I guess you might be wondering what brought about this big three sixty project...on the outside it seems I have a pretty charmed life and little reason to think I need an overhaul. So here's my story, part one; it's an honest and painful story to tell:
Stephen and I started 2013 preparing for divorce. I wallowed, I pouted, I yelled, I cried, I blamed, I minimized, I worried...and I waited for a year.
Stephen and I met 11 years ago and we have been through the invasion of a country, 11 years of war in two countries, four deployments, years apart for school and training, five moves, three kids; we have dealt with separation, betrayal, reconciliation, joy and pain. But I can honestly say, that period of waiting was the longest year of my life.
Stephen and I started 2013 preparing for divorce. I wallowed, I pouted, I yelled, I cried, I blamed, I minimized, I worried...and I waited for a year.
Stephen and I met 11 years ago and we have been through the invasion of a country, 11 years of war in two countries, four deployments, years apart for school and training, five moves, three kids; we have dealt with separation, betrayal, reconciliation, joy and pain. But I can honestly say, that period of waiting was the longest year of my life.
When things began to unravel, it went fast. We had been through two years of dramatic ups and downs with two cross-country moves, schools and graduations, a house we couldn't sell, cars falling apart, a not-quite-expected pregnancy, separation for another school, the fourth deployment...and all the while, Stephen was struggling with PTSD and TBI that he was ashamed to talk about and I was just trying to hold on to an out of control train that had become my marriage. My reaction was less than dignified. I was so embarrassed and scared to admit that anything was wrong. Stephen and I swapped blows to each other, tested each other, made promises to each other, hurt each other deeply and yet still loved each other and our three young children deeply. To say this is a confusing place is an understatement. Around Christmas 2012, we had come to the painful agreement that divorce was all that we had left.
January started without the hope for a "happy" New Year...we were basically in a holding pattern, waiting for the Marine Corps to make its next decision for Stephen's career. It seemed imprudent to file the papers when we didn't know what the next step for the breadwinner would be. So, like I said above, I waited. And it stunk.
During the next four months, some choices were made that compromised both any remaining chance of reconciliation for us and also jeopardized Stephen's career. In retrospect, Stephen will admit that he was deliberately trying to ruin our marriage, searching for a way to fill the adrenaline void left by prolonged exposure to combat. I would learn that years of codependence had taught me to take zero fault and accept no responsibility for my contributions to this failure.
I had become a blame machine and a self-pity master. I spent a considerable amount of time worrying about myself, finding completely useless ways to make myself feel better, make Stephen look worse, and punishing him for what I chose to see as his fault. I saw a therapist who agreed with me and validated my feelings of betrayal and sadness, talked to friends who took my side and tried to empower me to just walk away, pushed Stephen's buttons just to prove that I was right about his anger. If I had told you this story last April, you would see me as the victim and Stephen as the jerk. I had become good at hiding my pain in public, and that is exhausting!
When the Marine Corps issued orders to Virginia, we had some big decisions to make. Would I move with him or stay in California with the kids (my family was there), would I move to VA and we lived separately, would I move to a neighboring state and begin a new career there...these decisions literally consumed me. I spent hours researching licensing requirements, housing options, divorce laws, new career options, schools, childcare costs. I was a hollow shell of the mom and wife I used to be and my kids suffered. They saw me cry more than they should have and were the unnecessary recipients of much frustration and yelling.
As decision time approached, I was told about Save a Warrior. After conversations with founder Jake Clark, cohort shepherd Bobby F. and provider Suzi Landolphi, I was encouraged to approach Stephen about attending the program to address his PTSD and to look into Al Anon to find support for myself. I was scared. I was actually terrified. I prayed about it for a few days, accepted that the Lord will challenge us but also lift us up, and realized that I had been asking Him for an answer. Jake guaranteed me that Stephen would have a spot in the July cohort, but I had to get Stephen to call.
I approached Stephen about the project in June...the next six months would prove to be life-changing for both of us.
January started without the hope for a "happy" New Year...we were basically in a holding pattern, waiting for the Marine Corps to make its next decision for Stephen's career. It seemed imprudent to file the papers when we didn't know what the next step for the breadwinner would be. So, like I said above, I waited. And it stunk.
During the next four months, some choices were made that compromised both any remaining chance of reconciliation for us and also jeopardized Stephen's career. In retrospect, Stephen will admit that he was deliberately trying to ruin our marriage, searching for a way to fill the adrenaline void left by prolonged exposure to combat. I would learn that years of codependence had taught me to take zero fault and accept no responsibility for my contributions to this failure.
I had become a blame machine and a self-pity master. I spent a considerable amount of time worrying about myself, finding completely useless ways to make myself feel better, make Stephen look worse, and punishing him for what I chose to see as his fault. I saw a therapist who agreed with me and validated my feelings of betrayal and sadness, talked to friends who took my side and tried to empower me to just walk away, pushed Stephen's buttons just to prove that I was right about his anger. If I had told you this story last April, you would see me as the victim and Stephen as the jerk. I had become good at hiding my pain in public, and that is exhausting!
When the Marine Corps issued orders to Virginia, we had some big decisions to make. Would I move with him or stay in California with the kids (my family was there), would I move to VA and we lived separately, would I move to a neighboring state and begin a new career there...these decisions literally consumed me. I spent hours researching licensing requirements, housing options, divorce laws, new career options, schools, childcare costs. I was a hollow shell of the mom and wife I used to be and my kids suffered. They saw me cry more than they should have and were the unnecessary recipients of much frustration and yelling.
As decision time approached, I was told about Save a Warrior. After conversations with founder Jake Clark, cohort shepherd Bobby F. and provider Suzi Landolphi, I was encouraged to approach Stephen about attending the program to address his PTSD and to look into Al Anon to find support for myself. I was scared. I was actually terrified. I prayed about it for a few days, accepted that the Lord will challenge us but also lift us up, and realized that I had been asking Him for an answer. Jake guaranteed me that Stephen would have a spot in the July cohort, but I had to get Stephen to call.
I approached Stephen about the project in June...the next six months would prove to be life-changing for both of us.
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