I remember it clearly; the late-afternoon of October 22, 2016, my husband sat me down on our couch and confirmed he was leaving me. He was giving up. He had decided that he didn't want to be married to me anymore and could no longer live under our roof; just 3 days before our 8 year wedding anniversary. What was shared beyond that point is private but my response was visceral in many ways.
Here I was: 32 years old with three kids under 7 years old. Three kids who would now face so much disappointment and confusion that I never wanted them to face. Here I was faced with a life that I had dedicated so much time and energy in trying to perfect for them, for us, that was gone with the simple words that had just left his mouth. And here I was with the reality that it was crumbling without an ounce of control in my hands. There was nothing I could say or do to stop this. Nothing I could do to give my kids the "picture-perfect" life I envisioned for the last 11 years. I've never felt like a failure more in my life than this very moment in time. I felt guilt, devastation, heartbreak, deceit, pain...so much pain. I cried, yelled, laughed and had nearly every reaction in-between. Shock is probably the best way to describe the next 12 hours of my life.
Everything I knew was no longer familiar or comfortable. My trust for this man was gone, instantaneously. Everything felt uncertain, scary and fear-filled. It literally felt like someone took a hammer to the glass on my favorite family photo overnight and here I was trying to figure out how to make it beautiful again, but without all the original pieces....The despair was unreal......
Stay tuned as I share what happened next and how I started to "pick up the pieces".
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