My husband met me at the airport as I was arriving home from a meeting out of state. As soon as I saw him, the tears I had been holding back with all my might for hours were released and I began sobbing in his arms.
“What in the world is the matter?”
“I don’t know.”
“What happened at the meeting to upset you?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. I kept thinking on the way home that maybe something terrible had happened to you or one of the boys.”
“No, we’re all fine. Or at least I think so. Robert is still on his Boy Scout camping trip. He’ll be home tomorrow. But I haven’t had word of any problem. Now just relax and I’ll put in a call to check on the troop.”
“Okay,” I said, still shaking with sobs.
“Now, you know no news is good news, right?”
“Right,” I said, still sobbing.
“Well, let’s get your bags and go home.”
All the hour’s drive home I sniffled and wept, trying my best to stop. We reached home and the phone call was made. All was well in the scout troop.
And still I wept. I was frightened, more frightened than I’d ever been in my life. I had no idea what caused the tears but I couldn’t stop them. Through the night and the next day the tears continued. I believed I needed tranquilizers or other drugs, but a little thought in the back of my head told me that I would be all right only if I didn’t take any drugs. A therapist friend diagnosed the situation as a crisis and said I would get through it if I didn’t thwart the process with drugs or alcohol.
Sometime during the next day I was moved to ask all my family members to gather because I had something important to tell them. I call that now my Great Confession.