Usually she can hold it in; hide the pain.
Out loud she agreed, out loud she smiled.
But out loud was lying while quietly hiding the truth.
Her mouth said she understood while her eyes called me a bastard.
But it was too late – the words I’d just said were out, could never be unsaid.
As with all relationships built on love, trust, friendship, and respect, ours is a balancing act of spoken and unspoken truths. There are things you can say.
And things you can’t.
This was one of those things that can’t.
But I know I'm right. I am right.
Right is not the same as nice.
And so now, as I look into that face, the face that I love, and see the despair written over it I have to stay strong. I have to hold my nerve. There’s no going back.
If I take back what I said now, then it was just words. Nasty, painful, heartless, words. If I hold firm then they are the truth – and the truth is real.
And that is why, as soon as I put this laptop down, I’ll be fetching my spanners.
I’m sorry, Love. The Dishwasher IS getting disconnected.
The building work on the house starts in a couple of weeks and the current Utility will be demolished – I need to connect the washing machine up somewhere and that somewhere is where the dishwasher is now.
And I'm not backing down on this one.
Somewhere, somehow, in a hospital in Afghanistan, a young girl, orphaned and physically broken, has managed to connect to the internet and is reading this now; tears of sympathy streaming down her face. She understands our pain. She feels sad knowing that my children will have to wash up their own cereal bowls – by hand. She may even donate.
And so can you – go to www.get_Glenslife_a_cleaner.com now – as little as £50 per week can help us pay someone to wash the pots, clean up our kitchen and do the ironing. Is that really too much to ask?
Do I have to post up a picture of my children with tea-towels in their hands to convince you?