Sometimes I wake up in the morning and I wish that I was ‘Just Different’
I wish that I could always say the right things so that I wouldn’t hurt people. I wish that all my suffering was gone and that triggers and trauma didn’t exist. I wish that I could save my children from suffering. I wish…I wish….I wish!
With tears pouring down my face this morning I wish that life wasn’t so hard, and I wish that I loved all of my faults and imperfections. I wish that 100% of the time I loved me.
The truth….sometimes I just don’t.
Sometimes I am overwhelmed with feelings of grief because I wish I was different than I am. Sometimes I feel so sad and so unloveable. I wish that somehow I could just do things right sand be different so that my life would be different.
That if I was more beautiful my husband would not have chosen a sex addiction over me.
That if I would have been nicer to him, and done more for him that he would have chosen different and that my little boys would not be the victims of divorce.
Sometimes I am so sure that I could have done something to change the outcome. That if only I would have worked harder my life would have been better.
In October 2015 I felt like I was supposed to share my story. It took me until March 2016 to start doing it. I felt like I didn’t have anything to offer anyone. I am broken…what would I have to give? I held myself back out of fear, and the sorrow that my words might hurt someone. I have been so hurt by life, it hurts me to even think about hurting others.
My story is not a pretty one. It was one I hid for years, even those closest to me did not know the really dark parts. I knew that exposing those would be hard for me to write about and for others to hear, but with a gentle push from God, I began.
Is it in vain?
I have days when I know that my work is making a difference, and days when I feel like it is all in vain. Ups and downs, goods and bads. I believe that reaching out can make a difference, so I push into discomfort and I choose to write despite feeling so broken. Satan loves to remind me that I have nothing to offer. How can someone so human and with so much pain help anyone? He’s not the only one that tries to stop me. There are many people that share my ugly story with me, and they would like nothing more than for me to be quiet. The darkness is theirs too and they are not ready to come into the light.
I have days when I believe Satan, and when those who share my story make me doubt the good that can come from it.
What I do know
I know that each time I feel like giving up, God tells me that I need to keep going. Each time I wonder if what I write has an impact, I receive a message that lets me know that it is. I know that the work I am doing is not about me. It is about him, it is for him. I know that as long as he asks me to keep writing, I will keep writing.
I don’t write because I know everything. I have learned a lot along the way and I want to share, but I write because I don’t want you to feel like you are alone.
You see, I know what it is like to be alone. In 1997 I had suspicions that something was wrong in my marriage. At that time we didn’t talk about pornography and sex addictions as openly as we do now. I didn’t have anyone to talk to about what was happening to me. My heart broke in silence. I didn’t talk to my family because they would get so upset and make judgments on my husband. I tried to talk to his family, but they could not hear me. I think my words brought shame, and my pleading was pushed aside. I didn’t talk to others because of my shame, I kept the pain inside and I suffered. I thought it was my fault that he was looking elsewhere. At 21 years old there were so many nights when I would rock myself trying to calm down. He was gone, I had no idea where he was at. I sent so many prayers sent to heaven begging for God’s help.
He was with me
For 18 years God stood beside me and held my hand. I know that in my darkest moments he never left me. I know that when I begged him if I could leave, and he said No, his heart ached with mine.
If he would have left it to me, I would have chosen the easy path. I would have said, “I can’t do that job, God, can’t you see that I am broken?”
Instead, God allowed me to have trials. So many times when I felt like I could take no more, he wept with me and told me that he was so sorry. He told me that what was happening was not to punish me. I know that he felt the pain with me and he wept with me.
God needed me to be broken
I know that God needed me to be broken. He needed me to feel pain and suffering and loss. He sent me through the refiners fire, and he went with me. He had a larger purpose for me. He needs you to be broken too. As you suffer and hurt, he cries with you. He has never left you, and he is not trying to punish you. He needs you to become more than you can on your own.