Anger, Fear, Failure . . .

start at the beginning

Ten days ago was my last counseling appointment.  As necessary as those are for me at this time, they also wipe me out emotionally.  I walk away from them, and bury myself somewhere away from the things we discussed, until I have time to process . . .

But eventually, I must process . . .

I must muck around in the quagmire of pain . . . and anger . . . and sometimes even hate . . .  I must get in there and get dirty to get clean . . . to find my freedom again . . .

And I'm struggling . . .

I walked into my last appointment all smiles.

"How's it going?"

And I begin with the rosy details of my new life . . .

Well, the divorce is final.  It went much smoother than expected.

Oh, and I went on vacation!  Spent almost a week with my little man, my sister, nieces, and parents.

I bought a house.  It's great!  We moved in just before Christmas.  We're still getting settled, but it's going really well . . .

"And?"

Well, the day before the divorce was final, Jim called me, "So, you filed based on emotional abuse?"


"Yes."  The abuse was much more than just emotional, but why argue semantics at this point?


"You said you were getting counseling?"


"Yes."


"Are you OK?"


"Yes."

I lied to him, then I called to make my appointment with you . . .

Because even though everything in my life is going well, I'm not OK.  I don't always feel OK on the inside.

I'm angry.  I'm so angry.  My life wasn't supposed to go like this.  I didn't get married just to get divorced.  Marriage isn't something casual to me.  It's a commitment.  One that I take seriously.  One that I consider holy.  And I'm angry that this is how it ended.

I'm angry at him for all the things he did.  For every vulnerability I allowed him to see, he exploited.  For every tear I cried, he mocked.  For all the dreams I had, he destroyed.  For all the love I gave, he crushed.

I'm angry at myself.  For I should have valued myself more.  I should have heeded the red flags I saw early on.  I should not have stayed and allowed myself to be hurt so long . . .

I'm afraid.  I'm afraid that I've been broken beyond repair.  I'm afraid that learned behaviors from this relationship will poison any new relationship I have.  I'm afraid that I will find a super great man then drive him away during moments of minor conflict (because realistically all relationships will have those).

I'm afraid of missing the signs again.  I'm afraid of missing red flags.  I'm afraid of loving just to find another monster inside.

I'm normal, my counselor tells me.  You have the right to be angry after all he has done to you.  The Bible does not say you cannot be angry.  It says, "Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath."  Ephesians 4:26.  Anger is a valid emotion.  Accept it.  It's OK to be angry.  Don't confuse anger and wrath. Wrath is what you do with your anger.  It's taking vengeance, and vengeance is the Lord's, Romans 12:19:  "Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord."  So, you're going to be angry.  You're going to cry.  Until one day you'll realize the anger is gone, and there is no reason to cry anymore . . .

And, you're going to be OK in future relationships, because we're going to study what healthy relationships are, and in doing so, you will learn to spot an unhealthy relationship early and be strong enough to walk away.

And out comes a worksheet on healthy boundaries in a relationship.  And we answer the questions based on my marriage.  And with every question, it becomes more and more evident just how broken this was . . .

And then, the last question:  "What are [were] my greatest fears in this relationship?"

Failure.

But, you didn't fail.

Sure I did.

If you give a master boat builder a little rotten boat and ask him to turn it into a beautiful yacht, come back in a month and it's not a yacht, did he fail?

Well sure he did.  Of course, it could never be a yacht, but that doesn't change the fact that he failed to turn it into one.  [Seriously, do you hear how screwed up I am?]

No.  The boat builder did everything he could do.  He did his best.  He could not fail, for the task was impossible.

Then he moved on to me . . .

Were you a good wife?

Yes.

Can you honestly say in your heart of hearts that you were the best Godly wife you could be?

Yes . . . through my tears . . .

Was he a good husband?  The kind of husband God would want him to be?

No.

YOU did not fail.  HE did.

And finally a little peace began to creep into my heart.  And I've thought a lot about this conversation since that time.  I've thought a lot about the responsibilities of a wife to her husband . . . the responsibilities of a husband to his wife . . .  And I've reached quite a startling conclusion.

It was never my job to make my marriage work . . .  just as it was never his.

It was my job to be a Godly wife to my husband, and his job to be a Godly husband to me.  If both those things are in place, the marriage will work . . .

I did not fail . . . He did.

I'm finding a peace, but it's a slow process . . .

And sometimes, I'm still angry . . .  I'm still afraid . . .

Sometimes I still feel the pain of it all . . .

And I share it with you . . .

As mascara and tears stain my cheeks . . .

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