I only took one day off of work after I found out about the affair. At this time I was working as the Catering and Events Coordinator for a Hospitality Group in New York City. A little back story on my employment situation at the time: About 8 months earlier I had some bad health issues pop up. It was scary and painful and fixing it was going to cause some major medical attention and time. At this point I was out on an acting contract. When I wasn’t acting I was a cocktail waitress in New York City. During the initial weeks of my health issues I got a call from my boss in New York. A new position had opened up and he wanted to know if I wanted to apply. He felt like I would be a great fit. He understood I was focusing on my acting career, but he still felt compelled to tell me about the job and ask if I would apply. I talked with my husband about it and given my current health situation we felt it would be best if I stayed closer to home, closer to good doctors,  and had a job with benefits. So I applied, went through the interview process, and got the job. Little did I know then that God was just planting the seed of a blessing that would come to fruition much later.

I started my new “career” in March. So, I had only been there for about 6 months before things went south and I felt the need to take a personal day. It killed my soul to have to admit that I couldn’t make it into work, but I honestly could not make it happen. The thought of taking a shower seemed overwhelming. Eating was a chore. All I wanted to do was sleep, so functioning at my job was completely out of the question. I remember telling my boss I was dealing with a family emergency and I needed to take a day, but I would definitely be in the day after that. He didn’t press me for details. I don’t even know what I would have said to him if he had.

The next day, as promised, I showed up to work. This was harder than you’d think. Sleeping was my only form of relief. When I was asleep I didn’t feel. When I slept there was no pain. All I wanted to do was sleep. But I got up, showered, put on make up, and took the subway downtown. I don’t remember what I looked like. I hope I wasn’t a complete wreck, but it truly didn’t seem important at the time. I hadn’t planned on telling my boss the truth about my “family emergency.” I had told myself that I would tell as few people as possible. Why? Well, because I was embarrassed and ashamed and sad and hurt. I didn’t want people to hate my husband because I believed God would save our marriage and things would go back to normal. I didn’t have the energy to have the difficult conversation with people, and I didn’t want to seem weak…so I stayed silent. However, as soon as I walked in I knew I had to tell him. I had a sense that he needed to know. God was pushing me and I obeyed.

And this is where the true blessing of this job came to fruition. This job that I had been offered 6 months ago. This job that had nothing to do with what I really wanted to pursue in my life. When I talked to my boss, he was comforting. He let me cry when I needed to. He listened as I word vomited everything that had happened in the past two days. He didn’t have any answers for me or any words of wisdom, but he gave me permission to be human. He said he would keep my personal business to himself and he would help me in any way he could. In the months to come, these work colleagues that God had provided 6 months prior would be more of a blessing to me than I could have ever imagined.

Yes, these were some of the worst months of my life. Yes, God knew it would happen. And what did he do? He began providing for me 6 months BEFORE my life fell apart. He put me in a position to be comforted and understood. He also put me in the position to make money that I would later need, to have benefits that would help me to be independent when the time came, and to have a safe place to go where people genuinely cared about my well-being. The Bible tells us that God will go before us and make a way. How glorious for me to see, even in my darkest hours, God’s promises fulfilled to me…even in the most unlikely of places.

Isaiah 45:2 “I will go before you and make the rough places smooth.”

Dates have always been something I’m really good about remembering. Birthdays, anniversaries, opening nights, even just random days where something kinda cool happened. I’m also pretty good at celebrating all these dates that I remember. The upside: You will always get a card from me on your birthday, I can tell you what date we met and probably what we had to eat, I can easily remember the opening date of any movie premiere, and I am NEVER late to a pre-organized brunch. The downside: Tomorrow is the two-year anniversary of the day I found out my husband cheated on me and it sucks.

Last year on this date I wasn’t divorced yet. I was separated and still holding out hope that God would wave a magic wand and make my husband wake up and love me again. I’d met with an attorney, I’d had papers drawn up, things were oh so bad, and I still thought “Well, the ink isn’t dry…this horrible, sad, pathetic marriage can still be saved!” I’m a glutton for emotional punishment that way.

When you’re with someone for that length of time, and you’re as type A as I am, you remember all the dates. And these dates come back to haunt you. Obviously our wedding anniversary, our dating anniversary, the day he proposed, the day I found out about the first affair, and of course, the day the divorce was finalized. That last one hasn’t come up yet, but I’m sure I’ll agonize over it when it does come round.

Remembering dates can be a good thing for me because in some odd way it reminds me of where I’ve been, what’s changed, and gives me a chance to look at where I’m going…or even IF I’m moving forward at all (and sometimes I’m not). I’ve started considering it a success as long as I keep moving in some way…the kicker these days is that wherever I’m headed, I’m headed there alone. The dates are also a reminder of my aloneness. The dates hit me like a ton of bricks, me alone, and alone I move on to the next section of my life.

What I’m waiting for is the date when all these dates don’t matter to me as much. When a holiday season comes and goes and I don’t remember every little tradition we had. When I don’t wonder how his birthday is going without me. When I wake up and the first thing I think isn’t “Who’s going to make the coffee since he isn’t here?” But most importantly I’m waiting for the date where the aloneness seems normal, where I feel comfortable in my own skin, when I can 100% be proud of me again.

I know God is working on me in the waiting. Even when I can’t feel it, I believe he is working on me. But the waiting still sucks, and the dates suck, and the aloneness sucks. And saying that these things suck is ok. God knows. He gets it. And for some reason that I don’t understand, he wants me in this holding pattern. So all I can really do is obey and continue to praise the God who holds me through the waiting.

Psalm 27:14 “Wait on the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”

I think it might be time to talk about scars. I know I keep deviating from the actual story, but I warned you ahead of time that this would happen, so there. We all have scars. No one goes through this life without a loss or pain or hurt. When we get up and keep moving and take those next steps our emotional wounds begin to heal, but we are still left scarred. The bruises will eventually fade, the initial ache will subside, but you will always be left with those scars. They are now a part of you. They will be a part of the way you experience your future. The decisions you will make. The thinks you will think.

I think it’s ok to own those scars. You earned them. But we have to change the way we look at them. I used to be so ashamed… if I’m being honest, I’m still ashamed about some of them. I thought about how broken I was. How fearful I’d become. I gave into my scars. I became the poster child for Abandonment “Issues” and Trust “Issues” and Sex “Issues.” I’d lick my wounds and let the darkness seep over me as I once again agonized over all the things that were wrong with me.

But here’s the deal, my scars are beautiful. They are still there and they may always be, but I’ve identified them. Yes, they affect me when they shouldn’t. Yes, I often think twice before making certain life decisions. And Yes, I am still single and haven’t dated since my divorce. Scarred? Yes. Broken? No.

I’ve spoken to so many women who talk about how scarred they have become from divorce. We meekly share our stories trying to hurry over the part where we explain that we were HURT. Yes, it’s ok, you were affected by this! That does not make you weak. It makes you human. But you are still here, scars and all, making it happen..and I think that’s beautiful and perfect and amazing and inspiring.

I’ve had a lot of people I love who have been on the rough side of how my scars have affected me, and you know what? They still love me. Never once has someone who matters run away from me screaming because of my fear of abandonment. That’s the big one for me. Full disclosure. That every person I love will eventually find someone better or more talented or prettier or easier to love. So I try, exhaustively, to be perfect so that my friends and family will continue to love me. Ridiculous, right? The big question is, “How can I expect someone to deal with my insecurities until I learn to love myself.” And I think the answer always comes back to God’s love for us.

Lord knows I’m not deserving of God’s eternal love, but it’s still there. And the reality is that God doesn’t want me to feel this way or live a fearful life. He wants me to wear my scars with pride. War wounds that have made me stronger, that prove I am a survivor. Only God can take the negative and ugly in my life and turn it into beauty…I just have to let him.

John 14:27 “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

A few things I know about myself…1)I like to have a plan and 2)I’m a bit naive. These two small bits of information played heavily into how I handled “the day after I found out.” My naivety can also be thought of as blind optimism. So, after a horrible night I woke up with all the determination in the world. I would fix my marriage.  This bump in the road would be my testimony. God would use this horrible situation and make something beautiful out of it. I wouldn’t let God down. I would do my part. So, in true type A fashion, I made a list. I made a list of things that my husband and I would need to talk about/work on/change in order to take the first steps to saving our marriage.

But I didn’t stop there. I called in Christian reinforcements. I spoke to a few select people who I knew could advise me spiritually on how to navigate my way through this mess. I chose not to feel, but to act. Feeling was harder. Feeling hurt too much to function. But a plan, a plan was something I could handle. Oddly enough, I didn’t really hear from my husband during this time. A smarter woman would have seen the writing on the wall, but not me. He needed his time and I needed mine. I imagined him sad and depressed at work…trying to figure out how to win me back. Planning some gesture that would assure me this was a one time thing, that it meant nothing, that he could change and things would be better than ever before. Hopeful. Optimistic. Naive.

During this time of planning I also realized I wanted to be in my own home again. After I had collected my thoughts and made my lists, I called my husband to let him know I was coming home. We needed to talk. He needed to give me some space for a few days (aka…find a couch to crash on). His voice sounded distant on the phone. He wasn’t saying the things I assumed he would say. This was not going as planned. Still, I marched on. I could ride this out. It was all going to be ok. God would save my marriage.

Then the second morning of my new life arrived and I returned home to start the “fixing” of my marriage. I had so many questions. Questions about her. How it happened. How they met. How long it had been going on. Normal questions, I suppose. But he wouldn’t answer them. He wanted to protect her. HER! Not me, not my feelings, not my heart….but her. He packed a bag and left. He walked out as I was crumpled on our living room floor. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. This wasn’t real life. It physically hurt too much to be real. I don’t know how long I laid there. I don’t think I much cared. I wanted to lay there forever…but eventually, I got up.

In telling my story I know that not every post will be easy or fun or even have a lovely life lesson attached. A lot of my story is the journey, the darkness. Remembering those times is awful. I don’t even recognize the woman who endured that pain anymore. It almost feels like a lifetime ago. But the important thing, that first step to becoming who I am now instead of who I was then, is that I got up. Even then, I had an inner strength, because it took a strong woman to get up. Getting up was hard. It seems like such a small act, but it wasn’t. It was huge. And it took the power of a God greater than I could ever imagine to help me stand again.

Exodus 15:2 “The Lord is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation; this is my God, and I will praise him, my father’s God, and I will exalt him.”

Being divorced is like being in a secret club. You meet a woman, find out she is divorced, and all of a sudden you have a connection. You may not have anything else in common, but this simple fact, this life experience that you both share, unites you. There is always someone who is further along in their divorce struggle, or is just beginning their own personal downward spiral. We’re all grasping at straws trying to figure out the best way to handle this curve ball life threw us. We turn to each other with confused expressions begging for the magic answer of how to speed this whole healing process along. “Throw me a bone!”, we cry out. “Help me fix this!”

The amount of strong, divorced women who I have met over the past two years is still astonishing to me. From my experience, we are a supportive bunch. We speak the same language. We have the same wounds. God has given me and continues to give me many incredible women along the way. There’s a fearlessness in a woman who can share her horror story with you without batting an eye and tell you in the same breath that you’re going to be ok. There’s a safety in being able to be honest with another human about all the terrible, shallow, selfish things you’re thinking. The knowledge that you aren’t being judged, but rather, finally understood is liberating.

I’ve had a small group of women along my path who have been instrumental to me during these past two years. They don’t all know each other and they are all in different places in their personal timelines, but the two things that seem to join us is the fact that we are all divorced, or going through a divorce, and that we are all Christians. What a blessing it has been to have other women, who seek God’s will for their lives, help to guide me through this horribly sad time in my life. Women who remind me on a daily basis the strength God gives us all. Women who affirm God’s love for me. Women who set the beautiful example of grace and dignity in the face of life just plain sucking.

It’s not fair that we all share this unfortunate experience. It’s disgusting that our husbands treated us, goddesses that we are, with such disdain. It’s pathetic that we had to deal with such weak men. But it is beautiful that we are all able to lean on a God who sees us for the women he created us to be. Our friendship is a gift. We are warriors fighting together to win back our lives, and who are all smart enough to know we can’t do it without our personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Because of that very firm truth, we’ve already won.

Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 “Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up.”

What’s funny is that I remember the day I found out so very clearly, but the entire year after that is like one giant rain cloud over my head that suffocated me. I stayed with my friend, Cheyenne, for a few days to help get over the initial shock. The reality of what was truly happening to me began to sink in and infest every pore of my being. I remember sleeping on her couch and wishing that I had never found out. That this truth could reinvent itself into a different feeling. I wanted the night to never end. To never have to wake up and face a day as this new person. This new person who used to live in a world where she was loved and safe and secure. She seemed so far away now. Could I ever be her again? Dear God, please let this be a nightmare. Please let me wake up.

The first 48 hours were more of a blessing than I realized at the time. I was with a friend who loved me. Who made me eat when I didn’t want to. Who let me sleep or cry or vent or pretend things could be fixed. Who helped me make the practical arrangements that needed to be made at a time like this. I had to call my boss and take a personal day. I eventually realized I could go back to my home, that I wasn’t the one who should have to uproot her life and leave. My friends took turns “babysitting” me. When one had to work another would show up to watch over me. Looking back, it was a beautiful example of friendship and love.

And the big thing I learned about myself during this time is that I am a hopeful human. My heart has hope. I believed God could fix my marriage. I believed my husband could learn to love me again. I believed I would live through this and wake up stronger on the other side. This is the gift that God gave me. A hopeful heart. A heart that wouldn’t quit even in the worst of times. A heart that, maybe foolishly, was determined to live it’s vows.

My poor little broken unwanted heart was still working. It was in pieces, and even now is bruised and bandaged and isn’t sure from day-to-day if it will ever be wanted again, but it still works. I know this to be true because now I can feel it. And in an odd and somewhat comical way that is a gift. So many people go through life not knowing the love they are capable of giving. I know. I know that my heart will continue to love. I know I have that capability and that it is a gift and that  even if it wasn’t the love I had looked for, I received love when I needed it the most. And, for that, my heart is grateful.

Romans 15:13 “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

Pain is odd and unfair. After the initial pain and shock of the revelation that my marriage was in jeopardy, I was told that the pain would decrease little by little every day.  This is not true. Here I am, almost two years since the day that changed my life and I still feel pain, in different increments, on different days. I have attributed this to several factors, one of them being that I am an incredibly emotional person who just feels things at a more heightened state than most, and another being that it has just taken me longer to work through all the stages of loss.

Another interesting fact about pain is that it can be brought on at a moment’s notice by ANYTHING or ANYONE. A person that had absolutely nothing to do with my divorce or an experience extremely far removed from my marriage can bring me to tears. I find that there are times when I have to stop and have a mini-therapy session with myself.  “Why are you REALLY hurting?” I ask myself. “Is this emotion valid? Did this person mean to hurt you or are you still carrying some emotional baggage from the last time you were hurt?” and the ever popular “Are you going crazy?”

Now, the rational side of me knows that my loved ones would never intentionally hurt me. And let me tell you, as you will learn if you continue to read my blog, I have the BEST friends in the world.  Truly.  If there were an award for the most amazing friends, I would win that award. It’s honestly not fair how good they are to me. And yet, feelings of worthlessness, inadequacy, and self-loathing still hit me. I still find myself thinking that I will never be good enough or worthy of love or that I will never find a person who will choose ME. Time with ME. Love from ME.

These are my fears and these are the thoughts my soul screams out on a daily basis. Dramatic? Perhaps. But honest. Dealing with this pain is a process.  Healing from this pain is a process. And continuing to trust in God’s plan for my life is a process.

I don’t have the answers, and to pretend that after two years of dealing with this pain that I magically somehow knew how to pray the pain away would be a lie. I stumble, fall down, and get up again constantly. I lose sight of God’s promises for me. I let the fear overtake me. I let the hurt cloud the love of a God who is continually showering me with blessings I do not deserve. God never promised me easy, but he promised he’d be there every step of the way…even through the pain.

Psalm 34:18 “The Lord is near to the broken hearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”

Our first date was August 13…nine years ago today. I had been living in New York City for about 7 months. I was waiting tables, still learning my way around the city, and most days feeling scared to death. He took me to a restaurant close to my apartment and I remember being impressed because he asked me what appetizer I wanted to try. An appetizer? I was living off of bread and peanut butter, so the extravagance alone was almost too much to handle. It was a good date.  We talked and laughed. He was respectful and kind. And God was there.

The night I found out he was having an affair I called my mother, who called my sister, who called my best friend to come and get me out of my apartment. I wasn’t hysterical by any means, I was oddly calm. I remember my heart hurt and I didn’t actually know until that moment that a heart could hurt. My best friend, Cheyenne, came straight to my apartment (and if you know the NYC subway system, then you know she is a saint) and she helped me pack a bag and she took me to her apartment. And God was there.

I won’t go into my ex-husband’s actions and words from that night because I’m just not ready to talk/write about them. It’s still too hard. Maybe someday it won’t be, or maybe someday it won’t matter…either way, it’s not a good memory, but it’s shaped a lot of who I am…And God was there.

What I’ve realized in thinking about the last nine years of my life, is that God was always there.  The good, the bad, and the very ugly. No, he didn’t stop the affair from happening.  He didn’t make the first date go poorly so I wouldn’t go out with my ex-husband again and thus never marry him. He didn’t even save my marriage…and I thought he would. But he never left my side.

We all have the opportunity to make a thousand decisions every day.  God gave us that gift.  He isn’t a master puppeteer up in the heavens pulling our strings, He is a loving God who is rooting for us to choose goodness and mercy and kindness and joy and compassion.  And sometimes we fail. Often we fail. My ex-husband failed. And some days my heart still hurts. But some days it doesn’t.  And God is still here…he is always here.

Psalm 139: 7-10 “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.”

September 8, 2013 is the day that changed my life. I suppose, looking back, that wasn’t the exact day that my marriage fell apart, but it was the day I found out my marriage was in big trouble. In telling this story I don’t want to sound like a scorned wife or a victim.  I don’t want to make my ex-husband out to be the “bad guy” because that seems petty and I hope I’m past that…but I do have to be honest, so therefore, he isn’t going to come off looking so great. But you can’t change the past, so it is what it is.

People always ask me if there were signs leading up to this day.  The short answer is, yes, but I didn’t really see them as signs at the time. For a few months leading up to this day my ex-husband had started drinking much more than usual and way more often. He would stay out late at bars.  We weren’t spending as much quality time together and had stopped talking about our plans for the future. Yes, this concerned me, but our first year of marriage had gone so smoothly I naively thought this was just a rough patch.

I don’t know how important the details are to the telling of the story.  I remember it was a Sunday.  I remember going to church alone, which by this time was the norm.  I remember going to TJ Maxx with my friend, Cheyenne and discussing the concerns I had about my ex-husband’s current behavior. I remember calling my father. I remember it was beginning to feel like fall in New York.  Then I remember the waiting. He had gone downtown to watch Football with friends. I wasn’t invited to go, which was odd because that was something we would usually do together. He wasn’t answering the texts I sent him and I began to worry.

He came home late and drunk. Very drunk. This was also beginning to be the norm. I made him a frozen pizza and had him drink lots of water before I tried to put him to bed. He was very concerned about his phone. I plugged it in for him, and he kept getting out of bed to check on it and text someone. Odd, right? Finally I was able to get him to sleep…and then this nagging voice inside me told me to check his phone.  Let me be clear, in the 6 years we had dated and one and a half years that we had been married I had NEVER checked his phone.  NEVER. But the voice wouldn’t leave me alone, so I checked it. I saw the text messages and it hit me like a ton of bricks.  My husband was having an affair.  My world, as I knew it, ended right then and there. And this is where my story begins.

Joshua 1:9 “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”

In thinking about writing this blog I knew that eventually I would have to tell “my story.” The story of how my marriage crumbled, how I couldn’t save it, and how it ended in divorce. Downright depressing, huh? It’s a difficult story to tell, but I think it’s about time I sat down and really processed the whole thing.  It’s not a story with an ending, because I’m still evolving and healing and learning what’s next for my life.  It’s also not a story with a clear through line, because I’m sure while I tell it I will go off in many difference directions, depending on where and how God is leading me.

Which leads me to tonight’s blog post.  Before I begin “my story”, which has many rough spots and hard edges and ugly sides, I want you to know that I am blessed…and more importantly, that I know I am blessed. In fact, I am blessed abundantly. Through this story you will read about the hardest nights of my life, but you will also read about blessings I couldn’t have imagined.  You will read about people who have shown me grace.  You will read about opportunities God has shoved in my path.  You will read about my heart, which has only grown through this experience.

Blessings are such an interesting phenomenon.  Sometimes you see them coming a mile away and other times it takes you weeks before you are able to look back and see that God blessed you more than you knew. Today I was blessed by a friend who believes in me and sent me a book to help me grow spiritually. Another friend messaged me to remind me that she is thinking about me. I work with my best friend every day, who loves me more than I deserve. I also have the best dog in the world. Multiple Blessings.

This is simply a reminder for you and for myself…as we go on this journey together, you will hear about the bad times, but you will also hear about the blessings.  And the blessings are the heart of “my story.”

John 1:16 “From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another.”