Month: August 2020

Bridges are unique structures.  They connect two divided parts of a landscape.  They make it easier to pass from one point to another and back again.   They vary in size, strength, safety, and endurance.  They can be as simple as a fallen log over a nameless brook that will be unusable in a year or as magnificent as a red metal engineering marvel over a huge bay that hallmarks an entire city.  Living near a river city I have traveled bridges for as long as I can recall.  I  was also afforded the opportunity to watch two such engineering marvels rise from the river floor. Months to nearly years of work made me wonder how the hallmark bridges built so long ago were ever accomplished.   It is amazing they still stand and continue to carry loads I cannot imagine.  I digress….

One bridge caused me completely terror and was near my dad’s favorite boating ramp.  As a kid I loved to be on the water and  go fishing with him, but did I ever despise that horrible wooden floored bridge that creaked and clapped with every turn of the truck wheels.  I literally clinched my eyes tightly from the moment the front tires caused the first deck board to clap to the Timothy  back wheels sounded the last groan.  Whew! We made it!  Onward to boat riding and fishing!  The only problem was we had to go back home, so the day ended with another eye clinched, teeth gritted ride across that popping, clapping bridge.  I just now realized I have absolutely no recollection of the view from that bridge despite the multitude of times we crossed it.  It is sad that I let my fear rob me of that little pleasure.  I am sure it is quite pretty as it is near where our favorite smaller river feeds into one of the great North American rivers.   I may have to travel back there someday to actually cross the bridge with my eyes open.  I digress…..again……

We all have bridges in our lives.  Places we cross into new lands and destinations.  Some bridges we build.  Some are built by others before us and mark major life events.  Some we marvel upon and others are nearly unnoticed.  Some are sturdy and allow us to ease between two places as long as we care to or need.  Some are worn,  popping and cracking as we travel the scary span.   Some have such great nostalgia while others have tremendous pain.  Some need to stand  for the ages to allow us to come and go freely and others need to be closed either temporarily or permanently.  Some need to be removed, so that we do not go back to the place where we once were. 

I was having trouble moving forward.  I had recently come through a very difficult time that l shared in another posting.  It was my deepest, darkest time.  I had allowed numbers of spiraling thought patterns to bring me so far down that when I looked back at the land before my divorce it appeared green and lush.  I wanted to go back.  I wanted what I thought was security and normal.  I did not know how I could survive in this new land.  It was not a comforting place.  Nothing about it was normal.  I still felt a lot like the Israelites after leaving Egypt.  They were certain they were going to die of starvation and thirst after being led out of slavery in Egypt.  They began to think of the food in Egypt, but forgot the backbreaking work they did just to be given barely enough to survive.  All they could think was how much better it was in Egypt than what they saw as a barren wasteland to which Moses had led them.  (Exodus 16:1-4 and 17:1-7)  I began to doubt every decision I had made.   I question if I were spiritually right in the divorce. I looked for reasons to be wrong.  Should I have tried harder to make it work? Funny that I did not really want a reunion, I wanted the past.  I wanted a time machine not a bridge to go back.  Ironically, I did not even really want my ex husband.  I just wanted the peace and way of I life I thought I had.  

I had been thinking about bridges.  Burning bridges was a recurrent theme in my thoughts for a couple of weeks.  Russ Taff sings “It’s hard to know which bridges I should cross and which bridge I should be burning” (Farther On, J. Hollihan/R. Taff/T. Taff).  I was beginning to see I needed to burn a bridge. I was not sure how one goes about burning such a huge structure.  See, I had permitted the other side of the bridge to become a type of monument or even a mausoleum in my mind that I would go back to visit.  I could mull over all the dead remains and did so quite regularly.  My solitude was fed by these memories.  Looking over the bridge all I could see was a wasteland in my future world.  I could not fully grasp that I could live in the new world and actually thrive. I held on to the past so tightly,  I could not move forward.  God decided it was time to heal another layer.   

I had already toyed with the idea of talking with my ex husband.  We had unknowingly moved to the same town.  I did fear running into him at a store.  He had asked me for a meeting months prior, but I had quickly declined.   It would have hurt too much.   I was not ready.  We had texted and emailed, but I had not heard his voice nor seen his face since he walked away from our home after the last item we liquidated was sold.  Neither of us even said goodbye.  He had started to say “See you later” as he got into his truck.  He stopped awkwardly at “See”.  I said nothing as I turned to walk to up the deck steps and into the house.    I did not want to break before him.  What does one say in those ending moments?   I found out sometimes nothing at all.  It is life, not a Hollywood production.   

Why was I thinking of opening that door again.  I was surprised when my therapist was supportive of my thought patterns.  He thought it may be good, but was something I had to decide if I wanted to pursue.  It hit me during that session as we talked that one cannot strike the match to set the bridge on fire if one is not at the bridge with matches.  I realized I needed and was supposed to set up a meeting with my ex husband.  

It had been over 2 years since our non farewell.  I was wanting a few answers and some closure.  Closure is the tidying of the loose ends that need taped down.  The proverbial bow on the package.  My dear friend was less supportive of my plan.  She was certain I had lost my mind. I knew my sister of the heart would think such.  I did not tell her until I had the meeting set up. Wanting to ensure I understood what I might be facing,  she poked some very sore spots with point blank questions.  How was I going to react if he was with someone or even engaged?   What if he pleaded to come back and promised to be everything he was not before?  What if he was like he had been when he left and nothing like the man I remembered?  Could I walk away? What did I really hope to gain?  She then said something that made me think she had lost her mind.  She predicated he would not know why he had done any of what he did.   What?  That is largest part of what I was so sure I needed to know.  Of course he knew why he did what he did.  He was there.  He made the decisions he made.  How could he not know why?  Remember she has been in my shoes before.  She had small children and did not have the luxury of never seeing her ex husband again.  She still looked for closure and never really got it until nearly 30 years later. Even then it did not happen like, nor contain what she expected.  Could I be alright if mine was not what I expected?  It made me do more thinking and praying.  Older sisters (of birth and the heart) can be fantastic and even better when they are your friends.   

I contacted my ex husband, requested he pray about meeting and only agree if he received confirmation we should.   He contacted me a few days later stating he thought it would be a good idea.  We had some scheduling conflicts which gave me about 3 weeks to psych myself up to and/or dread the meeting.  I prayed.  I prayed for strength, anger control, peace, to be able to hear what God wanted me to hear,  and to have the right words to say.  I did not want my ex husband in my new home.  It was my sanctuary and contained nothing of him.  I wanted to keep it that way .  I had often heard public places are often the best choice for such meetings.  It can keep emotional outbursts down.  I did fear falling apart, so I chose a restaurant  with high backed booths and little curtains at the top.  It gave some sense of privacy, while the wait staff could be there at any moment.  In another word, it was perfect.  I asked him where he wanted to meet and his suggestion was a deli type chain restaurant with crowded floor plan and nearly all glass exterior walls.  I knew we were not expecting the same type of meeting.  

I will not bore you with all the details of the nearly 2 hour lunch, but there are some priceless nuggets I received.  First, he had a shiny diamond wedding band on his left ring finger.  (Oh wow, Debby was right!)  I could not breathe for a couple of seconds and thankfully he was busy with his coat.  I mentioned the ring and he covered it with his right hand.  He apologized for not telling me.  He quickly confirmed she knew of our meeting and was supportive of him having closure too. When asked he said they had been married for a year.  I did a quick timeline: he moved to Europe, lived with and broke up with the other woman, traveled some in Europe, moved back to the states, met this woman, and married her within a 17months period.  Whew!  My head was spinning.  I immediately realized he and I were not on the same level.  

Secondly, when I finally was able to ask  my why questions his answers were consistently “I don’t know”.  (Debby, if you say ‘I told you so’….).   I did not pound him with the “How could you not know?!?!”  During our talk it was very obvious he had not done any of the emotional work, sorting, shifting, or healing that I had spend the last 18 months attempting to accomplish.  It hit me: The man actually did not know the answers, because he had not tried to discover the answers for himself.  I realized though all of the chasing, changes,  and  catastrophe  he had not come to an understanding of himself nor had the personal growth it brings. He had remained buried beneath everything he could find to cover his hurts in order to keep from facing the root of the problems.  He did not know the answers to my questions,  because he did not want to know.  Unexpectedly, I began to feel pity for him.  I thought I was stuck, but this poor soul was so buried beneath the avalanche he did not know where up was located.   I urged him to seek counseling, to work to find himself, and to give his current marriage a fighting chance.  The new would wear off soon if it has not already.  He had to change to keep this marriage going.  She deserved that chance.  Whew!  That was was so not what I had ever expected to say to my ex husband.  Even more insane sounding was that I meant every word and gave him a card for another Christian counselor in my counselor’s group.  Cherry on top is that I have prayed for he and his wife frequently since that meeting.  I kid you not.  I was not expecting that to happen at all.      

Finally, I realized that my real closure was to confirm  the divorce was necessary.  All I had told my counselor about my ex husband was true.  I had not completely villainized him in my attempts to feel better myself.  He was not a monster, but a severely misguided soul. The past was not better than my present.  It was different, but not better.  He was simply not the man I thought I had married.  We had somehow grown at such different rates.  He had chosen such a different path from mine.  We were no longer a fit.  The actual split made our unevenness more visible  than I had ever thought possible.  We certainly were not on the same level.  Yes, I still cared, and a small part of me will love him until I leave this world.  The much greater truth: I was no longer in love with him nor did I want to be with this person.  I  was able to hug him and say goodbye.   I made a new discovery.  Closure can happen even when questions are not fully answered.  

 I no longer needed to travel the way I had.  The mausoleum no longer drew me back to visit.  God had lain another path for me to travel.  The bridge was burned.   There was still considerable work in sifting and sorting to complete as I traveled,  but forward was my new direction.  

I love my life.  I took a long time for that to be true.  I could not say that even a year ago.  Despite spending time in counseling, praying, reading, and working through my grief and losses I still was not happy with life.  I most certainly was not in love with my life.  I was so like the Israelites in Exodus.  I kept comparing where I was to where I had been.  I was certain I would not make it in the drought of my life. Nothing was the same where I was.  I could not see all of the blessings that were bestowed upon me in the here and now.  I only saw the rivers and fountains that flowed freely in my Egypt from my seat in my current barren dessert.  I longed for the familiar.  I longed for what I though had been security.  I was tired of loss, grief, and change.    

I had lost my mother to an unexpected death a few months prior.  Loosing a parent no matter how old we are is losing the anchor to the past.  My childhood and family of origin were now more remote than ever before.  Even with her dementia she still represented that anchor for me.  The way she lit up with the most beautiful smile, the moment she realized I had come for a visit.  Her dementia mercifully let her forget all the other stuff in life.  That look was love in it’s purest human form.  

Losing her was yet another sea of grief I was not prepared to cross.  I coped by plunging  head first into dealing with her estate.  Cleaning, sorting, painting, signing, and selling were avoidances to keep me from dealing with the real grief. Once it was all tidied up,  I was left alone with my grief.  I muddled through Thanksgiving and Christmas by moving into my new place.  Unpacking boxes can be a great diversion too.  Once that was done, I coped with yet another project. I dove into selling the house my ex husband and I had lived in. One more project to focus upon, so I did not have to think about anything else.  I made it until March.  So yet another project.  Renovate the exterior of my new place.  I made it until May.  I ran out of projects and had to face my grief old and new.  It was not pretty.  It was as hot and painful as the Sahara must be.    

The coupe de grace in my desert was a minor health crisis that required surgery.  I had driven myself to the emergency department desperately trying to talk my body out of doing what I was certain it had done.  The doctor confirmed my suspicions and  I was left waiting alone in a surgery holding room.  I had been here before, in and out of the bed.  I had viewed it dressed  in scrubs, street clothes, and in the hospital gown.  This time it was in a new town and a new young  doctor I did not know.  I prayed and sent text messages until the phone was taken.  Even with the pain meds dulling my thoughts,  I do not believe I had ever felt so alone as I did then.  I remember in my muddled thoughts telling God, “Well it is just you and me.”  I woke some time later, minus an appendix, to my daughter, sister, and niece surrounding me.  My recovery was not good for me mentally—a week at home alone.  A nice floral delivery from the church arrived, but no visits.   Calls from family and friends came on and off over the week.  Of course I assured them all that I was “fine”.  I lied.  I was not fine on so many levels.  

My vision and perceptions were becoming twisted.  I had allowed filters to overshadow and distort all I saw.  I made excuses for those in my life even being there. Friends and family came because I met needs for them—medical advice, financial assistance, free therapy, and other lies.  I let the negative talk spiral me down and down and down.  I was still in therapy twice a month and to my own detriment did not say a word to my therapist about the feelings I was having.  I felt I was never going to be really healed emotionally.  I was exhausted physically and emotionally.  I was not sleeping.  I could not turn my mind off in the evening to get to sleep.  That led to difficulty getting up each morning.  Higher doses of caffeine in the afternoon set me up for another late night.  The cycle was on repeat.  Sleep deprivation added to the physical and mental decline.  

Yes, I knew God was with me.  I knew the scripture that He would never leave nor forsake me.  I just could not seem hold on to it at that time. In honesty, I really did not feel God was with me. How could He really be with me and all of these events happen?  I was trying to hold on, but my hands felt empty.  I had so much focus on the past, the hurts, the losses, I could not see a future at all.  I felt very alone, very useless, and very afraid.  This is exactly what the enemy wanted.  He was quite cunning. He did not come at me full on frontal attack.  He was like the lion that seeks who he may devour.   He worked to cut me off from my herd and Shepherd—inside my own head.  I began to listen to him and lagged further and further behind. That is when the thoughts started coming.  

They were subtle at first.  Nothing was shocking or accusing.  Soft whispers of ideas swirled.  They slowly became more pronounced thoughts.  Unusual thoughts of how others would be unaffected or due to insurance even better off in some ways. A little stronger were the whispers of needing relief. Needing to be unburdened and wanting to be free.  The statements declaring the current pain would be unceasing.  This was life now, a path of pain washed in tears.  The whispers and statements became more pronounced until that day they were screaming at me.  I could not hear anything else. 

I felt so alone.  I was miserable.  I had such pain it engulfed me.  I had lost all I knew—all I had ever wanted.  Gone was the happy home and loving husband.  Gone were the sister and mother that held the family together.  Gone was the house where I had raised my daughter. Every where about me all I could see were ashes of all that had been lost and destroyed in four short years.  I was so tired of the pain that hit as soon as I opened my eyes in the morning.  I was so tired of trying to walk wounded throughout the day.  I was so tired of swimming in grief that came wave after wave.  I was tired of facing it day in and day out.  I was so tired…..   

I had been at my job all day.  I had a mountain of work to do and was not able to concentrate.  I felt inept and incapable.  I did what I could and walked away after everyone else left.  I drove home in a silent car while ideas popped into my thoughts.  The ideas began to link and a plan began to form. The thoughts became more pressured and urgent the longer I let them swirl.  Vague ideas became concrete realizations.  Items I had in the house formed a checklist in my mind.  One crescendo thought took hold:  I could make the pain finally stop.  I could make it so I did not hurt any longer.  I would be free of it all.  I could just slide out and never have to come back.  It all seemed so incredibly easy.  It would be so very simple.  I had no plans with anyone for the weekend.  My daughter was going out of town, for a festival, so she would not be popping in to see me for at least a week.  By the time I was discovered it would be completely done.  I decided I was going to carry out the plan. The pressure of the thoughts increased exponentially.  They were pouncing.  I was so tired……

I pulled into my drive and panicked.  My daughter was there.  She was supposed to be at work.  I was confused.  I felt nearly stuporous. This was not part of the plan.   I quickly entered the house.  She grabbed me and hugged me hard.  She said “Surprise!  I couldn’t think of going nearly two weeks without seeing you.”  She had taken off work to come to the house and prepared dinner as a surprise before she left for her trip.  The web around me shattered.  I cried uncontrollably while she hugged me tightly.  I did not tell her why.  She thought it was a bad day at work.  She had no idea how she had been used to stop the enemy from winning a battle for my life that night.  

I wish I could say I was instantaneously healed at that moment.  I was not.  I was however removed from a terrible spider’s web.  Through a lot of prayer that weekend I poured the last of my hurts out to God.  He listened, comforted, cradled, and spoke.  The cacophony I had heard before was a faint strain.  I began to see how it evolved.  I was reminded of the book by Frank Paretti, This Present Darkness.   For those not familiar with the work, it is a fictitious yet realistic representation of what I believe occurs in the world just beyond our vision. The world where good and evil come to blows in battles invisible to our eyes.  The world Paul speaks of in Ephesians 6.  There are dark spirits that seek to destroy.  They hate us just because God loves us so much He gave His Son to die for us.  They do all within their limited abilities to destroy us.  

Whispers are one of those abilities.  Falsehoods that pop in our thoughts out of the blue.  Lies we mull and connect with others until a web of untruths forms such a distinct pattern it must be truth.  Pressure to believe subtly becomes intense.   Sticky like the spider’s web they cling, but have no strength aside from what we granted them.  Prayer and scripture certainly can dispel the webs and falsehoods completely.  Other times it is a daughter stepping in to prepare dinner to say she loves her mother.   

A few weeks later I did enter a confessional of sorts.  A dear friend who I had not seen for several months called for a dinner invitation.  I know God  placed her there for my confessional and to tie up some loose ends.  I had no intentions of saying anything to her about that twisted experience or plan. I was ashamed to be honest.  I believe God had another plan.  After dinner and a lot of catching up, the story just came spilling out.  I felt like I had vomited.  There was relief in some ways, but what about the mess on the table now?  My friend was shocked I am certain, though she hid it well.  She admitted having no idea I would ever consider hurting myself and much less developing and carrying out a plan.  She listened and most importantly did not judge, nor minimize my feelings in the situation.  Then she did something I did not expect.   She asked I remove the items on my checklist from my possession.  In her wonderful boldness she held me accountable requiring photos of the removal.  I did as requested and sent the photographic proof.  I love her for loving me so much she held me accountable.  Shortly after this I told my counselor of the events.  He, too, was quite surprised I had any such thoughts.   We began working on some new thought patterns and my grief.  

Reader, I have told you this part of my journey for two reasons.  First: If you have any such thoughts enter and take residence in your mind, I pray my story will encourage you that there is another way to deal with the pain.  Please talk to someone.  Please reach out.  If you feel you have no one there are many hotlines to call (see below for some).  Do not let the lies become the web that holds you.  Remember they only have as much power as you give then.  Talking breaks that hold and power.  You can have life spoken into your situation.  Second: If you have someone in your life going through a tough time, please reach out to them.  A phone call, visit, or dinner could save a life. You may never know.  Suicide often does not announce its victims until it is too late.  Be bold enough to talk about it.   

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

1-800-273-8255

Veterans Crisis Line 

1 800 273 8255