The title of this blog is somewhat deceiving since I'm not actually divorced because legally I can't. I could, I suppose, but then I'd have to say that my children are receiving adequate child support from their father; which I can't do without lying. My ex-husband would disagree... he feels he's done his financial duty. I would have to say at this point the courts have not legally made monthly child support enforceable because I agreed to a document that says he doesn't have to pay monthly. Apparently, I took more in the split of our assets in lieu of child support for two years, yet that is not directly stated in our agreement. Even the judge said it makes no sense. My ex-husband's lawyer swore in an affidavit that I agreed to this deal and there is no evidence to the contrary, so my kids have no monthly child support and I can't get divorced.
I don't know why this is so distressing to me. Why do I care that I can't legally be divorced? I have been separated for two years; I haven't talked to him at all pretty much since then; God has taken care of me and my kids in miraculous ways over these two years; my friends and family have been amazing and have kept me busy, laughing, and have helped me heal in countless ways; and my new job as a high school teacher is less stressful and suited for me. Yet, I find myself brought down by this latest glitch as if it is stopping me from moving on.
I feel like there is no real way to grieve being in this state. I am not a widow, and so no one feels extra specially upset for me. I can't talk about how I miss my husband without confusing people; I miss who he could have been, who I thought he was going to be, who we were together and what could have been if there had been no abuse... it's complicated. There are good memories mixed in with the awful. If I tell people that I miss being married, it begs the question why did I leave? I think what I'm actually grieving is the loss of fidelity. Adultery has scarred me in ways that I hadn't anticipated. After years of dysfunction and abuse, it seems that losing the affections, commitment, trust, and desire of my husband was still very hard to take. I had made so many concessions, decisions, and compromises. I had put my head down when belittled; I had tried to change so as to please him; I had suffered under fear and dysfunction; and I had sacrificed the emotional and mental health of both myself and my children. It was all for not, all destroyed, making no difference at all. He took his body and soul and offered it up to another woman who felt sorry for him and his miserable life with me. I still can't believe it happened - and more than once. I know that it is not my failure. I have heard that it is often both parties at fault when an affair occurs. I think that has merit. Yet, when living with an abusive person there are different aspects to consider; the normal rules and assumptions have to be thrown out the window. I guess I really don't have it all figured out. My default is to take responsibility; I feel like I can do something about it if I'm responsible. But I'm not responsible for so much of what happened... its such a mess. I've said that my ex-husband has a lot of pain and struggles; he is a tortured man. So much of what he struggles with is because of his own bad behaviour; he hurts others around him because he hurts, which in turn creates more hurt. It was very hard to live with.
I'm so glad to be away from that. Really I am... so how do I grieve? I don't want to bash my ex-husband to friends and family. It feels good for a moment, but then I feel yucky and must confess for being so awful. Jesus says I murder those I hate... I have moved away from hate, then back toward it, and then run away again. Giving that to my God has been so ongoing.
I sometimes wish bad things for him, but what good does that do but make me sour and bitter inside. Plus, really, he needs to be OK. My kids still need a whole and healed father. I don't know if that will happen... I pray for it sometimes, reluctantly... yes, that sounds awful... but praying for someone who has hurt you and hurt your kids is so hard and causes me to cry every single time. There are good memories of our life and I am trying to find a way to honour what was good while not denying all the abuse. This doesn't sit well with my ex-husband's family and it is hard to explain to others. It's really difficult for my children to manage as well.
I have lost my passion. There is nothing driving me, there is nothing that I am pursuing with all my being. There is nothing I am surviving that gives me purpose to go forward. I have not the anger I once had as fuel to push me forward and to help me reach goals. There is no anger... I'm past that stage of grief, and I'm exhausted. I feel that I went through the first three stages of grief while still married... by the time it was over, I realize now, I was already depressed. I slept a lot in that first year of separation. I would come home from work and go to bed at 7:30pm. I think my kids were worried. I feel as if I'm lingering still in between depression and acceptance. I find I have to tap into anger in order to tackle any issues that still arise and have to do with my ex-husband. This causes tremendous stress when I'm dragged back to anger. I don't want to be angry. I want to be passionate. I want to find my passion for all that is my life again. I am a passionate person. I am typically infused with passion in what I do; my children, my students, coaching, friendships, Bible study, and my church. Lately I struggle to find that passion and feel exhausted when I exert myself for a period of time. I am praying that I would find rejuvenated passion in a new direction. Whether it is my job, or coaching, or starting to lead in Bible study again. I just need something.
Passionate people are typically sexual people... that may be a generalization, but I think its pretty accurate. So, I'm a sexual person. I miss sex; I recently have a preoccupation with it and it's not a good place for my passion to be sitting. My goal is to find a way to do better with this than I did when I was young. I cannot find myself once again in pointless relationships or one off's that are purposely set up to end quickly. I know better, Jesus wants better for me, I am not without self control, and I do not want to be that woman; I am not that woman. What a serious challenge this is for me! I lean on the knowledge that the love Jesus has for me is enough, even in this, it is enough. One of the strange things about my marriage was that our sexual relationship was the last aspect to be destroyed. Sex had held things together; it bonded us; it was linked to the violent passionate nature of the abusive cycle we lived in. It kept me going, it caused me pain, it maintained my commitment, and it healed wounds the relationship was causing me. Does that make any sense? I think it is one of the most confusing parts of all of this. It is why adultery finally killed my marriage. I have been asked why I didn't leave earlier; if the abuse was so bad, why did you stay? I don't know why my end line was adultery; but it was. I understand it didn't need to be. I know that I can stand before Jesus and say I did what he asked me to; that means the world to me even now.
I am glad that through this I have found that I still desire to be vulnerable before another human being. The epitome of vulnerability in relationship is through sexual expression. Our world has sullied that so much that sex has become about power and not intimacy. Years ago, I bought into that notion but I will not do that again. It means I have to wait, or maybe just never experience that again. I am learning to trust that Jesus is enough. My validation comes from this; Jesus loves me.
Oh my goodness!! I just figured it out! The destruction of my sexual relationship with my husband was the breaking point because of the intimacy and vulnerability that it contained. It is why not being able to be legally divorced is so distressing to me! It is as if I cannot bring closure to an open wound.
I am now also more convinced than ever that I need to go back to my maiden name. Being a Klassen again feels like I can take back some of who I was; before I was damaged. In some way it seems that the wound will close if I'm not that married woman anymore and changing my name will signify that. Becoming Klassen again is part of my grief. It is who I was, who I am, and who I will now become. Its just a name, I suppose. Yet in grieving my divorce, it is becoming another stone to step on toward healing, toward acceptance.
I should write more often. That really worked to clear things up for me.
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