Tuesday, March 15, 2022

Mourning (Lost) Potential

 I went to see a therapist today. I was sort of anxious to go, I haven't been to one by myself...truly by myself...no kids to interrupt thoughts because I have no babysitter, or family therapy sort of thing....since I was a teenager.

This was the first "session", which of course wasn't really a session. It was a "hey, let's get to know each other, why are you here, what do you think you may need therapy for?" initial session. I can answer questions like that, can't I? Of course! 

But by the second or third question, my voice got shaky. My eyes started to water. I had to blink back tears. Towards the end, my therapist asked me a very simple question, and the tears just bursted forth. 

"Why are you crying?" she asked. 

"I...don't know," I responded. 

"What about that question brought you to tears?" 

"Nothing, really. I'm not entirely sure why I'm crying. It's not about that question," I said, awkward pause lingering in the air. 

She didn't know how to probe on that, and neither did I. 

But, on the drive to the grocery store, thoughts...answers I gave...swirled around in my head. And as the answers I gave echoed around in my brain, the tears returned. I tried to push them aside, blew my nose a few times, and sat in the parking lot until my eyes didn't look so red. 

Tonight, I texted a guy who I have been seeing(but not very long, obviously). He said he'd call to talk about an issue we'd been running into during the(very) short time we had been dating. When he called and tried to talk about everything else, I confronted him and he admitted he didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to forget it, pretend the issue wasn't an issue and act like it never happened. This was not the first time he had done this, but I had set a boundary line. If he didn't want to acknowledge it, then we were done talking(and dating). I said my goodbye and hung up the phone. He called a few more times, then texted me in panic mode. I tried to be the bigger person and just not respond. 

Then I thought, you know what? I'm TIRED of being the bigger person. I'm tired of trying not to hurt a man's feelings when they hurt me. Excuse my french, but FUCK THAT. I spent all of my dating(and married) life trying to end things on a friendly note. I told him exactly what the problem was, that I was trying really hard to resolve this in a healthy way, but since he doesn't want to, he can go fuck off because I'm tired of doing unhealthy. Life is too short, I've spent too many years doing unhealthy(in many ways than one, but especially in relationships). 

(Yes, I know I should have run the other way when a guy said he was interested in me and wanted to date even though he knew I was in the process of a divorce. Not my brightest moment, okay?!?!) 

I thought about the therapy session, the answers I gave, the answers I didn't give, the interaction with the man tonight, my soon-to-be ex-husband, and...why am I crying again?!?!

I thought about the last several times I've cried. The times I've cried in my car driving down backroads. The times I've cried in my bathroom. The many times I've cried in my bed. 

What brought on those tears? 

One word-POTENTIAL. 

I would be lying if I said I hadn't cried more within the last 6 months than I am now that the divorce is actually happening. 

I'm not crying over the divorce itself. Looking back, I should have done it sooner. I don't regret starting the divorce. I don't feel an ounce of "Christian shame" that I'm ending something that for so many years was drilled in my head to keep, maintain, and uphold no matter what UNLESS your spouse is beating you senseless or actively cheating on you with a person nearby. 

I am, however, crying over the potential of the marriage. Aaron and I had dreamed a lot together, but as year one turned into year two, and continued on, I started to see a pattern. A pattern of dreams unfulfilled. Another year of unrealized dreams slipping away. 

And then I thought back to the very first conversation I had with the guy I dated. As we walked and talked, I stumbled on a truth within myself. 

"All the relationships I've had ended because I realized I always have a need to grow, to be better, to do better...and the men I've encountered are attracted to that. I don't doubt some want to be that person as well. Most do. But when I'm ready to make stuff happen and they're giving me excuses...I'm done. I give them a few tries, but I don't live my life that way. Everyone's allowed to have setbacks here and there, but to always be there isn't the way I want to live my life. We only get one life. I refuse to live it halfway." 

And I saw the look. The same one every man has given me when I start to share my dreams with them. And they share their dreams with me.  When I tell them, yes, you absolutely can do that dream, why not? Go try! 

I don't know what to call that look. But it's not the "finally, someone who thinks the same way I do!" look. But the "wow! YOU can make me better!" look. 

I should have known better. 

Then I thought about something I had heard an actress say during an interview. 

"Black women in particular need to lay off that "strong" thing. That's a trap. When you say things like "strong black woman", it makes us superhuman. And it makes people think we can conquer anything. And we...have to be careful with that word(strong). You want to be strong, but that can't be your label..." (Taraji P. Henson)

I'm tired of being the better person. I'm tired of being someone else's cheerleader, but not having a winning team. I'm tired of sharing my heart's dreams with men, only to realize if any are to come true, it has to be between me and God alone. I'm tired of always being the strong one and not being fed strength back into me when I show a moment of weakness before putting my big girl undies back on to deal with the next goal. 

I'm tired of mourning lost potential. 

Guess it's time to take my own advice...it's time to take the HEALTHY way.

By myself. 

For myself. 

I've also realized I have said something to myself a lot more since realizing my marriage was heading towards divorce. It was this- I don't NEED a man. I love men for obvious...uh..." physical" reasons(I REALLY love them for that if they know what they're doing), but that, as wonderful as it is, isn't a healthy reason to keep an unhealthy man. 

I'd like a man, I'd really like a man that would check all the boxes for a healthy relationship for me...however, I do not need a man to be healthy. I do not need a man to move forward in my goals(well, some, yes, but the majority of them? No.). I have the ability to be my own cheerleader...because I've no choice BUT to be my own cheerleader to make the goals I've set and accomplished happen.

I don't like to be strong all the time. I don't(entirely) like the idea that I'm most likely going to be doing this...moving towards healthy, moving towards better mental health...alone. Some days, those big girl undies look daunting, especially when you have no help putting them on. 

But...I'm tired of mourning lost potential a little more.  

Thursday, March 10, 2022

This Messy, Messy Life

"Never allow anyone from your past to direct your future. They had their chance to partner with you along the journey. They weren't up for the ride."- Alfa Holden

Today, I write to you from a messy place. Literally and figuratively. 

(okay, I *will* be doing some cleaning of the literal after I type this up. Pinkie promise!)

I didn't want to verbalize it on here because this blog holds so many(mostly) good memories. My weight loss journey, my courtship, my marriage. Our homeschooling, our cross-country journey to where God called us. 

But it also holds the bad ones, too. My failed attempts at trying to blend families. Our inability to conceive. Me losing myself in trying to be the perfect wife, homeschool mom, Christian(by the church's standard, not God's). 

My intentions for all of it were pure(I think). I guess when things are thrown your way, you either grow or slow. Either you grow through it or you slow down. I have chosen for so long to slow down. I know it doesn't look that way, but I have. I could blame a thousand people(and be justified in my blaming if I wallowed long enough). A part of me is currently in the blaming phase. A part of me is very bitter. I did what *they* told me. Why am I not getting the results they told me my family would have? They spoke for God! 

But regardless of what stage and what portion of me is feeling what I'm feeling, the truth is still the same. I can't stay stagnant. I HAVE to grow. I have to move forward. 

Last fall, after an amazing Winter/Spring/Summer of learning and appreciating the fullness of the Catholic Faith, I came to a very somber realization. 

As I lay in bed for a month(literally) with Covid/Stomach Flu/Flu/Laryngitis/Pneumonia, I realized if I continued on the path I was on, my future was going to look very bleak. It wasn't going to be this full, rich experience I knew deep down God had intended it to be. It was going to be less than, mundane. And I was going to be a shell of myself as I watched each child grow up and move out. 

I thought about my relationships with each of my children. I thought about my relationship with God. I thought about my relationship with my husband. And lastly, I thought about my relationship with myself. I thought about how life looked now, how life was going to look a year from now, five years from now, ten years from now. Is this what I wanted? 

I did a lot of soul-searching and praying over the course of last Fall. I also did a lot of crying once I realized where all this was heading. I did a lot grieving- I'm still not done with this part- but I did a lot of grieving in the bed and in the trips I had in the car when I finally got the strength enough to drive again. 

Putting words to it almost sounded illegal. This isn't what Christians *do*, not the good ones, anyway(or that's what I've been told). If it happened, it was probably my fault. I didn't pray enough, I didn't love in Christ-like love enough. I didn't serve enough. But as I saw the "fruits" of this labor, I saw it didn't really matter. The fruit was already bitter, the roots were never there, to begin with. I tried brushing it away, tried sweeping it under the rug, prayed longer and harder. I Gave myself over to serving my husband, my kids, my house more than I ever have before. I pushed almost everyone away because I didn't want a single drop of my energy to be spent on anyone who didn't understand what I was trying so hard to do.

And time marched on, and I wore myself out. My eyes were opened. I haven't been doing this for a season, I have been doing this for almost 8 years. The sweeping, the crying, the grieving, the Christ-like forgiving, the praying, the serving, the loving. It just came to a head in the fall of 2021. 

It was then I realized these "crosses" I bore were not mine to bear at all. They also were not mine to give to Jesus. Trust me, I tried. 

Once Fall turned into what started to feel like Winter, I put the words to it. First to myself, then to my husband, then to my kids. 

I wanted a divorce. 

My husband wasn't a Christian. He was wrestling with his own identity with God. He had faked it long before I came onto the scene but faked it harder after I did. He slowly made ideas not thoroughly spelled out in the Bible as Gospel truths, and(very vocally) looked down on anyone who didn't share the exact same beliefs-myself and our children who are exploring their own faith journeys included. 

He is/was addicted to pornography. He didn't want to receive help for it, he didn't want to talk about how much it hurt me, he didn't want to get to the root of WHY he was/is addicted to it. He wanted to "get saved"(and that's between him and God, so no judgment there), be forgiven by me, and move on. Not forward. Not grow. Not learn. Just go on as if it didn't happen. Just skip to the good part. 

He wanted to stay married, not because he loved me(not saying he didn't, it just wasn't his reason why), but because he felt like staying married was right in God's eyes. Because it was just the right thing to do morally. How romantic, right? 

He didn't want to go to family therapy at the time to talk about how much his actions have hurt not just me, but all of us. How to move forward together, as a family living not only with a man that has an addiction but also as a man trying to be a father and husband with Autism and ADHD. In a possible last-ditch effort to try and save our marriage, he has offered to go to Marriage Counseling recently but only with HIS pastor. I politely declined. 

He moved out the week of Christmas. Our divorce should be finalized by the end of this month. 

For the most part, I want to say I am working towards happiness. I am working with a company that seems to genuinely want me to find my fit there. I am cursing a bit more. I got a tattoo. I found out I enjoy certain kinds of white wine(not currently, though. I gave up my once-a-week savor of it for Lent). Without having to be a buffer between my kids and my husband, I feel like I'm working towards having a healthier relationship with my kids. I am finally moving past survival mode thinking and pushing ahead towards goal-oriented thinking. I am trying to set healthy boundaries in my relationships with my kids and others. I do genuinely feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders like I no longer have to tiptoe as if walking on eggshells, wondering what's going to work and what's going to blow up in my face(and heart) later on.

But at the same time...I'm grieving. I'm grieving what *they* told me I'd have, what I, in my heart of hearts really wanted. I grieve no longer being a housewife. I grieve no longer serving my family fully. I grieve not being pregnant again, possibly forever. I grieve the identity I thought I had. I grieve not having the man I had hoped I could count on to move forward in this thing called life. I grieve the outcome I never got, because even before I saw the "D" word in my mind, the signs of a failed marriage were there in all of us, for years. I grieve that my prayers, my hopes, what I thought were God's aspirations for us...never went past the longing ache in my heart to see them come to life. 


This life is so messy.