Life has pressed in on me
Has forced itself upon me somehow
And I feel asharmed that I could not stop it
From taking over and overwhelming me.
Before, I was part of a strand, made stronger as we were two, intertwined.
But all the while it was three pieces intertwined that would not be easily broken.
I feel so sad that he didn't choose me.
He didn't fight for me.
I still question weather I fought enough for him; and then have times when I don't care and am angry,
or times I am rational and know that it was me who pushed him to change his heart,
it would not work; or at least not for long.
So now I attempt to put away my dreams of raising out children together;
family car-rides, decisions on home renovation, setting your place at the table.
I go through humiliating paperwork that shocks, and angers.
I cry and worry about how to change what I know I do not have the power to change.
I sit in a garrish courtroom with light green carpet and stare at the picture of the Queen over the back of your head and think how thankful I am it's not your face,
and that you are not sitting behind me, staring at the back of my head.
I think about how my contenance drifts back and forth from courageous to cowardice, and how I press on the wood of the table and pray to God for strength.
How different this feels, than our own wedding day, when seeing your face calmed all my anxiety.
Poetic, perhaps, the beginning looking at your face;
the end, looking at your back.
There are so many ways you hurt me; most of them you would not understand
because they are intageable
intimate
unanimate things;
like the loss of dreams, the loss of (apparent) intimacy. Betrayal.
Your actions, and how I interpret them (as a rule how I've always interepreted them) is that I am rejected. No matter how much I try, I am alone.
I am not cabable of you loving me.
Something is wrong with me. I am not right. Not OK. Not lovable.
I am thing.
to be with me is not enough.
You did not fail as a husband, because I failed. As a wife. As a person.
And all of this is a lie straight from Satan's lips to my ears.
Your ears too? I don't rightly know, it doesn't rightly matter.
To embrace the truth, the Real of Now, I am still part of a strand of two pieces.
But that the other with me is Jesus, as it should be. Whomever joins me if God wills it
will have Jesus in the middle.
For the truth is, I am divorced. I am single. I am all right. OK. Nothing is wrong with me.
I am a child of the King, and My God loves me.
He knows me and loves me for I am loveable.
Even with my failures, his Grace covers over me and I am forgiven.
I know it is important in the healing to look back in life to consider what I've lost.
But it must be at least as equally important to look back through all the pain and consider what I've gained.
When I look back, will I focus on the pain, or the victories?
Has forced itself upon me somehow
And I feel asharmed that I could not stop it
From taking over and overwhelming me.
Before, I was part of a strand, made stronger as we were two, intertwined.
But all the while it was three pieces intertwined that would not be easily broken.
I feel so sad that he didn't choose me.
He didn't fight for me.
I still question weather I fought enough for him; and then have times when I don't care and am angry,
or times I am rational and know that it was me who pushed him to change his heart,
it would not work; or at least not for long.
So now I attempt to put away my dreams of raising out children together;
family car-rides, decisions on home renovation, setting your place at the table.
I go through humiliating paperwork that shocks, and angers.
I cry and worry about how to change what I know I do not have the power to change.
I sit in a garrish courtroom with light green carpet and stare at the picture of the Queen over the back of your head and think how thankful I am it's not your face,
and that you are not sitting behind me, staring at the back of my head.
I think about how my contenance drifts back and forth from courageous to cowardice, and how I press on the wood of the table and pray to God for strength.
How different this feels, than our own wedding day, when seeing your face calmed all my anxiety.
Poetic, perhaps, the beginning looking at your face;
the end, looking at your back.
There are so many ways you hurt me; most of them you would not understand
because they are intageable
intimate
unanimate things;
like the loss of dreams, the loss of (apparent) intimacy. Betrayal.
Your actions, and how I interpret them (as a rule how I've always interepreted them) is that I am rejected. No matter how much I try, I am alone.
I am not cabable of you loving me.
Something is wrong with me. I am not right. Not OK. Not lovable.
I am thing.
to be with me is not enough.
You did not fail as a husband, because I failed. As a wife. As a person.
And all of this is a lie straight from Satan's lips to my ears.
Your ears too? I don't rightly know, it doesn't rightly matter.
To embrace the truth, the Real of Now, I am still part of a strand of two pieces.
But that the other with me is Jesus, as it should be. Whomever joins me if God wills it
will have Jesus in the middle.
For the truth is, I am divorced. I am single. I am all right. OK. Nothing is wrong with me.
I am a child of the King, and My God loves me.
He knows me and loves me for I am loveable.
Even with my failures, his Grace covers over me and I am forgiven.
I know it is important in the healing to look back in life to consider what I've lost.
But it must be at least as equally important to look back through all the pain and consider what I've gained.
When I look back, will I focus on the pain, or the victories?
