10 years ago today, my husband Chris and I, stood before a judge and were granted a divorce. I stood like a strong tower before him, but in the darkness of a parking deck, I collapsed into a fit of sobs in my best friend’s arms and cried out to anyone listening: “Why?”
After adopting his son, bringing our love to life in two children and staring down my husband’s demons, this finality was incomprehensible.
Everything that happened after that was a nightmare my children and I stumbled through with faith and the support, love and prayers of our friends and family. There was A LOT of friction and unimaginable amounts of pain.
The players changed through the years but the game of broken promises and relationships remained the same. Every fall, in October, around our anniversary, I lost myself, my faith … my mind.
Last year as it happened I found myself at rock bottom, right back where I had started and dug deeper than I ever had before into myself, literally. The recovery from that place brought about acceptance and forgiveness of any and everything that was ever formed against me.
I found my way to an open and affirming tribe.
I found myself.
This past October, Chris would also find his rock bottom, the inevitable destination at the end of a very long road of self-destruction. When I received word, I fell on my face and made a fervent plea: PLEASE TAKE CHRIS HOME, let him find a peace that passes all understanding and finally remember himself.
Less than a month later, a familiar voice found me by phone, followed closely by tears, words left unsaid and an absolution I thought would never come.
In December we experienced, what our children proclaimed, a Christmas miracle, together.
I watched my children’s resilience shine. I marveled at the blessings of collateral BEAUTY.