The Crossroad to Two Futures

First Published June 24th, 2021

My 17 year marriage collapsed with frightening speed like a domino train. How could a relationship that took years to build come undone so quickly? As I stood in the wreckage of my old life, there was only one thing I felt sure of: I did not want to turn into a bitter old woman. I cynically joked about becoming a cat lady, dying a recluse, angry and alone. In those first few months indescribable loss and grief dominated my thoughts nearly 100% of my waking moments. When I slept, I had nightmares. My husband’s actions made me face my deepest fears about myself. I had been betrayed by the person I loved the most and I assumed I must have done something to deserve it. I must be deeply unlovable, innately inferior to other women for my husband to have hurt me in such a personal way. My immediate response to my suffering was to blame myself. I must have done something wrong to deserve this.

In moments of pain and hardship we’re faced with a crossroad. Down each path lies the future woman we might become, depending on our current choices. One road leads to the self assured, wise, and fulfilled woman who has found a way to grow and learn in the face of hardships. The other road leads to the disillusioned woman who has allowed her suffering to shape her into something unrecognizable. When we’re hurt, we spend some length of time at the crossroads, trying to decide which direction to go. This is a tricky decision because we don’t make the best choices when we’re suffering. In the midst of our ordeals, we can become profoundly self-absorbed. Although, I don’t believe my ex set out to hurt me, his actions certainly felt personal and I found it difficult to clear my head. I was swimming in negative thoughts. In these moments of anger and grief, we are most vulnerable to traveling the wrong path. For a time the road of despair beckoned to me and I followed its call.

When my children left to spend the weekends with their father, I spent the time feeling sorry for myself. The story went something like this: My life consisted of a series of rejections by people who had passed me by in favor of others they really preferred. I was a placeholder for the friends who did spend time with me. I believed they would drop me if the opportunity to develop new, cooler friendships should manifest. My life was a hopeless, pathetic mess. Now that I was in my mid forties, the possibility of finding love again was pretty much out the window. I remembered a line from an old Nora Ephron movie. “A woman over age 40 has better chance of being killed by a terrorist than finding love.” How ridiculous it seems now, but I believed it. Hopelessness spread out before me like the Greek monster Charybdis, a vast sucking whirlpool inhaling living creatures and then spitting out their bones.

Playing the victim can provide a perverse pleasure. There is comfort in knowing you have been treated poorly and you are owed an apology, compensation for the hurt you’ve experienced. You can sit back and relax knowing the fault lies with others. You were helpless, an innocent, injured due to no fault of your own. I believe in many ways, I was a victim in my marriage just as a million other women and men have been victims in their marriages, but this does not give us license to rot in our victimhood. Prolonged pity parties are terrible for the soul and they do not lead to personal growth or learning. Even in the cases of infidelity, I’m not sure there is any marriage where one party is a 100% righteous and the other 100% villainous. Human beings are too flawed and complex for that. We make mistakes and the one job we have is to grow, not stew in our struggles. Beware of the victim narrative that comes from a place of hurt and pain. There is nothing empowering about seeing yourself as a victim. This is not the story of your life. It is not honest and it is not true. This narrative will eat you for breakfast and spit out your bones as it leads you down the path of sin and misery.

When you’re surviving the crisis of a devastated marriage everything feels so out of control, but believe it or not, you are still in the driver’s seat of your own life. You may need help and support, but you are the decision maker. You get to decide where you’re going. In Phillipians 4:8, the apostle Paul tells us, “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” The verse reminds us that we get to frame our stories. The emphasis is on what we can control: our own thinking. There is plenty of fodder in our lives to shape either a positive or negative storyline as the backdrop for our lives. I was doing a pretty good job ignoring blessings and focusing only on my disappointments and failures. If we’re shaping our identity from a narrative like that one, how could you ever experience joy or victory in your life? I’m not suggesting that we ignore the bad things, even horrible events that happen, but don’t allow them to define you. Our suffering is a chapter in our life, part of a larger story of victory. What we can decide is where our thoughts should dwell and what we need to release. I spent many months processing my divorce and the events that preceded it. I am fully cognizant of the trauma I experienced and honest about what happened to me, but then the time comes to learn and let it go. The only direction towards healing is moving forward not backward and you can’t move forward dragging the weight of the world behind you. I’ve released my bitterness imperfectly, sometimes in fits and starts. There are times I even run backwards and cling desperately to the weight of the past before I’m reminded of the misery it holds, the power of the past to hold me captive.

In the midst of striving to forgive and let go, I’ve learned an extraordinary secret, one the cat woman desperately needs to hear. I am loved and cherished by God. My family, friends, children have showered me with love and kindness in so many different ways, often in small and lovely ways I overlooked. In a state of self absorption, we can miss those important details, all the evidence we’d ever need to convince us that we are not rejected, but fully embraced and loved. We have to stop looking for love in the wrong places. Open our eyes. You are beautifully made in God’s image. God’s breath breathes in you and you have mastery of your own mind. We are limited in so many ways, but we have control of our hearts and this is what really matters. The woman who realizes this simple truth is the woman I want to be. She is no victim. She knows who she is because she meditates on what is good and understands her own power to shape the best possible future for herself and those she loves.