Change: to make, to become different. How many times has my life changed? How many times has my life become different. Some were changes I wanted and worked toward—Graduations, new jobs, the birth of a child. Pleasant yet definite changes. Other changes were thrust upon me— the death of a family member, a loss of a friendship, an illness. Painful times of change. All changes good or bad bring levels of stress as we try to find a new way to function in and after the change. We have the Holmes-Rahe Stress Inventory to measure the stress weight of those changes in our lives. The death of a spouse is listed as number one. Divorce is number two. Marital separation, detention in jail, and death of a close family member rounds out the top 5 most stressful life events. Death and separation are huge stress factors for we humans. Interesting that those are the same factors that stress us spiritually: Death in sin and separation from God. I digress…
Divorce is a completely different change. It is one I had never experienced. I had never walked beside a loved one going through it. I had absolutely no knowledge of how it changes everything. I had my share of unwanted, and even unpleasant changes. I have had people come into my life for seasons, who left when that season was over. I had experienced the death of a dad and a mother-in-law and loss of foundational supports those deaths bring. I have experienced loss of a career and the need to change trajectories to start again. I have experienced uncertain change in illness and surgery accompanied by the changes necessary for recovery. Painful and difficult as each may have been, none of those changes prepared me for the change of divorce. It happens so frequently in our society, I believe we have universally forgotten the stress weight divorce wields. We have forgotten it is ranked number two on the scale for a reason. Similar, yet so unlike a death, divorce changes everything.
After having been married for so long, being divorced was such a new and strange place to be. There were times I felt it to be an almost physical change that others could see. I often felt the equivalent of a 12 year old girl sure everyone was looking at her as she enters the mall. I was certain they just knew the other half of me was missing. As unrealistic as it sounds, it was how I felt. I was certain there was no need to embroidery a crimson D on my chest. It was already clearly visible.
There was little being divorced did not influence. Conversations with people was one of the worst to learn to navigate. I was in a new church meeting new people. I would think of something to share in conversation, but my stories often included my ex husband. This caused two problems. First, did I really want to remember and talk of him? Secondly, if I mentioned him there was usually an expectant look of “Where is he?” Then came the “Well…. we are divorced” statements accompanied by looks of “Oh” and “Well” that followed. (People do not say “I’m sorry” to divorce news like they do with a death. Are they afraid the person is happy s/he is divorced? I do not know.) For me it became easier to engage in superficial conversations. The weather was a safe topic. Living in a small town, I was frequently running into common acquaintances that did not know about the divorce. My favorite Chinese restaurant owner, my preferred bank teller and branch manager, the mutual friends/coworkers I ran into at the grocery, all asked about my ex. I ultimately would feel the obligation to inform them. I just could not seem to say “he’s fine” and move on. That was a lie, because I did not know how he was. Besides I was still having days I wished he was not fine. (Remember forgiveness is a process.) There were times “I am divorced!” seemed to be what I needed to shout when I entered somewhere. Fortunately, I did not go there. I settled for the one on one information sessions. It became easier to shop, eat, and bank elsewhere. More and more changes…
The change of divorce left me alone, but it did not evoke the sympathy from others that a death does. Many were surprised, some even shocked, but few were specifically sympathetic. They were the ones who had been divorced. I believe the lack of sympathy is the result of us wanting to blame someone for a divorce. Someone did something wrong that brought the marriage to an end. There is always speculation on the why and who did what. How many times have we heard of a divorce only to recount the time we saw the neighbor couple arguing, or thought s/he was being too friendly with that other person? We cannot exactly blame someone for dying of a heart attack, now can we?
We have a process for a death. There are newspaper and internet obituaries to spread the word. There are church, funeral home, ash spreading, and/or graveside services. There are stones chosen , engraved, and set for memorial. There are no social processes for a divorce. There are no specified times of gathering for support. There is only signing papers in an attorney’s office. Court proceedings occur if things are ugly. There is no laying the relationship to rest. No memorial stones were lain for the previous love and 27 years.
Divorce was not like death in that the other person did not have a choice if the heart attack occurred. My ex husband did have a choice. He made a choice to say he wanted a divorce. I lamented one day in therapy that the situation would have been easier for me in some ways, if my ex-husband had physically died and not simply chosen to move on. (No, I did not want him dead.) It was simply the fact, that I knew how to deal with a death. I knew how to cope and get through the funeral and church dinner. I knew how to manage and process the grieving of a death. I did not know how to deal with a divorce. I did not know how to manage the grief plus the anger, resentment, hurt, rejection and at times despair that impaled my life. I did not know how to navigate these uncharted waters to move on.
When a loved one passes, they exist no more on this plane. There is a finality to it, lightened by the hope of being reunited in heaven. Divorce is so different because the other person is still here in this plane—alive and moving on. This knowledge was so burdensome for me to live within. The knowing my ex-husband was still living, but without me. He was starting a new life, but without me. He was seemingly moving on quite successfully, but without me. Unlike the promise of heaven, there was no future silver lining I could look forward to finding.
I was left alone to deal with the physical and emotional aftermath of his exit. He was on a grand adventure, while I was selling wedding rings to assist my daughter in paying her tuition. While he was visiting historical ruins and great museums, I was trying to find a good used car. While he was seeing the lights along the River Thames, I was trying to change utility accounts to my name. While he was living with another woman, I was trying to obtain my life insurance beneficiary change forms. I don’t list these events as anything more than facts. I have forgiven him, though forgiveness does not erase the events or reality of what occurred. It does not magically eliminate hurts. In my head and heart I had to deal with all of these facts and my responses to them.
In Raw I write about some of my initial responses. These later responses are some of the additional wound dressing changes—painful and tedious dressing changes. Times I had to choose to not let bitterness drift in and take root. Times I had to find ways to let my anger out without becoming cynical and jaded. Those methods included a few trees surrounded by shards of his favorite mugs and dishes. It included verbal yelling out frustrations and fears into pillows. It included multiple journal writing screaming sessions (I do have neighbors). It included talks with family and friends. It included tears. So many tears poured. I was certain dehydration was a possibility. It also included a great deal of prayer. Praying for release from this pain. Praying to be healed. Praying to feel whole again. Praying to be at peace in my own heart. Praying for God to just hold me and then surrendering to that embrace.
While praying one of these prayers, I had an image of myself as a toddler that was being held by someone standing, dressed in white robes. I was, back arched, kicking and screaming as only a hurt, angry toddler can. A child not understanding the situation. The one holding me was gentle, strong, firm, and patient as he continued to hold me. He was also silent, letting me get it all out until there was no more. When I was spent He continued to just hold me as I, slumped shouldered, rested my head on his shoulder.
Rich Mullins wrote a wonderful song that so summed up where I was at that time.
Hold Me Jesus
Sometimes my life just don’t make sense at all
When the mountains look so big,
And my faith just seems so small
So hold me Jesus,
Cause I’m shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my Glory
Won’t you be my prince of peace
And I wake up in the night and feel the dark
It’s so hot inside my soul
I swear there must be blisters on my heart
So hold me Jesus,
Cause I’m shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my Glory
Won’t you be my prince of peace
Surrender don’t come natural to me
I’d rather fight you for something
I don’t really want
Than take what you give that I need
And I’ve beat my head against so many walls
Now I’m falling down, I’m falling on my knees…
And the Salvation Army band is playing this hymn
And your grace rings out so deep
It makes my resistance seem so thin
So hold me Jesus,
Cause I’m shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my Glory
Won’t you be my prince of peace
You have been King of my Glory
Won’t you be my prince of peace
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Richard Mullins
Hold Me Jesus lyrics © Capitol Christian Music Group