Double standard

Checked the first box for "Divorced" Tuesday. I knew it would happen, just didn't expect it to be so soon.

And, of course, I cried. 

Went to the OBGYN for my yearly the next day. The nurse asked if my marital status was still separated, and I said, "Actually it's officially divorced, as of Monday." She asked how it went, and I told her fine, but it's been a hard week. 

And, of course, I cried. 

She left and came back with this mini Hershey's bar, gave me a hug, and said it was fitting and chocolate makes everything better. 

It did make me smile. 

Unfortunately, over the last two years, there have just been a lot more tears. Which anyone would say is understandable. The world as we knew it ended when the coronavirus pandemic closures began. My husband immediately shut down and avoided the kids and me - while quarantined in the same house for three months. He wouldn't talk about it, except to say that he was depressed. I was so worried. That summer he made his first statement that we should divorce, and in the fall he moved out. On top of that, my job was deteriorating, and I had no hope of finding a new one while on lockdown. Plus, that year I was functioning as a single parent and trying to work full time from home while doing remote school with a kindergartener, 4th grader, and 7th grader. 

I had high hopes for 2021, but they were shattered within the first couple of days when my husband finally admitted he'd had an affair. The next day I got sick and it turned out to be COVID-19. After recovering, I told him I was willing to do the work to fix our marriage if he was. He didn't know, wanted time to think about it. Ultimately, we made the decision to divorce almost one year ago - March 20. But it took this whole time to get through the logistics and mediation and be able to begin exiting a weird limbo. I kept thinking. "I just need to reach point X in time, and I'll be ok. I'll start to feel better. I won't want to cry in the middle of the day." I really dug into prayer and my Bible and that is what sustained me, being rooted in the knowledge that I am a child of God and loved by Him and he's got me - no matter what. I tried to get outside for fresh air and exercise on really hard days. I tried to eat better on weeks when I was at the apartment. I did have two very big blessings last year – an amazing new job and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go to Kenya for a missions trip. 

The new year brought some hints at closure as we set the apartment lease to end June 30 in anticipation of the divorce being finalized and our nesting arrangement ending. But winter dragged on and my car needed new wiring. Then new rear brakes. Then new front brakes. My finances have become tenuous, and I'd hoped they'd be robust as I begin researching mortgages and moving options. Russia invaded Ukraine. Through a ministry partner at church, I'm helping with refugees locally as well as updating our mission team's social media with news from their front lines in Poland. There was a shooting at a local high school last week.

In short, life is stressful. And depressing. So when the OBGYN asked if I'd like some medication to help with that, I said yes. 

I've long been a proponent of mental health care and not being afraid to ask for help and that medication is great. But I've never been one to ask for it for me. Because I didn't need it. I have joy in my heart. I know how to address the factors that affect my mental health. And I felt like a failure admitting that wasn't enough. Which is the opposite of what I tell everyone else! The devil is doing his best to get me, but I'm letting God fight him on my behalf. Enough of this double standard. It's another new in my life, and I'm embracing it.