A New Chapter

I wouldn’t say I’ve had writer’s block these past few weeks. I think my emotions and mental capacity have simply been pulled in too many directions. I’ve felt so many things that I’ve struggled to find the words. There has been so much happening that it’s been difficult to slow my mind down long enough to form a complete thought.

So, I’m going to try tonight.

The last two years have tested me in ways I never imagined. Most recently, I had a decision to make—a decision I knew was right, but one of the hardest I’ve ever had to make. It seems the hardest things are often the right things.

That decision may create an even greater divide between me and someone incredibly close to me, someone who holds one of the four pieces of my heart. Unfortunately, it has also affected other relationships and changed things I’m not sure will ever be repaired, except by the grace of God.

When I think about the pain I’ve experienced over the past year and a half from the people who should have supported me, lifted me, stood beside me, and should have shown up during one of the most important moments of my life, it is almost unimaginable.

There has been a long history of hurt from those closest to me.

Growing up, I was often the forgotten child—the oldest, the responsible one, the one who cleaned up the messes and learned to read the atmosphere before deciding how to move through it. I wasn’t just navigating life for myself; I was often trying to navigate it for my siblings too. I often was the built-in babysitter, the one who cleaned up the messes and the one who grew up too fast.

Growing up with an alcoholic parent was not easy. Drunken nights, screaming mornings, and responsibilities placed on a child’s shoulders far earlier than they should have been created an environment where I learned to grow up quickly. It created hyper-independence and an almost insufferable habit of laying myself down for everyone else’s pain, problems, and needs.

I became the sacrificer, the fixer, the peacemaker. Without boundaries, those things become a cycle—one that is unfair and cruel to a giving heart. I ended up carrying that into my relationships as an adult. I often treated my kids in ways I was treated; I created trauma where there should have been bonding, and I made choices that were not always the best for myself but, more importantly, for my children.

Years later, after I became an adult, I became a child of divorce. The parent who left the house (although a mutually agreed-upon separation) believed that because my husband at the time, our children, my youngest sister, and I remained in the home with the other parent, we had chosen sides. That created an almost three-year rift that was eventually repaired.

There were apologies, but trust had already been broken, and the effects were significant.

Later, the people who shared my blood made choices that changed the course of my life. They went behind my back, creating a situation that sent my then-fiancé back to drinking and sent my life into a complete spiral. I began binge drinking myself, was cheated on, became homeless, and eventually went through a marriage and divorce—all while being completely disconnected from the people whose choices had helped set those events in motion.

There was never an apology. To this day, they still believe they were right not just in their accusations but in how they handled that situation. Never once did they see how it affected me, my kids, and my life going forward.Eventually, I decided I didn’t want to live with regret. I didn’t want to reach the end of someone’s life—or my own—and wish I had tried to mend what was broken. So I did.

But things were never the same.

A few years later, my children and I were made to feel like we were the problem while living with one of those same family members. Two of my children were nearing adulthood, so they were not spending a lot of time at my house. During this time, my ex-in-laws had also turned my children against me with their hateful speech and discontent with me. Letting that affect my relationships with my own children. All the while, little did. I know after the divorce my children sustained significant abuse from those ex-in-laws and their family members. Abuse and conflict that are still affecting my two oldest children and me to this day. My oldest will never have a normal life because of the abuse he sustained at the hands of my ex-in-laws and their family. This is something I continue to work on forgiving with God's grace and help. During this time, my other two younger children were being treated like they didn’t belong and were a burden by my family. Instead of my boys feeling cherished by them, loved by them, spoiled by them, and made to feel safe. The family members we lived with at the time thought of us as the problem. They created, did, and said things that were beyond hurtful and honestly, shameful. It once again put a two year riff between myself, my children, and my family.

Even now, my two youngest carry that feeling—that they are displaced, that they don’t belong, that they aren’t as important as other children in the family.

As a mother, that is a pain I carry.

I’ve wondered so many times if I could have done something differently. If I could have eased the waters, opened doors, or created space for those relationships to grow instead of riffs creating bigger divides. I often felt like I was not doing enough to fix things and that it was my responsibility to do so, even though I was not the one who set the rift in motion. But honestly, I’m not sure anything I could have done would have changed the outcomes.

Through all of this, as I became healthier mentally and emotionally, I began to realize something that scared me.

I was becoming like the people who had hurt me.

I was becoming bitter. Angry. Deeply wounded. The hole inside me kept growing.

Even with Jesus leading the way, the human part of me struggled to move past the repetition of hurt—years of it, over and over again. Still, I didn’t want regret. I didn’t want to be the grown child standing beside a parent’s hospital bed wishing I had done something differently.

So I kept trying.

But this year, once again, I heard and saw hurt from the very people who were supposed to be my biggest supporters. The people who were supposed to love me unconditionally, stand beside me, and celebrate as I built a new life with my new husband and family.

That wasn’t what happened.

I had very little help from my family with our wedding. My in-laws, my husband’s friends, and his family helped with the details and showed up in ways I will never forget.

They sat there as I had tears rolling down my face, had anxiety attacks, and got angry because my family, my friends, and my people weren't showing up. What was wrong with me that no one would come and help, would not stand by me, and ev,en worse, would say such cruel lies and things to each other about me and even worse to strangers. That is something I am not sure I will be able to ever forget, and hopefully someday my heart will be able to forgive.

My maid of honor showed up on the day of the wedding after helping put together flowers for one arch on one Saturday morning a couple of months before the wedding, never showed up for anything else, and no one else did either. No one from "my side" was next to me through the whole process except my wonderful friend who actually married my husband and me. I continue to be thankful for her and my husband's family during that whole time because they truly got me through. On the day itself, things became about her; the center of gravity always seemed to be centered around her. I found out that evening that after she "abruptly" left, she lied to me about why. The hurt I felt was once again immeasurable. My immediate family (the few that came, and that included one of my parents and one of my adult children) came for a little bit, all in the same car and then after dinner left abruptly without saying goodbye to me. When I came back after a half hour of taking pictures with the photographer and my husband, I had a friend tell me that my parent told her to let me know they had to go and that they were sorry they didn't say goodbye. The pain and embarrassment I felt in that moment can't be described.

Because we had done everything ourselves with my husband's family's help, there was no real opportunity to simply enjoy the night. We were exhausted from doing so much ourselves, with my in-laws, my husband’s family, and his friends carrying much of the weight alongside us. One can only think that if there were more hands, the load would have been lighter and the party would have gone on. Instead, we went to bed, exhausted and honestly emotional because there was so much joy but so much pain all in the same day.

And then I overheard things before, during, and after our wedding.

Things said by family members who I believed should have walked me down the aisle, stood beside me, helped create memories, and made me feel important.

The words I heard from my own flesh and blood hurt me to my core.

They didn’t wound me as an adult. They wounded the little girl inside me—the girl who just wanted to be loved, wanted someone to show up, wanted someone to see that she mattered. Someone who needed it to be about her for a period of time instead of everyone else's problems. Sadly, I am not sure they could have shown up in that way, and I can certainly say not one of them did show up in that way. That is a feeling and memory I will carry with me until I leave this earth. Once again, someday I hope God helps me to forgive because right now the pain is so great some days that it feels like my hurt is going to burst.

And I have finally come to a place where I have to accept that maybe things never will change. Maybe they will never show up. Maybe this is the part of the story where I stop waiting for people to become who I needed them to be.

Maybe this is where I finally stop sacrificing myself to keep relationships alive that have repeatedly shown me they are willing to let me bleed.

And maybe, for the first time, choosing myself doesn’t mean I’m giving up on them.

Maybe it means I’m finally learning what it means to have boundaries, to love without destroying myself, and to trust God with the relationships I can no longer carry on my own.

I don’t know what happens next.

I only know that something has to change.

And perhaps that is where this chapter really begins...