FOREVER FAITHFUL
The food I was chewing instinctively forced its way back out of my mouth to give way to the quickened lump that formed in my throat. My airways needed space for the wail that was about to proceed out of the deepest part of my suddenly inflicted pain. I couldn’t stand. I tried. I tried to remove myself from the sitting position I was in when I saw my husband nodding his head, confirming a nightmare I couldn’t have even imagined. He was cheating on me. I wanted to run-fast and far. I managed to relocate myself from the living room to the bathroom. My legs buckled under the weight of my new found truth. I collapsed as I tried to comprehend this nightmare of a reality. I was a victim of infidelity. The man that had vowed to protect me was suddenly shoving me right out from under my umbrella of safety into an unknown storm, raining with sharp, deep pain, thundering with sounds of vulnerability.
As I sat collapsed and crying on my bathroom floor, a slow fog began to envelop over my mind. A fog that I didn’t ask for or want, but it instinctively became my defense mechanism for the next four years. With it I erected a wall around myself. It kept emotion and the ability to experience any connection with how I felt outside of that wall, all the while harboring numbing pains of living in an unfaithful marriage covenant locked up and festering within.
I felt like I had been shipwrecked and forced to float the uncharted seas of my life on nothing more than a piece of rotten driftwood with my husband navigating where our collapsed marriage would go. The storm never fully died. There were brief periods of seemingly calm waters, but the whole time I slumbered on my piece of driftwood in desperate need of reviving. I was lethargic, limp, and lonely. There were times it seemed like we were heading to a shore of safety, and other times it felt like the remnant of the boat spun in circles, unproductive and going nowhere fast. I would try to stand, but never seemed skilled enough to maintain my footing.
Insecurities and disapprovals were woven in constant suspicion and lack of trust. Love has to trust. I wanted with all that was in me to look at the man I vowed my life to and say I respect and trust you. I couldn’t do that and simultaneously be honest. He verbally communicated his comparisons between me and the other woman, making sure I knew the qualities he most admired about each of us. He was twisted and his sickness infected me. It tore me down and wounded me-physically, mentally, and emotionally. I walked with him through assumptions of repentance, wanting to believe his declarations of being a changed man with little to no tangible evidence to validate the claim. I felt voiceless and incapable of doing anything else.
The fog lingered, the hurt remained unhealed. There was no intimacy on any level and no connection between us that a healthy marriage should have. I learned to go through the motions and my life became monotonous. Nothing seemed to negate the numbness I carried. Nothing moved me. I could experience situations of sorrow, yet be unable to connect emotionally. I could experience situations of delight and plaster on a smile, yet never feel on the inside what I was communicating on the outside. I learned to express appropriate actions and reactions, not out of an attempt to be fake, but simply because the depth of my pain had severed my ability to truly connect.
Unknowingly, I found my band aid in busyness. I filled my time and life with a go-go-go rat race pace. Nothing I did in and of itself was “bad”. I just had zero ability, or desire, to say no to life’s constant requests and demands. Actually, most of my busyness has always been filled with positive things-ministry, helping people, doing fun hobbies, and spending time with people. All great things, but I now realize I was pouring from an empty cup. I was so busy focusing on everyone and everything else and spent very little, if any, time focused on myself and my own needs. Busyness truly was the band aid to cover my wounded places.
I am so thankful to say I only endured my season of heartache and pain for a few years. About 4 years after learning of the infidelity, I was devastated to discover it was happening again, and had actually never fully stopped. Out of continued numbness and a momentary lack of wisdom, we did attempt to reconcile for a few months. I wanted a miracle marriage story, but after several counseling sessions and intense prayer and seeking the Lord, I finally filed for divorce. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make, and it was met with a grief I don’t feel I can adequately describe in words. I experienced deep heartache at not only the loss of my marriage, but also the loss of everything that was “to be” with this person I honestly expected to be with until my dying day. It was a deep sorrow over memories we’d never share together, children we’d never have, and a lifetime of experiences and expectations that would be executed by a “certificate of divorce”.
In my season of grief, I experienced a peace that surpassed all understanding. I knew, without any reservation, that I was making the right decision for my life. That didn’t mean my decision was easy or that I didn’t endure very difficult consequences, because I very much did. But there is something profound about going through tragedy when you are a Christian. His truth found in scriptures came alive in my heart in new ways.
I learned to pray and praise my way through and out of my pain. I will forever remember driving to work one day and as I came up over a hill, the sun was brilliantly shining from just over the horizon. I tangibly felt the fog in my mind evaporate and give way to a clear mind. It was a moment of true healing and freedom for me. I remember, not long after, hearing something that moved me. I teared up, and realized I could FEEL again. My numbness had subsided and I became full of love and life again. I became ME again. I became confident in who I am, renewing my mind and choosing to walk in forgiveness, not only for my ex, but also for myself. As painful memories surface, I pray for healing and speak truth over myself.
During my season of newness, I am investing in myself and my relationship with God so that my cup is full and overflowing. I want to live my life and serve out of a place of fullness, rather than live out of emptiness and expect anyone or anything but God to “fill my cup”. I know that His plans for me are good (Jeremiah 29:11), that He works all things together for my good (Romans 8:28), and that it is for freedom that He set me free (Galatians 5:1). I believe and stand upon His love and His promises for my life. I trust Him and I love Him. He is my Healer and my Provider and the Lover of my soul. He is forever faithful.
