Today's message was about...
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| ~Our greatest ministry will come through your greatest pain.~ |
At my previous job, because it is a brand, it was in the brand's best interest for me, and others representing the brand, to not talk about certain things. Which means if we were going through a rough time in life, it was just better to push it aside and pretend it wasn't happening. We cultivated our individual selves into a brand; it was our job to make our lives sound appealing, desirable ~ effing off-the-wall amazing all the time.
Life's really not always that way. And I don't mean for this prelude to sound harsh toward my previous employment because, believe me, I did find comfort in keeping my troubles largely anonymous.
So, here is part of the story for my greatest pain. Written as honestly as possible, in hopes that maybe it will help someone.
From the summer 2016 until the end of 2016, my marriage was falling apart. The first time Trevor and I talked about divorce, it was sometime in June or July. We just weren't connecting at all. We had different goals, different views on just about everything. Some of his opinions made me cringe; some of the ways he spoke about and referred to people made me cringe. On my end, it was hard to truly realize that I wasn't making our relationship a priority. This was making him feel as if he was lower on the totem pole of importance compared to other things in my life.
It was an ugly thing to realize because yes, I was just going through the motions of a good wife. I was doing all the housework (he'd disagree with this but I don't have to argue with him anymore), helping him, doing things for him to try and make his life easier. But, I wasn't passionate about him or with him because I wasn't getting what I needed. Help. Time. I was tired, because on top of managing a successful gym, I was managing the entire household and, it felt like, the entire marriage on my own.
I then thought things were getting better. I knew where I could do better and I made the steps toward that. I took time off from work to have date nights, I was amenable to marital counseling. I made an effort to be kinder. To listen more. To be present more - physically and emotionally.
And then came November.
The worst month probably ever. Except for February of this year, when my best friend, FeeBee, died.
November was terrible. Trevor was trying new medicine for depression and anxiety and he hated how he felt. I don't blame him but since I've been there myself twice in my life, I urged him to just keep taking it and wait it out. Wait for his body to adjust so he could really begin feeling better. Whatever help he was giving me around the house completely stopped. He got mean, picking fights with me whenever I came home from work. He'd often be sleeping when I got home - whatever time of the day it was. He'd cry a lot. One day he didn't move from the floor in front of our fireplace. One day I had to put him in the shower and lay out his clothes because he was too frazzled. I didn't see him go to work; according to him he was delayed in his part of a particular job because of issues with the materials, which often happens to contractors. So, he didn't really have any distraction from whatever he was going through mentally. He just had to sit in it. His seriousness in counseling wanned.
So that was all going on at home while I managed a studio and still tried to squeak in my own workouts. It was tough because he hated my job, blamed it for the changes in me, and didn't appear to enjoy when I left the house. Those feelings he had about everything were amplified in November.
I missed my best friend's 40th birthday. I felt guilty about attending a party for a staff member who was leaving New York to go back home to Massachusetts. I felt trapped and while I know I had people to confide in, I felt like my life was embarrassing at this point. Chaotic. Dramatic. Not a life that someone should look up to or feel inspired by. So I wasn't completely honest about what was going on to anyone, really. No one person got the entire story while it was happening. Despite all this, I felt very resolute in weathering the storm because marriage vows, to me, should be held sacred.
But then I just started to be really honest with myself in December. A series of small, unwise decisions lead me (us) to illegal activities that could have gotten us in big trouble. I had allowed, step by step, for certain things to happen and suddenly it was like a slap in the face: I was not who my parents raised me to be. I was not someone who I could honestly say I looked up to; I was not the role model I was portraying myself as. I had a face for work, a face for home, and a face for church.
Any more than one face is too many.
I was embarrassed by my life and he and I got on board with putting that in our past and moving forward. But he struggled with it. What we had been doing was a huge part of his life for so long and it was tough for him to move on. That probably caused him to become meaner. Because if November sucked, December wasn't any better. December was the month, after listening for what felt like the one millionth time over the past month and a half about what a piece of garbage wife I was, I was like - no more.
I'm not perfect. I know my role in the downfall of our marriage but I refuse to tolerate anyone speaking to me like I am less. Like I am solely to blame. Own your life; take responsibility for the parts of it that you could've made better but didn't.
Then his mother arrived for the Christmas holidays. He and I were on good speaking terms, still residing in the same household, knowing that I was seeking to leave before the year ended. She put him up in a hotel and the amicable relationship Trevor and I had ended. Sometime during this, my dad had called Trevor to make sure he was all right. Trevor's mother, whom I had felt close with, had nothing to say to me. I received no calls, texts, or e-mails. I did not matter. But I am proud of my family - of my dad, who loved Trevor enough to call and see if he was all right, knowing what I was going through. I am proud to have been raised by caring people.
Over the course of three days I saw an apartment, signed a lease, and moved in. There was a moment when I signed my lease that I called Trevor and cried; everything seemed so final. So abruptly cut off. But he hadn't been home in 3 days because his mother had arrived. He told me he was not concerned with how I felt because all he was focused on was getting better.
I couldn't believe that this big life change was happening to me. I felt embarrassed that I had a marriage that survived just a little over two years. It seemed sad and pathetic to me. How could I teach classes and show people what a great life looked like if mine was falling apart?
I really wanted to talk about it.
I was also waiting for the shoe to drop. I was waiting for the breakdown that every divorced woman I've talked to says happens. I was waiting for the roller coaster of emotions; I was waiting for the loneliness to sink in. I did have a moment, after I unpacked everything, of - holy crap. This is my new life. And then I moved on. The depression didn't kick in. I was honestly more stressed and depressed in my marriage than I was living on my own.
I threw myself into my work.
Then, the day I was to do a bridal show for work, I got a bogus proposed Separation Agreement from him that was insulting. Helllooo legal fees and divorce squabbles that I swore I'd never be a part of. Yet, I had to turn on a smile and be excited for future brides and grooms for their wedding days. The second couple I spoke with were getting married on 9/28 - which is the day I got married. God has a big sense of humor, I tell you.
I joined a Growth Group through church that was ladies-only and the topic was about relationships and successful marriages. I was the only one in the group who was going through or had been through a divorce. Everyone else was either married or single. I felt like I stuck out - like a failure before I had even introduced myself. Gradually, as I got to know these ladies and they got to know me, I felt differently and the feelings of shame and embarrassment waned. I changed my perspective on the entire thing; I chose to take the time to learn more about how I could avoid the same mistakes I had made in the past and create a better relationship in my future.
Then, FeeBee died and this rocked my world. Burying my dog was the single hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life and it made all the other difficulties seem vibrant and real. She died on a Saturday and I worked on Monday, trying to teach classes like it didn't happen.
2017 was off to an amazing start. It was like a country song.
Meanwhile, members of the studio, staff, friends - they were all somehow proud of me for keeping my shit together during times of high stress. How I was handling it, as one said "like a boss." I still somewhat felt judged if I had a moment of weakness. As a manager, I felt it was my duty to show everyone that I can make it through it all; that nothing could get me down. If I cried, if I stressed...I sensed that it made others uncomfortable and I wanted to be a good role model.
I didn't feel like I was keeping anything together; I felt myself unraveling, especially after FeeBee died. I didn't want to go about life the same way any longer. When asked, I insisted that I was managing everything just fine. But honestly, my passions were changing directions and I felt a lot slipping through my fingertips. It was time for another big change.
So, I left my job and began my old career-path again. Normal work hours, minimal responsibilities...and now I am helping others through their divorces and tough times, feeling more equipped than ever to do so. Why? Because I'm going through it, too.
We're going into May and I am still no closer to being divorced than I was months ago. Because there is a home involved, in order for Trevor to have it, he has to refinance and I believe he's afraid to. It's in his best interest to delay. Meanwhile I just want to move on with my life in a fair way. I want to close that messy chapter of my life. I want to say goodbye to the chaos that ruled my life for nearly an entire year now.
I found myself giving a divorce client some sage advice the other day. I told him to find something else to do with his time than brood about the snowblower that he says his ex-wife stole out of the garage when he wasn't looking. Years ago, I wouldn't have said this because I wouldn't have known what to say. I couldn't have related. But that's how I made it through things - I kept busy, I kept my head down, and I did my best to just plow right through all the hard times I've gone through so far this year.
I have great faith and hope for my future. THAT is not a lie or an exaggeration. When people have expressed to me that they're sorry I'm going through a divorce, I can honestly say I am not sorry. I truly feel that God brought me to all of these troubles so that I could better help others. But that doesn't mean it's always pretty or politically correct.
It doesn't mean that I don't get embarrassed sometimes at how messy my life may look from those viewing it from the outside, as I try and start two new businesses, work a full time job, raise a puppy, and navigate an unconventional relationship. But Pastor Roscoe said it right tonight: Any friends I may have lost (or may be losing even by writing this blog) aren't those I really want to keep around me anyway. Who wants a judgmental friend?
So this, my friends, is a glimpse into my real life. Some of my own "3 a.m." moments.
