In my therapy office I have a photo of surfers in the ocean. Some are paddling across the waves, some are waiting to catch a wave. I purchased this photo to remind myself that emotions are waves that are meant to wash over us. When we try to fight them, we drown. When we acknowledge and honor them, they pass and we are ok. I have the photo facing me so I can remember that for myself and my clients during sessions. 

And here I am, writing today because I’ve been numb. Today, my husband (H) shared a statement at a church members’ meeting that he has resigned from his staff position due to character and conduct issues. The pastor encouraged the members to respect our privacy/boundaries and to support us through private prayer. He let everyone know that the elders and our close friends are aware of the full situation, and that they are honoring our privacy – especially because this is not a matter of church discipline. I had some friends give me a hug after the meeting and H and I left with our kids quickly after. I dropped H off at his place and had a normal sunday night at home with the kids. Except I was more impatient with the kids tonight. 

After I put them to bed, I received a text from a good friend of mine that said, “Hey, just hanging in a hammock doing some reading, if you feel like debriefing today – happy to listen. <3”

I blinked. Do I have anything to debrief? Was that meeting deserving of a debrief? 

The fact that I didn’t know the answer to that, even though I had bawled the night before with H and the elders to plan for the members meeting, told me I should call her. And as she picked up, the emotions welled up inside of me and with a gutteral sigh, I realized that I was not ok at all. 

H and I deliberated over this statement with the elders for the past few weeks. At first we were ok with sharing everything with the church. But after an elder’s wife broke confidence and shared what happened to us to another church member (thinking that it would encourage that person because they’re going through something similar), I realized how NOT ok I was with having the church know everything. 

I’m going through such a difficult and delicate time. Almost all of my energy is going into my children – making sure they’re ok, processing their feelings, being a safe place for them, intentionally doing lots of things with their dad so the boys know they have access to both their parents. I’m feeling so drained and exhausted because I feel like I have no margin for error. The boys are suffering so much, I don’t want to add onto their pain. Right now, my priorities are 1) supporting my kids through this season 2) supporting myself. I can end this post here and make it sound resolved and triumphant. 

But here’s where it gets tricky. Right now, I only want friends that I deeply trust around me. They are wise, dependable, trustworthy, and discreet. With them, I can fall apart and say everything that’s happening. With them, I know they won’t breathe a word of this to anyone else. A few months from now, I might be more open to sharing with a wider circle of friends. The kinds of friends who fall between casual and close – they’re not superficial, but they’re not my inner circle. And I might be more willing to share because at that point I’ll be stronger and studier, and my separation will feel less like something confidential and more like something everyone can know. But with these very detailed needs, how do I weigh that next to the church elders’ desire to be honest and transparent with the church? The church who has financially supported my husband? 

Towards the end of the meeting, my husband advocated for me and requested that we keep the update solely about him, his transgressions, and not mention our separation. He said “it’s all my fault that we’re in this situation, and my wife has had to carry the whole burden of that. Please let me make this only about me and spare her.” And when he said that, tears fell from my eyes. Not of appreciation, but of anger. Because he said outloud what I haven’t allowed myself to say: “It’s his fault”. And I was mad at myself for withholding the sea of anger/hurt inside of me, only to acknowledge it when my husband gave me “permission” by acknowledging it first. 

WHERE IS MY SPINE? WHERE IS MY AGENCY? 

Therapeutically, I get it. I was in an abusive situation for many years, and the only way to survive was to suppress my emotions. But still, I was pissed. Pissed that I was waiting for permission. Pissed that even in this moment, I’m mad at myself, not at my husband. Pissed at the realization that it’s always been easier to be mad at myself instead of my husband. Because he wasn’t safe. 

And so all of that came out, in my phone call with my dear friend on the hammock. There was so much inside of me, and yet because I have trained myself to look so serene on the outside, I’ve even convinced myself that I’m ok. If it wasn’t for my friend, I wouldn’t have known to check in on myself. Thank God for empathic friends.