today in one crazy moment and one big signature, it ended 8 years of marriage, after 8 months of purgatory, and I just turned 28 this month, the 8th one of the year. 8 is my lucky number... but I still feel like it is. It was actually a small sign to me that even though things seem rough, they are still going my way. Court was hard but I had anticipated that it would be. Things there will eventually work themselves out, eventually even this  to will end so I try and not worry too much about what is out of my control for now. The worst part was hearing him tell me that I had chosen to do this to him, accusing me of quitting on him. I didn't expect an apology, I didn't expect an acknowledgment of the efforts I had put into our relationship, nor did I really expect any grace or humility from him. He wasn't raised that way, if you left a weak spot open they were the first in line to take the sucker punch, so I always have my defenses up but I still didn't expect to be so utterly destroyed when I was called a quitter. No one says divorce is a one way street, you go in as a pair and regardless of how much you rip each other to shreds or place blame on the other person, you still go out as a pair. Each with your own set of responsibilities and mistakes, mine is a list a couple of pages long. They are things I worry about during the monotony of a run, downfalls that are magnified when I struggle with my kids, and they are first problems I pray for help with each night and day. They are my mistakes and regrets and mine alone and in some way they have all affected where I ended up at today. Nobody is perfect and if anyone implies they are then they are only fooling themselves. But it hurt to have all the effort, all the work, and all sacrifice I had put into our life together dismissed like I just woke up one day and decided to throw in the towel. And it didn't hurt because it was a jab at me. I know what I put into this, I know the true nature of our marriage and I am comfortable with where that stood; but it hurt because I truly wanted to love him through it all and I just couldn't. He was the one who I picked, who I wanted to be my other half through everything. He put me through hell and I probably surprised him every time I clawed my way through and we ended up on the other side together. That probably made him more mad, but I thought what we had was worth it so I tried and then tried again. I thought he was worth it and I figured some time it would even out, the pain and the pleasure would eventually reconcile and it would all be worth it. Nothing great ever came without hard work, I knew that and I didn't mind rough patches once in a while. But the good times got farther and farther apart and the bad times got more and more explosive. I knew for awhile it was just time running out from under us and eventually it would all collapse beneath the weight. I told him this many times in the months before that terrible day in January. One time I yelled it in anger, one time I told him through tears as I tried to get in my car and leave, and another time I stood in front of the mirror and told him as calmly as if I was reciting the weather that I knew our marriage was not going to survive much longer. I still remember my face, solemn but determined, as he pushed past me and went about what he was doing like I had said nothing. There was no relationship at that time, we were barely speaking to one another, important conversations went unsaid, stories with nobody to share them with and routines that did not involve one another. He spent all his free time with the cross country teenagers he worked with or the girls he trained at the gym and I didn't care to share what we did as a family without him because it no longer mattered. We were two wheels spinning in different directions and even if I had wanted to, you can't force someone to be present in a relationship. He had checked out and I had found I didn't need him anymore. I spent so much time thinking about everything that would be lost in the splitting of a marriage, and had I known how truly horrible it is to have my children away from me I don't know if I could have done it again. It is the worst experience he has ever put me through and truly it may be the only thing I can't forgive him for. I had worked so hard to show him how I loved him, how much I wanted him, and how much I would do in order to stay with him but it could never be enough, it wasn't in the way he needed me to and we just couldn't seem to get it right. So on that night after the most horrible day I've ever experienced, I prayed. All alone, kneeling by my couch and I begged that I could let go. I needed to get out from this horrible cycle of lies and abuse and addictions and unhappiness, it had simply become too much for me to bear anymore. I prayed for a release because I knew if I was told to stay in this marriage like I had been the times before, then I would stay. My marriage and the covenants I made with them were the most important thing I had, if there was any chance we could salvage this then I was there, but in that weak moment of begging for a reprieve from all of the life draining, soul-sucking big ol' mess we called a marriage and I knew in that moment it was okay. It was time to move on, my life wasn't meant to be one of unhappiness, and there would be peace even in the turmoil that was sure to come. I knew I had done everything possible to get that answer and feel so comfortable with it. So quitter doesn't feel quite appropriate to me. I may have made the choice but the marriage was thrown away long ago. Marriage is not a ceremony that you perform once and then choose to live in any self-serving way you choose. Marriage is a living relationship, a choice you make each day to love someone else, it is a bond that requires constant attention, work and sacrifice. And ours just didn't exist anymore. So I may have made the first traceable step out but was it truly just giving up or the only way to finally give in to what had been crumbling for a much longer time? Quitting implies a certain amount of power over someone, it says that you are in control while the other party is not. Perpetrator and victim, of which I am neither. My decisions are thoughtful, deliberate, excruciatingly painful and continue to reap consequences that I don't feel strong enough to handle. Choosing to quit would have meant things are now easier than sticking it out would have been. Quitting is cowardly, and I am not a coward. There is strength in the making of a decision that is backed by the true peace that comes from only one place. He is a source that doesn't ask for fault, He does not want to place blame or take sides. He only wants us to be happy and He has promised that if we only follow Him we will be given that. He didn't tell me to quit, He only promised if you fall I will pick you back up."Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
Quitting is an easy solution to avoid temporary pain and discomfort but to imply that someone can quit a marriage would mean that I could step out of this and be done. Marriage isn't the be all end, all in our journey, it is not our final destination. We are creatures of eternal progression, and denying that is denying our divine nature. We were given families and marriages as a tool to ease our journey and give us greater meaning in our purpose and I knew that once mine began to take me down a path I was unwilling to follow it was okay for me to take another way. The journey is not over, the struggles haven't ceased and I am not happy about many of the things I now have to deal with, but ultimately my life continues, because that is what is meant to be. The joy comes in the refining of our trials here, not in removing ourselves from them. I didn't quit because that is not allowed, but my weariness has been removed and I am seeing the affects of an all knowing God who can use our setbacks to bring us closer to Him, He won't let me quit but He will help me along the way. I found strength in knowing that life didn't have to be lived in fear, and unhappiness. My burden is now lighter and my happiness is greater than what I would have ever thought possible. 28 will be great, for I have now learned to live in peace, even in the storm.