My spouse moved out a year ago. In ways it feels like just a few weeks ago, yet I can see a great deal of growth and healing which reflects the true time that has passed. One whole year since the trajectory of my life changed forever.
We are making it. I'm surprised that we have survived this well, actually. I've been a first-hand witness to the ways God supplies for our physical and emotional needs. I wish I had kept a better record of the times He has rescued us. I often remind myself that even when I feel like it, I'm not alone. So many family and friends have been His support. I hope I can be that for others someday.
I remember when we were together, the feeling that we were as low as we could and I just knew we would be moving forward. I still feel the sting of his disappointments in me. I remember the shock upon learning of another woman. First shock. Then anger. Then insult. Then pain. Then panic. I knew that I had set a boundary and that the consequence of that boundary being crossed was divorce. Yet still my pattern of avoidance and denial kicked in and I wanted to cling to the familiar way things were. The thought of divorce, single motherhood, all the changes that would entail was so hard. My heart broke for my children who wouldn't understand for years.
I remember the way I felt that when our room was disjointed from the absence of him and his things. The emptiness was glaring, the change stark. It feels so normal to me now, but I'd like to go farther in making the space my own ... I have dreams of a "Mom-cave."
Today I am confident that I chose wisely when faced with the reality of our broken marriage. I wish I had a more clear vision of my future and exactly what God wants from me. I'm getting so much better at operating without a "Master Plan." These days I talk to Jesus as readily as I used to talk to my spouse and often visualize Him right there with me in my broken-down van, the messy living room or the security of my bedroom. I tell Him of the longings within, the lingering questions and confusion and the insecurities that lurk from personal betrayal. He's so good to hear, to comfort and His word is truly living and active when applied.
I want to share a reading that I cut and pasted into my journal from this time last year. Is is from Surviving Betrayal by Alice May:
When you get to the end or your rope, let go.
You don't have to hold on until your hands are raw and your shoulders scream in pain. You don't have to hold on even when you think you're the only one keeping the world from slipping over the edge. You don't have to hold on simply because you don't know how far down you'll fall if you let go.
Let go. Release your grip. Turn loose your problems, your fears, your certainty that only you can salvage the situation.
Let go. Once you let go, you'll find that hitting bottom is the easy part. It was hanging on that caused all the pain.
Today I will experience the relief that comes with letting go of one small part of my life, something I've been gripping so tightly it hurt. I will tell myself I can't fix the situation and I will let go.
Recovering perfectionists are usually trying desperately to hold it all together. I certainly was. There has been great freedom in letting go and it has applied to so very many aspects of my life, not just the marriage. Is there anything you need to let fall apart?