time) for nearly a decade and once she was caught (by me no less) she attempted to explain herself away. I did not speak to her about this issue after that night for nearly 10 years. And the kicker: she never apologized and only did so when I had to point it out to her. Talk about bingeing on lies. She did not vomit up the rest of her life's lies after that; merely set about lying to everyone she knew attempting to sabotage my marriage.
I did not fully realize this fact, and truthfully, I still have not. I have finally got a handle on the power of lies and what kinds of devastation they can cause. I should have known that years ago, but as a good mirror of an NM should be, I buried it and left it alone. 10 years later, I'm raging at my wonderful wife for pointing out the atrocities my mother has committed against her own son. If I haven't said it before, I will say it now: I have problems.
Now, more than ever, I want to be close and truthful with my wife, so that our brood of offspring will experience only a healthy and fruitful family life. I did not have that, but as my mother would say, " I fed you, I clothed you". The bottom line in conditional love.