January is gone

Today starts a brand new month, February.  I like to think each day we get to turn a new page in a small chapter of our lives.  Some go by quickly, while others seem to drag on.  I want to explain how every day is a blessing and how I got to rewrite my story, thanks to my divorce.

After my divorce was final in March of 2015, there were many emotions going through my sensitive brain and my worn out body.  There was such relief that it was over, grief because it was over, anxiety because it was over.  At the time I was so overwhelmed, I went to the doctor’s office and got put on an anti-depressant.  It seemed like I failed at being in control of my body and mind and part of that was because of my ex’s stance on mental issues.  He was a former member of the military and thought that mental illnesses weren’t real.  He thought that I just needed to “get up and do something” instead of trying to find out what he was doing all the time.  It was deflection in its finest, and still to some degree, the things he used to say to me still affect me from time to time.

The relief of having to wonder about if he wanted me back, if we were going to try and make it work, if there was a chance he was going to change his mind started to slowly subside.  I am a forgiver and a lover by nature but once I know the door is closed – it’s sealed shut.  Forever.  Being without him was so hard, even after 4 months of being away from him, the finality of it finally sunk in.  That is when I started to make decisions – what do I want to do with my life?  Where do I want to be in a year or 5?  Who the heck am I?

I thought about what it was like being with him and being without him.  When we were married and things were good – it was amazing.  I know in the beginning and up until the last 7 months we were together, he was a great husband.  We did everything together – cooked, cleaned, worked inside and outside the house, camped, fished, hunted – everything.  We were always each other’s sidekick and biggest supporter.  The bad times were few and far between and I can say that we only really had a handful of really bad disagreements.  More often than not, it was when we were drinking and his demons came out and played, or it was my deep down insecurities I carried with me my entire life.  I mostly worried that our future children would be confused with having a Catholic mother and a Methodist father.  I didn’t want turmoil and apparently I was the only one worried about that.  His issues had to do with deployments and being in combat zones in all of them, losing men, missing family, and the emotional heartache that comes with it.

Being without him was hard, but it got better a tiny bit each day.  I went from crying every single day, to a month or so later to only crying every other day.  Then it was crying maybe a couple times a week then finally I stopped crying.  I don’t really remember when I finally quit crying consistently but my parents mentioned it and there was a sense of pride.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I still have my moments to this day, but it was an amazing obstacle that I was able to overcome.  I had lost some weight during all this time and I started to notice it in myself.  I was looking good and feeling good – that was something I hadn’t felt in a long time.  I signed up for the color run that summer and a veterans run that fall.  I worked out, lifted weights, and ran – I was feeling great!

Those first few months after I was divorced seemed to drag even though I had so much going on and so much love around me.  Every day was a struggle and I know that the medication plus all the working out was doing wonders.  Every month I would think – I made it.  I don’t need him anymore.  He used to be a great person for me, but he’s not God’s person for me.  I don’t know why I chose to ignore my family’s opinion and even the little voice in the back of my head saying “slow down” – I don’t know.  I am as stubborn as a mule and hard-headed as they come; I’ve always had to learn things the hard way.  I now realize that I’m not always right (tough pill to swallow) and that my framily and relatives are warning me, I now stop and listen.  I want to make sure that I’m doing the right thing and that I’m not clouded by lust and infatuation.

I loved so hard and so deep it scares me sometimes to think that I may never love like that again.  I truly felt he was it, he was my person, he was mine and I was his.  I know that God has great plans for me, I know he has my person waiting, somewhere.  I don’t know who he is, what he looks like, or where I’m going to find him.  But I do know that whoever he is – I’m sure I’ll be ready for him because God always has a plan.



Author: 30singlecatholic

I am a 30 year old woman, living the single life, trying to live my Catholic faith as best as I can. I am a lover of the outdoors, babies, crafts, and people.

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