The Truth in Our Hearts

“The secret of happiness is freedom. The secret of freedom is courage.” Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War

“I want the truth!” shouts the young lawyer, punching the air with his right fist, driven to expose the colonel in the witness chair – no matter the cost.

“You can’t handle the truth!” shouts back the colonel who plays God, a cold grin spreading across his face.  

Who could forget this scene brilliantly brought to life by Tom Cruise and Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men?  

It speaks to our hearts on the most profound level because we ourselves are so often torn between finding the illuminating, liberating, compelling truth, and running away from the discomfort, the brutality and the pain that truth carries.

Isn’t it the case in our marriages? Let’s admit it: we are (very?) seldom keen to face the truth, so we dodge the really hard conversations, hoping they will, somehow, miraculously, vanish, and we will live happily ever after.

So, while we wait for happiness to find us, which seductive rituals do we perform – more or less consciously – out of fear?

Well, first of all, we keep ourselves busy (very busy) so that at the end of the day when we collapse onto the sofa – eyes fixed on glowing screens, a glass of wine (red, preferably) in hand – we tell ourselves, “Whatever. I’m so exhausted – this can wait.” (And wait it does. Endlessly.)  

We constantly downplay our spouses’ mistakes, including the disastrous ones. Obsessed with finding anything slightly positive in them, we comb through our minds for every adjective that pairs with “too:” “Of course they didn’t mean to hurt us. They just couldn’t think straight. They were just too … naïve, too impressionable and, what else? Oh, too impatient. ”

The adjectives that would rightfully pair with “enough” completely escape our awareness. Who would dare say to themselves, “Oh my God! What were they thinking? Why on earth weren’t they smart enough, sensible enough, mature enough not to do that?”

Conveniently, we end our inner dissertation with a cliché followed by a deep, weary sigh: “Who’s perfect? Not me, that’s for sure.”

We argue with our spouses in hush tones about seemingly crucial things – bills, work, food choices – so that the children won’t hear us, so that they’ll believe Mom and Dad are doing well, so that they’ll sleep tight and dream nicely.

It never crosses our mind that children aren’t stupid – they can’t explain the rolled eyes, but can’t they sense the chill between Mom and Dad?

Sadly, women often make another mistake: we give our husbands time (too much time), hoping they will notice the flatness on our faces, the absence of laughter, the tiredness in our bodies, the vegetables and fish rotting in the fridge, the plants withering in the grey pots on the balcony (by the way, they won’t notice anything).

At times, we and our spouses simply lose it – forget the children, the neighbors and the ozone layer affected by our yelling. 

If we continue to suffer hopelessly and stupidly (no more euphemisms) on the altar of we’ll-stay-together-till-we-die-so-who-cares-how-we-do-it marriage, let me tell you something: life itself will have enough of this charade and will sort this out for us (uh huh).

So, one day, completely out of the blue, life corners us in such a tight space that we can’t even fidget. And there it stands before us – the truth: feet planted, chin lifted, arms on hips, speaking loud and clear. 

We squeeze our eyes shut and go ‘la la la’ at the top of our voice to drown out the words that sound vaguely familiar.

When our voice turns hoarse, slowly and frightfully we open our eyes – the truth hasn’t budged: “Really? Are you still here?”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere, you know. And neither are you until you hear me out.”

We’re tempted to start the ‘la la la’ thing again, but we’re already drained as it is: “Fine. Bring it on.”  

And we listen: first, our mind goes still, then we shake our heads, lash out, soften the words, cry and moan: “Why now, of all times?”

“I’ve always been there,” the truth says softly, pointing to our hearts. “But only now are you ready to handle me. Only now will you do the right thing: tell your spouse the plain truth – no accusations, no raised voice, no rush.

You both deserve this, don’t you think so?”

We nod. “What if there is no return from here?”

“Whatever happens, you’ll put up with it, trust me. Do you know why?”

“Because I’ve had enough?”

“That too. But mainly because you do want to be happy, and without truth, there is no happiness. Would you agree?”

We nod once more, and we are free to go.