One of the most common comments I get from my Ex is that I broke my marriage vows. You know:
I, _______, take thee, _____, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge thee my faith.”
Book of Common Prayer
In the literal sense, yes, I have broken the vows. Pledging to stick to this marriage, for better or worse, was a mighty big promise for a naive 20-year-old. Marriage is a serious decision and should be made carefully. I mean, how could I have known at age 20 that I was going to be such a different person? And that the man I married would become complacent and basically lazy in our relationship. In every sense, he took me for granted – that I would stick with him even after he had given up on himself.
Most times when a marriage vow is broken it is due to some kind of unfaithfulness, particularly adultery. So when he said he hadn’t been unfaithful to me he was at a loss as to how I could leave him.
Is there someone else?
Such a question comes up at the time of making the divorce announcement. At first, my answer was, no. There is no one else. Not in the literal sense. But as time went on I realized there was someone else. Me.
My marriage was a one-sided affair most of the time. It was about catering to him and his dreams. Fulfilling his wishes and yes, oftentimes they would coincide with my own. I suppose you could say that my passion was that of creating a peaceful home. I read books, contacted mentors. Basically studied how to be a good mom and homemaker. I read lots of how-to-be-a-good wife type books. All from a conservative Christian point of view.
But there came a time when I realized joy had gone out of my life. Passion. When someone would ask what do you like to do? I’d reply, “Sleep and read a good book”. What? No desire to travel and see new places? No interest in getting involved in a community? No hobby or sport or craft?
Nope. Nada. Zilch
It was always how to make the home run smoothly. Keep the peace between the kids and their father. Pinching pennies and finding new ways to recycle clothing, making bread from whole grain completely from scratch to feed my family on wholesome food.
To be fair, I did do cross stitch for a while when the first four kids were young. I’d stay up to all hours stitching away till my eyes dried out. Then I’d be worthless the next day. Toss some Cheerios at the kids and put on The Sound of Music – again. Then go back to bed.
Not a sane way to do things. I knew better and after a wise woman gave me some honest input, I gave up cross stitch for good and concentrated on being a good mother and wife. (To this day, I don’t do cross-stitch – I totally burned that bridge.)
Don’t get me wrong! I enjoyed motherhood, hard as it was raising nine children. But there was no “me” in that.
So, yes, there is someone else. Me.
Fast forward a dozen years or so and I was in a deep dark depression. That is BAD for a faithful Christian. It’s like Christianity, in general, ignores the possibility that one can love Jesus and be depressed at the same time. I know you know what I mean.
I didn’t want to live. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I just didn’t. a small part of me kept the fires going. I still managed to get up, shop for food, manage the kids’ schooling, barely just got by. It was bad. I considered that perhaps I needed some kind of supplementation and got on a hormone replacement of progesterone. That helped by leaps and bounds. I began to want to do better. I remembered to eat better which helped everything else. The scary darkness was gone but the darkness was still present in the background.
I realize now that it was my “valley of the shadow death”; my old self was dying. For me, general depression serves as a place to stop or at least slow down. It’s a lonely time which I believe now is ideal for transformation. Much like a caterpillar morphing into a butterfly – it has to become pupae: dark, rigid, and sort of unattractive. For some, this time can be long and drawn out and it can feel like it takes forever. But there is hope. It takes time to transform. Sometimes longer for each individual and even within your own life you might transform or expand again.
Sidenote: Time. Humans invented time to help deal with interacting with other humans and nature. I’ll ramble on about time another time! Suffice to say that we say it’s taking too much time, or I don’t have time for this. Just stop. Your transformation will take however long it takes in the grand scheme of things. When we stop judging how events play out, time disappears.
Looking back I see now that God was talking to me through this or that person or song or small voice, trying to get me to stop hiding and come before Them as opposed to my fearful position hiding behind my husband.
When I started to become more faithful to me, he got more and more jealous, so to speak. I would buy clothes that suited me without his approval. He asked why I didn’t want to please him anymore. I told him I was giving my desires their rightful place and if he didn’t like them, oh well. I spent waaaay too many years dressing to suit him and I was just not happy.
Other areas began to change. I’d make changes around the house to suit me. Eventually, I got a job and started work without consulting him. He grudgingly gave his approval (as if I needed it) as at the time he wasn’t working and we needed income!
He was so complacent, he never even considered the possibility that I’d leave him. I mean, I didn’t even consider the possibility until I realized I was drowning in the darkness of despair. Sounds dramatic, I know. But until my husband had gone for a month during our trial separation, I hadn’t realized how dark and depressing our home had been. Family members even commented on it. It was like I was in a stormy sea and the wind stopped and the waves calmed. I saw sunshine and began to feel hope. I began to dream. I began to want to live.
So, yes. There is someone else.