What Is Brave?

I've been thinking lately about what it means to be brave.
I use that word a lot these days---as in, the past year. I tell my tribe of WoPA sisters they are brave because they are. I tell my kids they are brave because they are.
People are brave.
Simple things can make a person brave.

Today brave for me was getting out of bed. That sounds simple, doesn't it? But it wasn't. When my alarm went off for church, I just stared at the clock and I toyed with the idea of never getting out of bed. I don't even know why. I guess sometimes depression just tells you that staying in bed is going to feel better than getting out of bed.

I did skip out on church because of the amount of energy it took for me to get out of bed. I did lay on the couch while my children watched hours of Disney channel. I did knowingly ignore the fact that I could hear my kids sneaking their early Halloween candy every three seconds.

But I also took my kids on a twenty minute bike ride. I also wrestled with my kids and had a tickle fight. Today those things were brave because they fought my original idea of just staying in bed the entire day.

A long time ago, I started drinking Diet Coke. To tell you the truth, my DC consumption got bad at the peak of my eating disorder. At the time, sipping on DC made it so I could go whole days without eating because the caffeine and carbonation would trick my body into feeling semi-normal. I've learned that this way of thinking is quite normal for eating disorders but at the time, I can't quite remember if I was doing this with that knowledge or if I just knew it would help curb my appetite.

My body has gotten to a point where it relies on the consumption of Diet Coke on a daily basis---actually moreso on a tri-daily basis. I decided last Sunday that this has to end. I have to give up something I love because I am relying on it way too much.

Although it no longer feeds my eating disorder, it is still a huge part of my every day life. I eat meals---and I drink a hell of a lot of Diet Coke.

And if I skip a "dose" of Diet Coke, I start to get pretty bad migraines.

No bueno.

In the past 7 days, I have had two Diet Cokes. I'm serious about that.
But I think with that has come these stupid withdrawals that have put me in a semi-depressive state that make it hard to get out of bed.

I'm proud of myself. Quitting Diet Coke may be one of the bravest choices I've made in weeks and it is a lot harder than I thought it would be.

So I guess what I've learned is that being brave can be anything. It is different for everyone. For some of my friends, answering the phone is super brave. For some people, jumping out of an airplane is their brave. It never looks the same.

Getting out of bed is brave. Getting out of bed means trusting that there is something better out there.

Even though I skipped church today, I still found myself making brave choices. These steps might seem small but they are helping me on my way to recovery.
I am learning how to be the me that I want to be and that is super brave.

I Can Fly

I'm ready to fly.

 

My house is clean today.

I didn't go to school yesterday or work today because I've been sick.

Peter was here this morning for an hour before he took our son on his preschool fieldtrip. The three of us were playing catch together, laughing together, and it felt like we were a connected family again.

Did I mention my entire house is clean?

 

I just feel like I am able to breathe today. I'm able to be sick and not feel guilty that I'm not getting off the couch and doing something productive. I feel like I'm able to relax.

 

And it feels so damn good.

 

I've watched 10 episodes of Shark Tank since last night.

 

Lately I've been going back and forth about whether I would ever allow Peter to come back into my life as my eternal partner. It's a huge choice. I was actually leaning toward giving it a try. But then last night, I was cleaning out my closet and went through a lot of our wedding stuff when I found my wedding journal.

 

In that journal, it held a lot of emotional, painful times from the first few MONTHS of our marriage. Each time I would write in my journal, I would end the entry with something along these lines. "I wish there was something I could do for him. It's a good thing I love him because it's easy to forgive him."

And here's the thing...the longer we were married, the harder it was to forgive and forget each time he hurt me.

The longer we were married, the less optimistic those journal entries became.

 

It was hard to read my journal and then consider trusting Peter and the changes he claims he is making.

 

I don't know how to trust him. I don't know if he deserves the hard work it would take me to trust him.

 

As of today, the answer to Peter's question is no. I'm sure I will continue to go back and forth for a while.

 

But today, I'm going to fly. I'm going to be thankful for the happiness I've experienced this week. I'm going to remember the wonderful nights with friends, the love I've felt from them, and the compassion I've felt for myself.

 

I can fly.

Happy Birthday

I don't know where to begin here.
I had a birthday last week.

And today it finally hit me.

As I was gathered around my family and they were singing to me before I blew out my candles, I had to work hard to curb the tears in my eyes that five days after my birthday was the first time I'd been sung happy birthday to. It got even harder to hold the tears in as I opened the present from my parents---the one and only present I opened this year.

It's hard to explain this without sounding like a spoiled brat. My birthday has always been my favorite day of the year because it is my special day. Peter would always get me presents and we would go out to dinner and spend time together on my birthday. The celebrations were always happy.

This year on my birthday, I spent all morning at school and the rest of the day being a single mom. It felt like a normal day. No presents, no cake, no singing, and no one to be by my side to tell me they loved me and always would.

I don't know why my birthday is a time that just gut-punches me into the reality that I am divorced but it does. It hurts. It makes me sad. It makes me feel so alone.

I mentioned something about how thankful I was for my present because it was the only one I had gotten and it was so special to me and the room got quiet---no one knew quite what to say other than my sister mumbling, "Awkward...". It came out totally wrong. I was trying to express my gratitude and show my parents just how much I cherished their gift but instead it just sounded like a sob story.

I wish I wouldn't have said anything. I wish I wouldn't have made it a big deal that they got me a present. It's not like it was anything huge---it's just that it's mine. It is a tribute to having survived another year on this earth. It is a celebration of twenty seven years worth of gratitude and happiness and heartache and learning and growing. It doesn't matter that it is a t-shirt and socks...it is something I have to help me remember that I am not alone even when I feel alone.

Another year older and wiser too.

Happy birthday to you.

My Burden

I had a dream last night and in my dream, I loved him. I felt the way I used to feel about him.

In my dream, we told our families we were thinking of getting back together. Most of them were happy, although some weren't.

I sent Peter a text last week that said, "I'd love to have another conversation with you in the future when it's appropriate." I sent it out of the blue. When I left the conversation last week regarding another relationship with Peter, it seemed pretty final. In my head, it was final. The words I said to him were pretty final.

But I couldn't stop thinking about it all week.

All damn week.

How would it even work? Would I be able to love him again? How would I learn to trust him?

That "meeting" took place two nights ago. I allowed Peter in my home after the kids were in bed as long as he promised to respect my boundaries and sit across the room and talk cordially.

Throughout the conversation, Peter told me a lot of things that hurt my heart but one in particular I'm still struggling with to this day.

You see, I have suppressed a lot of memories in my life. I'm really, really good at suppressing memories.

I had forgotten about a few incidents in the second year of our marriage when I viewed pornography with Peter. I don't want that to be a part of my life. I really hate that I have that truth to tell you. But the thing is, it's true and I'm owning up to that.

When Peter told me his addiction got bad after we viewed some "informational pornographic dvd's" together, I could hardly catch my breathe. The room seemed to be spinning. I couldn't focus on the other things he was saying.

I had forgotten those horrible times. I had forgotten the immature choices I made when I didn't know any better.

I had no idea about Peter's previous pornography problems. I had no idea how addicting pornography could be for him. I would never have agreed to something like that had I known what it could do to his brain.

Although I am stuck on blaming myself---in reality, I had no idea!!! In a world where I don't doubt myself, I know that my choices don't make me responsible for Peter's choices.

The problem is that I do doubt myself.

The problem is that I now remember those memories so vividly that I want to scream.

So it didn't matter that Peter told me about his testimony of God and how he hasn't looked at pornography in 5 months and how he is trying really hard to recover and how he loves me and wants us to be a forever family.

I was long gone before he said any of those things.

My brain had already detached as much as possible so I wouldn't feel so much of the pain.

How could I have not known that even viewing pornography (informational or ANYTHING) with my husband wasn't safe? How could I have NOT known that it would stay in his mind and cause him to crave it more and more?

I feel like I now have blame in my failed marriage---a large portion of the blame. But from an outside point of view, that doesnt make sense.

So why is my heart telling me it's true?

Forgiveness

I keep feeling like it is time to forgive Peter.

I don't know why this is so hard for me to face.

I've always known that I have the power to forgive him. I've always known I'd be here someday. For a while, I even thought I had forgiven him.

But every time I really think about letting all of the hurt go, I choke up and my body wells up with anger.

Because HE DID ALL OF THESE HORRIBLE THINGS TO ME! He is the reason I work and miss my kids every other holiday. He is the reason I am alone. He is the reason I feel betrayed and am afraid to ever trust again.

I've placed all of the blame in our failed marriage on Peter. This came easy for me because, duh, what the hell did I do?! I didn't walk out on him. I had never lied to him before. I wasn't looking at pornography or drinking alcohol behind his back. But I've realized that by focusing on all of this being Peter's fault, I allow myself to judge him and that isn't my job. My job is to work on forgiving him.

I will never know all of the details. And as much as I've been curious as to how bad Peter's addictions were/are, I don't think I'd really want to know all of the details anyway.

I was talking to my sister yesterday about what had happened on Sunday and she brought up the point that Peter would have to be fully honest with me if he ever wanted to come back. Well what happens if I can't handle the honesty? What happens if I allowed him to come back and started from square one again and then I heard all of his confessions and I couldn't handle them? Because there is a possibility that whatever transparency Peter would give me would be too hurtful and would bring up more hurt than I've already experienced.

It just wouldn't work.

And the fact that I've lived through a year of divorce makes me not want to go back to that marriage ever again. I've already endured all of the heartache of my marriage ending---I will not choose to go back into that marriage and possibly end up with the same outcome when Peter's shit hits the roof again someday, which just seems likely to happen in my untrusting mind.

But I am working to get to a point where I forgive Peter and let go of the past. Because it is over and I'm not going to get it back.
All of the hurt I've been through has made me the Wendy that I am today. Without my divorce, I wouldn't have this blog and I wouldn't all of the new friends I've made this year. Without this divorce, I wouldn't know how independent I'm capable of being. Without this divorce, I wouldn't know how much of a fighter I really am.

Without this divorce, I wouldn't be going to Utah this weekend to attend The Togetherness Project. It is amazing to look at all of the beauty that has happened due to some really horrible choices.

Tonight I wouldn't change any of it. There are so many days I want to change my circumstances but tonight, I am just grateful to be alive and the have the strength and the knowledge that I have.

As much as I hate trials, tonight I can vividly see how much stronger I am because of the things God has allowed to happen in my life and for that, I am grateful.

Forgiving Peter is possible. It won't be easy but it is definitely possible.

Everyone deserves forgiveness.

He Wants Me

A year ago, I wanted him. I wanted him to be the Peter I had married. I wanted him to come home and be the husband he promised me he would be.

And now I don't want him. I don't love him. In fact, the thought of being too physically close to him makes me want to vomit. It makes me uncomfortable.

When I think about taking Peter back, it is only something I consider when I'm feeling low and self conscious. It isn't something I actually want. I only consider it when the fear of never being loved consumes me.

In my last post, I spoke about how my daughter overheard Peter talking to his grandma about getting back together with me.
Tonight I spoke to Peter about this problem and how I'm angry that I had to be the "bad guy" again.

And instead of apologizing or even acting awkward about the conversation she repeated to me, Peter said, "Well, is it a possibility?"

No. It isn't a possibility.

I told Peter a thousand things would have to change for me to even consider it and his response was, "I know and I'm willing to work on that." He told me he has been going to counseling for his addiction.

And yay, right?!! I SHOULD BE SCREAMING FROM THE ROOFTOPS, RIGHT?

For years, I prayed for this. For years, I would cry and hope that there was some way I could help Peter find his way back. I wanted him to know he is a child of God. I wanted him to have the drive to provide for our family. I wanted him to be respectful and compassionate toward me. I wanted to be his number one.

But that was then and this is now. And now I can't even think about bringing Peter back into my life.

I think of all the pain he's caused me and I can't do that all over again! I cannot picture a beautiful life with him in it. Because no matter how beautiful it gets, it will contain the ugly defects of the past year.

Peter said he's proud of me because I seem so confident and like I'm moving on. And the thing is, it makes me angry that he wants me because I seem to be doing fine without him. And him "working on his shit for me" isn't a good enough reason. He should want to work on his shit because HE wants to be a better person. If he does it for me or for someone else, it isn't going to last.

I was shaking when I walked away from his car. I told my sisters and they rolled their eyes and gave me the response I needed in that moment (thank the frickin heavens!). I texted Alice and reminded me that Peter wants me back because he realized what he gave up. This isn't something I have to decide yes or no on. He is the one who gave up. This is NOT my problem.

I needed those reminders. Because the second Peter asked me that short-but-not-simple question, I started to get anxiety that if I turned him down, the divorce would be my fault because I wasn't willing to take him back when he got his crap together.

I keep having urges to text Peter and ask him what he will work on, if he's willing to go back to church, and if he would go to counseling with me, BUT I DON'T WANT TO! I don't want to be in counseling with my ex husband. I don't want to find out what things he's willing to do.

I don't want to be in a relationship with him!

And tonight, I feel so scared and worried that I'm making this decision to irrationally. Why? Why am I so scared that this decision is wrong? Why am I even being put in a place where I have to consider any of this?

Wouldn't this be better for our kids? And wouldn't I have the support I want and possibly be able to stay home with my kids again? Aren't those things worth being married to Peter?

The short answer is no. They are not worth my failed marriaged to Peter. They are not worth any more heartache or lies or secrecy.

We will be just fine without him.

I will be just fine without him.

So who wants to send me reminders of that every day so I can actually begin to believe it?

We Are Not Ok

How do you break your child's heart over and over again and ever have time to heal?

I don't get it. I don't know if I ever will.

My oldest child has slumped into a hard stage again, aching for her dad to come back home and having moments of anger that our family isn't what it used to be.

Last night, she cried and told me she will never be ok because our family isn't together. I told her that I know this is hard but that I believe we will be ok someday.

She overheard a conversation between Peter and his grandma that she never should've heard. It wasn't fair for her to hear and have more confusion in her life. When I picked the kids up from his house, the first thing she said was, "Mom, Dad was telling his grandma that 'dad's best friend' really likes you and 'dad's best friend' said dad should try to get back together with you. Is that going to happen?"

And guess who had to be the one to break her heart and tell her no? Guess who was the bad guy again?

This isn't fair. It isn't fair to be the one perceived as evil because your children can't understand everything right now. I'm angry at Peter for allowing her to hear this conversation. I'm angry at Peter for even talking about getting me back. I'm angry at Peter for ever ripping our family apart in the first place.

Peter can't just realize his mistakes and think he is going to be able to win me back. I don't even know why this would be a topic of discussion. Months and months ago, Peter had made a joke about this very thing and I looked him straight in the eyes and said, "You know that will never happen, right?". I wanted to make sure he didn't think it was a possibility...because it isn't.

I'm so frustrated today that I'm divorced and that my ex-husband is a porn addict and that my children have broken hearts and that MY heart is broken. I'm frustrated that the choices Peter made have brought so many of my deepest fears to the surface and that they all seem to be magnified by a thousand. I'm frustrated that I have to leave my children every day to go to work and school and that I can't spend the time with them that I used to.

I'm super frustrated that after not acting on my eating disorder for over a month, I did. And then I did again. And some days I still do. And I'm gaining weight because I'm never able to go to the gym and I eat out a ton. I just don't know what to do because I feel stuck. I feel stuck between bulimia and a happy life, but a life that I don't believe can actually attain happiness because my weight will always be in the forefront of my mind.

My eating disorder brought security and stability and I felt so in control. I felt like I had something I was conquering but what I really had was an addiction that put chains all around me and held onto me for months before I started to fight back.

Today I don't know what to do to be ok again. I am battling between decisions of how to live and how to parent and how to spend money and what to eat and although those choices might be small for most people, they seem so big right now.