Oh, I am very weary, Though tears no longer flow; My eyes are tired of weeping, My heart is sick of woe. – Anne Bronte
I believe in love because the greatest love ever shown was the love God has given me. The love of my family and friends. Love is a good thing. But, what happens when that love doesn’t last? What happens when you can no longer make it work?
You keep loving. I’ve shared my story. Girl meets boy. Girl falls in love with boy who made her laugh. Girl and boy marry and have a child. Girl and boy forget how to love. Girl wants a divorce. It wasn’t an easy decision. I agonized over it for a long time. I wanted to make my marriage work and try to fix it. I couldn’t.
What followed was months of tears, pain and depression. I literally became a walking zombie. Sifting through the pieces of my life trying to find something to hold on to. There were many days that I couldn’t hold on. I didn’t. Those days were particularly rough for me. I wore a mask.
I would try to mask the pain that I was going through with make-up. Some believed I was fine, but my true friends knew that I was hurting. Not everyone knew or understood the depth of my pain. They thought I was good because I didn’t call them screaming and asking for help.
Many days I would just walk around the house in emotional turmoil and wonder how did I end up here? I would literally lose my balance and fall to the floor and cry out, “Why God is this happening to me? Please stop the pain. I can’t take anymore.” It was silent. God never responded.
My munch had just turned 5. He became the man of the house. I wasn’t the woman of the house. I became the child. I was in pain that hurt so bad it was foreign. I felt like I couldn’t go on and my body just gave way.
Munch would run and scream, “Mommy, are you okay? Mommy, please don’t cry. Mommy, I will protect you.” I would be silent. Tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t respond. I felt as though my world had crumbled and God had forsaken me.
It took a year before things started to make sense again. Before the haze cleared and I started to find something that resembled my life being molded and redefining my purpose. I became stronger. I became happier. I became less bitter. I became new again. I had to learn to love my new normal.
The tears stopped. The pain got bearable and doesn’t exist anymore. The scars have healed. I realized that God heard me. I just needed to trust his plan and clear the noise.
I smile a lot now. I laugh a lot too. I have a lot of people that believe and support me in so many ways. I rediscovered my faith and redirected my energy into my writing. I found an outlet in which to express myself. I accepted that I am utterly flawed and I’m actually okay with it.
I still believe in love. I know that no one is perfect. I’m not looking for perfection. I’m looking for someone who will love me senseless. Who will walk through the door and see me and know that his life is better because I’m in it. Someone who will see my attempts at cooking and enjoy the meal I prepared because it was made with love.
Someone who will love my munch just as much as they do me. Teach him how to ride his bike. To tie his tennis shoes. To work on a science project or how to catch a football. But, if he should never come into my life…I know without a shadow of a doubt that I will be okay. How?
Because it is always darkest before dawn.