And Now For Something Completely Different

So now that I am stealing...borrowing from so many other sources I figure its high time to get back to some original ness ish.


Blah.

Its my blog, I can type that. Blah blah blah. Yadda yadda yadda. However, there is something I can't type. Somethings I cannot type about. Somethings that I foreswore (Yeah I think I made that word up but I like it so I am gonna keep it) not to divulge.


And here I am now not able to tell anyone but the other thoughts and the voices that I ignore in my brain. Its my blog. But there is a silent partner.


Silent.



Partner.


pshaw.



Oh bugger it all. STEPHEN can continue to be silent if he so choses but I will no longer suffer as a victim silently.

I do hope him and his friends and whomever else involved in this sordid saga reads my words. Even he admits that his friends read my blog and go to him with their reactions, thoughts, and whatnot. I have been writing this blog since February and have been ignored, cast aside, hung up on, strung along, lied to, placated, used, and bedraggled during this entire process by him.

At this point, everyone I know and love is willing to support me whichever direction I go, which of course changes every 3-4 weeks when Stephen, for his own personal reasons, deigns to respond to a text or voicemail message. I have read and seen countless stories of women who get cancer or a terminal disease or have something amputated, whatever, and their husband leaves them. Now, I am well aware that women leave men in the same situation, but the point is not the gender of the spouse, it is the leaving of the spouse. I am now one of those people who got sick and their spouse left them. Mostly.

When Stephen left me last year, in the midst of my mania and psychosis, I was convinced at several different times that I was Pocahontas, he and I were Romeo and Juliet, and finally that he was Jesus Christ. That time I remember quite vividly because I found myself at a hospital run by demons and I asked him, or perhaps thought, "Why are you forsaking me?" I recall the nurse who took my blood pressure popping a blood vessel in his kneck and blood trailing down toward his scrubs and wondered why he didn't seem phased. I had never been so scared, never been so rattled and unsettled and could find no solace or no safe place. Especially within my mind. My mother stayed by my side, but I could tell how tired she was and how this weighed on her heart. Stephen had decided that he could not handle it and I remember him saying something along the line of, "I'm not doing this anymore" to me in the hospital waiting room. I gave him his jacket back and he left me with the demons and my mother.

So it was within this atmosphere that I was abandoned. I had offended my in-laws through my delusions and they also no longer wanted to have anything to do with me. I lost a husband, a best friend, and a family all in one fell swoop.

And now, over a year later, I am being repeatedly neglected, accepted back in, convinced to let my guard down and accept the hope of reconciliation time and again only to find my calls and text messages ONCE AGAIN falling on seemingly deaf ears.

I know that there are many, many people in Stephen's life who believe that I am a detriment to him, that he was right for leaving me, some who thought he should have left sooner, and who think he is better off without me. Are they right?

As I muster the strength daily to keep my sanity, literally fight my own demons, work my several jobs and keep hope alive that I will one day return to Stanford and finish my degree, floating throughout it all is the sad scent of my situation with Stephen. It seeps into prayers, creeps into brief moments of laughter, hazes over a good book, and wraps around my throat as I sleep alone on the floor every night. I shuffle the envelope with divorce papers from one suitcase to another wondering both if I will ever use them and why I would have to divorce him if he is the one who keeps leaving me??

I asked him to move out here to be with me, if he was serious about getting together. We could go through couples counseling, find a place to live, and begin to truly reconcile, repair, and rejuvinate our relationship. He could attend my support group with me, we would work together toward a whole marriage. He didn't want to leave San Antonio. I told him I had good therapist here, friends, two churches, an opportunity to receive free training as a CNA for better work, and a mental health center helping both with a psychiatrist and a case worker to apply for SSI. I did not think me uprooting myself and moving back to San Antonio to live with my mom while he lived with his parents was going to be as neutral and conducive to reconciliation as where I currently am would be.

Sigh.

I know I have not been a perfect wife, mental health aside. I have made my mistakes and have repented from them. I admit to them readily and openly and am constantly striving to become a better person, a better wife, learn what I can do. To what avail?

Is this how I want to spend the rest of my life? Would I allow my husband to treat me this way? Oprah does say that you teach people how to treat you. I've posted her lyrics before but Keyshia Cole says it best in her song Let It Go:

You need to get if he don't wanna
Love you the right way he ain't gonna
It ain't where he at its where he
Where he wanna be

Where do you want to be Stephen? You either want to be with me, want to make it work, and are willing to do what it takes or you don't. I refuse to be a complacent victim any longer.

Tim Minchin - If I Didn't Have You

Yep yeah
If I didn't have you

If I didn't have you to hold me tight
(If I didn't have you)
If I didn't have you to lie with at night
(When I'm feeling blue)
If I didn't have you to share my sights
(Share my sights)
And to kiss me and dry my tears when I cry...

Well I, really think that I would...

Have somebody else.

(If I didn't have you)
If I didn't have you, someone else would do
Your love is one in a million
(One in a million)
You couldnt buy it at any price
(Can't buy love)

But of the 9 point 9 hundred thousand other loves,
Statistically some of them would be equally nice.

(Equally nice)

Or maybe not as nice but say, smarter than you...
Or dumber but better at sport or...
Tracing

I'm just saying
(I really think that I would)
Probably
(Have somebody else)

Yeah.

(If I didn't have you)
If I didn't have you someone else would do
(Someone else would surely do)

If I were a rich man
And did a diddle diddle diddle diddle diddle diddly
I guess I would be with a surgeon or a model
Or any of the royals or a kennedy
Or a nymphomonical exhibitionist heiress to a large chain of hotels

If I were a rich man maybe I would fiddle
Fiddle diddle diddle with the rich man girls

I'm not saying that I'd not love you if I was wealthy or handsome
But realistically there's lots of fish in the sea
And if I had a different rod I would concievably land some

Even though I am fiscally consistantly pitiable
And considerably less brad pitt than brad pitiful
And I'm really so poor and ugly that you reckon only you could possibly love me
And I
(Really think that I would)
Probably
(Have somebody else)
Oh yeah

Visual.

(If I didn't have you)
(Someone else would surely do)

Look, I'm not undervaluing what we've got when I say
That given the role chaos inevitably plays in the inherently flawed notion of fate,
It's obstruse to deduse that I've found my soulmate at the age of 17
It's just mathematically unlikely that at a university in perth
I happened to stumble on the one girl on earth specifically designed for me

And if I may conjecture a further objection love is nothing to do with destined perfection
The connection is strengthened the affection simply grows over time
Like a flower
Or a mushroom
Or a guinea pig
Or a vine
Or a sponge
Or bigotry

... or a banana (banana)

And love is made more powerful by the ongoing drama of shared experience and synergy
And symbiotic empathy or something like that...

So I trust it would go without saying
That I would feel really very sad if tomorrow you were to fall off something high
Or catch something bad

But I'm just saying
I don't think you're special
I mean... I think your special
But
You fall within a bell curve

I mean, I'm just saying I
(Think that I would)
Probably
(Have somebody else)

I think you are unique and beautiful
You make me happy just by being around
(Being around)
But objectively you would have to agree that baby when I found you
Options are relatively thin on the ground
(Thin on the ground)
Your lovely but there must be girls as lovely as you
Or maybe more open to spanking or scrabble...
I'm just saying

(That I think that I would)
Probably
(Have somebody else)
I mean I reckon it's pretty likely that if for example
My first girlfriend jackie hadn't dumped me
After I kissed winstons ex girlfriend neah at stephs party back in 1993

And our variables would probably have been altered by the absence of that event
To have meant the advent of a tangential narrative and which we don't meet.

Which is to say there exists a theoretical hypothetical parallel life
Where what is is not as it is and I am not your husband and you are not my wife

And I am a stuntman living in LA
Married to a small blonde portugese skier
Who when she's not training
Does abstract painting
Practises yoga
And brews her own beer
And really like making home movies
And suffers neck down alopecia

But with all my heart and all my mind I know one thing is true
I have just one life and just one love and love that love is you
And if it wasn't for you
Baby you
(I really think that I would)
(Have somebody else)
Oh yeah
(If I didn't have you)
If I didn't have you someone else would do
(Someone else would surely do)
Dooooooooooooo.

A toe is a terrible thing to waste

So for anyone who has ever broken or fractured or even sprained a toe, you know what everyone else apparently knows which is if you go to a doctor or hospital or clinic or emergency room, "There really isn't anything they can do for you but wrap it and give you a boot, crutches and pain pills." Well, when you are in pain, that sounds like a heck of a lot to me.

I have actually fractured this toe before. In college, a grad student who, I promise you was from another country, was heading toward me on his bike. I was on my bike and naturally moved to the right. He moved right. 50 yards. I moved left. He moved left. 25 yards. At this point, he is crossing and I am approaching an intersection and I resolve to play his game of crazy chicken. So we, wouldn't you know it, bump front tires right in the middle of the intersection.

We hadn't been going that fast, but my feet, shodden in sneakers, were dragging on the ground to aid in a graceful stop. The sudden jarring resulting from the bike tires bumping traveled right down to my very toes. And every single other one of my toes was fine. But one. That small one. The little piggy that cried "Wee, wee, wee" all the way home. On the left foot to be precise. He apologized (the grad student, not the toe, that would be unnecessary and not to mention impossible). I apologized. We moved away from the intersection and I realized that I could not put any pressure on my left foot. He offered to help, I of course believed that he had done enough. I remember, at least I believe I called Stephen who was on the 12th floor in our apartment and either he came out and helped me up or the grad student helped me to the building and I met Stephen at the elevators. In any case, I was back in the apartment, crying, nearly inconsolable and insisted that Stephen not dare touch my shoe. It hurt you know.

He gently convinced me that he needed to see what was wrong. So the shoe carefully came off. I recall as the sock was peeled back it was as if the mere air of the room fueled a fire beneath my skin. The tears that had been placated once more poured forth and I gave him the evil eye knowing that he wanted to actually touch my foot. We did both agree that I needed to go to the student health center. He couldn't carry me, and oh how I wished we could do a weight transfer and get all my excess pounds onto him just once and I could be like all those movie stars who get picked up by the leading guys that weight closer to 100 lbs than 130 and so forth. But, with my arm around his strong shoulders, he supported me during what must have been a 20 to 30 minute trek.

We had to get to the elevator. Go down 12 flights. Walk across the parking lot to the street. Go down, what, three or four blocks, until we made it, thank God Almighty, to the health center. I was quite calmed down by then. That is of course until I was examined. Don't you know they had to touch my foot to see where it hurt? Oh and once the nurse or doctor, whomever the torturer who was "just doing their job" was, found out the source of the pain, oh! Then there was a barrage of questions combined with actions that nearly made me want to black out. "Does this hurt?" My toe, held between their thumb and forefinger, didn't even have to be moved any which-a-way for the answer to have been a resounding yes. But yet and still, my toe and foot were poked and prodded before it was ascertained that I may have broken the toe. I was encouraged to see the podiatrist on campus and told to ice, elevate, and stay off of it as much as possible.


This was in 2005 I believe before Japan. Currently, my toe is aching, thankfully not nearly as much as that initial time. This time around, there was no accident, or incident really. I simply noticed the pain Sunday evening. For several days in a row I had been biking from one side of town to another running errands and getting to and from work. I suppose the fracture may have occurred at any time the past few days but I just hadn't slowed down enough to feel it until Sunday. When the pain hadn't gone away Monday after pain pills and a night over an ice pack, I was concerned. I knew that pain. It was familiar, like a melody I had heard once before. As soon as I placed it, tracing it back to that bike incident and the two weeks on crutches and having to keep my foot wrapped and elevated and not being able to move around much outside of class and the bathroom...it all sort of came back to me. Not in a flash, or a flood. Not even a flash flood. Just memories really that trickled back into my conscious.


Back then, I had Stephen to help bring me food, or tell me it would be okay, to take me to my appointments and give me support every way he knew how. Now, I am in a new town with no family. As much as I can call my mom, its not the same as a hug. No one here is going to, "Aw, poor baby" me. My friends are going to apologize out of sentiment and hope I get better. I did find someone to lend me some crutches and that same person's mother hung out with me and let me spend the night at her house. It was nice to be in a chair with actual pillows propping up my foot instead of my towel, a throw, a scarf, and one of the thin pillows I dumpster dived for (I promise you it was on the top of the pile and was washed twice). I very much enjoyed sleeping in a bed. My roommate contacted a friend who is currently in med school and he poked at my foot to help assess where and how much it hurt. A big thing for him because he doesn't like to touch or be touched. He also drove me around looking for the medical supplies place to find the boot and bandages. He even talked with me on the ride home, cracking a few jokes, to help keep me from crying from the pain.

This time around, the experience was very different, but I am thankful that someone was there. More than just my mother. I honestly would have liked to contact my husband but...well. Yeah. Now, I am dealing with the fact that I actually can't take the time off I need to heal because I need the money. So I will be going to work and in fact taking on more hours at State Farm doing the telephone surveys so that I can make up for all the hours that have been lost this month. Its the adult thing to do. I have to be careful, not because of my foot, but because the extra hours and stress may send me back to the loony bin. Its a fine line I must limp now, but limp it I must. I refuse to allow the normal ups and downs in life to send me spiraling into insanity or swallowing depression. I have to hold on to the notion, the idea, the hope...that I can live a successful life. I am damaged, like everyone else, and not so much like others. But never let it be said that I didn't try my best.

Part of a Prozac Nation

The self fulfilling cycle that is depression is already at work in my life. Thankfully, it will not cause me to loose one of my jobs. I don't know what the fall out will be this year...I just hope I make it out alive.


"Parting is such sweet sorrow that I should say goodnight til it be morrow."
-Juliet in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet

At least the crazy cat lady had a cat...

I cried this morning. It was an unsettling morning that started at 4 am when I realized I was still not getting a restful nights sleep. By 8 am when I was supposed to get up to go to my therapy session, I knew I needed to get some sleep for my long day so I rescheduled it for tomorrow afternoon. I rolled over, avoiding the shifting of the things around me and the sound of my old new roommate showering next to me and tried in vain to capture that slippery saint of sleep. Shortly afterward, I got a call from a temp agency about a job, then shortly after that my therapist called me about rescheduling. Then I finally got up, did most of my Bible reading, and headed off for a phone interview scheduled by the Social Security Administration. I didn't have something quick to eat for breakfast, so knowing I would pay for it later I left the house determined not to crack.

I made it all the way back to the apartment after the phone call and to my bowl of oatmeal before I split. It was like my brain refused to work properly. I felt...loopy. There were no chairs for me to sit down on so I paced. I made a circle in the tiny kitchen until I wanted to put a hole into the fridge with my fist. There was no real reason to pinpoint the episode. I would just have the chemical imbalance, the lack of dopamine or norepinephrine or too much or whatever. I flashed back to all the relationships severed and friends lost to my mood swings, psychosis, or flat out crazy. Its the memories that put the fear of the future into my heart. The fear that I will end up alone as a crazy bag lady...like the one in the Simpsons. She started off so driven, with such a promising future...but her drive left no time to build relationships with others and soon she quickly burned out and was no longer any use to society.

Maybe people will remember me as that girl who used to be smart but now mumbles mentally strange nonsense to an empty chair in the back of some hospital locked away in the psych ward. I know my mom will visit me...


Its days like today, when I fight the tears but they come anyway, when I have to work but use every ounce of strength to simply get dressed, when I have to see and deal with people but need to keep the smile going to keep the questions away....that I miss having someone with whom I can confide. Cry openly. Someone to hold me without worrying about what time it is and what we look like to those around us.


The tears are meeting at my chin now, but I am in a public place so I must stop, get myself back home for a semblance of a nap before my shift tonight. The loony bin doesn't seem like such a bad idea today...at least there I can color and have a bed to lay on...

'Get a bicycle. You will not regret it if you live.' Mark Twain

My Misadventures on My Bike


So, lately I have been biking everywhere because I can't yet afford to get a summer bus pass. I have biked across town in my Cracker Barrel uniform, across to the other side of town in a skirt for my other job, and to downtown in the dress that my good friend Lisa bought me, you know Lisa the black and white one, yeah. That interview outfit rode up my legs as I biked, dug into my shoulders, and the heels were not as difficult as I thought they would be on the pedals.

I have not yet, thank the Lord, fallen off of my bike. I have lost one of the brakes, so I can only brake with the back wheel. Of course, we humans adapt.

I have been looked at, nearly hit, whistled at, and even yelled at by a passing SUV full of most likely drunken college frat boys as they sped past the bike lane and threw their trash at me.

Yeah, its been grand.

However, I must admit that my favorite time on the bike is when I have a good song on, I am going down hill or have a good speed effortlessly going, and I can coast and sway along the road I'm riding. There is something freeing, calming, and simultaneously invigorating about being as Jerry Seinfield once described, "moving, but motionless." He was talking about being in a car, but I felt the same sensation on my bike.

Every time I am huffing up a hill, or dodging traffic, or carrying my food in a bag between my teeth, I often first think back to when I had a car. Or I look at the dozens of cars speeding past, or even people getting off the bus, and wonder if they realize how awesome they have it. There are people all over the world who have never been in a car their entire lives, who wish they had a bike. Then there are people who rarely walk up the driveway to their mansion. You know, its easy to argue the extremes to give you perspective, but that only goes so far. When I am riding my bike, I pray that the Lord help me to love them and be happy for their blessing. I remind myself that this is my season in life, and that when I do get a bus pass, then a car, I will be so very grateful.

I am glad that God was able to bring some good out of my ... foolishness. Even though I was asked, all kinds of after the fact, to return the bike before I left town, I still have it now to use and use it I do.

The brief history of me and cars is thus:

In high school, my mom had two cars and she was going to give me the green one when I graduated. At Stanford, freshman are not allowed to have cars, even though my roommate, and I am sure many others, did. My mother claims now that the car would not have made the 24 hour drive to California. At any rate, when I returned home from my first quarter away, the car sat in the driveway. I don't remember now if I drove it then, I believe I did. Over the summer, in between math camp and getting married I probably drove a little bit. Then, suddenly it seemed to me, the car was my sister Clinshay's. My mother gave it to the sister that was afraid to drive and didn't have a driver's license. Eventually, my youngest sister got her license and began using the car. Over the years, I learned to let it go.

My husband had his own car history full of woes and set backs. When push came to shove and we needed a car, I encouraged him away from the place he had previously been shopping for used cars to get something for the both of us. No dealership could finance us on my credit alone, so we went to our parents. My mother simply could not help us and his mother said the same. After a few more days of using up gas going place to place, we were finally able to get help. The dealer talked to both our moms on the phone, but it was Stephen's mom who finally said she would help.

We struggled as many young couples do to keep up with the financial responsibilities of life but it was my mental health that threw the monkey into the wrench, as I prefer to say. Stephen took the car with him when he left and I was once again without a car. Because my other sister was so thoroughly entrenched in the green car, I took it upon myself to ride public transportation. For the last six months I was in San Antonio, I slowly stopped fighting the battle to get my car back and instead focused on how I was going to move on from the raw unexpected tragedy that had befallen my life.

When the opportunity presented itself to start over in a new city, I prayerfully proceeded. A 24 hour Greyhound bus ride later, I was here. I walked everywhere, all over town in fact, through the snow, during grocery shopping, interviews, everything. Finally, when I had the promise of a job in January, I pulled the money together for a bus pass and was once again riding with the people. It was also around this time that I got a letter in the mail and a call from my husband about the car that he and my mother in law had.

I was being asked to sign off on the car so that it could be traded in and my name taken off the title. Feeling defeated and forelorned, I signed off yet another car and let the same car go a second time. Fortunately, the transaction left me with a paid off car on my credit. That line on my credit report however did not get me safely to and from work.

Fast forward a few months later to the reason why I launched into the sordid tale of my vehicular woes. One of the randos I knew had a bike and mentioned that he rarely used it. I told him I could really use a bike in town, especially since it was going to be getting warmer soon. He offered to give it to me, (if you have seen Bedtime Stories, imagine Adam Sandler) "For freeeeeeeeee" helmet, pump, and all. I just want to go on the record once and for all that I DID NOT EXCHANGE SEX FOR THE BIKE. Contrary to what some have believed, I did not give up the goodies, in fact he was thinking I would but got upset after I didn't but he was trapped in his word so had to give me the bike. So I ride with a clear and clean conscience.

Who knows what else will happen, just on my bike alone? One day, I will have a bus pass again and even further in the future I will once again have a car. But this time around, it will be in my name. And I will have the money, in cash. I decided on the Nissan Versa, slightly upgraded from the bare minimum because I can't drive stick. I can work and save that kind of money once I have a salaried position...who knows when the Lord will bless me with one of those........

Put the "Home" in "Homeless Shelter"

I really am going to be a bag lady.



I get awakened from a nap this morning by Shay. She asks if I called the Illinois Child Care Program about needing a state id to continue processing the paperwork. I told her, yes, I did, but that they hadn't called me back yet. When she asked if I called the dmv or state id department, i told her not yet, that I was waiting to hear back from the child care program people, she declared with exasperation, "*sigh*, look, it just doesn't seem like you care so we're just gonna have to-I'm just gonna need you to find somewhere else by the end of the month. It seems like you are trying to separate yourself from our problems and if I don't have the money for rent and power and gas, I mean, it effects all of us, " in so many words. She went on to say, "You are the other adult in the house," and "I told you that I would need someone to babysit, that there was no one else, so now I have to change my schedule and have to loose out on 8 hours of work."

I barely had a moment to wake up, let alone process and respond. I managed to get out, "I thought you found someone else for Saturday for July?" But I guess her guy friend either said no or it just didn't work out that way for her. I knew that I may not be able to get out of the babysitting position once I stepped into it, but she assured me that by June she would be able to change her schedule. Its June.

Needless to say, she seemed to have already made up her mind and simply needed an opportune moment to present her decision. I didn't argue or plead, I simply told her to pray, that I hoped her situation got better, and that we would still be able to remain friends. I spent the rest of the day contacting community resources and found out that:

Salvation Army only has a men's shelter

Center for Transitional Women does intake calls on Monday between 10am and 4pm

My church uses the same help book that I already went through so they had no new information for me


A few weeks ago, I ran into Victor at Walmart. He was genuinely interested in how I was doing, we caught up, and before we departed he said, "If you ever need a place to stay..." and I told him thanks, I would remember that. Well, that time seems to be here. I have already explained the situation, and he is cool with letting me crash.


I tell you what, Jesus loves me.

I am thankful for the peace with which I was able to handle this situation, the calmness and love I did my best to hold to as I spoke with Shay and dealt with the various agencies. And the holy ghost brought that meeting with Victor to my rememberance so after I had explored all my other options, I was able to go to him, humbly.

Thank the Lord. I am reminded of

Psalm 37:25
"I was young and now I am old, yet I have never seen the righteous forsaken or their children begging bread."

Speak of the Devil and the Devil He Doth Appear

I had a dream last night that I was playing video games with a group of people then demons started to try and attack us. We got together to leave the house we were in and one caught me right before I got to the door. I called out, "Get thee behind me Satan in the name of Jesus" because that is all I would know to say to cast out a demon from around me.

In the past few years, I seem to always have these kinds of casting out demons dreams right around the time or right before I loose it. Since I no longer have an anti-psychotic, my mind is a ticking bomb ready to explode into its own reality complete with new voices, images, and interpretations of the world around me.

Jeremiah 29:11

Today I had a meeting with Bishop Gwin of the Church of the Living God. I talked to him about the situation between myself and my husband. About how I married young to a Christian that walked away from his faith. I included the year and 3 months separation, the back and forth decision to stay or go, and the advice camps of "You deserve better" "He probably is seeing someone else" "You can do better" "You need to leave him and move on with your life" and "Pray about it" "Pray for him" "Be patient".

Here are my reflections from the meeting:

"Whatever you're doing, inside of me
It feels like chaos, but somehow there's peace.
This is something bigger than me...
Something heavenly"

"Lord if I'm the clay then lay me down,
on your spinning wheel.
Shape me into something you can fill,
with something real."

"What are my grounds for divorce, spiritually?"

"I still need to uphold my vows"

"Wait on God"

"If the truth hurts, that means its working."

"Tell Stephen I will be praying with him and for him"

"This is an opportunity, a season for me to stabilize mentally, hold a job longer than 4 months, repair myself"

"Tell Stephen to take his time, when he is prepared I will be here"

"Don't bail out"

"May God leave doors closed that were not ordained to be opened by him"

"While married but separate, I can work on building friendships with my brothers in Christ, and other men, that are healthy and that glorify God"

"There are more pressing things in my life than my marriage right now"

"My past episodes may have Stephen hesitant to deal with me now, so I can show him how well I am doing and what I have been doing to grow and learn and improve surrounding my mental health"

"Approach Stephen from the rational and spiritual"
"A father asks his little girl to give him the plastic pearls she has but she refuses, clutching them tightly. Finally, when she reluctantly gives in, he takes them and hands her a beautiful authentic pearl necklace"

PEACE

JOY

LOVE


I once had this option come to my mind, through prayer I am sure, and told it to Lisa. A great friend that one. I told her that I would live my life and wait for Stephen to make the decision about the marriage and wouldn't divorce him unless he presented me with papers. She didn't think that it was a good idea, pointing out that it gave him all the power and that I had no way of knowing how long I would be waiting.

Now, if you have been keeping up at all these past few months, I have gone from promiscuous girl to purity sister as well as adamant about getting a divorce to zen about the situation. I kept thinking that my life was in limbo because I didn't know what I was going to do, how I was going to respond to the continuing incommunication from Stephen. These have all been exacerbated by my manic and psychotic phases.

However, after explaining today to another friend Dan, and defending for at least half an hour the Bishop's stance and my decision today to surrender the situation completely to the Lord, pray about it, and stop pursuing divorce, I realized that I would need to change my thinking about the situation. I cannot control when Stephen will call me, but I can control my response and my thoughts and what I tell people. I can shift my focus from what I am missing out on in my marriage and from my husband to this season in which I am growing as an adult, learning how to handle my bipolar disorder, and gathering around people who are helping me develop spiritually toward my calling.

I still disagree with how Stephen acted last year, and do not think his not talking to me is a healthy way to deal with me and the us matter, however, in the eyes of God and by the state of Texas he is still my husband. I vowed to love, honor, and cherish him till death do us part. I vowed that I would do so in sickness and health, better or worse, richer or poorer. I looked him in the eye in front of friends, loved ones, and his family and friends, and said, "I do." I know that God is doing great things in my life and this may be the way in which He is reaching into my marriage to repair and renew and upgrade and bless it. I also acknowledge that I still may receive papers in the mail anytime now and will have to accept that as well.

Either way, my prayer stopped being about what I want months ago and instead I have been changing my supplication to "Not my will but thy will be done" and since I know God already knows whats going to happen and in his omniscience and omnipotence I have nothing but confidence that the outcome that comes out is the one that will serve me the best in my life.

And if you haven't googled it already, Jeremiah 29:11 reads as thus:

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.