Tis The Season for Confessions

I’ve been a bad, bad girl.  Unfaithful.  Deceitful.  Untrue.  I’ve been keeping a secret for far too long- from my family, my friends, my children…my husband.  He’s the one who will suffer the most from this news.  I’ve been sneaking around behind his back.  I’ve done it during the day when he’s been at work, early mornings when the rest of the house is sleeping, I’ve even sometimes done it around my youngest child, taking advantage of her innocence and age.  And now I’ve begun to feel embarrassed and ashamed by my actions and I feel it’s time to set my guilt free. What is it they say?  If doing this is wrong, then I don’t wanna be right.

This feels so, so right.

It feels too good to stop.

And yet, I know it’s time to come clean.

So, I’m using this platform as a way to feel normal again, because what I’ve been doing simply feels so natural that it’s hard to believe it’s even frowned upon.  Perhaps there are others out there like me, hiding in the darkness and needing a strong voice to help pull them back into the light.  So I’m taking one for the team here.  I know there will be backlash.  I know I will be shamed.  I know I will lose some of you, but I can only hope you will find it in your hearts to forgive me for my loss of self control.

Before I reveal my darkest secret, I want you all to know that I never meant to harm anyone, I only did what I thought my heart was telling me to do.  And I always follow my heart.  If you know me at all, you know I always listen to what my heart tells me to do.  More than the brain, I feel the heart will always guide you in the right direction.  Sometimes that direction can also lead to the harming of loved ones, but if they truly love you, they will understand.  The heart wants what the heart wants, and we cannot control, nor can we stop that.  We can try to stifle those feelings, but they will always be there.  They will always be a part of us, no matter how hard we try to fight them.  My husband, the man with whom I vowed to be eternally faithful to and honest with, especially, will need some time to recover from my news but I’m hoping he will soon remember that I’m the same girl he fell in love with 14 years ago.  Nothing has changed.  I’m still me.  And we’re still…us.

OK.  Deep breath.  Here goes.

I’ve been…

…listening to Christmas music.  I have.  I know, I know, it’s shameful.  It’s merely mid November!  We haven’t even had Thanksgiving yet and I’m…enjoying Christmas music.  I’ve been listening to Christmas music for weeks now. It began innocently enough, like all habits and addictions do.  I blame Target.  I blame Buble.  It was he who crooned softly in my ear as I picked up a new water bottle for my daughter two weeks ago.  His voice came out of nowhere and I tried to fight it, I tried to close my eyes and tune it out, walk away, but I let it get in.  It felt too good to make it stop.  And I found myself…singing along.  I found myself believing it truly was Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas.

Then the radio happened.  Damn the radio!  Who would have thought the radio would start so early! I thought I was safe in my car, my responsible and reliable family vehicle. I found the station by accident, honest I did.  And my son was with me when it happened.  I brought my innocent son into this and I cannot take it back, no matter how hard I try.  Karen Carpenter was singing about her Sleigh Ride, and at first I made it a joke, (as is common for addicts), I joked about it being far too soon and ridiculous to be playing such music so early in the season and yet…I listened to the whole song.

I’ve never been so ashamed.

My husband and I have had a pact, a long lasting bond that goes back years.  Not until the first of December are we to let the Christmas in.  We plug our ears, change channels, turn cheeks, do whatever we can to make it go away whenever The Christmas comes too soon.  We don’t want to spoil the magic that should only be experienced after the turkey has been carved and the calendar has been flipped to the final page.  And yet…every year after having children I have found myself secretly desiring to break that pact.  And it isn’t until now that I’ve been ready to reveal my secret.  It’s simply never been this bad before.

I find myself now, just yesterday in fact, secretly listening to old classics and obscure 60’s albums…The Ray Conniff Singers, The New Christy Minstrels, Steve Lawrence… It’s just a little soft stuff to get me through, just a little bump.  It’s really not that bad if you think about it.  It’s not like I’m out of control or anything.  I can stop whenever I want to.  Honest!  I can control it.  At least I know better than to dive into the hard stuff.  I respect myself (and my husband) far too much to go all in.  I’m saving the strong stuff for the right time, I mean…give me a little credit here.  I wouldn’t dare touch B.B. King’s Merry Christmas Baby, Joni Mitchell’s River, Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You, Paul McCartney’s Wonderful Christmastime, Elvis’ Blue Christmas, A Charlie Brown Christmas, or, god forbid, anything Dolly.

Oh Dolly.  Dolly, Dolly, Dolly.  She’s my favorite.  That’s the good stuff right there.  Dolly knows how I like it.  She knows how to make my Christmas feel oh-so-good.  I will only save my Kenny and Dolly for the perfect time.  I could never abuse them, they mean far too much to me to abuse.

(Exhale)

Oh, it feels so good to finally come clean about all of this.  Sweet freedom!!!

I only hope all of you can still look at me the same way and have a little compassion for what I’m going through.  It all stemmed from love- this sickness, this disease.  I truly hope you all can find it in your hearts to forgive me and still love me as you did before.  And if any of you are experiencing the same problems as me, now you know you can safely come to me.  And we can get through this together.

And to my husband, my dear, sweet husband, I leave you with one final thought.  One last thing I need to say before the inevitable phone call occurs where you will lecture me on what it means to make a pact.

Listen up, love.  And listen well.