Confessional To The Masses

We've been told by the powers that be that we must disclose all our dirty laundry as well as mundane details like where were we born, where did we grow up, what do our parents do for work, are they still alive, what do we do for work, do we have siblings, where did we go to college (if we went at all), what are our hobbies, etc, etc, etc?
I'm the first one to volunteer and step into the confessional. I knew this day would come sooner or later, although I very much wished it would be deemed unnecessary. I don't go to church, but I imagine that what am I able to disclose is what you might hear in a confessional. However, in that event it would be just you and a priest. Which I'm sure is embarrassing regardless of the sacred veil and telephone booth. But, here I am taking to the Internet and knowingly telling thousands of loyal followers the brutal truth about my once fairytale life.
I'm glad people can't comment on the blog anymore, because I'm ready to fight and I fear once I start ranting I may never stop. Which isn't to say that I won't scream and shout on here, but rather that if not provoked I will tell my story with a more neutral and calm tone instead of a Jerry Springer bitch fight.
Up until a couple weeks ago only a select few knew the real story about why Andy and I broke up. I hadn't even told my mother the brutal truth because it was too embarrassing and painful to relive. I wish I had been honest from the start with not only myself, but also my family. My mother had always loved Andy and thought of him as her long lost son. She had been planning our wedding day since the first time she met him some fourteen years ago and nearly every day after that she jokingly asked when she would have a grandchild.
A part of me didn't want to break her heart or shatter her fond memories and dreams of Andy and I. So, instead I told her and everyone else that we jointly decided to part ways. Which was part truth, but the reality was that I caught him and the now Mrs. Andy in a compromising position and while I might have been able to get over this major betrayal of trust it was what happened in the days after that ultimately terminated the dream.
I apology in advance for confusing those of you who have been reading from the start. I had made myself believe the partial truth and black out the reality for so long that I had began to forget the unsugar coated version myself. That was until the piece of coal I once called my soul mate (there's a bull shit, super sweet high word, with false hope and a Hallmark greeting card that will make you want to throw up and cry at the same time) was standing in my hallway, with a bouquet of flowers, asking to come into my home and talk. By all means, come right in. I can't wait to hear this sorry story.
As my therapist said the other day, "Everyone deals with trauma and pain in different ways. Some people stay in a state of shock for years until suddenly one day something triggers the open wound and out comes all this built up emotion. You have to ask yourself how much more time is this man worth. Take this pain and anger and channel your feelings in a productive manner."
SP