Will it ever get better?

Dear Lord. Dear LORD will it ever stop hurting? Will I EVER feel like a whole woman again? Will I stop walking around my house with an open, festering wound? Will it ever stop aching when I smile?

My husband and I have been meeting with Dr. Alex for quite some time. This man's godly perception has astounded me at times. He is the most perceptive man I've ever met. In meeting only with my husband, before he ever spoke with me to hear my side, he picked up on things that every other person who has tried to help us has missed.

Every week, he notices more. And it's not just the perceiving that God has blessed him with. He will share his thoughts so eloquently and perfectly worded that not only the subtitles of his observations are crystal clear, but his way is so firm that you cannot wriggle away from him, and he is so gentle that you don't feel the urge to escape, either.

And yet, every week as the meeting comes close I feel the panic rising. Surely this time he'll glaze over and give the same advice that we've been given and be pleased with what gives me chills. But it doesn't happen. Each week.

Bottom line: Dr. Alex pours truth at our feet, and Jack listens. But Jack's mind does not change. He says he asks God to show him what he needs to see. (that repentance has been partial, that he doesn't understand the seriousness of his actions or the depth of their hurt to me. And he still believes I was wrong to separate and probably always will.)

And I live here. It's always been a possibility, but I am looking squarely in the face the reality that he will never ever really get it. God may choose to keep him blinded. Blinded to the possibility of same sex attraction, blinded to the possibility that I SAVED our marriage by separating as some have already voiced. I live with my tale between my legs for "abandoning the marriage". He doesn't rub my nose in it, but it's certainly still in the room and I can smell it 24/7.

I asked God's forgiveness for being jealous of a woman recently who discovered that her Christian husband had paid to have sex with a 12 year old boy. Yes, her situation is so much worse than mine - I don't envy that part. But I am extremely jealous of the clarity. There's no wallpapering THAT over. She doesn't have anyone telling her that it was a communication problem between her or her spouse, or that "God hates divorce" so go back to him and work it out together. She is not the police and she doesn't have to wonder what's on his phone or what he's hiding from her because someone else has stepped in for her safety and everyone else's' safety. That's my life sentence. I'm with a man who doesn't see the dangers. How do I live with this? Unless God does something different or tells me something different, this is going to be my life. And I don't want to be around for it. I don't want to live THIS life. Dear God come for me, please.

Dear Lord help me heal from it all. The list is too long. Help me heal this still open wound that's just as fresh as it was almost 3 years ago.

I'm Still Alive

I have the urge to write - perhaps it's from the Lord.

I have been quiet for a long time. I haven't talked to my own family in weeks. Many of my closest friends, I've been silent with for months and they are hurt by my silence. When things are happening that I don't understand, I shut down to process without all the voices. I stop talking so there won't be any more probing questions from anyone. When I feel like others would not be pleased with my words, I keep quiet. When I see that I might offend, I hold back. When I am trying to process, I keep from sputtering out my opinion because it may take a month to figure out how I feel.

This post is probably going to fluctuate from topic to topic, bear with me. It will be unpolished. It will be raw. Here is what has been going on in my life.


Last night, as I drifted off to sleep, I had a dream in my first few seconds of rest. It was so powerful I felt the dream and can still feel its fear suffocating me. I was driving at night. I turned down our street. But instead of seeing houses, I saw nothing but branches covered with leaves. They came in close to the road as if branches had either grown or were scattered blocking the houses from view. It looked like a hurricane had come through, but I couldn't see the destruction, just the branches. I was having a hard time seeing the road in front of me. Fear gripped me. I put on my brights, and seconds later they became more dim.  Soon, I realized that I could see absolutely nothing. I had my foot on the gas pedal, but everything was pitch black. My eyes were opened wide, but there was nothing. I was terrified. I couldn't even see the lights on my dashboard.

My first impulse was to slow down because I didn't want to hit anything or anyone. I slowed some, feeling like I couldn't breathe. Why couldn't I see anything??  Then I realized that I couldn't possibly stay here. It was dangerous to remain here any longer. I had to get out of here to a place I could see. An urgent push of fear sent me forward and I floored it. I raced in complete darkness for a few eternal seconds. Soon I got to the end of the street and was able to see. My heart was still pounding from the darkness that had engulfed me only a few seconds earlier.

I had no idea where I was. I didn't recognize anything I was seeing. The ground and road were covered in snow (the endless winter of 2014 just had to make an appearance) I turned and didn't see a soul. The glow from the moon and amber street lights bounced around from sky to snow and back to sky giving me plenty of eerie light to drive by. I knew that if I kept driving that I would be even more lost. I stopped the truck I was in. (We don't own a truck, I have no idea why I'm driving a truck.) I stepped out and started walking toward a house or a small office building. I saw someone, a man looking at me through a basement door window with an expression that told me that I should probably not ever encounter this man at close range. I instantly felt a dagger of fear and that same push of "get out of here" once I saw his face. I was vulnerable and I had to get out or it was over. I walked backwards some and turned around. And there was another man in front of me as I walked toward the truck. I was in terrible danger. Two bad men, no one to save me, I couldn't get to the van, I was lost. My chest hurt with fear.

Then I woke up. I laid there trying to catch my breath and let my muscles relax.

In a couple minutes I heard a bang in the house. I sat up. I whispered to Jack, "did you hear that?"  nothing. "did you hear that?"  "what?"  He didn't seem to concerned when I told him, so I just stayed sitting up for several minutes knowing unless he or I went downstairs to check and go into our son's room to look, that I wouldn't be OK. After a long silence, he asked if I'd like him to go see so I could relax. "that would be nice." Turns out our son was sleeping perpendicular in his bed, so we figure he must have hit his head on the side of the bed or something. At any rate, we made it through the night and I'm alive. I'm still pondering the meaning and strong emotion of my dream. In order for you to understand, I may have to backtrack some.

I actually felt intense fear before I fell asleep. I tried to calm myself with "What time I am afraid I will trust in You."  Oh, yes, the Lord. He is here and He is watching over me. Covering me with His wings. But I have believed that before and have been subject to crippling pain multiple times from multiple places while he supposedly covered me with His protective wings. Enter fear again. Recite the verse. Enter thoughts and reason, I welcome fear. And the circular never-ending battle spun in my head creating a deeper crevice in my mind. The rut of my thoughts circulating in its regular fashion.

Sometimes it's near impossible to derail fear once you give it track. Once you dump in the coal. Once you light the fire and allow water fill to the brim. It perches on a hill ready to fly down at full speed until you can't answer your son's 5th "why?", or you can't sleep or keep your heart from racing. Until you feel so sick you're wishing for vomit. Until fears and memories you thought had been killed rise from their graves and push the already rushing engine over the next hill.

That battle rushed through me as I surprisingly fell asleep 

and had a dream that seemed to play out a simple allegory for the last 3 years of my life. 

I've had my world in upheaval as you know. Then 6 months later, there was more. I was advised to separate in hopes of a certain reaction. I did not receive that reaction. I received spiritual abuse from some that I went to for help. God told me to return before I saw what I had hoped for from my husband. I continue to not receive the full understanding that I have been hoping for from our new counselors who I do believe are really trying. And now, God has opened the door for another counselor and I am terrified to walk toward it. 

God clearly told me to leave, yet two counselors my husband has meet with have strengthened my husband's belief that I should never have separated. "He wasn't beating you."  "There was no physical abuse." Husband:"You abandoned the marriage" "You didn't follow Matthew 18".  My legitimate concerns were labeled as "unbiblical" by one counselor who said that my desire was to take things away from my husband. I wrote two lengthy emails to him explaining my distress and heart. He never even acknowledged receiving them. Family members were upset with me. I received letters from well-meaning friends telling me that the young girls were watching me and I needed to remember my vows. None of them had lived what I had lived. They didn't know what I had seen on my computer. They didn't know that the lawyer told me my son could be taken away if I did nothing. But even with all of this and my husband's mind unchanged on many things, I returned. I obeyed God in the separating and I obeyed Him in the returning. And I have been shamed for it all by some in spiritual authority. Our current counselors are trying but I feel a roughness toward me and a frustration with me over my having a hard time trusting my husband's words. I pray for God to save me from all of this. 

This weekend God opened the door for another man to meet with us. A humble and gentle man with a firm side. I was fearful every time my husband suggested him. I don't think I can take any more instruction from a counselor who is frustrated with me. From anyone who will compare our situation with someone else and say to me that I should be thankful and apologize for a fleeting desperate sentence spoken after my husband's new actions last month tore me apart again. 

So yes. There is great fear.  

So. Much. Fear. 

I prayed last week, "God, I really like this person. He seems very godly and perceptive. He seems very kind and gentle. But I don't know what he would say about me here, or here, or on this subject. What would he say to me about this? I'm not going to leap out of the frying pan until I can see where I'm going to land. Unless you want me to be in an institution, don't let this happen again."  

I teeter from feeling terrified to not caring because I know it will never change. No one will ever get it and I must just comply with what they think my sins are. Get some calluses where their sandpaper continues to rub my still throbbing wounds. Take it. Just get through and try to believe that they aren't blind to the things I see - but instead I'm just paranoid and they're trying to bring me back to the normal setting. 

Three days before my dream, something happened that only God could have brought about. This man, I'll call him Dr. Alex,  became alerted to something that my husband was getting ready to to. This something I had slight reservations about, but it didn't seem nearly as eyebrow raising as some of the things that I have voiced my opinion about and been pushed down as being divisive. So I don't say a thing since this seemed like a smaller matter.  Dr. Alex, knowing only a small portion of what has happened with us called me to share his concerns and advises against my husbands planned actions. 

Could this really be happening? Someone who is not me thinks my husband should not do something?  He was humbly sharing his concern and gently expressing that he feels awkward and very sorry to have to bring it up to me, but that he really must broach this subject. I sit down with shaking hands. The  relief floods my body along with a good dose of adrenaline. This is the sort of phone call that I longed for from someone else 2 years ago when I was in distress over my husband's lack of boundaries and transparency. This is the sort of reproach I also once despised but now after a couple years of having counselors and pastors try to normalize his past actions while my alarm system went on higher and higher alert because no one else was watching, I welcomed it. I felt attacked but I was thankful. I was hurt but I was thrilled. Someone ELSE - NOT ME - had a problem with it!  And for once this same person with their concerns and authority was going to speak to my husband. It's been a very long time since all of these factors were rolled into one person. Not since the beginning of our journey have we had a counselor who understood my pain, was gentle with me, firm with my husband to my satisfaction, and also had the authority to speak to him. I was not the police in this. 

I explained my thankfulness and relief and we continued to talk. 

Don't you know it? Everything I had told God that I was unsure of about this man was dispelled in about 15 minutes. It's like God took notes on my concerns and gave Dr. Alex the list to share his kind heart about all the things that I had been beaten up over before. He said words like, "validation" and that I had come back and "done beautifully" in my "forgiveness" to my husband. He didn't give me a pamphlet on forgiveness or tell me to pray against unrighteous anger or pride. He saw that I had already forgiven but was in distress. 

Hope. 

A little light in my dark world. 

Afraid to hope. 

Did he really say that?  Yes, but I'm sure he'll tell me I did that wrong and I need to straighten up here. He won't feel the same way when Jack tells him his side. 

I bring in doubt and fear comes in tow. 

God gives me light and I don't believe. The beautiful music he sends me gets drowned out by all the terror of past experiences. But I try to believe. It seems that God is saying, "Yes, this is the man I have sent to you, daughter."

Then came the pain over the next few hours. For the first time in a long time I saw our situation through someone else's eyes. 

Try this on for size:

My husband molested a teenaged boy in our pastoral care for two years. 

What did your face and body just do? Yeah, that. The ever so slight facial expression even if in check is what I see. It's that ugly truth hitting another person for the first time that tells me "yep, it's about as ugly and sick of a thing you can think of and you're married to that man and everyone knows it and they all look at you that way." Marked by the most foul label imaginable. Public. 

You know, the police could still come get him anytime they want? If anyone says anything. If that teen's family changes their mind…. it's over. Last month I was upstairs when a man came to the door and spoke to my husband. I couldn't hear what was being said. My first thought was "They've come for him." 

So I knew that it was going to be a bad night of PTSD junk. I was ready to ride it out because there's nothing else to be done. The nightmare plays again just as shocking as it was the first moment I heard. I can't breathe my chest is so heavy with shock. Then I relived finding more information, new activity, friends I wasn't comfortable with. Then the spiritual abuse. That feeling of being taken roughly by your bruised arm and dragged down a dark hallway where the man you fear the most waits for you playing the victim to a room of mesmerized authorities. "You want to do the right thing, don't you? You have to go home with him. You're being unbiblical. You're not bleeding, you should never have run away in the first place, anyway. You have to forgive him, it's a command. Trust God. You're being unreasonable." (No one ever said those exact words to me - I felt them, though).

Surf Facebook to try to get my mind on ANYTHING else. 12am. Icecream. Put on Scripture Lullabies except it also takes me back to all the places I've played it which then brings back those hideous memories. Rocking my son at night crying and begging God for answers. The hotel room where we met for counseling where I was told again that I wasn't physically abused so I should never have left. My bedroom at my parent's house where I cried on the floor as quietly as I could to not wake my son sleeping in his crib. I asked God to please let me die many times in that room. I fight through the memories that this music brings in order to hear the comfort of Scripture. 

Then there was the weekend conference I went to. A blessing in countless ways. I saw God's goodness toward me. I was encouraged to raise ebenezers of remembrance. Monuments of what God has done. There are many that are undisputed moments of God literally reaching down and making His presence undeniable to me. These last three years, He has done some things that I can't push away as being coincidence. And if I choose to believe that he still loves me and is intensely involved in every part of my life, I see even more of it in the mundane. He has shown his love toward me in strange and wonderful ways. He has given me personalized love notes through people at specific times. In all of this He whispers, "I see you. I'm here. I love you and hold on, honey."

• The day I found out about everything in August of 2011, only about 6 people knew what had happened. A lady that I knew but had never even had a face to face conversation with texted me saying that she was praying for me and that I was on her heart that day.

• A friend sent me a verse that was on her heart and ended up being a direct response to something I asked God about that day.

• After one of my worst nights, I had lost all hope and the emotional fear and pain was physically affecting me. I felt betrayed by the people whose house I was in. My husband had just torn me apart by his words the night before, and I was going to have to go home with him. My then, 1 year old son pointed to a wall decoration and said, "Wassat?" (What's that?)  I looked and I was so angry and hurt. I was so mad that he was pointing to a wall hanging that said in huge six inch words, "FAITH". I didn't even want to say the word. I muttered, "it says faith."  He asked again, "Faith, it says 'faith'". He pointed again. I was livid and did not believe that God would have the audacity to tell me to have faith after the previous evening. "FAITH!" I whisper-yelled.  Even though I rejected it, I knew in the deepest part of me, that God was obviously in gentleness trying to give me something to hold onto since everything else had fallen way under my feet. 

• One Sunday I was especially hurting after finding out something my husband did recently. A woman came up to me and told me that I was on her heart that morning and she had been praying for me.

• One evening I laid on the floor in a bedroom in my parent's house crying after midnight. One of the nights that I probably begged to die. Confused by God's direction and the counselor's advice, my parent's take, and my own gut reactions, I begged God to tell me if he saw me. I remember saying to Him. "Show me that you hear me. Are you hearing my prayers? Are you pleased with me? Am I where you want me to be?" When I was done sobbing, I got on the bed and read the selection from that day's scripture. Daily Light on the Daily Path is a devotional book that lays out phrases of Scripture along the same theme. What met my eyes sent me into more sobs. Verse after verse of:  "Ask and it shall be given you. ..This is the confident that we have in Him, that, if we ask any thing according to His will, He heareth us…The eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, and His ears are open to their cry… The Lord heareth, and delivereth them out of all their troubles…Ask and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full."
I had said, "Do you hear me?" and He answered specifically, "Yes, I do."

• Recently I was having an awful time sleeping. The pain and nightmarish trauma was closing in on me. I asked God for help. I laid there and cried. I flipped through a bunch of verses on my verse app. But it was getting worse. In a few minutes my son woke up and called for me. He asked me for some music. I clicked on the Scripture Lullabies. The first song was "I Will Hide You Underneath My Wings". As I left his room, I let the song play in my mind. It was like God as audible as he possibly would ever become in this age, spoke to me what He wanted me to hear from Him. I was in his intense and intentional care. 

I tend to push away things that could be coincidence. I desperately want to see God's hand in a situation so much that it must be so obviously His doing. He has been generous to do things that are so unusually obvious that only He could have brought some of these things to pass. I feel like Gideon and the fleece. How loving and patient of God to show Himself to me in these ways. To answer my specific questions, to press my name on people's hearts who have no idea what's going on in my life.

Here are the monuments that prove that God is watching and involved and that He loves me deeply. However, I must choose to see them, and to focus on them as the darkness presses in, and the fear starts to take me over. No! I will believe what He has said even though I have no relief. Even though people shame me. Even though I am a little bullied or misunderstood. He knows and sees. He collects my tears. He gives me what I need to keep my head above the water.

I must choose to see Him working.