For the longest time I had a hard time putting into words why I started writing this blog.
Originally, I wanted to share a brutally honest and real depiction of what it feels like to face infidelity and go through a divorce. I was 30 years old with a 3-year-old and all I kept hearing was, “Well, you’re young. You’ll get re-married.” As if a future no one could guarantee was going to make the divorce okay, because one day I’d be happy in a new relationship.
Not only did that future not help me get through the day, but it was based on the idea that another “person” was going to make me happy again.
And I get everyone was trying to make me feel better. Or wanted to see me in a good relationship with someone who actually appreciates me. But no matter what anyone says hoping to ease the suffering, in the beginning, getting through each day is freaking hard. Your mental, physical, and emotional cups are completely drained. Every single day, you’re walking through the Sahara Desert with a Dixie cup of water.
So, I wanted to write down how I was getting through each moment. Not next week, or next month, or even next year. But THAT day. THAT moment. The good and the bad. I wanted to share how I was feeling in the most honest and real way I could. No sugar coating. No pretending to be the “perfect” Christian to escape judgement. Because I believe the most common misconception people have about Christians (and that we have about ourselves) is that you have to meet some predetermined bar in order to call yourself a “Christian”. You can’t cuss, drink or be angry. You can’t have tattoos or struggle with temptations, or even have an addiction. But for me, these are the exact reasons why I’m a Christian.
The Church is a hospital, not a museum.
And as Pastor Matt Brown likes to say, “There’s only one perfect person, and he died on a cross 2,000 years ago.”
The whole point is that we are broken people who need a savior. So, I think we should be real in our struggles. Be real in our pain. Because it’s how we connect. Through honesty and vulnerability. It’s how we grow our compassion and our empathy. It’s how we break free from loneliness and support one another.
When I first started writing, I knew God had a purpose for my life. I had no idea what is was, but I believed there was meaning in the mess. That my ex-husband’s affairs, and our subsequent divorce, had a greater purpose. And as each day went by, my faith grew. I spent time in prayer and learned to depend on Him. I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and made amazing, life-changing relationships as a result. Over time, I started to see happiness would not come from a man. I started to see my faith in a way I never did before.
Unbeknownst to me, I was living in a marriage bound my resentment, bitterness, and darkness. Prior to his first affair, my ex and I were just lost souls completely incapable of understanding how to connect. I didn’t even understand why I was upset until we went to counseling. Where I learned that anger is just hurt covered in gasoline waiting for someone to light a match.
I have learned so much about myself over the last four years. I’ve learned why I’m unfortunately attracted to men who undervalue me. I’ve learned why “acts of service” is my love language. And why I never used to cry. Why I refused to let that armor slip. But I also learned vulnerability takes an incredible amount of strength. I learned wisdom can come from silence. And each day, I started to understand my value.
It takes an enormous amount of work and honesty, but I believe we can heal from our hurts and find purpose from our pain. I’m grateful for this journey because it’s made me a better person. And it’s also allowed me to connect and share my story in a way I never thought possible. I didn’t even consider myself a writer before I started this blog.
It’s crazy the way God works.