Well, it’s been awhile, huh? I haven’t blogged in quite some time because I honestly haven’t had anything new to say. I share a little more “real-time” thoughts and feelings on Instagram, so if you see me on there, consider yourself the most up-to-date on my life.
If you’re new to reading my story, I’ll catch you up a bit:
- On April 13th I came home from school and my husband announced he wanted to be “separated”, which later in the conversation really meant he wanted a divorce. It was a complete shock. There were no clues that it was coming, no real “issues”, just 100% unexpected.
- We attended counseling for a few weeks until my (now ex) husband disclosed that he did not want to try to fix things. He wanted to be alone, wanted to spend time being single, and simply did not want to be married anymore.
- My husband filed for divorce on May 29th, 2018
- I moved back home to Indiana for the summer not knowing if I would stay or return to Tennessee
- Our divorce became official on Aug 3, 2018
- I tried to go on a date (it was an epic fail)
- I got a teaching job in Indiana at the end of August.
That brings us to the aftermath— I can confidently say that everything that has happened since May has been orchestrated by God himself. I’m not sure if there is another time in my life that I’ve been able to say that. The way things have worked out for me has been nothing short of divine intervention. From my summer vacation spent seeing so many friends and family, to getting a job within the timeframe I prayed for, to attending a new church that speaks to my soul on a weekly basis, and to new friends and a new classroom. There was no doubt in the moment that God gifted it all to me. However, looking back and seeing a portion of the big picture, it’s hard to wrap my mind around how I got so lucky to be tight with Jesus when I needed Him most. I dare say it could almost seem as if life has moved on.
But wait. There’s more.
I also found out my ex-husband has a new girlfriend, and that they both coincidentally went on a trip to Chattanooga the same weekend back in May (of course I was told that it was just a strange “coincidence”). You be the judge.
I told my ex husband that I hate him (notice I didn’t say “hated”- as in- that feeling is still very present tense). Actually, I’ve expressed that to him a few times now. How can someone (me) who calls themselves a Christian, and just said that God bestowed upon her a summer full of gifts, openly share that she hates someone? Because I’m human. Because I want you to know that hate doesn’t have to be this elephant in the room that we tiptoe around and pretend like we never feel, think, or experience. What is it that they say? The first step to recovery is admittance? Well here I am admitting this to you (and trust me, God is also fully aware of where I stand in the hate department).
You might be thinking (scolding maybe)- “But, Marisa.... aren’t you being a bit hypocritical???” I know right??? Because you may remember a few blog posts back when I shared a prayer for my ex-husband before we were officially divorced. You may also be thinking “Well your prayer and admittance of hate don’t exactly seem to match up.” You’d be right about that. I mainly shared that prayer because I DON’T feel those ways.... yet. I desperately want to feel the things I said and the best way I know how to change hate back into love (the kind of love where I can see his face and not want to throw-up is all I’m aiming for currently) is to pray in hope towards that person. Simply put- there are feelings in my heart that I just do not know what to do with- but deep down I know that I cannot stay stuck in hate- so the only choice left is to give it to Jesus, and let Him deal with the rest.
To go along with all of that- I heard a sermon on forgiveness a few weeks back. I was so glad I was sitting in the row alone because I cried in my seat the entire time. I sat there hearing all of the amazing benefits of forgiveness. I knew I should forgive, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. It wasn’t that I wanted to spend more time hating, or risk endangering my heart towards becoming bitter, it was because forgiveness meant I would have to stop hoping for the moment when he would hurt just as much as he hurt me. The truth is I want him to hurt. I want him to know exactly what he’s done to me. Teach him a lesson. Something. Anything. Because up to now, I’ve been in a constant battle for the freedom I've experienced vs. the dark stuff that's so hard to forget. I’ve spent hours replaying moments over and over wondering if his love for me was ever real or if it was all a big facade. I’ve made up crazy situations in my head as to why he decided to leave me, because not knowing where I went so wrong is the stuff nightmares are made of. I wished all of the memories with him could be erased (because my imagination can sometimes get the best of me- at one point I did somewhat hope I would fall and hit my head and forget the past 4 years of my life with him). I've wondered why he gets to be the one to move-on with someone else first. He claimed he was leaving me to be alone, and now he’s happy again, and it doesn’t seem fair (I mean, let’s not forget the Bumble Date guy that called me difficult…that hardly counts as trying to go on a date if you ask me). I fight with myself wondering how I could possibly trust or believe it if I ever heard the words “I love you” from a man again.
Hopes to fall and hit her head.
Don’t I sound like a real treat?
But here’s the best news-I’ve been sitting in my cynicism, trust issues, hate, sadness, and anger long enough to realize that their actual names are grief, and the cure is hope.
I hope to someday (soon) forgive my ex-husband.
I hope that my sometimes meaningless prayers will transform into prayers I say with confidence.
I hope that my experiences and memories will not be wasted.
And for anyone who knows me—like really knows me— you know how much I hope to hear the words “I love you” again, and you can also imagine how much I hope to believe in it.
Of course, without my greatest hope being in Jesus, all the rest of the hopes would be in vain.