“And because we are his children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, prompting us to call out, ‘Abba Father.’” Galatians 4:6
“….He is a beloved brother and faithful helper in the Lord’s work.” Ephesians 6: 21 NLT
So I find myself divorced, just turning 50, and feeling like I was about to lose my mind. My ex husband was now returning to the area and contacting me more frequently. He wanted a possible reconciliation and some assistance. My daughter quit her job due to having her own mental health concerns related to all that had happened. I was keeping my head above water financially, but helping my daughter was placing a strain on that. I was ineffectual at work and was lagging behind in paperwork. Unseen to most, I was drowning in an invisible emotional quagmire. The divorce and my ex husband were consuming my thoughts. It was a constant in all I did. Every text alert caused near heart stopping anxiety because it might be him. I would try to carry on conversations, but every story I told somehow was related to the last 27 years of experiences with him. I would break down and cry in my office. I had a few moments each morning just as I woke to be at peace. Those few moments between sleep and fully waking to sigh and say thank you God. Then BLAM it hit—my husband left. I am divorced. I am alone in this house. My grief came in like a flood. I tried to be so strong. To hold back the deluge of tears and fears each and every day. It was taking a huge toll on me.
I did have support. I do to want to discount those that rallied around me. My sister, my niece, and my friends were terrifically supportive. In their support they agreed with me on nearly everything. They did not challenge me. Neither could I tell them everything I needed to process. I needed more. The church I was attending at the time was not as supportive. To be fair and honest, I did not really reach out to those at that church. I attended with one of my dear friends and her husband, but it was a 40 minute drive one way to get there from my home. It was well over an hour from my work site, so I did not become very involved with anything except Sunday morning. In some ways I liked it that way. It was the one place I could go and just be me. I was not the woman going through all the grief and loss of death and divorce. I could come in praise God, give my tithe, hear a good sermon, speak with a few people and go home. I had a couple of hours each week that my life did not invade. It was good, but I needed more. I chose to seek a private counselor.
I have never been counselor hunting, shopping, seeking, or whatever it is called. Being a professional, intelligent person, I looked on the internet. At least I did not go to Craig’s List! On a psychology website, I found several women counselors that appeared to be what I wanted. I made a list, but was hesitant to call anyone. Over the next week or so, I kept looking on the site and one kept popping into my attention. It was a guy. Really God a guy? Really? I called the women counselors I had found. None had appointments or had major insurance issues. None of the other women counselors on the web site seemed to be a fit for me. I admit, I was going to have difficulty being counseled by a woman 20 yrs my junior. Okay, fine God, a guy. I called and he was available in a reasonable time frame and would work with my insurance. Of course he was!—Really God a guy? Looking back now I see that I had more than ample female support going through this. Some were even professional counselors. What I did not have was male support. I did not have close male friends which had been on purpose while I was married. God did know what I needed. I showed up to the first appointment unsure of what to expect. Of course there are the several pages of information in addition to insurance forms to complete. The psychologist looked like he did on line. He was kind and soft spoken and just suggested I start at the beginning. If I had the ability to raise one of my eyebrows, I would have. Which beginning? The loss of my sister? The anger at God and crisis of faith? The empty nest? The loss of a father in law? The collapse of my marriage? I unloaded a fairly skimming overview of the previous 3 years in just over an hour. Here is what I wrote in my journal after that first visit.
“I started therapy with Dr.___ . You know how some things get worse before they get better? Well, that may happen with therapy. I fell apart. Just to have Dr.___ validate the severity of my stress and say “I don’t know how you are functioning. You are an extremely strong person” was enough to start my tumble. My friends and family had said as much, but I always felt as if they were supposed to say that. He did not know me. He was a professional. Yet he sits echoing what others have said. I was relieved that I did not have to be so strong anymore. I did have too much to manage……”
Validation. Affirmation. Recognition. I had absolutely no idea how freeing those could be. For someone to come along side and say “Sit down a while and tell me…..” To be able to not just unload, but unpack. Unpack I did after an initial unloading. I unpacked one item at at time over the next 2 1/2 years. Yes it took quite a while. I took the time to consider what each item was. (Was my view distorted or thinking faulty?) Consider if it was really mine (Was it put upon me by someone/something else or was it my own internal struggle/unrealistic expectations?). To review where it came from (my Dad, my Mom, my insecurity, other traumas, my ex husband, etc). To re-evaluate if I needed or even wanted to keep it in my life. Some things needed to be let go and others cleaned up to be seen as they really were. Still others just need tossed out completely. Some things required repeat reviews with a magnifier to get to roots. Then came the big lessons—to learn how to deal with my emotional response and possible attachment to it. Only after doing this could I finally put it were it needed be placed—Back in the suitcase to go with me, returned to the person it belonged to, or sometimes watch it dissolve as the misconception/falsehood it was. How healing to be able to do this with the careful, impartial observations and assistance from someone who although cared and wanted the best for me was not emotionally attached to me. As weird as that sounds it is true. That is the heart of a therapeutic relationship. Dr. ___ did care and worked with me to help me overcome obstacles and grief, but he was not nor would he ever be my best friend. I know very little about him as it should be for the relationship to work. Sessions were pretty standard. I pick the topic—most of the time I prayed for God to guide the session on what He wanted me to work on. It may have be something I have mulled over since the last session. Perhaps it was a memory or conversation that kept coming to mind over the days prior to the appointment. Sometimes it would be something quite unexpected that I did not realize was an issue. In the beginning it was usually something that happened with my ex husband that week— Often my attempts to try to understand him and his behaviors. Sometimes the grief of losing my sister or mother and dealing with changes in family dynamics both brought. Hopes, dreams, fears, sorrow, grief, family, friends, worries, anger, frustrations, were all discussed. At the end of each session Dr. ___ prayed with me and summarized my current situation so well before our God. Dr. ___ ’s assistance was and still is so very valuable to me. I still had that wonderful family and terrific friends to support me, but this was so needed.
The work between counseling sessions was left to me. I do admit I really did want to be healed. To be well. To not be bitter. Part of work of healing was what I did between the counseling sessions. I prayed, cried, yelled, beat up a few pillows, talked with my friends and family, and read scriptures and books on divorce, loss, and healing. I cried out to God more times than I can count after discovering the betrayal. I firmly believe God speaks to us. I believe he answers us when we seek him. He uses different methods at times depending on the relationship and what we need. He desires a real relationship with his children, which does require two way communication. I believe God spoke to me daily going through this healing season. It was a song on the radio, as scripture in a devotional, a sermon/teaching I had not heard before, the sweet words and phone call from my sister or a friend……and the list goes on. Often it is a that gentle whisper voice deep in my heart that Elijah described (1Kings 19:12). That is not to say God cannot and most certainly does not use counselors. I heard a story about a little girl that was afraid of a storm during the night. She kept running from her bed to her dad. He would reassure her and take her back to bed telling her God was with her. The final time she ran to her dad, he, quite tired and frustrated, asked, “Didn’t I tell you God was with you?” The little girl said “Yes, you did. I know he is, but I would like someone with skin on them!” Counselors are professionals with “skin on them”. They come along with skills to listen and guide. If you are in a grief situation that you just cannot get through, I truly encourage you to seek a reputable Christian counselor. They can be that “faithful helper in the Lord’s work” in your life.