But Wendy Isn't Brave

Sometimes divorce hits me like a dark cloud.

It's been over 6 months since I received those final papers in the mail but some days, it just hits me all over again and I think,
"Really? This is my life?!"

And it is my life. I can't escape this awesome hell I've been thrown into.

It's 11pm. I was laying in bed an hour ago when I realized I had some online homework due by midnight and an hour later, I find myself at my blog, not sure what I'm releasing tonight but feeling drawn to this page and the safety I feel here.

My trip went well. As nervous as I was, Peter wasn't as much of a jackass as he is capable of being. When he dropped the kids off, he actually said how he feels like he is just coming to grips with how hard divorce is while I seem to be moving on and bettering my life.

The biggest part of me wanted to smile and say, "HELL TO THE YEAH, I'm moving on without you!!!". But there was that scared little girl that reminded me, "Wendy, you haven't acted on your eating disorder in days. You know you're gaining weight. You know you're not good enough for anyone. You were barely good enough for an ass hole like Peter. Don't kid yourself."

And although tonight I still haven't acted on my eating disorder, I don't feel good about it. I feel like a worthless piece of shit who was abandoned by her eternal partner. I feel like all of the good things I see aren't good because I am stupid and stupid people are undeserving of all things good.

I want to act out. I want to be the girl with the eating disorder who everyone compliments because she is losing weight and looking skinnier. I want to be the girl who releases stress at the gym instead of the girl who has been way too busy to get to the gym at all in the past few weeks.

But I don't want to be the unstable girl with the addiction. And that means I need to make this really hard decision to continue on a path toward punching Ed in the face and believing he is the liar that he is.

It is a really hard decision. I don't want to make this decision. I don't feel like I'm capable of doing it. And even if I am capable, I don't want to do it. Because I don't have any other security blankets around my broken heart. All I have is my obsession with weight and my Obsessive Compulsive Disorder which is stupidly out of control. The second I give those up, I feel a hell of a lot more vulnerable.

And OH MY HELL, I hate Hate HATE being vulnerable!!!

This life I live, although it holds some very rewarding and wonderful things, is really hard. It is messy and hard and I don't always feel up to the challenge of fighting against it. A lot of times, I just want to give up and throw the effing towel as far away as I can.

Because although tonight I sarcastically told Peter that divorce has been the best thing that has ever happened to me, that isn't true. He knows it. I know it. Our kids sure as hell know it. But we are all a part of this big huge mess that is a result of a lot of stupidity and really shitty decisions. We are all hurting and confused and tonight, I want to forget it all. I want this mess erased from my mind. I want someone to EMDR the hell out of my brain and take away this psychotic pain that I DON'T LIKE FEELING. But I doubt that's how it works.

I'm fearful that healing will take so much of my vulnerability and emotional capabilities and I'm just not sure I have that in me. I'm not sure I can become the person who is healthy enough to heal. I'm not sure I can open up to anyone---not even my counselor of TWO YEARS---and show people how much this hurts and how scared I am.

I'd rather just act tough and sarcastic and brave. I'd rather people believe the liar inside of me that thinks I'm just fine right now. It seems easier and less scary.

I can't be the amazing person everyone thinks that I am. I don't know how to believe that I'm actually her.

I am Wendy today and Wendy isn't brave.

Say Something

For years and years, I was screaming on the inside, "SAY SOMETHING, PETER! SOMETHING! ANYTHING! Tell me how you REALLY feel. Tell me what you want me to do!" as he made decisions that ultimately destroyed our marriage.

I didn't always understand those inner thoughts. I wondered why I was such a controlling, paranoid wife, thinking my husband was lying all the time when he promised he wasn't.

And when Peter left me and A Great Big World came out with the song, Say Something, every word spoke true to the things I was feeling.

"You're the one that I love and I'm saying goodbye. Say something, I'm giving up on you!"

The very first time I heard that song, I was a few weeks out from d-day and I wasn't sure what was going to happen. That song came on the radio and I started to cry as each word came closer and closer to the pain in my heart.

A few days later, my sister called and said, "Wendy! Have you heard the new song Say Something? I was bawling in the car thinking about your heartache right now and I felt like you could've been singing every single one of those words." And she was right. Every word was my story.

"Anywhere I would've followed you. Say something, I'm giving up on you!"

After years of wanting him to say how he feels to me and getting nothing in return, I wasn't sure how divorce would change that. I wasn't sure about the levels of communication and how we would both deal with the new boundaries that had to be set.

And at first, it was a mess. I tried to let Peter be a part of our family, even though we had filed for divorce. We went on hikes, we watched movies late at night...and one night, we had sex. There are days I'm still in disbelief about that because it was all so...awkward...and I felt like a whore. So it was after that night that I knew I needed changes for the safety of my heart.

Boundaries.

I started reading the book Boundaries that was recommended to me by my eating disorder therapist. I recognized some traits in the beginning of the book that were DEFINITELY me.

I was so sick of fighting that I decided to allow Peter back into my life more than was healthy for ME. I was making those decisions for the well being of our children and for his well being but in the process, I ended up more confused and hurt.

Ever since I talked to Peter about the boundaries I needed to set, there has been a frustration about him that I didn't fully understand. I knew he had changed when he left me. He seemed darker and less of the man I had married. But this was different. Peter was angry at me for taking away his kids and his opportunity to have the best of both worlds.

His anger has changed him into someone I don't recognize.

Tonight, Peter told me he wouldn't be able to contribute to our son's preschool bill for a month or two and I started to walk away in frustration and he exclaimed, "Calm the fuck down, Wendy!"

In front of my four year old.

Oh hell no.

My anger was at a boiling point but there was nothing I could do because I am about to head out of town and Peter has the kids by himself for four days.

On top of that, I started working this week and school started two weeks ago. I am now leaving that precious four year old FIVE days a week.

This is just a mess. All of the shit going on is a mess. I feel so much guilt and shame. I feel so much weight on me to be this perfect mother and this perfect friend and this perfect daughter and I JUST CAN'T DO IT! I cannot please everyone. But that won't stop me from trying.

Last night, I had a melt down. Like a scream-into-my-pillow-yelling-swear-words melt down. And I wrote in my journal how sometimes I feel like dying would be easier than all of this.

And that is the damn truth. I cannot even tell you how often in the past year I've layed in bed shaking from the fear of being responsible for two little children and myself all on my own. There isn't anything to describe what this feels like to me. It is just a whole bunch of hell and the responsibility feels like it's too much sometimes.

I couldn't even tell my counselor today how I wrote that sentence in my journal because even THINKING about dying makes me feel shame...because I would never truthfully kill myself or even want to die and ruin my children's lives more.

But when I get so buried in fear and shame, I can't think of anything else that would release my pain.

Please tell me this gets better. Tell me I will find hope and that I won't always hate myself and that I will be able to afford to take care of my kids on my own and that I will stop feeling so anxious about life.
Please?

Because I just can't keep having break downs and feeling so scared for the future. I can't keep doubting myself and wondering if things will ever get better.

I just can't.

But I'm so afraid to feel and give emotion to my pain because I don't believe it will ever go away if I let it out. I feel like being strong and COURAGEOUS means to keep myself in check at all times and never let my emotions run free. I cry sometimes but ONLY when I'm alone and I always shame myself for being weak and out of control.

I'm so afraid of what my pain really feels like.


Since music is therapy, I recorded Say Something for you tonight. And with that, I am off on an adventure with my friends for four days. Please pray that my kids won't miss me too much and that I'll be able to relax and trust that they're in good hands.

One Year of Pain

Yesterday was my one year anniversary of the day Peter left me.

I cried a few times yesterday. I got so FREAKING angry a few times. I grieved my past life and my new life.

I didn't know how yesterday would hit but it hit like a ton of bricks. It felt like I was reliving that very day, a year ago. I kept replaying moments and feeling anxiety and wondering how the hell I am still standing after such a horrible experience.

I reached out a lot yesterday. I reached out to WoPA friends, my friends who were there on d-day, and I even reached out to my parents who are on a cruise right now. Everyone reached back with loving words and validation. Even people I didn't reach out to were sending me texts and emails, reminding me that I am strong and that I can get through this really hard thing.

Yesterday was hard.

Today was even harder.

This morning, I called Peter to ask him a question and he didn't answer. No big deal. He does that a lot.
But then he texted me almost immediately and said, "Can't talk. What's up?" and to any normal person, that text wouldn't have been a big deal. But in my story, that text is an extremely triggering text to receive.

Because it is almost the exact same thing Peter texted me the day I called to check on him at work. It was the very last text he sent before our phone conversation about the lies and the secrets---the very conversation where he told me he no longer cared about me. It was the last text I ever received before my husband left me.

I didn't text him back. In fact, I threw my phone across the car and tried to focus on something else the entire drive to the gym. But it didn't work.

All day, that text has been running through my mind.

Just breathe, Wendy. Just breathe.

I knew I wanted to come on here tonight and talk about those triggering moments. I knew I wanted to remember how I felt this morning. But as soon as I started to type, I decided it would be a good idea to link back to my d-day post.

And when I linked to it, I decided to read the post.

And when I read the post, I started breathing heavily and my heart was pounding and I started to sweat. I was frozen. I was frozen and my chest was physically hurting and I couldn't move out of my chair.

That day was real. There is no escaping the painful memories of that day.

I panicked. I knew I was having an anxiety attack but I've never been frozen like that. I wrote on a message board and reached out to some loving friends and started receiving message after message of comfort. I also received messages telling me things my brain couldn't even think of.
Wendy, have you asked anyone for a blessing? Can I call the temple and put your name on the prayer roll? Do you have Xanax in your house?
One by one, I did the things I was being told. The Xanax started to kick in and I called a friend sobbing, asking if her husband was available to give me a blessing.

Within minutes, he was in my home and we were talking about what had happened.

And then I received one of the most powerful blessings I have ever received.

I had recently lost hope in a few things and in that blessing, those things were promised to me. And I felt my Savior comforting me, telling me it is ok to break down and cry and be worried. It's ok to feel scared and need to reach out to others. It doesn't make me a weak person.

It just makes me a person.

There have been so many lonely nights were I sobbed and screamed and panicked late into the night. I'm glad tonight wasn't one of those. I am grateful for people in my life who can help me get through some of the roughest shit I've ever, ever had to deal with.

Tonight I am broken but I am still alive. Tonight I know that with my Savior by my side, I can handle nights like tonight.

I am going to fight. I am going to get through this hell. And someday, I am going to get remarried and feel real love. I don't doubt any of that tonight.

The triggers aren't over. They will keep happening. But I have hope that when they come, I will be surrounded with the love of my friends and family and the love of my Savior.

One year down, eternity to go.

I can do hard things.

Hope

I find myself hearing story after story of broken marriages and promises and hearts, of broken dreams and broken lives. It's hard to be in a situation where you understand the hell of divorce and can relate to other stories because you end up hearing a lot of them.

And you do understand them. You just don't want to understand. Because hearing these stories is devastating. It reminds you that life is full of hellish times and sorrowful trials. It reminds you that you cannot change everyone or believe that the world is going to magically get better.

Pornography is everywhere. Infidelity is more common. Homes are breaking every day.

Hope is lost on me a lot of the time because the world is a sad place right now. I hear about the way husbands treat wives and I ache for the lives that a lot of people live silently. 

I'm sad for me. I'm sad for you. 

I think about the stress of raising my children in a world full of broken people and I wonder what that will look like. I wonder if statistics will just become a part of our lives. I wonder if my children will have a hard time keeping commitments because their parents have broken an extremely important commitment to each other. 

They are going to grow up thinking this is normal. They are going to grow up, knowing how to navigate through two homes, two separate lives, two relationships with two people they love very much. And they are going to be among a wide variety of children who are navigating through the same things.

I just want to have hope that life isn't just one big freaking mess. I want to have hope that men are good and aren't just bastards who take take take and have a hard time giving. I'm not trying to be a man hater...it just so happens that I'll have to fight the hatred I've been programmed to feel because of my individual situation. 

I'm not bitter toward my life. I'm just sad. Because this is nothing like the life I imagined I would have. This life is full of more heartache than I would've ever preferred. I cringe at the thought of knowing I'd come down to earth to live through these trials. That must've been a hard decision. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was an easy decision because I knew how sweet the end result would be. 

Just maybe.

I hope the ending is sweet. I hope I get to have days full of laughter and security and unfailing love. 

Unfailing love. I wonder what that would even feel like. I hope the day comes when I'll be able to experience that. 

And in the meantime, I hope the millions of broken hearts in the world can feel of God's love so none of us have to go through this hell all alone. 

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 Peter Pan

Dear Peter Pan,
I wrote you a letter last night and it was painful to put into words how I really feel about you at this moment. Because I don't love you and I feel like there is a hole in my heart where I used to. It's empty and hardened and I am not sure it will ever be able to open up to someone again.

I feel it is important to write you and tell you some of the things I have been feeling since you've returned from your summer job.

I am angry. I see you and my chest tightens and my eyebrows furrow. I have realized that I resent you for deserting your children for an entire summer to go find yourself. And maybe it's selfish but this doesn't have as much to do with the kids as it has to do with me. I don't have the luxury nor do I want the luxury of leaving my children for an entire summer to go figure my shit out. Parenthood just doesn't work that way.

This summer, I spent countless hours awake at night just to get some time to myself because my days were spent caring for our children and babysitting other children to pay our bills. I didn't get to take time where I could reflect on my life without the worry of children. And I'm realizing this resentment goes beyond just this summer because there has never really been a time where I could reflect on this mess of a life we've made without factoring in the worries I have for our children.

When you left me, you broke them and you weren't there to pick up the pieces. Those hours upon hours of comforting our sensitive daughter while she cried in her bed or raged about her unfair life were all spent with me. I have helped her find security in her very insecure world. I was there when she yelled at me and blamed me for kicking her daddy out of our house. I was there when she begged and pleaded with me to get remarried soon so she would have a daddy again. I was there when her friends asked why her daddy no longer lived in our home and she burst into tears because IT JUST ISNT FAIR THAT THEIR DADDIES GET TO COME HOME EVERY NIGHT.

Divorce has shredded our hearts. We are piecing them back together but it isn't easy. And the hurt I have felt over your decisions and how you treat me now is a hurt I never could have imagined.

You have betrayed me in the deepest way possible. I wasn't first in your life. And now that we have been living life separately for a year, I can see that you are baffled that we can't just be friends. I can see that it doesn't make sense to you why I get angry and hurt so easily. I can see that you don't understand why I act like you know nothing about our children---because you chose a life that takes you away from their lives and you aren't there for them when you should be.

I loved you once upon a time. I gave you my heart. And now you are just the father of my children. Now you are your own person and you can feel negatively about marriage or women or whatever you'd like and there is nothing I can do to change your mind.

But I hope someday you take responsibility for your actions and understand that marriage can be a beautiful thing. Our marriage could've been a beautiful thing. It didn't have to end. We could've been warriors together but instead, I am now my own kind of warrior. And because I do it alone, I will fight for our children and for myself so that we can make this hell work.

We will make it work without you. I just hope you can learn from your decisions and become stronger on your own too. I pray you learn to fight for the things you are passionate about instead of giving up when things get hard. I pray you learn that your children have broken hearts and they need a dad who will be there when they need a shoulder to cry on. I pray you learn that I loved you for you and I would've fought for you if you would've given me the chance.

I pray you can someday know that there IS a God and that He loves you. He loves you regardless of your actions. He loves you for you, unconditionally. I pray there is a day where you let Him into your life because I know how incredible you can be if you would just let Him love you.

I am angry and sad that things ended. I hate the permanence of your decisions but someday I am going to be a stronger Wendy. Someday I am going to believe in the person my God intended me to be.

I hope you can learn to do the same.

Sincerely,
Wendy

Small Things

Let's talk.

I am seeing a therapist tomorrow.

FOR REALS.

Three months ago, when my financial situation caused a sudden halt in my counseling services, I thought I could do it. I'm strong enough to handle this life and work through my grief and figure out my triggers, right?

I don't think I've ever given my therapists enough credit because I really thought I was doing most of it on my own anyway. I didn't think my therapists were helping enough. I was the one doing the work, right? I'm the one who has to live this life every single day and work through my thoughts and feelings.

But I was wrong. They were helping.

Yes, I do the work. But for some reason, my brain just isn't working properly---and that isn't even a joke.

Sunday was a hard day. I know, do I say that enough!?! Our church lesson was on eternal marriage and I cried---as in, I CRIED IN FRONT OF PEOPLE. If that isn't a sign that I am unstable, I don't know what is. I have just become emotionally hardened and it takes a lot for me to cry. Anyway, so I was crying and my heart was hurting because the lesson hit so close to so much of my pain.

I lost my forever. I couldn't change so many things about my story and most days, all I want to do is change my story. All I want is for my husband to love me for me, to not take me for granted, to not struggle with a nasty addiction that caused him to make some pretty horrible life decisions.

I want to change the fact that he tells people I am crazy and that I took everything he had. Because I didn't leave him. Everything he says is a lie! He portrays me in a way that makes me wonder if he ever could have loved me.

Anyway, therapist! Tomorrow! Pray for me that it goes well. I am seeing the counselor that I have trusted more of my story with than any other person on this earth. I am going back to see the counselor that I made myself stop seeing when my eating disorder was the worst it has ever been. I know that is hard for a lot of my friends to understand. But I feel like it's right for this time and I guess we'll find out tomorrow.

This rambling will have to stop for now because I am trying really hard to do small things in a great way and one of my goals has been to spend more time with my kids--and so far, success!

And little successes are the very things keeping me going. Those and the occasional flowers or visits from friends.

YOU GUYS ARE ABSOLUTELY AMAZING! Every comment on my blog and thoughtful text and message you've sent has been a great thing to keep me smiling on the hardest of hard days.

I love you, friends. I really, really do.