I somehow made it back home, but besides that physical presence in the passenger seat next to me, I don’t remember anything else about the car ride. I was in complete shock. I had never realized it before, but I am now fully convinced that shock is a survival mechanism created by God. It’s a way that we don’t have to experience something terrible all at once, because I think if we did, there’s a good chance we would just die. At least that’s how I felt. I think part of me was thinking this was just a horrible, horrible trick. Thomas was just trying to scare me into getting sober. Pretty soon he’d come home and tell me the papers were fake and that I needed to go to rehab. And I would go. I’d do anything to make this stop.
My mom got there that night. My dad was working, so he didn’t come until the following day. I have always had difficulty sleeping, and I have always been chronically tired. Ever since I was little. That’s something I’ll talk about another time, but for the purpose of this story, just know that I’m always tired and always have trouble sleeping despite being tired. That first night, I specifically remember going to bed and thinking there was no way I’d be able to sleep that night. The absolute worst thing that could ever happen to me, had happened. How could you sleep after something like that? God – that’s how. I had one of the best sleeps of my life that night, and I woke up feeling so well rested. My life had come crashing down around me, yet somehow I not only survived the night, I slept really well. I remember waking up and thinking, “Wow! God is here.” And I know He was.
The next morning, we found an attorney who could see us that day. My parents and I had absolutely NO experience with attorneys. This was all completely unfamiliar territory. It also didn’t help that I was detoxing, and unknowingly was EXTREMELY paranoid. I was afraid to talk to anyone. I thought people were spying on me and following my every move. My parents, having no idea what was going on, seemed to follow my lead, and we were all extremely scared. We were passing notes to each other, talking in code, whispering, the whole deal. It’s pretty comical looking back. But fear was driving us. So much fear.
We all went to meet with the attorney. She explained what the divorce papers actually said. It was Tuesday, and the divorce papers said I needed to be out of the house by that evening, otherwise we’d have to go through a speedy trial, whatever that meant. I, of course, was lying to everyone, saying I hadn’t been drinking, and this whole divorce was completely Thomas’s fault. Meanwhile, I went to the bathroom at the attorney’s office, and noticed that they had a fancy bottle of mouthwash on the counter with some paper cups. Did I tell you I had resorted to drinking mouthwash the week or two before? Well, I resorted to drinking mouthwash the week or two before. So there I was, my life in complete shambles, in the bathroom of a divorce attorney’s office, staring at a bottle of mouthwash. I poured myself a couple cups of it and threw it back, then stared at myself in the mirror, wondering how I was supposed to live after this. And I didn’t know it at the time, but that would be the last alcoholic drink I would have for (hopefully) the rest of my life. Mouthwash. In a bathroom. At a divorce attorney’s office.
So after we met with the attorney, she gave us a laundry list of things to do. Most of it had to do with preparing a financial declaration, which, by the way, was perhaps one of the most tedious, awful things I’ve ever had to complete. It felt like it was never ending. I am NOT a finance/money person. I’m great at math, but you put a dollar sign in front of a number, and it’s like a foreign language to me. Not to mention, Thomas took care of all of that and had all of our records. So I was having to make thousands of phone calls to different places – car dealers, banks, etc. to find out how much money was owed, what the balance was, and all sorts of other things I never dealt with before. It was such a struggle. And the whole time, I just kept thinking, “I can’t believe we are PAYING an attorney to ACTIVELY dissolve my marriage.” It felt SO wrong. I knew that God didn’t like divorce. How could He let this happen? I didn’t want this to happen. Surely God knew that. How could this be?
But God was SO, SO present and active during this whole time. He was continuing to bless me in so many ways that I can’t even remember all of them. I am not at all exaggerating when I tell you that just waking up each morning and putting one foot in front of another was a complete miracle and an act of God. Have you ever been there before? It was like I was a walking zombie. I was on auto pilot. A robot. And when I wasn’t able to even live my life or make my own body move, God stepped in and did it for me. That truly is the only answer I can think of, because otherwise, I would still, to this day, be curled up in a bed somewhere, too depressed to move a single muscle.
I’m so blessed that my parents were able to help me financially during this time. Well, I say that, but I also wonder if a lot of time and money could have been saved if they hadn’t helped me. But I would absolutely never fault them for it. They were there for me in a way they had never been there for me before. They literally put their lives on hold for at least 6 weeks, driving back and forth between their house and mine, making sure I had everything I needed and that I wasn’t alone. I had blown up my whole life, and they were still there for me. I think my parents are the closest thing I’ve ever seen to showing Christ-like love. They will drop everything they are doing to help me (or anyone else) in need. No questions asked. Whatever I needed, they would provide. And I repaid them with lying, anger, and pulling away from them. And for that I am so sorry. But more on that later.
So in the first few days/weeks after this all happened, I had to move out of our house and find an apartment. We divided up our furniture pretty early on, and everything else I needed I either rented or my parents graciously bought. I had to tell my work what was going on (minus the alcoholic part), and they were kind enough to work with me on my work schedule so that I could visit TJ and get everything in order. Each step of the way – each deposit, each rent payment, each attorney fee paid – I kept thinking about how it was just pulling me farther and farther away from Thomas and closer to an official divorce. It was heartbreaking. I think I was largely in denial. And I think God was kind to let the shock linger for several weeks, if not more. I was just living in survival mode, being carried by God’s grace.
If I could do things all over again, there is so much I’d do differently. But I have come to realize that there’s no sense in dwelling over the past because I can’t change it. But I will say, I did a LOT of things wrong when it came to the divorce itself. My attorney was one of those “bulldog” attorneys. She wanted to take Thomas for all that he had, and honestly, so did I. I was still very much in the mindset that this was all HIS fault, and because of that, I deserved to get everything from him that he was trying to take away from me. This whole mindset really caused a lot of unnecessary time, energy, stress, and money. But, I will say, my parents learned a LOT and would be able to use what they learned later with my brother, when it would REALLY matter. So I do think this was still a blessing in disguise.
It took me a few days, but I finally went to my first AA meeting that Thursday. It was more just something I knew I had to do if I ever wanted to see my son again. I wasn’t going to actually get help, just to help my case with the custody battle I was facing. By Thursday, I was drained. It had been such a long few days. My life was a complete mess. I was beginning to realize that this wasn’t a dream I would eventually wake up from. Plus, I hadn’t seen TJ in several days, and I was really starting to miss him. So I REALLY did not want to go to the AA meeting. I wanted to go back to the hotel room and curl up under the covers and go to sleep and possibly never wake up. I definitely wasn’t suicidal, but the thought of just never waking up again didn’t sound too bad. Plus, I was just downright tired. But I knew I had to go. I had absolutely no clue what to expect. I figured it would be a bunch of smelly, homeless people with no teeth sitting around in a circle in a dimly lit room, not wanting to talk and just sitting awkwardly in silence.
But you guys – AA is NOT at all like that. If you are at all hesitant to go to an AA meeting, JUST GO! Trust me! You will NOT regret it. I walked in to this church (which is where most of them take place), and I was immediately greeted by numerous SMILING faces. Smiles WITH TEETH! I looked around, and everyone was so….NORMAL. And they were HAPPY. That was what I noticed. They were all HAPPY. So my parents and I walked in and sat down. So many people knew that we were new and kept coming up to us to welcome us. At the beginning of the meeting, the leader asked if anyone was new, and my dad raised his hand. I laugh thinking about it. He was not at all an alcoholic, but I’m pretty sure everyone thought he was the one who needed help after that.
I had a scheduled facetime with TJ in the middle of the meeting, so I stepped out and went to my car to talk to him. I can’t think about that, even today, because I was so happy to see TJ, but I was also so incredibly sad. This poor little boy, who had done absolutely nothing wrong, and who didn’t understand anything that was happening, was now going to live in a broken home. A broken family. And it was all Thomas’ fault. Anyways, I held it together and put on a smiling face for TJ, and after we hung up, I went back into the lobby of the church and sat down on a bench and cried. I hadn’t really cried up until that point. The shock held back my tears. But I couldn’t hold it together any longer. Reality was slowly sinking in, and the tears needed to be released.
And if God didn’t know this was going to happen. I mean, all I can say is just “wow!” So I was sitting there by myself, sobbing, and this girl (I call everyone my age or younger a girl, by the way. She was more like a lady in her thirties.) came walking out, chasing a little toddler. She was wearing jeans, a nice top, Tieks shoes, and carrying a Louis Vuitton purse, all similar things to what I owned and wore.
“Are you okay?” she asked. But it wasn’t just a normal “are you okay?” I could tell she really meant it.
“I’m fine,” I said and gave her a half-hearted smile.
“I cried during my first meeting, too,” she said. “Except I also had a huge gash on my forehead with stitches,” she added. She wasn’t laughing. She was serious.
And that, ladies and gentleman, was the guardian angel that God sent for me. I believe it with my whole heart. If she had not been there that day, come out to the lobby at that exact moment, I don’t know where I’d be right now. She saved me. And I fully believe that God was the reason. I envision it like God directing a play. This was the final act. “Go. Now!” God gently directed her and handed her the script as she came out to greet me. It was so intentionally created by God. I refuse to believe anything otherwise.
In that moment, I knew I’d be able to go on at least one more day. I didn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel yet, but I knew that there might just be a light. And that gave me just the slightest bit of hope I needed to keep going.
To God be ALL the Glory!
Love, Grace
