Have you ever had a gut feeling that was so incredibly strong and over powering that you simply could just not deny it? Whether your intuition was telling you something you wanted to hear or not, you had no choice but to obey and carefully listen to the little clues it was whispering to you.
Sometimes when we’re getting these hints, we don’t want to believe what our voice is telling us, because if it were in fact true, then everything that we once believed in would be a lie. The truth would sting far deeper than to pretend as if it didn’t exist at all. Life can be easier to deal with when you pull the curtain over your eyes to avoid seeing the inevitable truth – that your insight was not only right, but quite perfectly, spot on.
I had done exactly this for two years of my life in a past relationship. I wrote another post about it once when I was still in the dark as to what was really going on, only for the truth to reemerge and make itself known to me.
This is truth’s birthright. It hunts for any cracks or holes to squeeze itself through until it reaches the surface, barren of any dust or grime, simply naked in its own certainty.
There’s a saying that when people show you who they really are, believe them. Don’t try to make excuses for them or rearrange their words in a way that is more suiting to you. Believe what you hear and see, I would say nine times out of ten, that’s their true nature.
Looking back at those two years, I see a narcissistic little boy acting as a grandiose man and a brassy little girl acting as an overconfident woman. Both self-obsessed and wrongly self-assured, acting solely out of their own interests despite anyone else caught in their hypocrisy.
As women, we sometimes like to place more blame on “the other woman,” more so than the wrongdoing of our own partner, especially when that woman pretends as if she is your friend throughout it all. But as women, we have a sharper intuition than most, and from the moment I met her, I could see her dissatisfaction with herself– the miserable always like to add others to their own misery.
You begin to look back and connect the pieces together, remembering each moment when you believed that your suspicion had gotten the better of you, just to realize that every stolen glance, every lingering touch of the hand and every time you thought you were crazy for suspecting anything at all, was all perfectly valid.
You wanted to believe that you were crazy because you didn’t want to submit to the opposite – that the people who you love could actually be so selfish and crass as to parade their infidelity right in front of your face, time after time.
The hardest part of it all when looking back with fresher eyes, is that you were made to feel crazy by the wrongdoers each time you brought it up to them.
Him? No, he’s like a brother to me.
Her? Of course not, she’s my best friend’s wife.
How many times did you allow me to sit in my circle of thoughts, spiraling around and around until I became numb? All the while you sat there, staring and reassuring that there was nothing going on, that I was the only one.
I could feel upset and kick myself for staying in something when I had my intuition telling me what was really going on all along or I could get angry for being lied to for two years. But what’s the worth in putting my energy into that? Into two people who only have regard for themselves?
Instead, it’d be more beneficial to say thank you to them.
Thank you for teaching me how to trust my gut.
Thank you for depicting all of what I don’t ever want to be.
Thank you for showing me when it is time to leave a person or situation.
Thank you for being so reckless with my heart that I wouldn’t be reckless with another’s.
Thank you for the release of a relationship that never felt right to me.
Thank you, thank you, thank you for my own self-growth and evolvement. I am happier now than I ever was then; I am smarter now than I thought I was before; I am at peace, which is something you were never able to attain or give, and I am grateful that I have found it in the wake of your loss.