In a year where I have been trying to make sense of the nonsensical, this prompt from a college friend (you may find her blog here) could not have come at a better time. Whenever things seem to go array in our lives the first question we tend to grab on to is “WHY?” Why did this happen? Why is this happening to me? Why is this happening now? Of course, we don’t pose these phrases or even give them a thought when our lives are on the upswing. We expect the goodness — I mean after all, who would say that they are unworthy of any blessings that comes their way? — but are fiercely adamant that any downhill slide is uncalled for and harsh.
In our never ending quests on knowing why bad things happen to us, we may find ourselves discovering matters that are more than we can handle. Like the time I wanted to know why communication was faltering in my relationship only to find out my boyfriend was cheating — with someone I knew…yeah. In a discussion with a friend over this very prompt, I was surprised to learn that she steadfastly holds on to the notion that it is better to be ignorant of some things than to know of them. Knowing how honest and open she is I had assumed she would have agreed with me that it is better to know of possibly life altering matters than to be ignorant of them.
When I found out my boyfriend was cheating it changed the complete trajectory of not only our relationship, but my life. For over a year I looked up to him as only a young college girl could to an older man. I believed that in him I found someone in whom I could find a constant, a familiar thing that could always remain faithful to me. That in all the storms I would face in the future, in him I could find a refuge and protector. Now looking back, I know that I placed too much responsibilities on him and almost made him a god-like figure in my world rather than a lover, friend, partner. But in my low state and incredible neediness those were the images and views I imposed onto him.
So, when I learned of his new hobbies (i.e. sleeping with someone who is as flexible as Betty Spaghetti dolls) everything that I knew to exist between us died. It forced me to take off the rose-colored glasses through which I always gazed at him, and made me see who he was for the first time — a man, a simple albeit gorgeous man who had demons and weaknesses of his own. It didn’t make me love him any less, but it called for me to love myself more than I did.
And so I guess this is why people tend to not want to know the truth — it forces them to act, to take a stand for themselves that may leave them lonely, afraid or the target for some disgruntled persons. The moment you realize there is a glitch in your Matrix, could you really go on acting as if you didn’t see it? As if the system in which you reside in is as perfect as you once thought it to be? I don’t think so. With knowledge comes discomfort. Knowing what my ex had been up to made it uncomfortable for me to lay in a bed with him and act as if nothing had changed. Things did change. He did not smell so sweetly to me anymore, nor did his arms make me feel safe and wanted. Everything reeked of his secrets and lies. And though I loved him immensely, I could not act as if a tear did not form in the bond that tied me to his side. Knowing his character, I know I had no choice but to end things, and so I did. At the time it was one of the hardest things to follow through with, but the rewards that came with it proved to be more sensual and fulfilling than anything he could have bestowed upon me.