Loss, grief and bad decisions (Part 2)...

***This post has probably been the most difficult one to write so far. Not because of something traumatic that happened, but because I made a very life-altering decision that I regretted for years. Even to this day I don't share this specific part of my life with people. Anyone who came into my life after the fact probably isn't even aware because I never mention it, but God told me that I'm to tell my "whole" story and that means no holding back. So let me preface this post with the following statement: I am not proud of some of the decisions I have made in my life, especially the ones I made knowing that they would take me down the wrong path. BUT I know that God can and will redeem it all! He is the author and the finisher of my life, He knew what I was going to do before I even did it and He has been so forgiving and merciful to me. He can take our mess of a life and create a beautiful story that will bring healing and minister to others. I am in awe and so humbled by the forgiveness and redemption that has been extended to me!***

Loss, grief and bad decisions (Part 2)...

When my youth pastor died on January 15 2000, I was 19, living at home and my relationship with my mother was completely in the dumps. A few months prior, she did something that totally betrayed my privacy and my trust, so all I wanted at that point in my life was to not be living at home any longer. Most of the issues I was facing at church were a direct result of my moms betrayal, so I really felt like I had no where safe to turn to, no one I could trust, no one I could even talk to. When Bryan died, I was completely devastated and riddled with guilt that created a snowball effect in my life. Feeling alone, hurt and angry, I made the decision to move out of my house as soon as possible. I found a full time job that paid enough for me to support myself, I found an apartment and a roommate. I felt like I was finally an adult with the ability to make my own choices...I had "freedom" and I was thrilled to be on my own.

At this new job of mine is where I met a guy who I would very quickly jump into a relationship with, move him in with me, and get married to before I even knew him for 3 months. We got married at a quickie wedding chapel in Vista and I couldn't even look into his eyes as I said my vows...I knew that it was a mistake, but I did it anyway. Fast forward one tumultuous year later and we were on the brink of divorce. I found out that he had an addiction to pornography on top of some other drug related issues that I was aware of from the beginning, but thought that it was all behind him. The final straw was when my aunt had her baby and he was upset that I was spending time with my family and that I had started going back to church with them. He gave me an ultimatum; him or God. I chose God, moved out and filed for divorce. I'm a person that really aims to "live with no regrets" because I feel that every choice we make, good and bad, always has a lesson interwoven within. However, this is probably one of the few decisions that I look back upon with regret. It was a choice made out of blatant rebellion, but I do hope that others who have made similar choices will look at me and feel like they aren't standing alone in the "I majorly screwed up" line! We can all look at one another with feelings of compassion and understanding, instead of judgment, because we've all made mistakes and not one of us is any better or any worse than the other. Thank you Jesus for grace and mercy, forgiveness, and above all else, His unconditional love!

Being back at my church after going through such a low period in my life was a bittersweet feeling; on one hand it was great to feel connected to God again, but I also felt like a black sheep that was being judged every time I walked in the door. I doubt that was the case, but nevertheless those feelings were still there in full affect. I made the choice to push through and keep going because I knew I needed to be there, I needed to commune with God and community, I needed to be fed and healed and set free because feelings of shame took root deep in my heart and I truly felt like such a failure. 

The following year I was in a much better place. I finally felt like I had my footing again and my friendships were slowly being restored. We were having a BBQ one Saturday for some friends of ours visiting from Alabama and we had invited a young man who had recently began attending our church, he was a Marine stationed at Camp Pendleton. Well he invited some of his friends and before we knew it, "the Marines had landed" and quickly became a part of our lives. We all enjoyed getting to know these young men; most of them being from the South, they had huge hearts, big appetites and manners that us Californians were not accustomed to. Friendships blossomed quickly and some even turned into romantic relationships. 

I had been divorced for a little over a year when I fell head over heals for one of our Marines. Him and I began dating 4 months after we all met and things were going really well for us. I flew home with him to meet his family over Christmas before he was set to leave on deployment. His family was amazing and we stayed in touch during the deployment, I even planned a surprise visit to go see his mom. The boys returned home from Iraq in July and 2 months later my boyfriend and I were engaged. We began planning our wedding for the following Spring, but quickly found out that another deployment was scheduled and it just so happened that our wedding date fell a few weeks prior to them leaving again. For anyone familiar with the military, you know that they have pretty intense and demanding work ups (training) leading up to their departure, so our initial wedding plans were scrapped. We decided to get married the day of the Marine Corps Ball since we knew we would both have the weekend off, so I planned a small wedding in 2 weeks time! It wasn't exactly how I pictured our wedding would be, but it was perfect! Three and a half months later my hubby was headed back to Iraq for almost 8 months.

This second deployment was extremely stressful and they endured some pretty horrific battles. We lost several of our men during their time in Fallujah, one of them being a very close friend. On July 1, the day I was flying out to stay with my husbands family for a month (his little sister had just delivered twins the same day), I got a call stating that my husband had been injured and might be transported to a hospital in Germany. I was in shock and didn't even have the capacity to process the news I had just received. I got off the phone and immediately called the hospital where his sister was having her babies to let his family know. By the time I got to the airport to head East, I found out that his injuries weren't nearly as bad as I was initially told and that he was going to be ok. I spent the next month with his family, helped out with the babies, and came back home with a new appreciation for dry heat!

Our marriage was pretty good, we bickered a lot, but rarely argued; I can only recall having maybe 3 or 4 serious arguments. We struggled a lot financially and had typical disagreements, but for the most part, things were never bad. The last few months of our marriage, we didn't really see each other a lot...we were working opposite schedules and really struggling to make ends meat. One day I called him about a financial issue and he responded by telling me he wasn't coming home for a week and to not contact him. I knew in my gut that this was him giving up on our marriage, but in my heart, I was hoping he would come back home and make things right. A week passed by and he came home, but only long enough to tell me that he had been dealing with PTSD pretty badly for the past 3 years and that he just didn't love me the way I deserved to be loved. I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me and was completely blindsided with everything he had to say. He moved out that night and life as I knew it began crumbling beneath my feet.

27. Twice divorced. Alone. Unloved. Unwanted.


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