Then summer came, the Bible study ended, and I was for sure going to Maryland. But then my business got so busy that there was no way I could leave for the whole summer. I did go for a weekend to go to my friend Heather’s senior prom. While there, I got into a conversation with my sister, her husband, and Heather. I told them what they already knew and how miserable I was. Somehow we got on the subject of James and mine’s last intimate moment. It was so painful to even talk about; it put me into a deep depression. I left Maryland with the kids. It was late at night and I was very depressed. I guess the reality of how bad my marriage was really got to me. As I was driving, I realized I didn’t want to go home to that man ever again. I prayed and cried, thinking about just going to sleep and letting God just take me home. One minute I would fall asleep, the next, I would slap myself to wake up. I wanted to die, but I didn’t want the kids to die. Somehow by the grace of God, we made it home that night.
I made up my mind that night that I was separating from James. So I got home and the next night he told me that God really convicted him about what he was doing and he really wanted to change. But it was too late, I wanted a separation, and if I didn’t get one, I would eventually never want to work it out. But I would be willing to separate to reconcile. He was shocked. I was serious.
Summer came, and most of the time the kids were in Maryland, thank God. They didn’t have to hear the arguing. I couldn’t stand James, so I began strategizing and planning how to get out of my marriage. We got another counselor from church, number seven or eight; I’ve lost count by now. We also got a financial counselor, who said we needed to sell our house. Well what kind of a house would we get with the bad credit that my husband got us into? But I knew I couldn’t live in our house and walk away from my marriage, it was too expensive.
I, for some reason, felt like I had to walk away from God to walk away from my marriage. That’s what people told me, not anyone close, just acquaintances. I loved and still love the Lord with all my heart, but I couldn’t stand anything to do with what I thought were the laws of the Bible. I knew I wanted to separate, but I didn’t want to go against God, so I convinced James, our counselor and myself that I wanted to do it Biblically. Its like the keys to my prison gates were dangling in front of me for the first time in my married life, and I was going to find a way to grab them no matter what it took. I halfway convinced myself that we were separating to reconcile. Now I hadn’t told James or the counselor the truth—that I had no desire to ever get back with him. I just played the game. I had to first convince James that if we could find a house that we both liked, that fit our budget, then our house would sell quickly, (sound familiar)? For some reason, he agreed this time. We found a house in a great neighborhood. God answered all my prayers, a house with three bedrooms and two bathrooms with a fenced-in back yard and lots of kids in the neighborhood. The owners of this house bought our house, and we switched houses. It was definitely a God thing.
I never really saw all five of us living in this house. I guess I knew my marriage was over. It was just a matter of the right timing. We had to pack, but I was really busy with on-site heat pressing. This was right in the middle of baseball tournaments. Not a good time to move. I couldn’t find time to pack. I did what I could every minute that I could, but I just didn’t have the time. I worked all day and then worked at night. James was a real unsupportive jerk about it. It got so bad that I had to call our counselor to intervene. At the time, Heather was staying with us, and she helped us move. During that time she witnessed first hand how my life was. James was so nasty that he couldn’t even hide it from her. It hurt her so much to see how he treated me, that it made her cry. She asked me why I put up with him. And I said, as I always said, that I did it for the kids. I did what I had to do for them, always for them. I called the counselor and told him that I really didn’t think I wanted to move into this new house with my husband, and I meant it. He came over and told him to be extra nice to me that week, and to love me and honor me and serve me. I explained to him that the unpacking was the worst part for me. Even though I was on medicine for my ADHD, I still was really scared of feeling overwhelmed when I unpacked, so he told him that he needed to do anything, no matter what it was, to help me. He said, “do it lovingly and kindly.” James was to serve his wife.
Well I really thought that he would take the counselor’s advice. You would think that hearing that I didn’t even want to move in with him would really hurt. He knew I wanted to leave him, and he knew I was only staying for the kid’s sake. He knew because I told him. And when I said it, he would say “yeah yeah, I know you’re fed up. You’re always fed up, what else is new?” Well this time, this was it. I would never say I’m fed up again unless I was ready to end it. And I was. I was scared, no terrified, but I didn’t want to wish I was dead anymore. I wanted my life back, and I would do whatever it took, even if that meant I had to lie to or deceive everyone, even myself. But I decided to see if maybe he would actually help me unpack. He didn’t, and as a matter of fact, every time I asked him to even move a box, he told me how many other things he needed to do, or his carpel tunnel syndrome was hurting him so he couldn’t help me. He didn’t lift a finger unless I was throwing away his stuff, then he got right up, used his carpel tunnel hands and went rummaging through the trash. The kids and I did everything.
I didn’t even think of unpacking our bedroom. I was just fine sleeping on the couch. I was so frustrated with him. He wouldn’t even help me figure out the bills. He did the absolute opposite of what our counselor asked him to do. During the days of unpacking, our counselor came over and asked us how our week had gone. We never could get to real issues, because we were always just discussing how the week went, and it was always going bad.