Survivors Blog: 

Grace

It's hard not to think of kids playing, grouped on opposite sides of a thick rope, muscling as hard as they can to overtake the other group and pull them over a line on the ground, when you hear "tug of war." It can sometimes last a little while, or it can end in a split second. I wish betrayal could be that easy. One side wins and it's done, and everyone goes off to play. It's not that easy though, in any situation. Most of the time, there is a winning side and a losing side. When someone experiences betrayal it is an absolute world-collapsing, heart-exploding, shocking event, even a Richter scale would probably self-destruct. It is an overwhelming, life changing, confusing, emotional roller coaster of nausea and can take your breath away. Why I mention tug of war, is because of all the things we thought we ever knew or couldn't imagine, we come across one of the most damaging, not only our psyche but to our mental capacity and emotional health. So we experienced the betrayal, then the confusion, then the emotions, then the unknown. We struggled with keeping our heads above water, neck high, trying to keep it together while in total shock, almost as if it were all an out of body experience. But we survived. We are still breathing, functioning somehow, but we are existing yet. I am a Christ follower. He was my only salvation. Some of you have a different belief or source of hope, but we are alike. We have been lied to, destroyed in a sense of trust, belief, became vulnerable and broken, and yet we prevailed. I had moments of "maybe I could've done better" or "maybe I should've or could've been nicer". Then I think to myself, wait! I did everything right! I loved and was loyal and attentive! How about those instances where I looked in the mirror and wondered if I was not beautiful or sexy enough... later arguing, no - I am more attractive than the others or that one person! It's that tug of war within ourselves. I have never been closer to God until this tragic, ongoing, neverending chaos. I even play tug of war with the Big Guy! He leads the way, comforts me, strengthens me, but when I was not healing fast enough or my partner was not changing the way I wanted him to change, I yelled at God. Oh how gracious was He who loves me unconditionally. Someone shared in one of our meetings about it being ok to yell at Him. I mean I wouldn't recommend it, as I confess, however, that person shared that why would God be upset with us? What better way to put God in the center of it all by yelling out to Him, even in our anger and hurt? Tug of war can be exhausting. Your arms start to give way, your legs become weaker, it just seems to hurt too much, and you start to think, maybe there is no point any longer. But tug of war can test you to your limits, bring out inner strength you never knew you had. It can give you a drive to succeed you might have forgotten you once had or just learned about, but you are able to see what potential you truly have in the face of adversity. Sometimes, or in my experience, most times, we not only grow in crises, but we thrive, we adjust, and as hard as it can be to accept, we change. We change. I know I have. I know he has. It was a long, brutal tug of war between him and I, me and myself, me and God. There were many, many times I metaphorically scraped my face into the ground, burned and shredded my hands from the tugs and pulls, lost my footing and literally fell to my knees, but every time, I got up and brushed the ugly dirt off myself, of all of this betrayal stuff, and still stood high. Like rising from the ashes, I kept fighting for me. Through wanting my unfaithful partner to suffer as I suffered, constantly fighting with him or reminding him of his failures, I learned about who I needed to be and who I was in God's eyes. I only had to trust God to help him. I couldn't force him to change. Hence the long-time tug of war with our Heavenly Father. But He is so patient and kind and loving and understanding, that even when I refused to give up fighting, even when I found myself face down on the ground, that same God of mercy was there in the dirt with me, every moment. So God allowed me to see and learn about and know Him through my hurt and stubbornness and anger and retaliation and darkness. God allowed me to wrestle with the tug of war of life, my life of bitterness and hollowness and despair, feeling lost and desperate. It was there in my struggles that I found Him. He showed me who I was and that no matter what, I could give all my mess to Him, and he would gladly take all the pain and anger and disgust away. All I had to do was trust Him. I still occasionally play tug of war with Him, and I slip and fall, and learn again that He is my only cushion and healer. And though I'm pretty competitive and like to win, I've eaten a bunch of humble pie when it comes to trying to do life all on my own. I don't like to eat dirt or stay in it, but He is patient and loving and always there. I've gotten better, and will never be perfect, but imperfect as I am, I am truly loved by a perfect God.

There I was having to answer my own question, why is my jaw hurting again? Not only have I been grinding my teeth like before, but hate has a hold on me, again. It's been some years, but not long enough. A familiar pain revealed itself, as if getting punched dead in the face. If you've ever been hit or had an accident where your head is involved, it's a startling flash of light, temporary blindness, confusion, and undeniably searing yet numbing pain. You come to, and realize you have just been hit hard! It's confusing at first. A shock. Then when reality kicks in, anger is almost automatic. At least it was for me. The last D-Day was no exception. The first one was a train wreck and a domino effect of doom in years to come. Essentially, nothing ever got fixed the first time. All I did was hate and deepen my bitterness, lashed out at every opportunity I saw, and I committed to release my fury on him. For all the commitments and sacrifices and devotion and loyalty I've ever shown him, (because that's who I truly am) he knocked me out with betrayal. A familiar rage overcame me. Because of who I am and what I have gone through in life, I refused to stay down, and thus his ensuing actions felt like he was stepping on my neck as I lay shattered on the ground, to prevent me from rising from this nightmare. I could swear he was there laughing at my demise, every moment he was with her, with them. My teeth clench at the recollection. I remember how hurt was transformed into bitter anger and despise and disgust, and with pride mixed in, I thought that all I needed was to see him suffer my wrath. As long as I was feeling anything, he would remember his sins, and I'd make him regret it every chance I got. It was an ugly few years. Talk about him getting beat down, shamed, ridiculed, disrespected and just plain robbed of forgiveness and denied of grace. Hate is so harsh. I honestly don't know how we stayed together years after our first D-Day, which happened right after we found out I was pregnant. It took time for him to cut ties with his affair partner, even after he cried to her on the phone that they were over, in front of me! He changed his number, and yet the first person he gave it to, was her! Betrayal is ugly. Addiction is ugly. Hate is ugly. This was just so darned disgusting. But hate kept me company. It burned in my bones. Why could I not easily let go? I had to somehow, someway make him feel how I felt. We got a house together and tried to create the illusion of a normal life, but it was like a slow death. Nightmares plagued me, mistrust of his whereabouts and constantly checking in were tiring. But he was crafty. A liar is good at deceit and sneakiness. He also knew how to live a separate life. No matter how hard my pain drove me to control everything and him, he still found his way. You could say he was a professional at lying and manipulation. Our last D-Day happened several years later, and at that point, I was numb. My old buddy Hate was back, and hate does not forget. Hate can actually mutate. It transforms meticulously, like a kaleidoscope. My hate grew tenfold, so exponentially destructive that it almost scared me. Just remembering that hate, even now, brings up that same nausea, that toxicity that needs to come out. Hate. It's so powerful and damaging and drives and runs quickly through our being. It brings no life. It brings no clarity. It's blinding and brutal and dark and deep and lonely. Hate tears things up and breaks things down. Hate destroys. Hate keeps us in the place we didn't want to be in the first place. It's like trying to bury the pain away, yet burying ourselves without realizing it. Hate made me sick, gave me nightmares, prolonged the hurt, and I began to not recognize who I was anymore. I was so busy hating, I wasn't healing. The last D-Day brought it all crashing down. From the pit of my hatred, I opened my eyes and looked up, seeing clearly for the first time that God was my only hope, my salvation. There was no other way out of Hell without His help. I opened my Bible to 1 John 2:9 (NLT) which says, "If anyone claims, "I am living in the light," but hates a fellow believer, that person is still living in darkness. 1 John 2:11 (NLT) "But anyone who hates a fellow believer is still living and walking in darkness. Such a person does not know the way to go, having been blinded by the darkness." And blind I had been. Blinded by hurt I refused to accept, blinded by pride that kept me from healing. I walked aimlessly in the dark, moved by nothing but the agony of hate. And I didn't want to live that way anymore. I read on. 1 John 2: 10 (NLT) says, "Anyone who loves a fellow believer is living in the light and does not cause others to stumble." Meaning, I can be freed from it all and accept that Jesus' blood washes all of this clean. I resolved, my hate can and will be transformed. So I chose God over hate. With His help, I found hope. I received healing. I learned to love again, to forgive, and with His grace, to live again.

Strong winds are blowing outside and the cold is hard to deny. We're in the cusp of springtime, and just a few days ago it was nice and in the 70s. A familiar heaviness burdens me, and it's hard to shake off. I pray and am tired. I know I want to get up and go and do things. I have things to do, but I refuse to write this off as lazy. It's my day off; however, I just seem a little weak or unmotivated, which is frustrating because I like to do things on my days off. I went to do my favorite exercises, but was not confident there. I have not been my usual ball of excitement, but if I think about it, it's been maybe a week or more now. It saddens me. I know this month is D-day month. I loathe that it would get to me. The month came to a slow crawl as it neared, and I cringed even as I tried to dismiss it or ignore its arrival. So much damage was compounded that very day. I can't even recall the exact day, but what good would it do if I did? Nightmare upon nightmare, that day took so much energy and life from me. This wasn't even the first D-day. But this D-day was the first to create a ripple effect that significantly changed our lives. Today compared to last year, I can say it looks different. The trauma did a number. I say trauma carefully, as it took me some time to "hear" that word. To this day, it's still hard for me to accept it as trauma or PTSD. But it is severe enough that I still get triggered and I am still affected tremendously. I have a lot of pride in the way, and I'll admit it makes things difficult for myself. I am very blessed though, with the grace of God and wonderful people in my corner. A kind friend told me once that I should try and see D-day as a victorious day. I was shocked at that; even more shocked at the revelation of how she explained it. She said that it was the day God said "ENOUGH" and that I was able to trust my now-husband to Him. It was my opportunity to let go and let God, and not have to be in control and take everything upon myself any longer. It's always been so hard for me to NOT be in control. This betrayal, the revealing of infidelity and his addiction was not in my control. I had no control or choice in this matter, which for me personally was beyond any destruction I could imagine. The carnage was unimaginable. I've survived many crises and abuse and tragedies, but this was something I was not built or prepared for, I hate to admit. I've always prided myself in being tough, independent, adaptable, able to endure and persevere. This was a monster I thought I could avoid or believed I wouldn't allow to happen to me. Pride and ignorance are costly. I love my family. I love my kids. I love my husband. He and I have been together about 8 years now and our first D-day was when we found out I was pregnant. We stuck it out in the worst kind of way, destroyed each other, and affected our kids. But this time, this damage, upon hitting rock bottom, there was no way left to go but up. I'm glad it was God Who was the Rock at the bottom. It's all work, but there's a lot of play too. I still have my days of triggers, but my husband and I talk more now. We pray and put God in the center and we include the kiddos. When we argue and the kids see, we make sure they see that we make up - we forgive; we grow stronger. Today, the wind is blowing hard and it's tumultuous, but if I think about it, it doesn't last long and it has its benefits, and there's beauty in it too. I think and thank God for being the artist that He is. In our mess, He makes a masterpiece. I still cry and feel the yuck, but that's ok. Our counselor shared that the more I allow myself to feel the "feels", the more desensitized I can become to them. I probably won't forget things, but I certainly can grow from them. And if I can be honest with myself, I can smile at where I am today, versus where I was last year when I didn't even notice how hard the wind was blowing or if there was rain or if my kids needed me or when I just couldn't get out of bed or why God let this happen. I feel blessed. From the hurt, hardship, pain and despair, I found God. I actually ran to Him and have never been closer. So, this upcoming D-day... I can just shrug at it, turn to my husband, meet his kiss with mine, hug my kids close and we all praise God.

I can remember how heavy my brow would get, yet not realize how angry and scary I looked storming through the house... more than likely unpleasant to just be around, let alone speak to. I can imagine my whole family just mirroring how unhappy I was. And that they did. I was too busy in my misery to even notice that my kids were sliding into a downward spiral along with me. Where was their nurturing mom now? And when I was my loving self and happy, fun, and laughing mom, it was short lived and I was almost unrecognizable, or I was not fooling anyone. It was just too hard to hide the cracks. New baby, new and gigantic wound from an explosion beyond anything imaginable. But I've been through so much in life already; how can this compare or be worse? And he just shrugs it off like nothing. A shrug! Not only is my pride destroyed, I am suddenly beyond repose, past shocked and disgusted. I have to repay the agony, disrespect and disregard. I gave my all, my time, myself! He asked me to sacrifice all that I had worked for and while I was climbing toward the top of my career, he dragged me down to hell with him and left me there to rot. And so, my life goal was to pay him tenfold so that he would feel my pain deeper and not only just regret it. I was fueled by anger, bitterness, hate, disgust, rage, darkness, destruction, you name it. Suffering was my aim, and suffer he did. For all the love I had before, after this, he felt the most hate a person could ever contain in their body radiating out of me. He didn't know whether to regret, to hurt, to hate me back, to have sorrow, to fear, to retaliate. But he did know how to do one thing well, and that he did. He reverted back. I always watched as he looked at other women. I still had nightmares for years, and still treated him with no respect, put him down, accused him, destroyed his masculinity, and deprived him of being a man and leader. I didn't have proof, but was certain he was unfaithful again. I didn't find out for years. We tried to get help, but never stuck it through. All I wanted was to watch him hurt for the rest of our lives. He was willing to stay with me until the end. I was willing to stay and make him suffer forever. I was miserable, so was he, and so were our children. Something had to change. This last time, it was the last straw for me. I knew I had to change. I wasn't who I truly was for so long; I had deprived myself of that and I refused to live that way any longer. Revenge did nothing for me. It only brought me more misery and more pain and more destruction. I knew it was time to change, time to let God, time to decide if I really wanted to stay with him or just let go and walk away. The pain was still agonizing. I would imagine it was like waiting for poison to be extracted out of my body. I got help and they said it was a type of PTSD, a trauma, and I refused to accept it. I couldn't be that severe. I couldn't be that broken. I didn't want there to be a name for it because that would make it so serious. Too serious... dark. But it is dark, it is serious. But that's where God is, always. He is always there with us when we are cold, lost, alone, in despair, only left with our hate and anger and sadness and hopelessness and agony. He is there. We can find Him there. Revenge is His alone. For it says in Romans 12:17-21: Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord." To the contrary, "if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for in so doing you will heap burning coals on his head." Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. So I have done the opposite of what I did for years. I have practiced forgiveness and given grace to him, showed him love and accepted his love. I have felt the freedom that comes from letting go of my desire for revenge. I have journeyed in recovery with him and worked in our relationship TOGETHER, and even married this man under the eyes of God. I have gone against the pain and hurt and hate and bitterness and revenge and I have held strong to God's promise, and the results have been drastic. Drastic beyond what destruction was done initially? Yes. Indescribable creation. Imagine a tiny seed buried in the ground, in the darkness and cold and wet, bursting through that very dirt to grow into a beautiful blossoming flower. God is an artist; He truly is. He makes no mistakes. Isaiah 43:19 "See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland."