I Won

A few weeks ago, I put my story into words once again. I actually like how, each time I write it out, it sounds a little differently than the last time. I like that it captures different parts of the struggle and beauty from the past ten + years.

I entered my story into a Mother's Day contest and last night, I found out I won.

And so, I wanted to share this version here to have it saved.

Hi. 

My name is Wendy and although I am many things, warrior is certainly at the top of that list. 

I was a fairytale lover --- boy-obsessed from 1^st grade until I graduated from high school. Fairytales taught me that I needed a man to take care of me and I believed from a young age that if I was loved by a man, I would have infinite worth.

I was married at the age of 19 to a man who loved me. And the thing is, he truly did love me. That part was not a lie. But he loved me conditionally. He loved me for certain parts of who I was and began to tear down the parts of me he didn’t like.

Early on in our marriage (and unknown to me until after our divorce), my husband was viewing pornography and taking intimacy outside our marriage. I became a pawn in our marriage and learned that I was not the most important thing to him. But why? I couldn’t figure out what was more important.  I just knew things had shifted. He hardly ever wanted to be intimate with me and would stay up all night playing video games, claiming he had insomnia. I got used to marriage feeling mostly one-sided and found myself justifying the way he was treating me --- because at least he wasn’t physically abusing me. But I still wondered if the shift in our marriage was my fault.

I had given this man two beautiful children --- was it my body? Was I not sexy enough anymore?

For a girl who claimed to be strong and independent, I am surprised when I look back and realize how much I lost myself in my marriage. Then again, for a girl who claimed to be strong and independent, I had held the belief that my worth was dependent on a man for as long as I can remember.

Five years into my marriage, I was arguing with my husband one day when he told me he no longer believed in God and would not be attending church with us any longer. This shook me but I held my ground and poured myself into being a better wife and mother. I could fix this. I could mend this part of our world that felt bruised and broken. I felt our marriage falling apart but I wasn’t going to let it. I needed him and I felt he needed me too.

I found myself drowning while trying to save him. Often times, he came home from work angry and unresponsive and he would lock himself in our room or go outside to clean his guns or work on the car he was fixing up. The emotional abuse was weighing me down and I started to have panic attacks about seemingly normal things like what brand of food to buy.

And in the midst of me trying so hard to fix us, he abandoned our family in August of 2013, after seven years of marriage. Our children were only 5 and 4 years old and did not understand what was happening, so on top of being abandoned by my husband, I was left to tell my kids about the divorce by myself and deal with their heartache. And in turn, they knew I was their safe space and so they directed all of their anger toward me for months while begging me to bring their daddy back home. 

Throughout the 6 month process of separation and divorce, I found out that my husband was not the man he had claimed to be. He was addicted to pornography and was secretly numbing his feelings of guilt with alcohol. I tried so hard to stay afloat throughout this time but I began to drown in the form of an eating disorder and severe anxiety.

I felt so worthless. So used. So unloved.

And the thing is, my ex-husband is not a monster. We don’t always get along and he certainly makes some poor choices when it comes to his treatment of myself and our children but he isn’t a monster. He is an addict that struggles with knowing how to treat the people he loves most. He pushes us away in fear of us rejecting him. Does that lessen my pain? No. But it helps me to understand that I was not the problem. I could not have been prettier, smarter, or more subservient. This battle wasn’t mine to win or lose. It was, and is, his battle to fight and he chose to fight it without me by his side.

I’ve endured a lot since my divorce 4 ½ years ago. My ex-husband has crossed the line between discipline and abuse with our children. He has continued to treat me in a way that is disrespectful but about once a year for the first three years of divorce, he would come to me and tell me he loved me and wanted me back. He got remarried last year and immediately served me court papers for half custody, a battle that ultimately went to trial and ended up in my favor (and what is best for our children). He is there for us when it is convenient but the truth is, I am ok with that. Because I’ve got this.

I was forced to find myself when my husband abandoned me. That event, although extremely traumatic for me, has shaped me into a person that I very much like. I did not curl up in a corner and die --- I fought for myself and my children. I graduated from Arizona State University with a bachelor’s degree last summer. I am working two jobs to provide for my children. I got certified as a foster parent and was the mother of a sweet and sassy toddler for five months last year and last week, I was asked to take in a two-day-old baby boy and have been killin’ it in the motherhood department. My children are healthy and loved.

I still struggle with loneliness, especially when my kids go to their dad’s house but I know that my worth is not dependent on others. I will still live a beautiful life, even if I never remarry. I will continue to persevere when life slaps me in the face because I know for a fact that I can do hard things. 

Angry Words

In counseling on Tuesday, I kept saying the made up word EFFING and after a while, my counselor asked, "Wendy, do you ever just say the real F word?"

And it got me thinking because the real F word is always in my mind. I'm not kidding. Always. When I get angry or something happens, I think it every time. This never used to happen but since I'm now an angry person, it does.

So this week, I released the F word into my journal a few times. I wrote it and felt the power behind it even though it's just a stupid word. I felt like it finally got my point across of how ugly this all feels. No other word can quite describe how messy this all is for me. No other word has been able to describe my pain and anger.

It sounds kind of weird. It's just a word. But because it is a word I used to never ever say, it holds an ugly power and helps me process the way I'm feeling.

The physical letter I wrote Peter the other day was full of language and hatred and I was writing it as a step toward my healing. I knew I was going to burn it. I scribbled almost illegibly through two sheets of paper and when I was done, I read it to myself out loud.

And then I burned it. I took a lighter and set it on the concrete outside and I watched it go up in flames until all that was left were a few black ashes.

I came inside and damnit, I was still angry. I was hoping that magical letter would just erase my anger but it didn't. It couldn't.

I punched my pillow over and over and yelled out some of the ugly feelings I've been feeling lately and then I crashed in my bed, sweaty and tired from the physical and emotional torment.

So here's the thing, ladies and gents, I woke up a little less angry the next day. I woke up a little less distressed and hopeless.

Physically proclaiming my anger wasn't a fix-it-all but it helped me process through a few of the hundred angry feelings I'm feeling. It helped me to know what to scribble in my journal because often times, I don't even know where my anger is coming from or what I should write down. But that night, I knew it. I knew there were some really painful things I haven't faced regarding how our divorce happened.

There is so much trauma that came with being the parent who had to endure the nightmares and the puffy eyes and the million questions. I did it alone. Not only was I forced into a new reality where I was alone in my marriage, I was parenting children through some pretty significant trials and I did it alone.

And although I can happily report that my children are doing much better these days, I am still traumatized from those first few months of our separation because Peter was never man enough to sit down with our children and explain everything together. He left me to pick up the pieces of their shattered worlds. They blamed me. They physically lashed out at me. They called me hurtful names and begged to see their dad. And because they couldn't always see him, I was the bad guy for a while. Because they didn't understand the choices that were made or how divorce works, they thought I was keeping them from someone whom they love very much.


I won't mask my anger any longer because in a year, I don't want to be doing this all over again. So today I will stay angry at him and at my parents and I will continue to process these feelings so that someday, I can allow the atonement to take this pain away from me. I feel so strongly tonight that there will be a day where that happens.

Dear Mr and Mrs Pan

Peter comes from a home where his father is the chief. He runs the household, almost by himself, while his wife is subservient and is expected to tend to his every need.

I used to think I wanted to be in a household like this. I grew up seeing my mom and the amazing housewife she is and I wanted to be just like her. I wanted to cook and clean and raise children. It looked so glamorous from my young point of view.

But the difference between Peter's family and mine stems from the patriarch's point of view. In our household, my parents were equal. In Peter's household, his dad was the boss.

Often times, we would visit and I would witness scenes that would make me cringe. I would hear harsh words spoken about Pan's mom from his dad and also from his younger brothers. They were being raised in this environment to believe this was the norm.

Peter often had to promise me this wouldn't be us. I am too headstrong to be subservient. I am his equal. I may end up a stay at home mother but I would be his partner, his equal partner. Peter always reassured me this was the case, although I still found it odd that he would defend the way his parents' did things.

His parents and I have never completely seen eye to eye because there have been times I've spoken out against the things said in their household when I cannot stand the emotional abuse one more second. They always knew I was strong-willed. Peter's mom would joke about "the teenager I used to be" often, as if she knew anything about my teenage years. We may have grown up attending the same church but Peter's mom has no idea what I endured in high school---just that I was rebellious.

Because of our not-so-wonderful relationship {and that fact that they have an incredible relationship with two of Peter's brother's wives...awesome}, it was weird trying to figure out where we stood after Peter left me. I knew I wasn't going to cultivate a relationship with them any longer but they are still the grandparents of our children and I have our children the majority of the time.

A week after we separated, Peter took our daughter to visit his family, who live an hour away from us, for the weekend. Upon their return, I received a call from the one sister-in-law I get along with telling me that my mother-in-law had been talking about how horrible it was that I kicked Peter out because he wasn't attending church. I mean, what Christ-like wife would do such a thing?! I sighed and grunted as I tried to figure out what my next move would be.

At the time, I was so incredibly worried about Peter. I was still in love. I wanted him to come home. I wanted this mess to work out in the end. In my mind, he would tell his family what he wanted but his parents needed to know the truth because he would be needing their support. So I wrote them a letter.

And tonight as I was moving my bed from one wall to the other, I found the letter on the floor. I never did send it because I could never find the right wording. But here was the first draft:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Pan,
I've been wanting to sit down and write this letter since the day Peter moved out. I need you guys to know certain events, not because I need your support but because I know your son needs you.
Peter and I had a conversation after Labor Day weekend where he eluded that he told his family our separation was mutual. You need to know that isn't true. Four weeks ago, I was sitting at home on a Saturday with our kids while Peter was at work. Things had seemed to be remarkably better in our marriage the past couple of months and I remember thinking how blessed I was. In the afternoon, I received a warning from the Holy Ghost that I needed to check on Peter at work. I put the kids in the car and we drove to his work and his car wasn't there. I called him and he said he couldn't talk because he was working. I know angels were with me because I was not my normal, feisty self. I calmy confronted him about his lie and he admitted that he was hanging out with friends. He proceeded to tell me that he wasn't happy in our marriage and that he wanted a divorce. I was completely blindsided. I asked him to meet me at home and I dropped our kids off with my sister.
We talked for a while at home and Peter decided he wanted a separation. He told me he no longer loves me or cares about me. I told him to take a month to make his decision, even though his mind seemed to be made up already. He told me marriage shouldn't be this hard and that he didn't want to keep working at it.
When he left, I was not emotionally stable enough to pick up the kids and so I went to the temple to find peace.
Over the last four weeks, I have found that peace. Everyone seems confused as to how I'm doing so well but I know it is because I've never felt closer to the Spirit. That isn't to say I'm happy about any of this or that every day is great. I still have hard days and I've told Peter numerous times that I'm willing to work on our marriage. I understand the covenants I made six and a half years ago and I'm willing to keep them but there isn't anything I can do if Peter does not want to be married to me.
It has been a hard year since Peter decided to stop going to church. I have seen so many changes in him in that year that have made me worry about him. He has admitted that I didn't catch him the first time he lied about being at work. He is very closed off and I can see that he is unhappy. That is why I'm writing you this letter. I don't want anyone to be upset with him for leaving me. He needs you guys now more than ever before. He needs reminders that you love him and that God loves him. He needs support. He also needs help regaining the testimony he had when we got married. He would never tell you this but he has had a hard time watching all of the help you guys give to his brothers and sister. Often times he has told me he doesn't feel as important as his siblings to you guys. I'm praying that you'll be able to show him the love he wouldn't accept from me. I will always care about him and I pray he finds the happiness he is searching for.
Please keep this information between us. I don't mind that he is telling people it was a mutual decision or that it was my decision. I know he is saying that because he is afraid of being abandoned by his family. I know you love him and want what's best for him. Peter and I have discussed not talking badly about each other so that our kids can someday heal from all of this. I pray everyone in both families can do the same. Thank you.
-Wendy-

I'll never send that letter. I don't feel as strongly as I did back then to protect him. I've been open about this being his decision. I've learned that in order for me to heal, I needed to own my side of the story and that means not allowing him to lie about what happened.

They have since learned that he left me, although I don't think they'll ever fully believe it. But that's ok. All I can do is tell my story and hope they give their son the love that he needs. Aside from that, I can do nothing for him.

This divorce has been a learning curve for all of us. I have seen firsthand how insensitive people can be---including and mostly limited to Peter's mom. I've been hurt by her multiple times throughout this mess but every time, I've stood back up and confronted her about her behavior.

I haven't had contact with his family in months. Of course, just this week my mom received a message from his mom for my dad to call Peter's dad. Uhh...my dad did not call him. I wish I could figure out what that conversation would've been about but I probably never will and that's ok.

I hope Peter's family continues to rally around him, more than they've ever done before. I hope they show him the love he deserves as an equal member of their family. I often pray for that because Peter deserves what the rest of his siblings have---and I've never understood why he wasn't privileged to receive it.

D-Day 2013

I've heard it referred to as D-day many times since my own personal D-day. This can mean a myriad of things: disclosure day, discovery day, etc. To me, it stands for Damn Day.

My D-day was August 24th, 2013. I've already told you the story.

The days after D-day are foggy. I spent most of the time crying and trying to figure out how in the hell I was going to be single again---this time with two kids in tow.

Xanax was my friend a few of those nights because I couldn't stop my mind from thinking of the horrible situation I was in. I was alone. I had no one. No one understood.

I was being given advice left and right. Don't rush into a divorce. Give him boundaries. Give him deadlines. Give him space. Tell him how much you love him. Beg for him to come back. Kick him to the curb. It was all so confusing.

The night Peter Pan moved out, he was unreachable. I had family members calling me to see if I'd heard from him for the next 3 days but I couldn't get a hold of him either. No one knew where he was staying or what he was doing.

During this time, I cried all of the tears I possibly could. I layed around the house and tried to be a mom as best I could but I was scared. I had a hard time being around people because I wanted nothing more than to just stop crying and seeing people made me cry harder.

I've always been fearful of showing emotions in front of other people. If anything, the past 8 months have made this worse.

Three days after my D-day, I had no tears left. My brain still couldn't fathom how I was going to continue living so I made 3 simple goals for the day. Cook dinner, do a load of laundry, and do an act of service for one person. I knew if I could try and focus on helping someone else that my problems would seem less daunting.

I finished all of my goals that day. All I could muster for an act of service was baking cookies for a neighbor but it was good enough for that day.

My first counseling session post-separation was 5 days after D-day. By this time, my emotions were shut off and I sat and talked very non-chalantly about what a jackass Peter was. I talked about my plans to give him 30 days to himself before having a serious discussion with him. I talked about the child support he had agreed to pay, you know, to get me on my feet again before I'd have to get a job---his words, not mine.

I had just started full time school and I had no intentions of getting a job. Our daughter was struggling with the separation and I have no intentions of getting a job. I was already working two side jobs from home and I have no intentions of getting another job. Did I mention how much I DON'T plan on getting a job?
But Peter like to remind me that I would need one when all of this was over---as if his mind about the divorce was already made up.

On and off, we would fight. On and off, we would get along. Separation was difficult.

Days after Peter had left us, I had been praying and had received an answer that this was going to end in a divorce but I fought that answer and had no intentions of telling him or pushing him to make the decision right away.
His 30 days were up but I didn't remind him. I was so scared of the outcome.
I prayed daily. We went camping twice and I went out into the middle of the woods by myself to pray and try and find peace.
Peace was what I was searching for because I had already been prepared for the outcome---I just wanted peace so when the outcome was decided, it would be ok.

On November 17th, 2013, as I was picking my kids up from a late night at their dad's, I decided to ask him about his decision. Note that we are now way past the 30 day mark I had originally given him. I wish I could give you the exact conversation but here it is the best I could remember it.
Wendy: So have you made any decisions yet?
Peter: No.
Wendy: Are you planning on figuring it out soon?
Peter: I don't know.
Wendy: Do you want to move home?
Peter: No.
Wendy: Do you want to work on our marriage?
Peter: No.
Wendy: So that pretty much leaves one option. Are you going to file for divorce?
Peter: No, you can do it.

If you're wondering, the next day I filed for divorce. That conversation was the answer I needed. He didn't understand why it wasn't ok to keep living with no responsibility, he had started holding child support over my head and hadn't paid me in a month, and it was time.

Yes, I am the one that filed for divorce. According to that statement, you might think I wanted to get a divorce.
I didn't.
What I wanted was my husband to realize how much he was hurting his family and soften his heart.
I was willing to try harder and he wasn't and because of this, we were divorced on February 20th, 2014.

I claim no perfection in this matter. I don't write this to show you how bad he is and how good I am. I write this to show you that it takes two willing people to keep a marriage going. You can push and push and try as hard as you want to succeed but without your partner doing the same, it just won't work out. And in the end, you will be exhausted.

I pray for those of you in Limbo right now. I pray that you find the answers you need and that you don't give up too much of yourself fighting for something only you are fighting for. I also pray that if you're the one not willing to fight, that you make your decision with a clear mind and do what feels best for you.

There is no one right answer.

We all live with the choices we make so make sure you are making choices you can live with.

You are not bad, no matter what your final decision is.

Our Flawed Love Story: Part 6

To start from the beginning, click here.

August 24th, 2013 seemed like a normal Saturday. Peter Pan headed to work in the morning and said he would work a half day and then we could do something as a family. The kids and I spent the morning cleaning and playing and having a good time together.

Lunchtime passed and there was no word from Peter so I tried calling him. He didn't answer but immediately texted me back, "What's up?"

I had no reason to think anything of this. He was supposed to be at work and I could've assumed he couldn't pick up the phone at the moment. But I heard a distinct voice in that moment that said, "Go to his work."

I didn't text Peter back. Instead, I packed our children in the car and drove the 15 minutes it took to get to his office building. They questioned where we were driving but I didn't want them to know so I told them we would find a place to get a treat.

I pulled into the parking lot and not even one car was in sight. My heart sunk. Where was he? The questions started circulating of an affair or some other huge secret he was hiding from me.

I called his cell phone. He didn't answer. I called a second time. He didn't answer. When I called the third time, he picked up and angrily said, "What? I'm at work and I can't talk right now!"

It wasn't in my nature to stay calm but I did. I explained to him that I knew he wasn't at work and I just wanted to know where he was and why he was lying.

In the next 15 minutes, I heard a lot of things that I still struggle with. I heard complaints of unhappiness in our marriage. I was told I wasn't good enough for him because I didn't cook or clean well enough. I was told I was ignoring him and spending all of my time with the children.

He claimed to just be at his friend's house because "he needed a break from our family". He claimed he had been doing this most Saturdays for the last few months. He claimed he wanted a separation and when I asked him to come home, he refused.

I drove straight to my sister's house because I didn't know what else to do. She kept my kids and told me I needed to meet Peter at home to talk face to face.

I called him and he finally agreed to come home.

I didn't know what I would say or what I would do when I saw him. I paced back and forth until he drove up.

Talking didn't really help. He had already decided he wanted to separate so the only thing we did was figure out the logistics of this. He decided he would pack up and be gone by the time I came home with the kids so I left.

I felt like my heart had just shattered into a million pieces.

I didn't feel stable enough to see my kids so I drove to my best friend's house and melted on her shoulder. When I calmed down a bit, I noticed she was dressed up and I asked her if I was ruining date night. She said they were on their way to the temple and I was coming with them. I didn't even try to say no because I knew the temple was the only place I wanted to be right then.

The temple was an interesting experience that night. The first person I saw when we walked in was Peter's grandpa. Then, his aunt and uncle ended up being in my same temple session. It was an amazing Spiritual experience for me and I knew that I was supposed to be there that night.

My best friend's husband gave me a blessing that night before I headed over to my sister's to cry myself to sleep on her couch.

Fear was my companion that night.