I just read through the first draft of my disclosure with our therapist for the intensive. Damn. That really sucked. I am sitting deep in shame. It doesn’t feel the greatest. I am not used to this depth of feeling, to be honest. There are some things that I haven’t included that I have to add in. There are still a couple of areas I don’t think I can include. I don’t know if she will survive that I had a sexual relationship with a former friend of hers. I don’t know if I can include that. I don’t know if she will stay for the rest of the intensive when she hears that. I think the best I can do is admit we had a relationship but the fact that we didn’t actually have full intercourse makes it less, right?
I also don’t know if I can include what happened when I was 11 or 12. If she finds out that I had a sexual experience with another boy, I don’t know if she can stay with me. I can’t even picture how I can say those words out loud. I should have stopped him. I should have told someone. I kept letting it happen and participating. How could I do that? I knew that it was wrong but I still allowed it to happen. I don’t know if she can love me after she knows that. I don’t know if I can love me after saying that out loud. We are finishing up lunch together. She is having a hard time breathing. Now it’s time.
She is sitting across the room from me on the other couch. Our therapist is in a separate chair. He’s very stern with me. It feels very much like our joint counseling session where I was being spoken of like I wasn’t there. However, this time there is one major difference: it feels like I am on trial. Now I read the full disclosure.
She is in shock. Her whole body stopped moving as I started going through the disclosure, page after page of deception and sexual sin. I can tell she is barely breathing. She stopped moving after I revealed what happened as a boy. She started sobbing when I admitted to the relationship with her former friend. I think I made a big mistake coming here. I just destroyed her. I can see the pain embedding itself inside her. She is wearing it like a mask. Her whole countenance is one I don’t recognize. She looks immediately saddened, angry, shocked, disgusted and just………different.
She is different. I just came in the lobby while she processes what I told her with the therapist. She and the therapist are deciding what follow up questions to ask me. She and he now are asking for specifics, when did I start with her friend and exactly what did I do. Things I know I have to make sure I am clear on before the polygraph tomorrow morning. I have to pass. And … she just read me a letter. To tell me directly how much she hates what I have done to her. She cried bitter angry tears. I can’t do this and not pass the polygraph. I am afraid that I will fail. I am afraid I can’t change.
