The Noble Lie.

That was me. Replete in the righteousness of my deception. Clutching my private martyrdom to my chest. I was lying for the best reason there was. Family and marriage.

My white lies had evolved into iridium catching the light of the sun. I blinded others into inadequate silence while I saved my tears for the ensuite bathroom. If it sounds narcissistic it was. I became a limb to an ego maniac. These days I own what I did. Who I became. I've had to in order to change. I wish love had been at the core of me. However survival is my base line. The only people who have superseded my own are my children. My staunch advocating of the happy home facade was purely to make my space safe. I was abused, or as I prefer to call it, conditioned. It was purposeful methodical training. However, victims make the worst monsters. I discovered if I don't clearly define where my will took me, and understand how I was complicit, the past owns me.

I believe in marriage. The good hard kind that keeps divorce open as an option. A marriage culture that forbids divorce attracts awful people. Particularly when the presence of pain at the hands of one's spouse is deemed an opportunity for self improvement. More so if the marriage becomes property of the group in a great public relations exercise to prove the merit of faith in God.

How many football teams offer contracts to professional players that promise they will retain their spot no matter how they play? How will that work out in the end?

Western Christianity has promoted marriage ahead of the cross, as the churches witness to the world about God and Man. Because on shallow deliberation its an easier case to prove. But like communism it requires a form of blind patriotism while killing the game.

I lied. I started when I was a child and perfected it as a miserable wife, believing whole heartedly that it was righteous to fly that flag. I lied to please my spouse, my church, and too make myself keep calm and carry on.

I told myself I could do it, lapsed into suicidal thoughts, then resurrected my positivity. Until I knew I couldn't. Then I asked God to murder my husband. The penny dropped.

Hypocrite. Incongruous cowardly hypocrite. In a moment, any kind of honest disaster became better than the lie.