He asks how I'm doing. I tell him fine. He says okay, which would imply that he believes me.
We're both lying.
He knows I'm lying. I know he's lying.
And yet we keep right on doing it. Because it's easier that way.
It's easier than admitting to him that I'm a total wreck right now. That I'm shattered into so many pieces I really don't know if it's possible I'll ever be whole again.
It's easier than him admitting that he's struggling to hold it together too. That he can't fix this for me no matter how bad he wishes he could.
So we keep lying to each other.
Last night, he said I was getting distant. I didn't know how to respond. Do I tell him yes, I'm distant because the only way I can keep up the lie that I'm fine is to close myself off? Or do I tell him he's imagining it so we can continue avoiding the fact we're lying to each other? I didn't know what to say so I said nothing. He let it drop.
I'm not in the habit of lying to him. We even have a rule against doing it. There's a rule against distancing too for that matter. Some days I wish he would call me on it so we can quit lying to each other and get it all out in the open. Other days I'm glad he doesn't because I'm scared that if I ever let go, I won't be able to pull myself together again.
For now, I guess we'll keep going with these lies we tell.