No Good Options

Over the last decade or so of hellish trials, I've come to be very upfront with God. He can take it, and somehow allowing myself the luxury of unfiltered words and thoughts helps me to feel more open to moving past them when He asks that of me. 

The night before I was to leave for The Togetherness Project in Midvale, Utah, I sat in the temple and prayed. 

J's nowhere near entering real recovery, I told God. And I know I don't have the reserves to go through this any longer. 

I need an increased capacity for pain if I'm to continue with this marriage. 

I pictured us separated for years, struggling just to approach a level of trust and safety that would allow us to start having a genuine relationship again. The enormity of that journey left me feeling daunted and discouraged. 

But I know what recovery looks like, I told God, thinking of the 6 Behaviors I had listed. I'll know real recovery when I see it. 

And then it hit me. 

I did know what real recovery looked like.

It looked like a man laying in bed with his frightened, weeping wife; taking her in his arms, looking her in the eye, and saying "I have been prompted by the spirit to tell you that there is nothing going on...."

I felt a chill run through me as my stomach became lead. Yes, I'd seen what recover looked like, and it had all been a lie. 

God, I don't know how to come back from that! I said, despairing. 

I will never be able to trust him again! I will never be able to feel safe with him again! 

Am I wrong? 

I began to weep, overcome. I felt trapped between two hopeless-sounding scenarios. 

In one, I stayed with a man whom I would never be able to be vulnerable with. I would have to shore up my heart and drop any remaining expectation I had of what a marriage actually was. Our lives would be like our trip to Europe-- traveling our own paths to our own destinations in our own ways. Married in name only. 

In the other, I divorced. I would have the comfort of unequivocal boundaries. J would no longer hold claim over me or my body. But our children, who up to this point remained relatively unscathed by our dismal union, would be plunged headfirst into the stormy seas of change. I agonized that I would be sacrificing their security for my own. 

Is there a third option? I pleaded, Is there a miracle waiting around the corner that could somehow heal all of this? 

In reply, I felt peace settle over my shoulders and the words, "Follow the Lord and all else will either fall into place or drop out of your life" whispered in my heart. I recognized the phrase from my patriarchal blessing, and resolved to read it again. 

I sniffed, dried my tears and went home to pack. 

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