“If you go to Jackson Hole to meet that girl this weekend you will be starting a new relationship with a lie,”  I asked him to choose differently.  He replied, “I’ll just tell her that I am married to a psycho who won’t divorce me.”  Wow!  Pain….Pain….Pain…. that hurt.  I lowered my voice, a rush of defeat coming over me.  “One day she will meet me and she will know that I am not a psycho.”

“What makes you think I would ever introduce you?  Who says I will ever remarry.”

The conversation tapered off.  My heart hurt as he drove away.

I had done it

I wanted to scream at him, I wanted to beg and plead, but knew that was not the answer.  I was proud of myself.  I stood up for what I believed to be true without getting mad and saying something cruel that I didn’t really mean.  I felt the shame of not being enough, but I didn’t have the additional shame that often came when I lost my temper too.

I admit, I didn’t want a divorce, I was trying to hold my 18-year marriage together.  It wasn’t because I was psycho.   I didn’t want a divorce because I loved him.  I didn’t want a divorce because I had three little boys counting on me.  All he saw was a psycho and it hurt.  All the right reasons were not enough for him.

I didn’t want a divorce because I loved him. I didn’t want a divorce because I had three little boys counting on me. I didn’t want a divorce because I believed we could make it work if we were both trying.  All he saw was a psycho and that hurt.  All the right reasons were not enough for him.

Letting go of him with my broken heart

I sadly let him go that day and many days in the year that followed.  I have no idea how many women he dated, or how many women he slept with during that year leading up to our divorce.  All I know is that I was broken hearted. I saw many dark days when hope itself seemed to elude me.

I spent many nights holding the little bodies of broken hearted little boys who shook in my arms as their sorrow poured from them and the tears hit their pillows.  My tears mixed with their tears as we wept together.  I watched as our family fell apart, and ME, the so-called ‘psycho woman’ cried.  My pain and heartache was deep,  but somehow their pain hurt me so much more than my own.   Moments of bitterness and darkness tried to consume me, but God in his beautiful grace sent blessings also.

Blessing the broken

I look back today and I can see that God collected every tear.  That when I was done and thought I could take no more he would send us beautiful blessings.  I prayed to him and reached to him more that I ever had and he saw me and reached back.  He stood by me and my little boys.  He wants to bless the broken.  He wants to lead us to more.  He kindly and gently asked me to look at all my dark places and he asked me to wade through the swamp, but he didn’t ask me to do it alone.  He sent me lifelong friends to wade with me.  People who understood sorrow and heartache at a very deep level.  People who had already been through the swamp and knew their way out.

Paying it forward

Now God has given me a different opportunity.  I spent many years in the swamp.  I am not afraid of it anymore, and he has asked me to come back to help others. If you are in the swamp, I will be there with you.  Let me help, we can make it out together.

Sending Love,

Norma

 

 

 

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