The first stage is denial.
The signs are all there: insomnia as well as bouts of 14+ hour sleep marathons; withdrawal from social interactions; resistance to activities I once enjoyed; my emotional health taking a toll on my physical health; and a general indifference to the joys of life.
And the crying.
Oh, the crying.
The first stage is denial.
Long ago, a friend told me that I had a “paste-on smile.” When I questioned the meaning behind this phrase, he pointed out that I had a very nice smile, but it always made him wonder what I was hiding underneath. I had divulged to him some of my darkest thoughts and fears, you see.
I flash my “paste-on smile” to the public. Even to J. Everything is fine here. There’s nothing to see. Keep moving, people.
The first stage is denial.
To the outside world, I live a storybook life. A loving family. A charming, handsome husband. Caring friends. A comfortable home.
Within the past year, I have even been told by three separate people that they envy my life.
Only if they knew.
I am caught in a downward spiral of self-destruction. I do not deserve this life. I do not deserve happiness.
And one by one, I begin chipping away at this “happiness,” the lies that permeate my core being.
The first stage is denial.
My marriage is hanging on by a thin thread. J approaches me.
I cry. I have hurt him. I cry more.
He lifts the veil from my eyes. I see the truth. It has returned.
He urges me to seek help. He shoots the emails and sets up the appointment. He sits beside me at our first meeting.
I am no longer in denial.
