Fear. The rock I put down at the marriage conference a brief 6 weeks ago. Only to pick back up a few short weeks later. Not unfounded. Unbearably heavy.
Day One. Again.
He’ll go to get his blue chip at some point today he says…
I try to stay hidden, to find time to process the meaning of starting all over again.
This time was different. Every time was.
Knowing that it’s been coming – and possibly had already been happening for weeks now – there’s no relief in the actual knowing. The forward thinking doesn’t soften the shock to see it in black and white.
Words not sent to me. Not meant for me to see. Am I sad or relieved….the line is blurry…
My mind will be playing the blame game for the next few days…weeks…trying to remind myself he made the decision and I can’t take on the responsibility of yet another of his relapses. I don’t know how to not blame myself.
Thankful that it happened 300 miles away. Thankful that as hard as it has been, living apart for the past year means that our girls didn’t have to live through whatever led up to him reaching out for help. Wondering if he reached out or if he was found out. Worrying that it makes a difference.
Reliving all of the signs, the conversations, asking him if he was struggling, the lies about so many things…the knowing this was coming doesn’t make the pain any less…
It just intensifies the wondering of what I could have done differently… said differently….prayed differently….
Unable to convince myself that I can survive this again. Trying to imagine how to keep boundaries in place so that I can survive, worrying those boundaries will leave him feeling abandoned.
I know abandonment. It’s a lonely place to live.
Struggling between my need to protect myself….give myself permission to ask for time to start this healing process all over again…and reassuring him that I will never give up on him.
Surrounded by reminders over the last few weeks – my friend Stacy, writing about opening our eyes to those around us and seeing their life from within them – That guy who has found himself in the pit again? He’s not there for fun. I couldn’t get her message out of my thoughts.
The series that just started at church yesterday, Come Home. I didn’t want to go yesterday morning. And once I was there I didn’t want to listen. Every time our pastor said “you can always come home”, I whispered to myself – but not yet…
My friend Staci posting June’s scripture writing…on forgiveness…and starting that last night….before I knew what I “knew”…
I’m torn between needing grace and giving grace. Between needing healing and giving forgiveness. It’s the simultaneous activeness of these that make them irreconcilable…at least for now. How do I actively show grace and forgiveness and whatever else he needs from me when I need space to grieve this loss…space to forgive and begin to work towards trust again…knowing that he needs me to be more present with him so he can begin his healing. Not because I am responsible for the work he has to put in – it’s that boundary of being supportive but not enabling – the blurred line that constantly shifts.
Ephesians 4:32 Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another as Christ forgave you.
Putting down my rock….my fear…starting all over again…