Life & Therapy

When I was in my twenties, I got into one of those relationships that was all passion (okay, and sex) with very little else holding it together.  The first time I came over to this boyfriend’s house and up to his bedroom, there was a striking absence of anything but a bed.  This new lover acted as if he were just a very neat and clean person, but instinctively I knew better.  I thought to myself, “Uh oh- somewhere behind a closed door is a BIG mess.”  Then I dismissed this thought, because after all, staring at me right then was this lovely man and his bed.  Of course, as the relationship progressed, the mess in the closet came out and took over- soon the bed, the floor, everything became buried under the chaotic mess.  The relationship took a similar course- truths came out that had been hidden behind a deceptive facade, and things became complicated, painful, messy, and eventually the relationship ended.   

When I met my husband, he was much more honest about things.  The first time I came over to his house, I noticed a ladder in the middle of the living room.  He truthfully admitted that the ladder had not moved in months- he had been painting the room, but lost the momentum.  He also was reluctant to let me see his basement, because he was mortified about the mess that he told me was down there.  It took months before he trusted me enough to let me see this messy, dirty part of the house, but he didn’t pretend it wasn’t there to begin with.  That made all the difference in the world.