Love Lost, Life Found, Grief Experienced
It’s been a rough 9 months for everyone – some much more than others. This Rona is no joke. The political division that has been caused by it has been devastating to so many and I don’t expect things to heal overnight. – Also, there has long been deep division caused by systemic racism, sexism and centuries of financial, as well as educational disparity in the United States that seems to have come out of the secret places, stepping out boldly, because we’ve spent the past 4 years being “led” by an old privileged white narcissist who supported all of that ugliness while bragging about grabbing women by the p*$$#. So, for many of us, it’s been a traumatizing 4 years, with the most recent 9 months being the most unbearable.
In my personal life it’s been a broken several years for me. Sometimes I’m amazed I’m still getting up in the morning and other times I mostly realize I can only get through the day because He’s got me. I also have so many things to be incredibly thankful for, and I am, but today I am sitting in the brokenness.
This typically happens to me about once year, but it feels like it’s been thrice already this year. I allow myself to grieve what is lost or broken. I have a little pity party with just my Pappa and me. He holds space for me to be my authentic self, in all of the humanness that I can muster and then He stands me back up again, and I am able to carry on in a confidence built on His faithfulness.
I am sad because my husband betrayed our marriage many years ago, and while we have worked hard to grow out of that sin and all of the ways we both contributed to that horrific anguish, there is a part of us that feels like our marriage will never fully recover. We have gotten much better in so many areas of our relationship and even in our own persons, but betrayal is not something you bounce back from. The wreckage is long-lasting and deeply embedded. Daily I must choose to make my marriage what it can be and not settle for what it is or give up on it and allow it to quietly die a death of complacency.
My oldest son and his wife are expecting their first child. I am beyond happy for them. He hasn’t allowed me to be in his life for several years because he thinks I took money from him – which is ludicrous if you know what kind of mama I’ve always been. I pray over the ultrasound picture every morning that they shared with us a while back. I am thankful that they shared their blessed news with us and even more grateful to be able to pray for their family each day, but I can’t help but wonder if he’ll choose to have me in their lives. Will I know my grandchild? Will my son remember who I am, what my character is, how devoted I’ve always been? Ultimately, I have resigned myself to rest in praying for them daily and trusting that Our Pappa God has all of us in His hand, but some days I am overcome by how easy it seems it was for my first born to cast me aside for something so not precious, how easy it seems it was for him to see me as so self-serving and greedy, when he saw how I lived my life always putting my children’s needs first, rarely buying things for myself (like most mamas) and certainly never stealing things from anyone. Yet, here we are and on days such as today, I am grieving. I am crying out, “Why did this happen?!” to My Pappa God, but I am also gently reminded that our relationship was co-dependant, there was so much brokenness in our family then and He is the God of restoration. It hardly ever looks the way I expect it to or think it should, but years of walking with a God who is abundantly faithful has made it possibly for me to (finally) trust that He will bring about a resolution that is better than any of us could ever imagine.
I miss my friends. I miss having a very best friend. I lost one of my closest friends just after my husband’s betrayal. It was gut-wrenching. She had been my friend since early elementary school. I was suicidal and she was the ONLY person I shared my humiliating news with. She promised she would fly out to see me in the following 2 weeks. I desperately needed her to hold my head above water as I had hers when she went through her journey with cancer and the loss of both of her parents in the two years before this. She called me just before she was supposed to fly out and told me that her husband refused to spend money on a plane ticket. She said they just couldn’t afford it. I was devastated, but I reassured her that I knew she had no choice and I wouldn’t want to be a financial burden on her marriage. Three days later, as I perused social media, there my “best” friend was in Cabo (or some tropical place) with several other friends on a girls’ trip. I had to borrow money to fly home for her mama’s funeral less than a year before this. It took me days to reconcile what I saw in those pictures and what she had said to me on the phone. I asked her several times to help me understand what she had done, for over 2 years after that. She mostly ignored me and then when I asked her in person, her response was, “I’m a shi$$# friend, okay? Let’s move on. Talking about this won’t change anything.” I spent a couple of years trying to put it behind me and then I began to realize how entitled and judgemental she had become, which helped me to finally walk away. Years too late, and I’m thankful I finally did, but losing one of your oldest friends with whom you’ve done so much life is heartbreaking, even when you know that your life is much better with that person no longer in it.
The thing is, these stories are oversimplified. I know that the brokenness was the result of layers of disfunction caused by years of not really getting to the issues at hand. Festering wounds not looked at closely in order to get to the deep infection, so that we could all maintain a false sense of peace and harmony until it all imploded. I know that because I used to think I had no real worth to others unless I was what they needed, that I operated out of that and eventually, my fears came to desolating reality. I allowed others to take me for granted because I didn’t believe they would choose me and then when I most needed them to choose me and even asked them to, they choose the other thing because this was our dance, the one I had been in step with all along, until I wasn’t.
is what finally changed my life. I lost SO MANY relationships because people just walked away and I stopped chasing them. We’re taught that when you finally take a stand for yourself, others will see your worth, value your relationship and you will all live happily ever after. I’m sure that on occasion that is the result, but in my life I have found that many of the people I loved just walked away, kept walking and are still walking in the other direction without a thought in their heads of me or my worth.
Amidst the carnage, I have emerged His beloved and bruised daughter who has done the hard work of counseling, inner healing, and walking the 12-steps, of having hard conversations and choosing healthier relationships, who does things for others now because I want to and because, after praying, I am reasonably sure He wants me to. I respect who I am and who I am growing into more than ever. I am open to my brokenness and strive to continue healing and growing into the daughter He calls me to be in Him.
I love my parents and I forgive them for how their brokenness and pride has hurt me. I pray that they forgive me for my brokenness and that they find Our Lord and choose to be His before they leave this Earth . I love my husband and I’m thankful that he daily chooses to walk this very difficult road of healing with me instead of taking the seemingly easier way out. I love my son and pray that one day he will remember my love and dedication for him. I pray that if he doesn’t choose to invite me back into his life that more than all else, he knows Our Pappa God and His love for him intimately and that he finds peace with himself. I love my friend and I’m working on forgiving her betrayal and even more her disregard for the pain of that and her response since has caused me. I pray she learns to love everyone as He does and that one day she will choose to live in peace with me.
I have wallowed in my self-pity while My Pappa has held me through my cries of anguish. Where would I be without His faithfulness? What would I do, truly?
If you’ve made it this far, I want to thank you for holding space for my grief and emotional rambling. I understand that this is an uncomfortable post to read. It’s hard to write and will be even more excruciating to actually publish. We are a “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” kind of culture. We aren’t supposed to openly acknowledge emotional trauma or pain, especially not with a self-pity kind of viewpoint. I know this well, because I was raised with an extra dose of stoicism. What I’ve come to believe since watching my family of origin implode, is if more of us would be forthcoming with the havoc that betrayal, abandonment and other relational brokenness can bring, perhaps those that come after us will choose better and live more healthy, honest lives that bring them peace. I’m thankful that I’m walking more in the identity My Pappa God calls me to after years of recovery and painful growth. I’m incredibly grateful that my three youngest children have not only witnessed my journey, but they have chosen to walk the steps, do the counseling, have the hard conversations and be accountable as they grow. Knowing they are figuring this out in their 20’s as opposed to 50’s like their mama, is the best gift I’ve ever received.
‘Tis the season…