Joy-stealers

"Comparison is the thief of joy." -Theodore Roosevelt

It truly is. And I think this is one of the biggest negatives of social media these days. Countless people have written about it and studied what it's doing to our generation's self-esteem. We see others post the best 10% of their life - fun events, cute selfies, etc. And we compare it to the 90% real-life-is-actually-hard-and-super-messy that we experience everyday. People are noticing this and getting better, posting "real life messy" pictures, and I think that's great. But I still compare myself to those. Oh cool, so glad they can be genuine and show me their mess...but honestly, their mess still looks better than mine.

Satan is good at his job. The father of lies and deception is so happy to see us spend our time comparing our lives/achievements/failures to those of our friends and family. Because when we are comparing, whether its lusting after someone's "perfect" looking life or even if it's a self-righteous "glad I have my life together more than that person" we are missing out on experiencing our own lives.

And I'm sick of it.

I can tell you that as a middle child in between two incredible sisters, I've done my share of comparing from a young age. Maybe if my sisters weren't so awesome, I wouldn't have struggled with this as much. ;) Just kidding...I'm sure I would have. I grew up constantly striving to be the best, to do the best, to make myself and my parents proud. And sometimes, I succeeded. I got good grades in high school, played sports, went to college, traveled abroad, taught high school for 4 years and got married. Check - check - check.

But sometimes I didn't succeed - not in the way the world views it. I quit grad school after a year, moved back in with my parents, eventually got a divorce, quit teaching, and am now trying to put the pieces of life back together and figure out what I want to do and where I want to go. And it's so hard. And that's what I tend to focus on. How tough it is, how I thought I was doing everything right and I still failed, how life throws you curve balls just because - and you have to figure it out anyways.

From that point of view it is SO easy to compare my life to other peoples' and let them steal my joy. And then I'm mad at them. You stole my joy! I was doing okay and then I realized how much better your life is because I saw your cute pictures or cause you're having a baby or you just got married or you landed your dream job or you just seem so darn happy. Ugh! How rude. Don't you realize what I've been through? I want that. I want your life.

I thought I had it, actually, but it turns out I was so wrong. I'm on a different path. And I don't want to be, but obviously, I don't have a choice. It is what it is. You can't go back and change the past. All you can do is choose how you move forward.

So how do I move forward? How do I stop this joy-stealing comparison and start appreciating what I have? Here's my current idea (and by current I mean I'm coming up with it right now so it's a serious work in progress):

Step 1: Develop gratitude. There is always plenty to be thankful for. Take time everyday to look around and be grateful for God's faithfulness in my life. For the beautiful moments of joy and laughter he gives me. For good friends, sweet family, a great boyfriend, a job, a cute apartment, the ability to run and dance and worship.

Step 2: Remember that everyone else out there is also NOT PERFECT. Just like me. We are all broken, sinful, messy, and struggling through life together. I'm not perfect, and they're not perfect. So quit trying to act like perfection is something to be attained! It's not!

"Perfectionism is not healthy striving. 

It is not asking 'How can I be my best self?' 

Instead it's asking, 'What will people think?'" -Brene Brown

Step 3: Give people credit. Assume they are all doing the best they can. Be generous in my assumptions about them. When someone hurts me, remember that they are just trying to get through this crazy life, too. Give them a break (and a Kit-Kat bar, if it feels appropriate).

Step 4: Cultivate joy. Enough with the comparison crap that makes me feel bad. If I'm gonna scroll through facebook then I need to be in a place where I can be excited for friends who have new babies or jobs or what not. If I can't do that, then I'm going to turn it off and go create something, exercise, go outside and play - do something that is life-giving.

The thing about joy-stealers is that it's not even their fault. You can't really steal someone's joy. You can take away their happiness, but not their joy. Joy doesn't come from circumstances. It's deeper than that. And for Christians, it comes to us from Christ - from the hope we have in His work on the cross and His infinite love for us.

So it's my choice whether I give up my joy to some well-posed, cute-captioned pictures on Facebook, or to my - probably wrong, definitely incomplete - picture of what other people's lives are like or if I keep it for myself. Honestly, this seems like a very easy choice. (PSA: It's not actually that easy. Sometime it's really difficult to choose joy when you're in the midst of some seriously trying circumstances...it seems easier to sit in the sadness and let it wash over you. And that's important to do sometimes, but I hope that at the end of the day we can strive to choose joy above sadness and above comparison. It's a process, as with most things, but I'm at least going to try.)

I'll take my joy back, thanks very much. And I'd like to keep it this time.

You can do everything right...and still fail.

"You can do everything right. You can cheer yourself on, have all the support you can find in place, and be 100 percent ready to go, and still fail. It happens to writers, artists, entrepreneurs, health professionals, teachers - you name it. But if you can look back during your rumble and see that you didn't hold back - that you were all in - you will feel very different than someone who didn't fully show up." -Brene Brown in Rising Strong

While this might not seem encouraging, the truth in it is a large part of why I feel like I didn't fully lose myself to my abusive and failed marriage. Because I did show up. I was in it to win it, as they say. Like I've said before, I meant it when I said I do. I meant forever. And that's the lens that I saw our struggles through. IT SUCKED. For sure - no doubts about that. But this was forever so eventually we would figure it out, right? Just gotta keep forgiving and keep loving him and keep trying to make things better. I hope most people agree that this is a good attitude to have in marriage - one of devotion and commitment to uphold the covenant.

However, this does not in itself guarantee success. Obviously one party can choose not to abide by the terms of the covenant. And long story short this is why our marriage failed. But does it mean I failed? It sure felt like it. Yet when I look at it in terms of Brene's words, I don't think I did. I stayed true to my values, I was all in. I did everything I could to save that marriage. (My stubborn self took a while to believe this, though everyone around me told me again and again that I was doing everything I could. I just felt like if that was true, then change would happen. And it didn't.)

So while I have to live as a divorced 28-year old, I am one who was all in. I tried, I suffered, I gave myself to that marriage. And honestly, I almost lost myself to it. I was so committed to saving our marriage that at one point I told the girls in my small group that I was willing to go down with him and his addictions - I couldn't watch him drown himself, and I didn't know if I was strong enough to walk away and save myself while he stayed trapped in the sin and brokenness.

But I did. I started to rise strong. I drew boundaries necessary for my survival. I asked for help from those around me - mentor, counselor, small group, family, pastor. I moved out because I literally could not live that way anymore. And I begged him to change. I gave him every chance. And he chose not to.

These realities are tough. They just are. You can do everything right and still fail. Ugh. Don't sign me up for that! But it's also SO comforting to me, an actively recovering perfectionist, because as much as I want to be in control, it's relieving to know that it's not necessarily my fault if I fail.

"For most of us who rely on blaming...the need for control is so strong that we'd rather have something be our fault than succumb to the bumper-sticker wisdom of "shit happens." If stuff just happens, how do I control that?" -Brene Brown

Well, hopefully it's clear by now that you can't. Which is hard to wrestle with. God created a world full of sinful humans who have free will. They get to do whatever they want, essentially. Sometimes those actions are beautiful, wholesome, encouraging, loving, and kind. But they are also hurtful, shameful, degrading, and just plain mean. So how can I control anything, really? Even if I do my damnedest to be kind, to effect change, and to do right unto others there is a possibility of failure. Not because God doesn't care, or because I did anything wrong, but because free will is out there and sin is running amuck.

This post feels like a roller-coaster.
1. You can do everything right and still fail.
2. Great! It's not my fault it failed - freedom!
3. Crap, even if I try as hard as I can I might still fail.

Well here's the encouraging wrap-up. Remember my last post about guarantees? Yeah, there aren't many in life. And there certainly aren't any about succeeding just because you tried hard. But failure isn't the end. We can learn from it, we can rise up and be braver because of it. We can share our stories of failure and encourage others in their struggles. And if we stay true to ourselves, show up, and live out our values, I believe that God honors that.

I was told by my sweet mentor many times during this process that God honors obedience. So if I could just do my best (imperfect as I am) to obey Him, to search His word for guidance and wisdom, and listen to His Spirit's nudging on my heart, then I would be ok. He would honor my efforts to obey Him. That doesn't mean success or lack of failure - it means so much more. It means that at the end of the day, I am right with God. My heart is in His hands, and there it is well cared for.

Psalm 94:1
"He will cover you with his feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge. His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart."

This is what matters most in life. With our hearts in God's hands they are safe. They are wholly loved and cherished. In the darkest moments of life, when the realities of pain and sin and failure are too much to bear, He is there. I cannot describe the comfort that is. It's not an intellectual comfort like "Oh cool, God's got me. Guess it's all just gonna be fine." HA. If you can feel that way in the depths of your brokenness then I guess props to you. But when I'm there in the dark...I need something bigger than myself. Bigger than "comforting" words about it not being my fault or learning from this experience or anything...I need a supernatural God to literally cover me with His feathers. Most nights that was the only way I could stop sobbing. I called out to Jesus and He came. Simple as that. I didn't have eloquent words or scripture coming to mind in that moment...I simply called out to Him in desperation "Jesus! Come." And He did. He showed up. And it didn't fix everything, it didn't make my husband decide to stop abusing me, it didn't reveal a super easy way out from all of the mess. But it calmed my heart in that moment. It gave me peace beyond what the world can give. And it's how I survived to get up the next day and try again.

Guarantees

Life doesn't give us many guarantees. This is quite unfortunate because as humans, we are programmed with a desire for certainty. We are curious beings, we want to know what's going on and what's going to happen. This is wired into our DNA for a simple reason: survival.

For example: You notice a cool plant. Great. But what is it? Can I eat the fruit? Do I need to stay away from it? Could the leaves have medicinal properties? (Just realized I might not want to include that as I write this post from leafy Colorado. Too bad - I'm leaving it in.) The point is, curiosity is important. It's how we learn about the world. And our questions continue until things make sense.

Our brains actually reward us with a surge of feel-good dopamine when we figure out patterns, when we complete stories. They don't have to be true necessarily, because our dopamine receptors can't tell the difference, but as long as we're sure we've figured out what's going on - reward time. Job well done. Move on and wonder about something else.

So with a body that desires patterns and stories it's troubling to live in a world that 1. Is chock full of uncertainties, confusion, and things we don't/can't understand and 2. Is satisfied if we come up with an explanation (even if its not true) and rewards us for explaining the complexity we've experienced.

This is fine most of the time and in general allows us to operate and function in the world and interact well with people around us. But the system suffers when you add in painful, traumatic events. Especially recurring ones. Now your brain is learning a story - over and over again. It's learning that if you do _______, then he will yell at you/call you names/chase you/trap you/degrade you for hours on end. If he even starts getting mad, then the yelling will continue all night long. If he calls you one name, its going to turn into a tirade confirming all your worst fears and insecurities about yourself. Your brain learns this story well and in some ways it enables you to survive because you also know that eventually it will end, and you will fall asleep somehow and tomorrow will come.

But what about a year later when you are trying to write a new story? When you've met someone else and he doesn't call you names, he doesn't yell, he doesn't chase. Most of the time the old story is forgotten, or at least not called into your conscious memory. But what if....what if something happens that makes your brain think you are back in that same story. One comment that your brain can't make sense of....so it searches. It searches the database for a pattern - desperately trying to finish the story. It finds something - not quite right but it's close enough. And that's it. The rest is already written. You know what's coming next. Or at least your body thinks it does. So it responds. Just like it learned how to - as if it was yesterday.

Fear washes over you like a flood. Breathing is difficult. A clutching feeling in your chest. You're walking away and can barely stand up. Where's the closet? I need to run and hide. I've shut down. Can't engage. Just let me be.

And the way this should finish is that he continues yelling but since you've hid in the darkest corner of the closet he eventually gets fed up and storms out of the house to go drink and smoke. You've survived. You'll have a couple hours to recover and hopefully get to sleep before he comes home.

But wait...that's not how this story ends. Not tonight. Tonight it's not him. It's someone who actually cares that you're hurting and wants to hold you close and comfort you. He has no clue what just got triggered and the crazy road you just went down. But he's here. He's not chasing you, he's hugging you, asking you to come back inside. And as much as what just happened must scare him, he stays calm and he holds you and rubs your back until you stop sobbing and can breathe again.

A new ending. There was no guarantee it would end this way. And as far as my neuronic memory was concerned, it wasn't going to. It was going to end how it always did.

Endings are hard to rewrite. It's hard to literally retrain your brain to script a new story. Uncertainty is scary. But it's time to learn how to sit in it for a little bit and let a new story take the place of what's wired in right now.

You know what guarantee life does give us? Hard times will come. Always.

Well that's depressing.
Sure, if that's the end.

But it's not. Grace exists. Freedom exists. Jesus' work on the cross promises us a new ending. Love wins every time. Freedom from fear and uncertainty is ours for the taking. It's not easy, but what good thing ever was?

It is for freedom that I am set free. Not to live in the repetitions of stories of abuse. But to courageously let Christ help me write new endings of comfort and peace and healing.

Storytelling

I have a story to tell that people need to hear.

And it's not because I am super cool or I traveled somewhere no one has ever been and took pictures that I want to show you, or whatever else. It's because...because it's my story. And honestly, that is enough.

But usually we don't believe it's enough. It's just my life - who cares? I'm broken and make mistakes, do embarrassing things, have some laughs. Not storybook worthy. But it is. Life is precious. Life is a miracle. The God of the Universe, for one, cares about every step that I take.

But He already knows my story. More of it than I do, actually. So if it's not about telling the story to the One we really know cares, then what is it about? Two things, I think.

1. When you tell your story it changes you. It affects you. My favorite counselor told me that the more you speak things out loud, the less power they have over you. As someone coming from an abusive relationship, there were(are) so many things and secrets and words that were spoken over me that hold power. And you know what? The devil loves when I stay silent. When I keep it to myself, and just relive it in my darkest moments. Sit in the corner and just play the tapes over and over in my mind. That's how you come to believe the lies. You repeat them to yourself instead of speaking them out. When you put to words your most traumatic experiences, your worst fears, your deepest insecurities - you give them a chance to be set free. If they stay in the deep dark corners of a locked trunk then they will sit and rot and infect the other junk around them. But if you open them up - shed light on them - you have a chance to let them go. And it's certainly not as easy as that - but the journey there is worth it.

Setting fears and lies free is a process. But I've found my counselor's statement to hold very true. Once I started speaking the things that were happening behind closed doors, they got just a little less scary. As I shared them with a few trusted people, I gave those dear friends a chance to speak truth over the many lies I had come to believe.

People can't support you, love you, encourage you, offer a shoulder to cry on, or a warm latte on a bad day if they don't even know you're struggling.

Once you start sharing your story you'll see...healing is usually right around the corner.

2. When you tell your story it changes other people. This is where most of us shake our heads and say no way could my story have an impact on someone else. Yeah they might feel empathetic or sad for a minute but it's not really going to change their life. But what if it could?

Think of all the stories people have told you. Did any of them change you? Change your perspective on a tough issue you were struggling with? Give you hope that you didn't have before? Put a face to a crisis and suddenly you're moved to action?

God is the most magnificent story-teller. He tells stories about ALL kinds of people. Strong, weak, wounded, broken, arrogant, faithful, obedient, disobedient...and these stories are important. They change us. And the best part is that God is a God of redemption. So it's not just about brokenness or sin or even following the rules. IT - the ultimate story - is about God's saving grace. About Jesus' work on the cross. Shalom. Wholeness. And that is how all of our stories ultimately end. We have the chance to accept His grace.

The especially cool part about this is that we can see little glimpses of that bigger storyline in our everyday experiences. In the beautiful moments of joy, and in the hard ones. And that is why we tell our stories.

That is why I want to tell my story. (And why I want to hear yours.) Why I believe it has power. Why people need to hear it.

Because the story I have to tell is not really about me at all. Yeah, it's my story, so I'm in it. But I am not the focus. The focus is what God has done and is doing and will do through a seriously imperfect child of His. I think He wants to use my story to change other people, and to change me.

I don't know how, where, why, when, what...but I think everyone has a story that people need to hear.

Will you share yours? Maybe not today or tomorrow or even two years from now. Maybe you share it with me, or maybe you share it with someone you haven't even met yet. However it happens, please know that it has power.

Power to change. To encourage, inspire, convict, humble, relieve, excite. Maybe all of the above. But you'll never know if you don't share it.

For freedom.

Responses to my last post, as well as conversations I've had this last week have led me to wanting to follow up on what I said about emotional abuse.

I believe that in any type of abuse there is a victim as well as a perpetrator.

Emotional abuse is unique in that it takes place over time, as I mentioned before.

These leads to a confusing situation where the victim at some point recognizes what is being done to him/her. It doesn't take long to know that what is being said to you is "not ok." I knew after the first night my husband raged at me that it was "not ok" that he treat me that way. But I didn't know exactly what it was, what caused it, when/if it would happen again, or what to do about it.

So I let it happen again.

I believed him when he said he would change. I trusted that he would never physically hurt me, as he promised. I hoped against all hope that this night would be the last. But it continued. And I let it.

This is so hard to describe, and I worry about people who have been abused finding offense here. I also worry about people who haven't been abused not being able to understand that point I'm trying to make. Again just trusting the Lord with this.

I let myself be emotionally abused. My pride does not want to admit that. But it's true.

But why? Why would I allow that to continue?

Because I didn't know any better. Because I thought it would stop. Because I literally did not once consider divorce in my mind, until he brought it up one night after our neighbor called the cops on him. Even still, I was not going to walk away. I told him over and over again that I meant it when I said "I do." I meant forever. We would work it out.

Before I made the choice to move out I remember talking to my pastor at church just begging him for help. I had run out of ideas. I had tried all I could possibly think to try to be a better wife, to be more understanding, to be healthier for myself, to show him my love better...I was in counseling, being mentored, in a bible study, reading books on marriage and being a good wife, etc etc. Tried to set boundaries with him, new tactics so we wouldn't fight as we had been, etc. Eventually my pastor said this:

"Nicole, this will go on as long as you let it."

That statement shook me to my core. I'm grateful for where my heart was when I heard it - completely desperate for change, knowing that I literally could not survive much longer if things continued as they were. I was so depressed, sick, tired, hopeless, and losing myself more and more each day. I couldn't let it go on any longer.

It wasn't good for me or for him. It was not God-honoring to let myself be trapped, enslaved to fear.

There are situations in which the abuser recognizes what they are doing, and does actually take steps toward change. In this case, someone might choose to stay, seeing the hope for a different outcome.

This was not my situation. I wanted it to be...but it wasn't. He was no more ready to change than to admit he had done me any wrong. I wish it had been different. Once I moved out and was out from under the cloud of confusion that abuse puts you in it became very clear to me that I could not go back unless things changed. But they didn't. He wasn't ready to face it. And he made that abundantly clear. So we separated.

For freedom.

Freedom that everyone deserves.

Deep down we know we deserve this freedom. We can feel the ache for it inside us. But it can so easily become covered with hurtful words, uncertainties, insecurities, and other priorities. Is it more important to save your marriage even if it means losing yourself? For a while I thought it was.

But now I don't think so. At least it wasn't in my case. God has more for me than living in fear and under abuse. I'm confident of that.

It is my most fervent prayer that others living in abusive situations would also be confident of that. That they deserve to be treated with respect. To be valued for who they are, not who someone says they aren't. That they would not let someone treat them this way for a second longer.

That they would find freedom.

Emotional abuse

This post is about Donald Trump, but not really. It's about something much more important. Emotional abuse. A friend posted an article on facebook a few weeks back about the emotionally abusive tactics Trump used in the first debate and I found it to be absolutely on point.

To clarify - just because Trump used emotionally abusive tactics during the debate does not necessarily make him or anyone else who has done some of these things an abuser. Emotional abuse is enacted over time. As defined by Kali Munro, a psychotherapist:

"Unlike physical or sexual abuse, where a single incident constitutes abuse, emotional abuse is made up of a series of incidents, or a pattern of behavior that occurs over time. Emotional abuse is more than just verbal insults...Emotional abuse is a series of repeated incidents - whether intentional or not - that insults, threatens, isolates, degrades, humiliates, and/or controls another person."

Much of what I hope to do moving forward involves helping educate people about emotional and verbal abuse. It's not about one time where someone got out of control and said things they didn't mean. For me it was an almost daily occurrence of him putting me down, blame-shifting, denying, lying, controlling, etc.

I am going to discuss some of the tactics mentioned in the article by Elana Sztokman, which you can (and should) read here: http://everydayfeminism.com/2016/09/trump-emotional-abuse-tactics/.

1. Lying
Seems pretty obvious. What's unique with an abuser is that they unapologetically lie - all the time. So much so that it actually catches you off guard. As Sztokman says "It's extremely difficult to have a normal conversation with someone for whom facts and truth are irrelevant. This is one of the first and most disarming tactics of an emotional abuser. It's the twisting of facts and thus the elimination of basic rules of fair discourse."

This works well for Trump in a debate, so that at the end of it there has been no real discussion - no back and forth. How can you discuss something with someone who just lies point blank?

As I experienced it, this "elimination of basic rules of discourse" was one of the most frustrating aspects of abuse. To not be able to have a productive conversation about anything is very discouraging, to say the least.

2. Denial
Sztokman says that "denial, like lying, changes the rules of fair discourse. It makes it very difficult for the abuser to be held accountable for their words when they say whatever they want and then refuse to continue to engage about it."

It's not just that someone occasionally denies doing or saying something because it puts them in an unfavorable light, it's repeatedly denying obvious facts to the extent that they often actually convince themselves that their lie is true. This causes arguments to spiral very quickly into the classic "yes you did" " no I didn't" vacuum. If they continue to refute your claims of truth, it's only so long before you: A. Get tired and give up or give in or B. Are eventually confused about just what the truth is. They seem SO sure of their side - was I the one confused about what had or had not happened?

3. Blame-shifting
So far the abuser is boldly lying to your face, denying what they did or said, and now watch out cause they are going to blame you for all of it. For example Trump blames Hillary or the media for twisting his words. It's not that he was lying, it's just that they mis-interpreted, or they were "not nice" to him.

In a relationship one could be blamed for arguing (aka trying to get back to the truth), for being rude (perhaps accusing them of the lying they just did), for causing the problem in the first place (trying to address an issue in the relationship), and for being the one who clearly didn't want to solve the issue (wasn't willing to believe their lies or denial).

From the article: "It also has the effect of making the person it's wielded against feel defensive and angry, desperate to clear their name and get back to the truth."

4. Moving the goal posts
Classic politician move, yes, but when used over and over again in a relationship it can be abusive. "the manipulator, in order to avoid having to answer for an issue, will redefine the goals of the exchange. It aims to 'humiliate the victim, to keep them preoccupied so as to accomplish nothing else with their time, or to simply wear them out.'" This works in a debate, in a press conference, and in a marriage. Waste their time, keep focusing on some small irrelevant detail, and eventually the fight will be over with them never having to address your concerns, hurts, or questions.

5. Projecting
This can be on a small or very large scale. The manipulator "accuses the victim of doing exactly what he is being accused of."

For example with Trump, "he has created an entire campaign around the idea that Clinton is the most dishonest politician in history, despite the fact that he is actually the most dishonest man in American politics today." Tricky, isn't it? Maybe from the outside it seems like this should be obvious when it's happening. But when it's subtle, it can be so confusing.

In a relationship this could look like the manipulator accusing the victim of not being a good wife/husband/etc when really they are the one not showing care for their significant other.


**Basically, the point is for the manipulator to make the victim feel like they are to blame, they don't have a solid argument to stand on, and they should probably just give up now. Psychologists have a term for this and it's "crazy making." I don't think there is a better way to describe it than that. Once you are made to feel like the crazy one, you've been convinced it's your job to work on things and do better next time. And that's why you stay. Or at least one of the many reasons.


Please feel free to reach out if you have questions about this. I'm happy to answer anything (and of course there are also TONS of awesome resources online to learn more about this). I'm praying God will use the pain I went through to help others understand what they may have experienced, or may still be experiencing, and lead them to freedom as He did for me.

Choices

I've been thinking a lot about choices this week.

Each day provides us with unlimited amounts of choices. Some we have to make quickly - what do I want for breakfast? What should I wear today? Some take a little more time - what do I want to plan for this weekend? Where should I go on my next vacation? Some we won't make for a while - what do I want to be when I grow up? Where will I retire?

Some choices we make without even thinking much about them. Sure, I'll go on a date with you. Yeah, I'd like to see you again. You want to come visit? Yeah do it! They seem small, and really quite easy to make at the time. The choice to see someone again that you enjoy being with? Easy. Obviously a yes. But all of these small choices begin to add up. Now you've seen him every weekend this month. You said yes to being his girlfriend. You're dating long distance. Now there are new choices. How often to go visit him, how many days to take off of work, how many nights a week do you want to talk on the phone? Again these choices still feel pretty easy, and like there aren't huge consequences to them. Do I want to stay up a little later to talk to him? Yeah, why not? I can have coffee in the morning and sleep in on Saturday. Should I take a weekend to go visit him and meet his family? Sure! It'll be fun, an adventure.

But then...one day you wake up and realize you love him. You've been talking about marriage. This is real. So many small choices have been doing something. Moving this thing along. Is this where you want to be? Do you want to be with him forever? You know what....yes. Yes I do. It seems like such an obvious choice. I know I love him. So yes - yes again - let's keep this moving forward.

Small, easy choices. Adding up. Seems simple. Life is moving, jump on for the ride!

And you know what? Even sitting where I am now...I'm not sure I would change those choices. I'm not sure I would know how to. If I put myself back in that moment, in that frame of mind, in that season of life...I don't know if I could make any other choice. Because it's not my choices that I regret. It's not my choices I would change. I am okay with what I did. I fell in love with someone, I fell harder than I ever had before - than I ever knew possible. I said yes when he asked. I said I do in my white dress at the altar. And I meant it. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I would sacrifice whatever it took to be with him, to spend those lazy Saturdays laughing in the park, to make strong coffee and pumpkin pancakes in the mornings together, to talk late into the night until our voices were hoarse. To dance in the kitchen, to watch him play the drums at church. I made the choices that led me to love him, to marry him, to fight for our marriage in every way I knew how.

What I wish is not that I could go back and make a different choice.

What I wish is that we could go back and he could make a different choice. That we could go back even to just a year ago, when I made the choice to move out of our apartment because I just couldn't live with the abuse any longer. I want him to choose to fight for our marriage. I want him to choose to take steps toward change. I want him to own what he did to me, what he said to me, and truly repent, turn around, and choose another way.

But he didn't. He didn't make that choice. Honestly I don't think he even knew how to. So many small choices - to have another beer that night, to say those words in anger, to refuse counseling, to try to willpower his way out of it all, to apologize and really believe it will somehow be different next time...all of these seemingly small choices had added up. They'd trapped him. He said yes to the devil's promptings too many times. It was all he knew to do. And he was not willing to do the impossibly hard work of climbing out of that trap, of reaching to Christ to save him, of admitting that he was broken and in need of serious repair. He wanted to just keep saying yes to what felt comfortable. Because that's what he knew. Those were the choices he was so used to making. The unknown can be paralyzingly terrifying.

So he stayed the same. And I couldn't.

I made a choice to pursue freedom.

Because living in fear, under abuse, and utterly hopeless is not what God designed for me.
And living trapped in addiction and fear and brokenness is not what God designed for him either.

It was the hardest choice. One of those choices that changes everything. A choice that feels like it shifts your whole world. And as impossibly difficult as that choice feels, it's almost like you don't actually have any other options. Once you know that freedom could be found again, that staying enslaved to fear does not do anyone any good, that maybe this is really what's best for everyone involved...how could I choose anything else? My heart ached for freedom. For the ability to make those small choices about my day without fear of if he would be mad, or yell at me for what I chose to do or not to. For the text I didn't send but should have. For the friend I chose to call and shouldn't have because I was preoccupied for 10 minutes instead of sitting with him on the couch. For the laundry I decided to save for tomorrow, for the papers I brought home to grade, the run I went on before he got home so I could start dinner for us. All wrong. All choices I got yelled at and ridiculed for. It was impossible to make a "right" choice in his eyes. And that might sound dramatic but my goodness was it true.

A friend who had been in a similar situation said "The only thing harder than staying was leaving." It's so true. Truer than you can imagine. More on that later. For now, I am grateful for a God who showed me that I did still have a choice. There is always a path to freedom. This wasn't the path I wanted to take...at all. But he made the choice to stay in the broken patterns of abuse, and so my only path to freedom led away from him.

I don't know what choices are ahead of me. For today I'm just going to focus on the small, easy choices in front of me. Where they are leading I'm not sure, but life is moving - whether I'm ready or not.


We can never go back. We can only go on and on.
-Joy Williams