Today, I'm jumping ahead in my journals about a year. My husband had just gone to treatment and I was home alone, new baby, recommitting myself to God. I thought my righteous behaviour would somehow "save him", and therefore save my marriage, but it was the beginning of God saving me. Things were very hard that past year. I will likely go back and reveal those journals but for now, I'm here. Up until this point, I had been living in New York since 2013. For the past year, I had believed my husband was an alcoholic.Read More
"You're not listening to me!”
“No, you don’t understand.”
“Can you put yourself in my shoes for just three [Un-Christian word] seconds?!”
“Ah! Never mind! I don’t even know why I try explaining to you, it’s useless!”
These are the things I find myself saying to my husband over and over again. As he fumbles and bumbles and tries to understand my range of complex emotions stemming from childhood wounds to the scars from our relationship to the present situation. He doesn’t know what to say and I know it.Read More
Here we go again. I don't know if I'm ranting and rambling on or if my thoughts are some kind of trigger from warped perspective but regardless I have plenty to say.
Here I am. New York City. Watching people chase their dreams while I sit idly by. What are you expected to do when you're doing nothing? Find something to do, right? Yet, I feel blocked, surrounded by invisible walls I likely created.