The Christian Girl's Guide to Divorce

When I impulsively started writing this blog on Tuesday, I shared some of my personal journal entries with a few close friends.  My dear friend Renee asked me if I had been crying as I published the beginnings of my journey.  She emphasized that it was okay.

“You’re letting it out, you’re letting it go.  You’re being healed, “ she lovingly wrote.

I was ecstatic to answer, “I’m not crying, but excited!  I had to start somewhere!”

I have cried more than I ever thought was possible over the past two years.

Fuck crying.  I’m sick of it.

And then, today, I cried.  Sobbed.  I haven’t cried in months.

I was driving back from Santa Monica, where I had just attended my “Wife’s” amazing lecture on Ornament and Crime (she is the most brilliant architect, friend and person I know).  I was overcome with amazement at the people God has placed in my life.   I marveled at the loyalty and longevity of my childhood best friend, Joy; I thought of the overwhelming love and support I daily receive from my close circle of friends and family – people who have walked my journey with me, and continue to do so.  I really have no reason to ever be lonely or sad, because I have these incredible people, and I have Jesus.

But I don’t have a man in my life.  The last relationship I experienced was my marriage.  I feel like a freak.

I am a woman in her 30’s (HELLO, SEX DRIVE!).  I want to feel butterflies.  I want to be kissed. I want romance.  I want to have sex all the time; every day.  I want to get excited about seeing someone.  I want to fall in love, get married, and have babies.  I also just threw up in my mouth a little, typing all that.  But these are desires of my heart. I have waited, ever so patiently, and nothing has happened.

It is so hard to get a date, and is so hard to keep a guy interested.  I’m not good at playing the “game”.  If I like a guy, I tell him.  I guess I’m not supposed to do that.  And, if I really like him, he usually doesn’t like me back.  It is just downright hard to be single.  It hurts.  It sucks.  It happens.

I am laughing at myself.  My lament is a typical episode of Sex and the City.  Or maybe I’m back in junior high?

Nevertheless, as I compose this impulsive free-write, I realize that I will probably never have all the answers.  I’m not perfect.  I make mistakes.  I’m single.  I’m divorced.   I’m human.  God loves me.  I’m still figuring it all out.  I’ve come a long way, but sometimes I think I must still have a long way to go.   Yet I still have human desires and needs and wishes.  I am not incapable of relationship, just because I have experienced a traumatic breakup.

For crying out loud, I’ve spent thousands of dollars for two years’ worth of weekly therapy.  I’m practically at the point where I’m shrinking my therapist.   I think she wonders what the hell I’m doing, continuing to visit her every week.  She must get a kick out of hanging out with me.  I’m fun. And I pay her. Ha!

I have so much to give.  I am willing to give my whole heart, all over again.  I’m ready.  I’m sick of waiting.  I’m impatient.  But I’ll continue to live my life.

And, as always,  someone inevitably clucks, “It’s a process,” or “It’s a long road,” or “Maybe you’re just not ready yet.”

I want to chirp right back, “What the fuck do you know?”

I hope my story has a happy ending in the relationship department, I really do.  I have actually been happy thus far being single, but there are times when I want to scream and hit things and blow up happy couples and cynically remark that I don’t believe in love or marriage anymore.  Love Stinks.  Love is a Battlefield.  You Oughta Know.

Back to the point:
I was feeling sorry for my single, unsexed self as I curved along the 110 freeway back home to my studio apartment.  I shifted gears, and my 2007 Toyota Corolla’s 6-disc standard stereo system shifted CD’s.  Steven Curtis Chapman’s familiar voice rang out.  I chuckled at how uncool I was for indulging SCC.  But the truth pierced through, in his soaring voice and lyrics:

This is not how it should be
This is not how it could be,
But this is how it is –
And our God is in control.

This is not how it will be,
When we finally will see –
We’ll see with our own eyes,
He was always in control.

This is not where we planned to be,
When we started this journey —
But this is where we are,
And our God is in control.

I have been ready in so many ways to share my journey, my pain, my healing, joy and even my struggles.  It is exciting, because it truly is my hope that it is helpful to someone – even just one person.  I am being transformed and it’s beautiful, even when I throw lame tantrums.

As my tears dry on yet another Saturday laundry night, I am comforted and blessed knowing that, indeed, God is in control.