Read something besides self help, already! This was something my counselor said to me about 2 months into my counseling with her, and 3 months after my husband left. In that short time span, I had probably read 15 or more of what I called self help books: books about divorce, single parenting, being single again, depression, surviving. You name, it I was reading it. As I mentioned in earlier posts, I was searching for my answer. I was trying to find MY story written by someone else so I would know how to get through it all and how I was going to turn out.

I was still in the phase where I could barely stop crying long enough to talk to my counselor and tell her about all my reading, but I did share with her what I was reading and why.  Although she never came right out and laughed at me (she was a professional, after all) I look back now and can’t imagine how hard it was for her not to giggle a little. She knew, as I know now, that I was never going to find what I was looking for.

“Dragged to church.”  Have you ever heard that phrase? My Pastor actually uses a form of it in a sermon. He says he had a drug problem as a child — his parents drug him to church!

I was never dragged to church. In fact, I did not grow up going to church. I never knew I was missing anything until about my 9th grade year. A friend of mine lived a life that had God’s light shining through it. At the time, I had no idea what she had that I didn’t, but I knew I wanted it. I didn’t ask this friend, so I didn’t learn at that time, and even now I have not found a way to share with her that she is part of the main reason I have a relationship with God now.  Years later, when our oldest was in junior high school, I got nervous. I was a young parent, and none of my friends had kids as old as our son. The world, including the imminent threat of high school, was a scary place. I knew I needed more than my husband or I could muster in our parenting abilities to get our son through high school. It was at this point that I reached out to find a church. I got more than I bargained for; I found a church, an extended family, and a lot of support for my parenting needs.

It took me a long time to ask myself that, and even longer to figure out or admit that I was not the responsible party.

When my husband first left, he didn’t see the kids for a couple of weeks. Part of that was due to my not letting him. To explain myself a little, not that it was right, but I look back and I would do the same again. The kids were so confused, and in my mind, they needed some time to digest that he left and wasn’t coming back in the position of husband and dad like they knew him. They needed to realize he wasn’t out of town on business, or on another guys trip. Many of you will be angry and judge me and definitely disagree with me, and that is ok.

But part of it was due to the lifestyle he was leading and decisions he was making: lots of other women, partying, and spending our joint monies. For this reason, it is a  decision I made and I still stand behind.

When he did come see the kids, he would make arrangements to take them, giving me a time he would bring them back. However, he was always bringing them back early. Once he picked them up stating he was taking them for ice cream and gave me a time of an hour and a half later they would be back. As they walked away from the door, I went through the house, into the garage and got in my car and all but followed them out the driveway. I drove to a friend’s house for some much-needed girlfriend time, about 3 miles from my house. I had been in her house no more than 15 minutes when my 14 year-old son called asking where I was. When I inquired why he wanted to know, he informed me he and his 5 year-old sister were back at my house. He said his dad dropped them off and left. So I left my friend and went home. I did inquire to my ex- to- be why he dropped them off much earlier than planned. His response was something to the effect of he didn’t know what to do with them.

If you share custody of children, you know what transition day is. Do you dread it or look forward to it?  

I still, to this day, almost 7 years later look forward to this day. Whether it has been two days or five days or more, I am so excited to see my children again. Even now I have not adjusted to having a life that does not include my children. Even when they are with their father, they are still in the forefront of everything I do and think. I’m  not sure that will ever change.

But there have been times that even though I couldn’t wait to have my children back with me, I so very much dreaded that first day. You see, our children come home with stories, and complaints, and worries, and dread, and fears, and comments…

“On the seventh day God rested,” but for some reason, we don’t think we need rest. Or so I thought, and still think at times. The only difference now is that I know how necessary sleep is, not only for our health, but also for our mental well-being and our coping abilities. In the immediate days, weeks and even months after my husband left, I hardly slept at all. I couldn’t.  My mind would not shut off. Of course, the usual demons, what did I do wrong, what could I have done differently, what is wrong with me, how will I survive, do I want to survive, all haunted me day and night. But trying to close my eyes and sleep just gave those demons free reign in my mind. So I stayed awake, trying to function. I took care of the kids; I cried;  I cleaned the house; I cried;  I ran the absolutely necessary errands; I cried; I went to see my counselor; I cried.

It happens all the time, in all relationships. We need to learn to listen. Not simply hearing, but really listening to what the other person is trying to say. We all have the fault of hearing what we want to hear, or what we think that person is saying. We think we know how the other person feels. We imagine the conversation before it even takes place. We have preconceived notions as to how it will go and what will be said. When we do this, we don’t allow ourselves to hear what the other person is truly saying. Try not speaking, not arguing but really listening while the other person speaks. Sometimes we can be surprised by receiving not what we thought we would, but what we really wanted all along.

Fake It Until You Feel It

 Sound easy? Sound, well, fake? Sound like good or bad advice? I sought out a counselor within the first month. When I couldn’t control my emotions at all, when I could not stop the tears, I knew I needed help. I don’t remember now which “friend” referred me to the counselor I chose. I say” friend” because if it is who I think it was, that person is no longer a friend and has, as I like to say, gone to the other side. Regardless, I am  grateful for the referral, as I benefited very much from the counselor. I saw her once a week for 3 years. I tried at one point to go every other week, and that was too long to wait. It was not cheap, but good things hardly ever are. I sometimes paid her to watch and listen to me cry, especially in the beginning.  I couldn’t even speak; I just cried. Her warm and loving disposition did my heart good.

Eventually, we did talk. I expressed to her my difficulty enjoying anything at that point. Even things I used to enjoy, or things with my children, were almost impossible to enjoy. After some time of weekly visits, she asked me to try something for her. She wanted me to pretend to enjoy it.  Pick something, anything, an outing with the kids, dinner with a friend, and pretend I liked it.  First I said I wasn’t sure I could even do that, but she asked me to try.  I agreed. The next visit, she asked how it went; was I able to do the exercise? To me, it felt strained, weird, and yes, fake. She explained that was okay, and we coined the phrase “fake it until you feel it.”

Seclusion. Retreat. Hide. 

These are all words I know too well. As I sit here wondering about a new friend of mine and how she is doing, I am reminded that I need to work harder to be a better friend to her. You see, she is going through a journey much like my own so I know, I mean know, how she is feeling and what she is doing by not answering my texts or emails or Facebook messages. I already know she won’t take my call. How do I know? Because not so long ago, I was her.

When we are in the pit of despair, when we are holding our pity parties, when we are depressed beyond all explanation, the last thing we want is to admit it to someone else, to let anyone see us like this, to ask for help.  

Whatever You’re Doing

Sanctus Real

from the album We Need Each Other

It’s time for healing, time to move on, 
it’s time to fix what’s been broken too long 
Time to make right what has been wrong; 
it’s time to find my way to where I belong 

Chorus:
There’s a wave that’s crashing over me, and all I can do is surrender 
Whatever You’re doing inside of me 
It feels like chaos, but somehow there’s peace 
And it’s hard to surrender to what I can’t see, but I’m giving in to something heavenly 

Time for a milestone, time to begin again, re-evaluate who I really am 
Am I doing everything to follow Your will or just climbing aimlessly over these hills? 
So show me what it is You want from me 
I give everything – I surrender 

Chorus: 

Time to face up, clean this old house 
Time to breathe in and let everything out that I’ve wanted to say for so many years 
Time to release all my held back tears 

Whatever You’re doing inside of me 
It feels like chaos, but I believe … 
You’re up to something bigger than me 
Larger than life, something heavenly

Whatever You’re doing inside of me 
It feels like chaos, but now I can see 
This is something bigger than me 
Larger than life 
Something heavenly, something heavenly

Time to face up, clean this old house 
Time to breathe in and let everything out

Are you well-documented?

Funny question? Not so much when you are in a bind and wish you had proof, something in writing.

Someone shared with me, and I will share with you: document everything. Keep copies of everything. Keep a journal. As painful as it may be, you might one day need it. And when the stress and pressure are on, we can’t remember the details.

I kept every email, every text, every hand written note, and took notes on verbal conversations. Even with some of these things, especially your own notes or your journal, it will be a case of he said, she said. If you show up with binders full of documents, you will have the upper hand. I still have a storage tote full of these items, and still keep new ones. I haven’t had the need for any of them lately, but I would much rather have them and not need them than to be unprepared.