Opening Up

Image credit: Photo by casch52 on Flickr Licensed under Creative Commons

This week I plan to tell one of my best and oldest friends about my husband's addiction after nearly six years of silence around it. I've wanted to let her in to this part of my life, because keeping her out -- keeping anyone I feel close to out -- feels like I'm creating a huge chasm in our relationship. The million little joys and triumphs and heartaches of recovery that have shaped me are all hidden, and when I think to share them, I have to bite my lip. I can't entirely be myself in a friendship where I have always felt most myself: most loved, most cherished, most dear. But Mark and I both needed recovery to be ready to share.

When I discovered Mark's addiction and we began our journey of recovery, we thought about who we ought to share with, and for the most part, we chose people we knew would be supportive of both of us and keep loving us no matter what. Mark didn't feel comfortable sharing, because he was so full of shame and fear that it would change the way my friend and her husband saw him. I knew they would love me just the same, but I worried that Mark was right and they wouldn't be able to forgive him. I also couldn't stand the thought that they might love him less after what had happened, so I tried to take care of him, take care of our image as a happy couple. And then as time went on, my friend had her own sadness and losses, and I couldn't bear to burden her with what I was going through. So, I tried to take care of her by hiding my problems in an attempt to lighten hers.

Now, six years later, I'm finally ready to let go of the fear of hurting her or hurting Mark by sharing all of myself again, and so is Mark. I can't control how she'll feel, but walling myself off in an attempt to control her feelings, isn't really doing a service to her or to our friendship.

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This post was originally published at The Second Road.