Skeletons in My Closet
Toothpaste. Once you squeeze it out, it’s nearly impossible to put it back in the tube again. Words and actions are much the same. Choosing our words wisely and behaving with intention lays the foundation for successful relationships. On the other hand, when we speak from a place of anger and hurt and behave with ill intentions, we can scar others and quickly ruin any relations.
When you spend seven years in a healthy relationship loving a person, an undeniable bond forms. Whether the union is intimate or strictly a friendship, you trust one another deeply and confide in each other with life’s challenges and celebrations.
And sometimes, the challenges are part of the journey between friends and lovers. Sometimes, we have to accept the toothpaste has been squeezed out and there’s nothing we can do about it. Sometimes, it just sucks to find out the underlying truths we’ve successfully avoided for years.
When truth slapped me in the face, I was devastated, angry, hurt, and more upset than I had been in an extremely long time. I spent a pleasant evening walking the dunes of Lake Michigan watching a spectacular sunset with the waves crashing gently upon the beach sand. I was alone and appreciated the tranquility of the moment. On my way home, I had a fantastic conversation with my mentor. My spirits were high and the evening was just about perfect. Upon returning to my sweet abode, I walked the dog whilst having an insightful and uplifting conversation with a friend of mine. (We haven’t had a heartfelt conversation like this particular one in a few months; so, it was well overdue and highly appreciated.)
Locking the door safely behind me, I reminisced on the pure joy the day brought my heart. Have you ever experienced those days when everything is smooth, easy, and joy-filled? This was one of those days for me. It was 11:00pm, and I was gathering my things to take a shower as I was sharing in a delightful conversation with my son. All was right in the world.
Until it wasn’t. The Ring doorbell scared me immediately. I looked on my phone to see who was there but didn’t recognize the person. It was dark outside and the porch light was off. Who would be at my house at 11:00pm? Why would someone show up unexpectedly when my closest people knew I was home alone? Those who know me best wouldn’t ever come this late without a call or text — they knew the trauma from the domestic violence situation my family overcame.
My mind was racing whilst I still had my son on the phone. I looked out the window and panicked. The car out front was unfamiliar. There wasn’t anyone on the driveway; only another unfamiliar car across the street.
By this time, the knocking began. Oh s**t, I thought! This person wants to seriously get into my home. The doorbell rang again. More pounding. The dog barked endlessly as I hid in the hallway. At some point, I hung up the phone with my son and called 911.
The pounding moved from the front door to my bedroom window on the side of the house. I was scared and very alone. The dispatch lady was, of course, super amazing and held my violently beating heart and unraveled nerves with gentleness, calmness, and understanding.
For a brief moment, I was able to take a breath and collect myself. In that millisecond, I asked the dispatch to hold on so I can send the only person I thought could be at my home at that hour a text. It was him; the friend with whom I was on the phone having a heartfelt conversation twenty minutes prior. She called off the sheriff’s department as I allowed the friend enter my home.
With fiery emotions raging through every ounce of my being and an understandably upset tone, I asked him what he was doing. He parroted the question back to me.
“What are YOU doing?” He asked with anger and disappointment in his tone.
Fear raged inside of me. The last time I felt this way was a decade prior whilst living in domestic violence.
“What are you doing?” He asked again as I stared at him dumbfoundedly.
The third time he asked, he opened the guest bedroom door. In that moment, I realized exactly what he was doing. He was looking for another man in my house. He was looking for the owner of the unknown vehicle parked in front of the house.
He slid past me and opened the closet door in my bedroom.
I looked at him with discouragement and despair and said, “Your actions, just now, proved to me that you have trusted me 0% over the past seven years.” He agreed and said, “Yes, you’re right.”
There was no turning back. In that moment, the relationship ended. The toothpaste was completely squeezed out of the tube.
Though I mourned the loss of the friendship, I knew that particular evening was not about me. It was about his healing journey. The lack of trust wasn’t because of anything I did. The lack of trust stemmed from the wounds deep within his soul. His journey to healing was destined to begin at the end our friendship. I am grateful for the time we shared, the lessons learned, and the opportunity he now has to mend completely. With a grieving heart, I celebrate his recovery.
Most humbly,
Orsika Julia
