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.