In my own life and here on the internet I’m pretty transparent.
I don’t believe in pretending things are perfect, and my life is anything but.
God routinely takes me to my knees, and this is no different. I’ve wanted to leave my marriage for quite some time, to the point where I think I’ve pushed Mike to believe maybe walking away isn’t such a bad idea after all.
I gave up hope in us, and I’ve learned in the process that’s not where it should’ve been. Like me, Mike is also imperfect. We are two imperfect people holding the other to unattainable standards, keeping records of wrongdoing, and sabotaging any effort from the other person because we’re so fucking pissed.
Mike will always let me down if my standards are for him to meet my needs, wants, and desires without me telling him what they are – because it doesn’t count if I spell it out, right?
Wrong. He doesn’t know how to care for me, because I won’t tell him. I keep mental note – if he loves me, he’ll know I want dinner on the table before I get home. But not like that. If he really loves me, he’ll know I’ll want the laundry washed. Why did you dry my gray shirt?!
A thousand different scenarios. Repeat.
I’ve been holding his wrongdoings – and there have been some big ones recently – near to me. Squeezing them in my fists until my knuckles turn white. Angrily reminding him how furious I am, to the point he avoids me and doesn’t want to talk at all.
Am I hurting him with my indignance? Perhaps, but I am also harming our relationship. And I’m the one carrying the weight of my anger, not him.
Go, Erin. You sure are showing him.
I told you in my last post God has been calling me back to Him, and that still rings true.
He’s also calling me to let go. To let go of my book of All the things Mike has done wrong, even the ones he doesn’t know about because I refuse to communicate my needs because I’ll be mad if he doesn’t meet them so I’ll be mad that he doesn’t know what they are.
I don’t know if Mike and I will come out on top. I don’t know how this will end.
But I know in order for my heart to heal, I need to forgive him.
I need to give him a clean slate, because God gives me one every single day.
I need to support him and his dreams because if his own spouse can’t do that, who will? What kind of man am I encouraging him to be by belittling him with his own failures? I’m breaking him down, not building him up.
We went to a marriage retreat shortly after Mike volunteered for this upcoming deployment. It was that moment I wanted a divorce. I went, hesitantly, silently fuming.
I tried to listen, tried to learn how to love this man who cut me to my core. It just made me bleed more.
The pastor spoke, ironically enough, of forgiving your spouse. Like all of the different ways God loves, we forgive differently.
Why are God’s messages so absolutely in tune with our current situation?
He called us to forgive our spouse in a way that seemed impossible to me. The way he explained it, forgiving your spouse is also promising to never hold it against them again and to never speak of it again.
Im sorry, what?
How is he supposed to know how angry I am if I don’t bring it up all the damn time?
Asinine. I’d rather carry around the suitcase full of hatred.
On the last day, we apologized to each other. We apologized for not being the spouse the other person needs, for not appreciating them, for not being the lover the other so desperately craves. For not supporting their hopes and dreams. For not loving them.
We asked the other person for support, patience and prayers to become the spouse God expects us to be.
Heavy stuff.
Mike, I’m sorry, and I was wrong. I forgive you – and like Gungor says, I promise, even though it is incredibly hard for me to let go of, I won’t bring it up again. I forgive you because I’m tired of carrying our pain. I forgive you because Jesus forgave me. I forgive you because I want us to be whole again.
We are imperfect, but God’s perfection and grace can cover us and heal us.
I will be your greatest supporter.
I will believe in you.
I will appreciate you.
I will love you.
Always.