The Rundown, Part 3

I can remember sitting in a group therapy session and realizing with an odd kind of certainty that I wasn't co-dependent; I was sad.

I had reason to be sad. Aside from wrestling with clinical depression for years, I genuinly mourned the loss of the marriage I'd envisioned for myself. I no longer expected him to 'complete' me, and I {miraculously!} no longer saw his addiction as a commentary on my desirability; but nevertheless, I longed to have a partner. Someone I could express my feelings to, lean on, and trust to help buffer me from life's storms.

With time, experience, and therapy, I came to understand that while J now claimed to be sober, he was not yet capable of handling his own feelings, let alone mine. My emotions seemed to repulse him. He'd become angry and isolated, waiting for me to 'get over it'. I felt like he really only wanted me around when he was sure there was something in it for him. I understood why, but it was still painful to come to grips with.

Once I started Zoloft and the depression began to lift, I found an amazing thirst for life begin to bubble up. Interests I'd thought died off long ago surfaced once more. I felt far less dependent on J, less lonely, and finally felt that I didn't have to wait around for him before enthusiastically pursuing my own happiness.

I consiously decided to let go.

I stopped monitoring him-- no reading journals, playing 20 questions, searching his internet history, or driving past strip clubs to see if his car was there. It was making me crazy, and I trusted God to prompt me if there was something I really needed to know.

I also made a decision to view our marriage differently. As long as God was telling me to "wait", I was going to believe that He wanted me to wait joyfully. That must mean that I could have joy regardless of J's actions. If marriage was a triangle, then I really only needed to turn to the Lord for the emotional intimacy I was craving. I tried to see marriage as an opportunity to rely on Him rather than my husband.

They were baby steps, but they led me to the richest, most happy and fulfilling period of my life. Seriously, it was like walking around with a choir of angels singing. :) Which explains how I was able to actually want to get pregnant again, despite the year of hell that had followed the birth of my son.

Pregnancy was hard once again, but faith promoting in so many ways. I was able to prayerfully go off medication for 9 months. I started a blog, becoming very vocal about depression and dispelling the shame surrounding it. I reached out for help, slowly attempting to surrender my perfectionist pride. When our second son was born, his happy spirit was like a healing balm to my soul! He would look up at me with his big, blue eyes and I would think, "My joy could fill this room."

He had reflux as well, and I suffered postpartum depression once again, but this time I felt prepared. I was proactive about getting help for both of us, and was able to quickly recover. I even ran a marathon before the baby turned 1!

I began having long talks with my dad about how to recognize the spirit and receive daily answers to prayer. I spent a whole year practicing the act of turning my heart to God and doing what he asked of me. Later, when J lost his job and the Great Recession commenced, I realized that we'd paid off all our debts, built up a savings, and had a year's worth of food storage in our pantry-- all thanks to to following seemingly small and insignificant daily promptings. I felt humbled and overwhelmed with gratitude.

J fell back on being self-employed. Money was scarce and unpredictable, which brought up for me all kinds of childhood fears about lack of stability. But over and over, I saw that as I turned to Heavenly Father, I could find peace.

We managed to stretch one year of savings into three years of self-employment before depleting everything and maxing out our credit cards. By Christmas of 2011, we had 4 children and were in danger of losing the house. Though it made no logical sense, every time I turned to God with my concerns, I felt like "everything will be fine." Of course, God's version of "fine" doesn't always match up with my version of "fine," but once again, I chose to trust him.

I cry when I think of that month. We only ate because people gave us food. We only had presents because people-- strangers we still don't have names for to this day-- sent them to us. It was a George Bailey christmas, and a testimony to me that God loves me and gives me far more than I deserve.

For me, it was the culmination of the most beautiful and spiritual years I'd ever had, but for J, it was the tail end of his decent into the longest bout of addiction he'd ever indulged in..... and it was all about to crash down around him.

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