A professor stood in front of the class holding up a book with a battered, thick, black cover and spine with golden words inscribed upon it. He asked his class to look the book for thirty seconds in silence. To really examine what they saw, to come up with their best description of every aspect of the book. Then once the time had passed he asked the students to tell him what they saw.
“It’s black.” The professor looked quizzically at the student before telling him he was wrong.
“Its old,” another student offered before being told his answer was wrong too.
“It’s thick, it’s tall, it has four words on it, it has gold on it….” the answers were pouring in and the professor stood in the front of the room shaking his head disapprovingly. He was shocked that not a single person in the room could see what was so obvious.
The students thought for sure their professor had lost his mind, since they could all clearly see the book and its appearance. Their answers started to shift to questions about the topic. They wondered if he knew a different name for the color black, if he was color blind, if he knew how to count the words, and started to question the purpose of the question since he was obviously disagreeing with them for no reason. Some students grew frustrated at the question, unable to find the right answer to please their teacher while others were growing upset with his stance.
“The book is clearly red. With thirty words in a black print on it it. It’s in excellent shape. In fact, I wonder if it’s ever been taken from this room. There’s not a scuff, scratch or mark on it. Its nearly perfect and beautiful,” the professor shared earnestly with his students, attempting to use his description to help them see the book for themselves.
This was more than most could take. Their tempers grew thin, there was clearly some sort of mistake. Perhaps he was confused about what book he was holding; he was rather old. Perhaps he was losing his vision; his glasses were rather thick. Perhaps he was just an ornery man; no professor ever likes being wrong in class. The students were firmly planted in their opinion that the professor was wrong and he was determined that they were – until he lowered the book to look at the cover for himself.
When he turned the cover to face himself he saw a battered, thick cover and cover and spine with golden words inscribed upon it and a look of understanding spread across his face. The students gasped quietly as they viewed the other side of the book with its pristine red backing with thirty words printed in neat black letters on it. It looked fresh from the book store with a soft shine of luster in the classroom lighting.
“So it was black. And red,” the professor’s sly grin spread on his face as his students cheeks reddened with the discovery of the lesson, “Neither of us was wrong. Our debate was for naught. It was all a matter of perspective.”
When I first heard that story, I rolled my eyes at the obvious and overt lesson that comes from it. There really are two sides to every story, but many people – myself included – take the time to ever pause and ask questions or investigate to see things from another perspective. If one student had asked him to turn the book around when they were asked to really look at it, the entire debate and all the frustration would have been avoided. If one person asked one question and tried to see it from every angle instead of just their comfortable angle, conflict could have been avoided.
I think it’s pretty clear that in life, love, and definitely marriage this lesson applies.
I knew something was “off” starting around Thanksgiving of 2017 in our lives. We were not on the same page but instead of taking a minute to ask some questions or even think about how my husband was feeling, I pulled away. If he didn’t like me, then why should I bother? I knew he was looking at porn from time to time – but again, if he didn’t want me then at least he wasn’t “using” me for sex. He could get his jollies and leave me be. I was tired, hurt, and overwhelmed with so many other things that I never thought about how it looked from his side.
Before I go any further and trigger anything hurtful for myself or anyone else, please read my disclaimer: I still do not accept responsibility for or condone his actions – but I am working to understand where he was coming from in making his poor decisions. They didn’t come out of nowhere. Even poor choices are based in someone’s perspective on a situation.
I pull away when I am scared. When I am stressed or I feel like things around me are crumbling, I pull into myself to think and plan. I rely on me to fix things and no one else. This likely stems from the first half of my life when I had very few people to rely on. My father walked out, my mother was a functional alcoholic, I had limited contact with my extended family, and just one younger sister to lean on. I was close with my grandmother, but she worried if I shared too much and I didn’t want to burden her, I became my own best friend, confident, protector, and problem solver.
There are definitely good points there, you always have your number one fan with you! You get to know yourself really well. You get confident in your own abilities after relying so heavily on yourself. But, you also build walls and become very private. Especially in moments of worry and crisis. From where I was standing, I was doing the right thing by not prying and my sticking to myself – I was protecting me and solving problems without upsetting anyone else. No one was bothered or burdened, or hurt, because no one else was involved. I was doing what I always do. I thought I was doing great. I saw the red cover and thought it was great while I held out the book to him.
He had a wife who didn’t talk to him. Who didn’t initiate anything. Who didn’t reach out to help him when it seemed like he was struggling or act interested in what he had going on. He had a wife who was walking away from him and doing nothing to address any concerns she had. She seemed to not care. Again, no excuse for straying. No excuse for the financial expenses – but if it seems like someone is giving up on you, it seems reasonable to me that you start to feel lost, hopeless, and like you have nothing to lose. You see a beat up black cover and spine with gold writing on it from that side. It’s not pretty.
I’m not coming today from a place of excuses or victim blaming. I am coming from a place of deeply desiring to see both sides. To understand that while I am hurt and hurting, so is he. Yes, his role in creating this is obvious and large, but there are things that I have done that definitely didn’t help matters (again, please understand I am not taking blame! Just trying to understand and learn).
“We are products of our past. But we don’t have to be prisoners of it.” – Rick Warren
We can look back and see where we’ve come from, good or bad. We can acknowledge our roles in situations without accepting responsibility. We can study our actions of the past and the outcomes, but that is not the end of our stories, friends. We are never too far lost or too far gone or too hurt or too alone or too sad to come back. To learn and grow do better.
To make our future better because of our difficult pasts.
I’m working through my Lent promise of giving up anger and hate. I’m actively working toward forgiveness and peace. Not just the act of saying I forgive someone and feel at peace, but actually feeling and living it into my bones and soul. Being the person I have always wanted to be, regardless of my past.
It is hard. It is scary. Some days it is nearly impossible. But thankfully, there is always another to try again. Eventually, it will stick. Promise. I urge you to join me in this effort, to find freedom and peace in your life. Whether your peace comes from accepting things and walking away or staying in your life and rebuilding from here. I’m here to cheer you on and help you on your way.
Change your perspective and you’ll change your. I believe it and I’m doing my best to live it.
Patient and Kind 