Hubs has started going through his boxes from storage and in them he’s found pictures of his life before me. I don’t care about them, but he presented an odd dilemma to me the other day sharing a picture with me.
We’ve had the opportunity to make amends with his ex wife and her family, she and I became friends and they’re in our lives fairly regularly now. She and her husband made the decision not to tell their kids the entire backstory about she and my Hubs so we’re just “friends from high school”. Our Twins are too young to care right now, but Little is starting to ask questions. Hubs found some of their wedding photos. He was going to throw them away, but I encouraged him to keep them. I mean he’s kept them this long, they obviously mean something significant to him. Then he’s all like: “Okay, but how do I explain to Little why I’m with her getting married?”
“Oh well, I would imagine it’s probably a lot like the way I had to explain to her why I was standing next to Egg Bandit in a few pictures I found while she was looking over my shoulder, with the big f’n difference that your ex isn’t insane nor will ever be in her bedroom terrorizing her at any point.”
Hubs got my point, and decided to keep the pictures he found. I don’t know if he’s going to share them with Little intentionally or if he’s going to wait until she stumbles across them one day and draws her own conclusions. Either way, when it comes to explaining our lives before our marriage Hubs definitely has a less convoluted tale to tell no matter which way he spins it.
It’s hard trying to figure out how much Little actually grasps abstract concepts just yet. She might not, I don’t know when that development is supposed to kick in. I don’t want to introduce her to something beyond her years before she’s ready. I’m really mad that she happened to be standing there when I found the pictures of me and Egg Bandit. If I could have kept it from her I would have, but I didn’t even know I still had those pictures. It was a surprise for both of us.
The most distressing thing about discussing how Egg Bandit was involved in my life before Little came along is that she keeps bringing me pictures that remind her of that night. She found a random picture in a magazine of some guy in a backwards baseball cap and tan jacket; then brought it to me and told me that was what the bad man was wearing when he was in her room. Which made my heart break into a million tiny pieces. Both because she remembers so clearly, and because her memories match my own which I’ve never shared with anyone aside from writing it briefly here and speaking with my therapist.
I’d really hoped that my memories were a dream, that I was stressed and the PTSD kicked in and just sort of took over. As Little is finally comfortable enough to open up about it and has began to share her own memories of the event it certainly doesn’t seem that way. Which means I need to talk to my Hubs about it.