Unwrapping My Truth

I was angry, bitter, pissed off, frustrated, and a whole other plethora of adjectives that I just didn’t feel like naming at the time. I was tired.

I was a failure.

I felt like I could possibly be failing my kids as well. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I take GOOD care of my babies. They are my heart and if anyone ever tried to hurt one of my them, they would be dead—or, at the very least, seriously hurt—before the thought ever formed in their minds. But what was I doing? What kind of example was I setting for my daughter to emulate when she gets older? What example was being laid out for my sons? What legacy was I leaving to my children regarding life? And the more I thought, the more of a failure I began to feel.

I mean, I’m not the best Christian. I could be better. You know, love my enemies more. Read my Bible more. Stop worrying about what others thought of me. The praying thing? I’ve got that one down to almost a science. I talk to God…a LOT. Still, I can’t help but think that God called me, and I can’t even seem to get my attitude under control. I ask Him every chance I get, “Are you sure you want me?!” His answer always seems to be yes, so I guess He got it right. He had to have, seeing that He never makes mistakes. But, if you ask me, He is plumb out of His mind and surely could benefit much more from someone else—anyone else—other than me. A better Christian. Because Lord knows, I’m flawed. (Stay tuned for that blog).

I have battled serial (undiagnosed) depression. One manic-depressive episode—as the psychologists called it—landed me in the psych ward after an attempt to take my own life. Yes, this was after I was married. And after I had my son. I can’t say that it was fully anyone’s fault. I was just tired. I couldn’t take any more arguing at home. I couldn’t go into my job that I hated and where I was so undervalued one more day. I’d had enough. I couldn’t take any more. So, that night I tried to end it all. But God had other plans.

This blog, however, is not about my manic-depressive episode. It’s not about my children; as wonderful as they may be and the source of so much of my entertainment. This is not about me being a bad Christian, although some of these realizations that I will encounter kind of go hand in hand with that very thing. This is not even about my marriage.

This blog…is about all of those things. This is about me. Every dirty, gritty, hairy, happy, joyous, frustrating, exciting, angry moment; and all that goes in between.

And this particular post is about life after “I do.” And probably even a little bit before it. This is about coming to a crossroads in my marriage and trying to retrace my footsteps and figure out where I went wrong exactly and just how I can fix it.

How often had I been here? How many times was I going to feel as though my marriage was at an end? When they told me marriage was hard, I shook my head in agreement, told them I understood and said, “I know…I know.” Now, after talking to others who are entering marriage, claiming to understand just how hard it will be, I smile inwardly. Thinking to myself that they have no idea how their lives are about to change. It’s funny, but it wasn’t until just now that I realized that’s the same thing others must have been saying about me and my blissful ignorance.

See, it wasn’t until after I said “I do” that I realized just how hard it was. It was, in fact, the hardest thing that I had ever set out to do. And I’m an overachiever. I must excel at all costs; so, the fact that I was failing—miserably, may I add—had me feeling another adjective altogether.

Here’s where that word failure goes, yet again.

My marriage has been an ongoing struggle for some years now. Most days I feel as if I was given the hardest marriage in the world; that no other couple in this world has had to face or endure the things that I go through. Every year has been ridiculously tough. You know? Crossword puzzle, hard. I feel as though they gave me only part of the answer and 3 fewer boxes than I needed and said figure it out. I was sent into battle with no weapon. I stepped to bat and tried to swing with no bat in sight. It’s as if I were thrown into a classroom with the number 234 on the board and I’m told by the teacher, “Now tell me how we got this answer.”

Well, how should I know?!

I don’t. And if marriage has taught me anything, it’s that I don’t know anything.

I wake up every morning with the intent to be the best wife I can be. I won’t get an attitude today, I’ll listen and I’ll be so submissive he’ll have to wonder if I was even the same woman. And then some monkey-wrench gets thrown in the play–he didn’t take out the trash, he said something flip that didn’t go over well with me, he lied, he left a dirty diaper on the floor for hours, he didn’t clean up the kitchen after he cooked, he lied, he didn’t answer my text message right away, he lied–and then I forget that promise that I was going to be Mrs. Submissive-Me, and I go ham, turkey, and cheese.

We get into an argument, and in my head, I think, “You should stop this. Don’t say what you’re thinking right now, that will only make things worse. Just let it go.” But, what do I do? The complete opposite of what I know I should be doing. I say that thing that I know will hurt, will hit below the belt. I keep digging and my whole body is telling me to stop; screaming at me to just shut up and go in the other room, but my mouth keeps vomiting these words that I don’t even want to say, and then it’s there.

Everything that I said that I don’t even truly mean. I only said it because I was hurting. And there it is. Left there on the floor, strewn about like broken glass. And no matter how much I try to clean it up afterwards, the fact still remains that I said it. There will always be the tiniest fragment there to remind him of the things that I said that I didn’t even mean. And how do we go on from here? How do we move forward when I’m bitter and resenting him for the lies he’s told and he’s unhappy and tolerating me after all of the hurtful and mean things I’ve ever said?

I used to blame my husband for the things I said or did. I told him that I wasn’t this person before all of the lies. I told him it was his fault, that if he hadn’t done the things that he did then I wouldn’t be so angry and bitter. And maybe that’s true. But more than likely, it’s not. I had to realize that I make my own decisions. My husband can’t speak for me. I had come to know this place of anger and bitterness and I called it home. It was comforting to me—the darkness. I had invested a lot into being the bitter, mistreated wife. I could have won an Oscar. And had you looked bitter up on the dictionary website, lo and behold, there I would be with a scowl and many scars that I wore like a badge of honor for years. And because of that I grew hardened, I changed into someone I didn’t recognize, nor did I want to be.

But my husband didn’t make me this way. I was the one that held on to every last lie, every last broken promise, every last wrong. And I chose to do that because of the hurt that I held. Until I woke up one day—it was actually at night—and I owned my part in it. I have not been a Stepford wife. I am not perfect, nor have I been this entire time. And I wanted to fix it. I wanted to make it work because when I look into the future, I can’t see it without him. And not because I’ve grown so used to him being there. Not because I want someone there. Because I could have pretty much anyone I choose. (And that’s not being arrogant or stuck up.) But I wanted to make it work because I love my husband. I know it may seem hard to believe, but I do. I love that man to life.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not letting him off the hook by any means. This is in no way a ruse to get you to feel sorry for or forgive him. After all, you don’t have to be married to him. He’s gotten enough anger and resentment from me. Remember, I held the title on the bitter, angry wife. And we’ve both done our share of hurtful things in this marriage. Marriage takes two. Whether that be to make or break the marriage, it’s never one person’s fault or glory.

Nine…forty-four.

And you know what? I’ve realized now that it’s not true. That I was the only one going through an extra hard marriage. You see, you and your spouse may not be going through exactly what mine and I have gone through, but we all go through just the same. God has this inward sense to know exactly what each person can deal with. And when that spouse is for you, it teaches you to love on a level that you never knew you could. That is the unconditional kind of love. The way that God loves us. It’s so funny the things that we say we will never accept as humans, but we expect God to accept from us so readily. No, don’t be abused. No don’t let someone just treat you any kind of way. But, if we’re honest with ourselves, we’ve had moments where we’ve treated our Heavenly Father any kind of way and He’s forgiven us. But we’re not going there. That’s a whole other topic for another day.

So, here we are. On the path to healing, forgiveness, love, peace and all that good stuff that goes along with letting go. And here we’ll move forward day to day. We are in a much better place, me and my husband. But trust and believe we have a long way to go. And if I can encourage you too, who may be going through difficulties in marriage, life, etc., then I’m doing exactly what I was called to do.

This blog is meant to encourage those who feel there is no one to understand where they are or what they are going through. Because that person was me. And that girl was lost, angry, resentful and full of blame. But she isn’t me anymore. And she realized that people will be more encouraged by her true story than her perfected image. So, I’m here to let you know that you are not alone. And as I said before, we’ll get through this…together.

So, stay tuned.

Because there are more layers to peel back.

I’m just getting started unwrapping my truth.