Surrender

I am a 24-year-old divorcée.

As a Christian woman, divorce was never on the table for me. Never in my life did I ever think I would be divorced. I thought that if my marriage ended, it would be death that made us part. I planned and prepared for death - death from old age, from military action, from unexpected sickness. Never did I think to prepare my heart for divorce.

I was faithfully committed to loving my husband for my whole life. I made vows to God and my husband in front of all of my family and friends. I promised to hold up my end of the deal. And I upheld those vows.

The man I married, tragically, did not.

The man I married revealed on our one year marriage anniversary that he had been concealing a serious addiction to pornography for the entirety of our relationship. Through that, I fought.

The man I married lied continuously, hid constantly, and attempted to cover up his tracks. Through that, I fought.   

The man I married refused to seek or receive help for his sexual sins and struggles. Through that, I fought.

The man I married repeatedly and unapologetically took sex from me that I did not consent to or want. Even through that, I fought.

The man I married sought out another relationship with another woman, becoming emotionally and sexually intimate with her. With that, I surrendered.

The man I married chose himself over me. He chose his own will and fulfilled his own sexual desires. He chose himself. He also chose someone else. He hurt me over and over and over and over and over again without making any significant efforts to repent or change. For two years, I fought tirelessly for change, for love, and for my marriage. But all of my efforts to save my own marriage were fruitless. The fighting was one-sided. The fighting was met with complacency, denial, and anger.

So I filed for divorce.

I filed for divorce from a man who destroyed me with his addiction, abuse, and adultery. I filed for divorce from a good man who is deeply confused and entrenched in his own sin. I filed for divorce and I sought healing.

I know God hates divorce. (So do I, for the record.) But I also know God hates addiction, abuse, and adultery. I trust God loves me more than the institution of marriage. I believe He gave me the grace to seek freedom from a relationship that was literally, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually killing me.

I know (for the most part) that I do not need to defend my own actions. I know I don’t need to justify myself and I know I do not owe anyone an explanation for why I chose to divorce this man.

But for the sake of honesty, openness, and transparency - I would like to begin a dialogue. Just like I did with the “Me, Too” post, I would like to open up and create a conversation for any others walking through a similar season. I also want to tell my side of the story and have control over my own narrative. This summer held for me the single most difficult and most tragic season of my entire life. I have been battling so many feelings of hurt, of loss, or brokenness, of shame. I know I am not alone in that.

So if you feel like I have felt, I want you to know you are loved. If you trudging through tragedy, I am right there with you. If you need any prayer or encouragement, please reach out. And if I can request one thing from you all, please have grace with me. I am navigating this as best as I can. There is no guidebook to divorce. It is messy and controversial and painful and sad. It is not what I wanted for my life or love or marriage.

But it happened. Half a year has passed since I came back home. It's real and it is a part of me now. Divorce is a part of my story. And I do not want to be kept silent (especially by my fear of the opinions of Christians) about something that affects so many of us in so many ways. 

I am devastated. But today I feel strong. 

A note - I know many of you reading this may know my ex-husband personally. Please know my heart is free from any hate or malice toward him. My writing this is not to attack him in any way, but to process through my own story, my own experiences, and my own pain. Again, any grace you can extend to me would be much appreciated.

Me, Too.

I don’t want to talk about the time I was five years old and on a Kindergarten field trip, a boy kissed me against my will and threatened to kill me with his karate if I told the teacher.

I don’t want to look back on the numerous times that as a child, I would walk the short distance from my house to the park, and a car would slow down and drive beside me as I walked. A man with a scary voice and a twisted up face would always roll the window down and say things like, “hey baby, where you going?” or “you’re beautiful, you know that?”.

I don’t want to think about the first time (of many) that someone grabbed my butt in the seventh grade hallway. I don’t want to remember turning around, embarrassed and shocked, to see him high-fiving his friends who were sneering and giggling and mocking me.

I don’t want to flash back to the time in ninth grade when I was wearing my “flyaway” cheer skirt, and I caught my history teacher licking his lips at me. I don’t want to recall his big wink and the chuckle he let out when I made eye contact with him.

I don’t want to talk about Halloween my sophomore year, when the boy I loved locked me in his house, pinned me down on his couch and tried to force himself on me. I don’t want to remember having to physically shove him off of me and onto the floor. I don’t want to hear his angry voice calling me “bitch” ringing in my head.

I don’t want to remember when I was fourteen and a boy I didn't like forcibly kissed me when I was laying down on my couch. Or when I was fifteen and another boy forcibly kissed me by grabbing the back of my head and pulling it towards him, sitting in his fancy SUV that was running in my driveway. Or when I was sixteen and another boy grabbed me and forcibly kissed me in front of my English class.

I don’t want to think back on the time I was in college and was filled with so much anxiety and fear after all of these years of sexual mistreatment, harassment, and assault, that when the boy I wanted to marry overstepped the physical and sexual boundaries I was comfortable with, I tailspun into a wild episode of depression and anxiety, unable to properly function for months.

I don’t want to admit that the man I did end up marrying used his addiction to pornography as an excuse to abuse me sexually, to molest me, to attack me in my sleep, and to rape me. Not only that, but when I wasn’t enough for him, when I couldn’t fill his sexual desires, he entered into another sexual relationship with another woman, hurting me even further.

I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to remember it. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want every bad touch or scary feeling or creepy stare or gross word or sick smile to be seared into my memory. I don’t want to carry this brokenness with me. Because I don't want any of this to have happened. 

But it did. It happened. 

So I do want to talk about it... because I want to share my experiences. I want control of my own narrative. I want the boys who have hurt me to be held accountable. I want others to know they are not alone in their hurt. I want to be a part of opening the dialogue so that this sin has nowhere to hide. I want to remove all shame, all guilt, all embarrassment from every survivor of this kind of sexual torture.

Of course, I also want to be heard and believed. Ultimately, however, I know that not everyone will hear or believe me. Thankfully, though, I know I have a heavenly Father who hears my pleas, mends my broken heart, knows my testimony, and is restoring my soul. He is my hope and my salvation. He is my strength. He is my joy. He is the only reason I am alive and have not taken my own life, despite my flesh’s constant longing to be torn apart.

If you have a story like mine, please know I love you. Please know I want to talk to you and empathize with you. Please know I believe you. And please know that there is an abundance of life and joy and grace and healing and freedom that is found in my Savior.

Before we start, would you mind watching this video for me? It's what got me thinking about feminism this week.

Feminism is a confusing topic. Maybe it shouldn't be, but it is. It has a strong connotation, that word. Often times, it carries a negative connotation. (Perhaps it's similar to the word "Christian" - a lot of people have a lot of negative feelings when they hear that word because a lot of people have said and done a lot of ignorant things in the name of Christianity.)

To be completely and totally honest, when I hear "feminist" I sometimes think that means "man-hater." Or I think of someone who denounces or looks down upon those who believe in "traditional family constructs". I think women growing their armpit hair out, tweeting about tampons being oppressive, and calling Father's Day a celebration of male dominance and patriarchal society. Go do a Google image search of "feminism" and you'll see what stereotypes I'm referring to.

At the same time, a part of me thinks about the times I haven't been taken seriously at work because of my strong sense of empathy towards my co-workers. I think about the many female stereotypes in the media, portraying women mostly as "crazy," "over-dramatic," and "psychotic". I think of my least favorite line in The Office that makes me cringe every time I hear it, when Todd Packer tells Michael to "hike up [his] skirt and pull out [his] tampon, borrow some balls, and come meet [him]!" I think about the over-sexualization of women in our society. I think about rape culture and the things I do to protect myself from sexual harassment every day. I think about women being misrepresented in leadership positions. I think about statistically proven economic inequality in the workplace. 

I'm not the only one that struggles with this word. Just last week on Huffington Post, an article was posted on Emma Watson's use of the word "feminism" in a speech she recently gave. She was quoted as saying, "I was encouraged not to use the word 'feminism' because people felt that it was alienating and separating and the whole idea of the speech was to include as many people as possible... But I thought long and hard and ultimately felt that it was just the right thing to do. If women are terrified to use the word, how on earth are men supposed to start using it?"

Feminism is defined as "the advocacy of women's rights on the grounds of political, social, and economic equality to men." And the simple truth is, I'm a feminist. And I'm a Christian. And I'm a homemaker. And I'm thankful I live in a day and age where I can challenge norms, speak my mind, seek out truth, and post publicly on my own platform.

I think this word "feminism" needs to be redeemed. What about you? What do you think?