Just another 3 am bedtime

It was a long night of the tortured heart again. Unproductive conversations that turned into an all-nighter filled with accusations and presumptions. Today I’m left with an emotional hangover – laced with no pride, only guilt and regret. (And some binging on carbs)

I struggle as much with my moments of peace as I do my bouts of animosity, because I know that inevitably, the dark night of souls will rear its ugly head again. It’s always just a matter of time before I once again let insecurity unjustifiably poke fun.

Well, perhaps it’s not all unjustified, given the circumstances of the infidelity that occurred in my marriage.

Regardless of whether my insecurities are justified or not, the demeaning taunts ranging from undisclosed effeminate tendency, to emasculating my significant other, was pointless. There was nothing cathartic about disclosure of my feelings – once again.

Now, more than as a younger version of the stranger I once was, I find myself reflecting much more, prior to opening my mouth and letting words stain the air between us. Just like all the other battles in my life, I’ve had to learn the hard way that the process of expressing myself in words can have as dire consequences as actions. Even if unintentional.

It’s been crucial on my journey the past year to repeat a mantra in my head of Proverbs- “A fool vents all his feelings, but a wise man holds them back.”

Although I attempt to let my thoughts stew in my mouth before engaging in that uncontrollable protest of righteousness, I’m not always successful.

So leads to this – another day after. A day after a long night of contention that’s led to reverse, instead of the desired progression.

It saddens my heart and soul, but at least neither of us have packed a bag yet..

It always seems like it’s the right thing to do in the start of these conversations, but my attempt to reach out and communicate, inevitably, finished with no progress. Only discontent and disdain lingered in the aftermath.

I know God will see us through the process one way or another.

I’m not naively saying that we are unbreakable, but we are re-shapable, malleable. It’s the allowing ourselves to be remolded and restructured that’s the hard part.

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Life, Infidelity, and Thereafter

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