The Night We Learned the Truth

So much amazing work is happening in my life right now.

Last night, instead of watching a movie, my kids and I started having conversations. It started with us dissecting the feelings of lying. They worked through how lying is wrong because it means people won’t trust you, but also how you can kind of get a rush.

We got into that feeling more—the rush of lying. We ended up never going back to the movie we were watching. They said they wanted to keep talking. They were alive and bright-eyed and eager to dig into the hard stuff going on with them.

They said they wanted to keep talking about our feelings. And we ended up talking all night, pushing into so much. Their fears came out. Their struggles with peer pressure right now.

They noticed friends starting to make risky choices, and they know it’s wrong based on the values we’ve been instilling. I’m not failing. They aren’t going to break. They are strong—and so am I. I see that so much right now.

They feel pressure to fit in or stand up for what’s right. This was so insightful because I got to see the efforts of my parenting. I got to see how strong they are in themselves and their friendships. I got to see the way their morals and values—to do the right thing—are being shaped.

This conversation led on for hours (with me constantly checking in if it was too much, too heavy of a night). It was deep stuff and mentally a lot, but their eyes sparkled and they didn’t want to do anything but talk and talk and dig. When I paused to check in or give their minds a break, they said no!

They were feeling seen and heard and wanted to keep going. They unpacked their deepest fears and their anxieties.

Later, our oldest—my stepdaughter—came to me while brushing her teeth, with strength and sadness. She looked at me and said, “Mom... I know what’s going on. I know what’s happening. But I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to say it out loud.”

My beautiful twelve-year-old was so big and so mature in that moment. I could see her—truly see her. The weight of her maturity beyond her siblings.

They’ve all felt the shift this week while their dad and I ripped ourselves raw and led us to choosing our happiness—through his drinking and my shame of hiding my true self for years. They sense divorce looming, but they don’t want to give it a name.

The “He who should not be named” in our life right now is the big D word.

But the way she looked at me, knowing—woman to woman—I couldn’t lie, and I couldn’t give false hope. She was ready. She has been my reason during the storm of the past thirteen years—in the hardest moments—to stay.

She had exposed herself tonight, and it was time for me to give her that same respect.

And this is when my truth came out—to the person I fought hardest to protect and keep close. Keeping her close is what matters to me most. So here we go.

It’s time for turbulence, but I put my oxygen mask on first. And I made sure theirs were on too.

For the better part of five years, I’ve been dreading the conversation. First order of business: show her that no matter what, she is mine and I am hers. Nothing and no one will change that.

The stepdaughter and stepmother relationship I have had with her is fucking magic, and she’s just as scared as I am that it could change. But I am her mom, and I always will be. Precedent or not.

So I poured into her. I flared up like a mama bear and I showed her—she’s mine. Full stop. I am hers. Full stop. For life.

I knew this fear we shared would come out, would happen, and it stopped me for too long from doing the right thing. We make the rules—she and I. Not her dad. Not her mom. But she and I can commit to our bond, and she needs to trust that I am always there.

And I’ve got to tell you... she does. She heard me. I saw her. We are so solid.

But then something unexpected happened. I saw something in my oldest. I saw my sister Valerie. I saw the oldest sister. She had a new fear emerge in her eyes, and she got an intensity.

She looked me dead in the eyes and said, “You HAVE to keep us together. Mom... (breaking a little) THEY need me.”

Oh my sweet, beautiful, amazing daughter. The oldest. She feels responsible for them. She nurtures and loves them so beautifully. She carries burdens that aren’t hers out of her protective instinct as the oldest.

I recognize this. This is my sister. I am seeing my sister right now through eyes she always deserved to be seen from. She feels responsible for not preventing me pain or heartache.

When I felt she wasn’t trusting me, she felt she was protecting me. The tighter she held onto me, the more I fought against it. Over time, this drove us apart.

Looking at my daughter, I realize that pressure—like the older sister in Encanto who was always strong—is a beautiful but ultimately hurtful feeling.

I want her to feel free to love and protect—but not just them, herself. She needs to let people live their lives and let go of trying to control when she is scared or feeling protective. And I need to make sure my sister feels seen by me.

When my oldest came to me, she was ready for the truth.

Once I reassured her of our bond, I brought my husband in. A discussion this big, and how it evolved, required me to call him in. This isn’t just my story to walk her through. This is both of us.

So he came in, and we unpacked her fear of being without her siblings. I needed her to let go of her protective instinct and trust that we are protecting them.

He and I promised her that while things are scary and we have a lot of decisions to make, there is one thing that has always been decided: her father and I are committed to their bond—their time together.

This won’t be like it is for her with her mom and dad, where she feels their issues and feels torn between two people who never worked their shit out. Her dad and I lived that with her and felt for her—and we want better for her.

So we will always keep their relationship first. And she can rest easy in that.

Now it was time to bring the other two in.

The night of openness led to us unpacking their fear of us not being together and hating each other. I got to explore with them that sometimes doing what is best for ourselves may feel different to each of us.

They may feel us staying together is best because they like their lives and feel safe with their mom and dad together. And right now their safety feels in jeopardy. But they also have to respect that Mom and Dad may be able to raise them beautifully together while not being together-together.

Because what is best for us—as people outside of being parents—could be that we need to be apart. And we are working on that right now, figuring out what is best for ourselves.

But we need them to trust that we love them above everything. And we respect each other right now, in this moment, more than we have been showing them for the last handful of years. We are rooting for each other’s happiness.

So they may have to bear with us through some tough shit, but we won’t forget what’s important.

Here’s the thing—for so long I didn’t speak my truth. I didn’t stand up for myself because of my shame about the hurt in our relationship.

And my biggest fear for so long was that if I was to stand up for myself, I would lose my oldest, and I would damage my children.

But last night—through God, or the universe, or what have you—I realized that how I talk about this, all of this, them and him and myself through this... this can make or break them.

And I trust now that, for me, I am built to shepherd them through it. And they will be okay.

At the end of the day, that is the only thing that matters to me: that they see themselves and honor who they are. That they see me as human—beautifully flawed. And that we can lean on each other to get through the hardest shit imaginable.

So I write this now, the night after their world was shaken, and they’re back to playing and laughing and loving each other. And my heart feels a peace I have never felt before in my life.