Our Marriage Journey, Part 6

JESSICA: Word spread and people found out Brock and I didn’t live together anymore. I had a panicky fear of how everyone would respond. Fear of being isolated, avoided and misunderstood. I carried so much shame at first for having that fear. Because in my head, it felt like it shouldn’t matter. There were so many other things that should bother me worse, right? But my fears were so valid. I learned to honor what fear had to tell me. Fear reminded me to be careful with those I shared my heart and feelings with. It protected me from things that would be unsafe and unhelpful to our situation. I learned to guard my heart and save my emotional energy for conversations that would be conducive to my wellbeing. I learned the importance of boundaries.

Very few reached out to us personally, even those who we had spent time regularly with. Some brave ones came to me with warnings and without empathy, assuming I was being controlling and hateful to “make” Brock leave. I wondered if others thought it wasn’t their business, or if they didn’t know what to say? Or maybe they were fighting their own battles? But to us, the silence spoke louder and cut deeper than any words could have. I just craved openness. Something to dispel that massive elephant-in-the-room feeling. And I didn’t have any energy left to tell or explain our situation. It was the loneliest time in our entire lives.

Ironically, about the time everyone thought we were falling apart, we were just beginning to heal. A separation to pursue wholeness didn’t make sense.

We didn’t have alot of contact with each other besides interacting around the children. But once a month we would meet for supper at the Mexican restaurant and go over any questions or concerns and check in with each other. In the beginning I had no idea if Brock was truly healing, or if he was just doing a great job at his presentation. But what I did begin to see was his humility. I saw his willingness. I saw him validate my concerns. I saw us beginning to engage in calm and respectful dialogue. I saw his bloodshot eyes when he stopped in to spend time with the children sometimes, and recognized his grieving. I saw his diligence to meet all his appointments, meetings, and homework assignments. I felt respect and kindness in his presence. I admired it so much.

There were ups and downs. Those good days would dip back into denial on the hard ones.

One day several months into our separation, he relapsed. When he told me, he minimized and justified it. I felt like all the progress we had made up until that point was for nothing.

I said, “If you truly believe you have done your best, I want a divorce.”

He said he hadn’t. Between sobs of hopelessness I told him how much that hurt me, because I had been giving my best. I didn’t know how I could keep holding on without knowing if it would be worth it.