broken crayons

IMG_5103Life has been eventful.

I finished the Divorce Care program. It really was huge in helping me to deal with the difficult issues of divorce and begin to move forward. I also made a couple of valuable friends that I can connect with over the pain and healing. It helped me to turn more toward Jesus for comfort. It has been very, very good.

I’ve also re-engaged with my “man friend” and things feel different this time around. I really don’t know what happened, but he seems more connected and engaged emotionally. Although I was apprehensive about trusting him, I decided to “jump in” with both feet and see what happened. It has been good. But of course there are challenges, which I’ll get to another day.

I’ve worked at developing a few friendships and that helps. I’ve started playing golf, which gets me out in the sunshine and gives me some exercise. I’ve taken a few trips this spring and summer. I’ve been working at my art and have begun developing a business plan for an idea I have. God is giving me direction and helping me put the pieces of my life back together. I definitely feel more whole and positive.

Is it strange, then, that I have lately had feelings of great remorse and anxiety over my choice to leave my abusive husband and let our family crumble into pieces?

As if, since I am stronger and happier, I have some sort of amnesia about what was happening to us, what he was putting me through, while I was there.

I encountered some friends from our church, and the husband expressed words that conveyed a hope that I would somehow relent. That I could consider going back. I doubted myself.

I have had nightmares.

But I have pages and volumes of pages with pain and despair written all over them. I struggled for years and years with the confusing and destructive treatment. No one else can understand. Not unless they have been there. I know how trapped I was in the lies and the games and the control. And when I find someone else who HAS been there, who DOES understand, it is so reassuring to hear their validation. To know it was wrong. To know it happened. I made the right choice to leave. I am okay. I am okay. I made it out.

I’m broken. But broken crayons still color.

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