Failure?

Hello, and welcome to Woman, Uncovered! This blog will chronicle my journey towards becoming a strong, self-sufficient woman. I'm starting from square one, but I believe in myself and know the journey will be rewarding. Not to mention, it's necessary.

I'm twenty-two. I have no degree, no job, no husband. I have a toddler.

I am not a failure.

Five weeks ago, my husband made it clear to me that our marriage was over. Then he went to work, smiling like nothing was wrong.

I held out for as long as I could, but sometime around 8:00 pm I called my minister, who was in Atlanta with his wife who had just donated a kidney to a family member.  Needless to say, I felt like a heel for even calling... but I didn't know what else to do, and that's what ministers are for, right?  A friend from church was in the living room playing with Little One and there was no time like the present.

I snuffled into the conversation gracelessly, leaning my forehead against the cold glass of my bathroom window. I hadn't turned the light on.  "I'm so sorry to bother you, I'm sure you're busy," I wailed, and received this cheerful reply: "I have all the time in the world, Rach. I just hope you don't mind if I take you with me while I'm walking the dog."

Half an hour later I'd poured out the entire sordid contents of my marriage and wasted another two rolls of toilet paper on my tears and snot.  The minister asked me if I could describe my feelings.  Not just "sad," or "lonely," but the deeper things.  After thinking a moment, I launched in.

"I feel... betrayed..."

From Atlanta: "Hmm."

"Hopeless.  Adrift."

"Mmhmm. What else?"

The words began to pour out. "Worthless.  Stupid.  Naive.  Damaged.  Failure.  More than anything, a failure.  I just feel like such a failure!"

I pressed my cheek and hand onto the window, and the calm voice said something I couldn't understand. It said "Rachel, listen to me: you haven't failed at anything at all."

I crumpled to the floor while he told me I was still worthy of love--that I'd always be worthy of love.  Before ending the conversation to get back to Rowan, I tersely informed him "I don't believe you. I don't have any reason to believe you."

I believe him now.

I'm starting over. It wasn't my choice to end my marriage, and I can't be responsible for anyone else's choices.  I can't waste my life worrying about whose "fault" it was, or even if it's "right or wrong" for him to have made the choice he's made. All I can do is love myself, love my child, and realize that I'm worthy of a life which will fulfill me and cause me to find joy every day that I live it.

So I'm starting over. Won't you join me?