Lately I've been thinking a lot about the events and conversations that transpired between Jess and I in Honduras, the second trip. This was a fact finding mission to discover if our relationship was real, and might have a chance to blossom into something significant.
We had true, meaningful, and in-depth communications on who we thought we were, what we wanted in life, and in a partner, and most of all what we considered to be our weaknesses, flaws, and insecurities. I see now, in hindsight, that nearly everything that transpired was revealed, albeit indirectly, in those conversations. Yet neither of us were willing, or able, to see the signs.
Jess had repeatedly commented that I seemed "perfect" - a claim that I vehemently denied. In my mind, my pornographic compulsions we're certainly among my many imperfections. I told Jess about the "schoolgirl" fetish I had, but withheld the extent and the details.
She revealed several traumatic episodes in her life that have contributed to her "suit of armor" and a fear or unwillingness to commit to a relationship. She even went so far as to ask if I was truly willing and able to take on that baggage. My naiveté reply was to "bring it on." Famous last words, so to speak, but I meant it with all my heart.
Now I realize that neither of us really understood or accepted the words of the other. Were we too caught up in the idea of love and romance to clearly see the implications of our confessions? Were we blinded by love, or the thought of love? Did we assume that we could overcome the flaws and insecurities of the other? That love could triumph over all? Probably all of the above. At least from my side that is.
I was understanding and accepting of her imperfections, though I certainly did not realize their depth and the potential outcome of those issues. I'm sure she would say the same, she obviously did not recognize the none too subtle hints I gave her as to my sexual issues and dysfunctions. I can only speculate as to her reasons for overlooking them.
Fast forward some eight months from then, when everything fell apart. We both had illustrated examples of our imperfections and destructive patterns of behavior. The consequences of that conflict were of epic proportions.
I often get stuck on the idea of choice and intention. I tend to view the consequences as a result of her choices, as a direct result of her actions. But was it not, in fact, my choice to download the material in the first place? Absolutely it was. Then, however, I also made a choice to stop. I had not downloaded anything in years, and I had committed to not looking at those images and to delete them out of respect for our relationship. That seem to matter little to Jess. Then there was never any intention to hurt Jess, or anyone for that matter, but we all know that intentions have little value. What were her intentions? I may never know.
I was working on my patterns, though it seems that she made no attempt to break her patterns of closing up and running away in spite of her promise to communicate about problems. In fact, she went a disastrous step further to involve the authorities. I'm sure that she had her reasons, I'm sure they made sense to her at that time, perhaps they still do. Perhaps the destruction to me, my family, our common son, and even to her own life situation were but a small price to her. Perhaps she saw no better ways to deal with it. Why was talking about it not an option? Was there no way to communicate, problem solve, and compromise that would not land me in prison? There are so many alternatives that seem, to me at least, far more productive and far less destructive to all parties involved.
I realize that her imperfections, the traumas of her life, and her patterns of insecurity may have veiled those options, or distorted them beyond consideration. It matters little now, though I believe that by understanding these things we might both better be able to grow and improve on our personal issues.
I do not want to imply an "I'm right, she's wrong" attitude. I know this is not the case, but I do know for certain that I was already working on overcoming my flaws. Admittedly, I did not confront them head on, as I now am doing. I was tiptoeing around them, afraid of the implications of revealing them fully. (And, obviously, that fear was very much justified.)
Is Jess learning, growing, and healing from this experience? I don't know, but I hope so. Her journey is very different from my own, with different constraints and difficulties that come with being a single parent. She likely has far less time or energy to pursue the means of self introspection that I unfortunately have the luxury of doing.
I still believe, with every fiber of my being, that we could have healed and grown so much more effectively together, than we are able to do now. But that's a futile sentiment.
What is the purpose of sharing this with you all? I'm not entirely sure. The hope that I can help prevent others from a similar fate, though it seems that the circumstances of my situation are probably rather unique. I do believe, however, that we all have a tendency to overlook things when love might be involved, and that while we might talk, we are not really communicating, and that when we listen we are not always hearing. More often than not, the consequences of this are minor, but then again, sometimes they're not.
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