Friday, March 14, 2008
A Silda by any other name...
Might be me or you. I can't seem to get the face of Silda Wall Spitzer out of my head. (If you haven't read the story then here it is or at least one of many in the last few days.) It was a face that had a great deal of pain on it, standing there in front of the reporters and cameras and next to her husband as he read his resignation. I've read that Mrs. Spitzer is an educated woman, an attorney who gave up her legal career to raise a family. I've read that she is (was?) her husband's confidante and advisor. And now what I'm reading on her face is a great deal of sadness.
Evidently seeing her standing by her husband triggered pain within me: An embarrassment underneath a stoic face during some of those WTF moments that happen when you live with an alcoholic. It's the type of feeling that I used to get when I wanted desperately for things to be okay at home and tried to put on a brave face to the world. It's a feeling of fakery and dishonesty. It's a sick, sad feeling.
I was well aware of my own role as "victim" sliding into my thinking when I saw Silda Wall Spitzer. I wanted to hug her and tell her that she was brave to be there. And I also wanted to say that when all was said and done, I hoped that she would do what she needed to do to take care of herself. In the end, I hope that Silda keeps the focus on herself and stands up for herself.