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Perhaps he did love me, in some way. He chose to marry me, after all…right? Or maybe I was just some dumb girl who loved him and he knew that I would give the world for him, and so he settled. I don’t know.

Our time together, to me, was great because I turned my eyes to what was so obvious. From the start, I noticed that he didn’t give me what I needed. And by “what I needed” I mean: most women want and need emotional support. So let me explain: women (not all) need/want to feel desired, wanted, known, treasured, valued and appreciated. And I never got that. Okay, okay, maybe the first week I was there he told me he would work on spending time with me…

So here I am, in San Diego, I had just left my home, my job, my family, my friends, my church, my bible study group and my city to move and be with the love of my life. I gave up everything. So, as any woman, newlywed that is, I wanted to spend every minute with my new husband. I couldn’t get enough of him. He was “mi rey,” my king, and my desire was to treat him as such and lavish him with love worthy of a king. But it wasn’t reciprocated. I would think, “well, maybe he doesn’t show love outwardly,” or, “he’s really tired so when he comes home and just wants to watch TV, he’s unwinding,” or, “why does Smith (made up name) take his wife out and he works the same shift as my husband? He doesn’t seem to be as tired as my husband.” Yeah, I did it…I compared. I had no idea what marriage to a sailor was supposed to look like. I knew that they (being the men on my husband’s ship) were treated like slaves and they worked incredibly long hours, but how come other sailors and their wives still had time to “be a couple?”

In the time that I was out there (besides the last few days that I was living with him), I think he made himself a sandwich three times, tops. And let me tell you, I am a LEGIT cook. I made him some of my best meals. I don’t think he ever washed his own clothes, unless he was out to sea. I took care of his car repairs, I paid his bills, I paid our bills, our home was clean…brotha man was hooked up! He had it good…or so I thought.

I would invite him to the movies. No. I would want to go to dinner. No. I would want to do something active. No. I wanted flowers. No. I wanted a romantic date. No. I wanted to be told I was his only one. No. I wanted to be told that I was treasured. No. I wanted to be told that I was a great wife. No. I wanted to be appreciated. No. I wanted to be told I was beautiful. No. I wanted to be his pride. No. I wanted to make him happy. No. I wanted to love him for the rest of my life. No.

I remember asking him if he treasured me, and he told me, “no.” He told me that he was more saddened by the departure of a male shipmate, than me leaving him. He told he never cared about me or “our” relationship. He told me he wished he had never kissed me three years ago.  He told me that I was, “too easy.” I was too agreeable…I guess (to which I wonder, what man, in his right mind, would want a contentious, nagging wife?!). He told me that I didn’t understand his dirty jokes (sorry I am not learned in the art of dirty jokes). He told me a lot of things that I lacked, but never noticed the things that I had given and the qualities that I hold.

Yeah, I wanted to be with him, all the time. I had no one else. Yes, I admit, I went through his emails…why you ask? Because I thought he cheated…why else would I be so emotionally neglected? Yep, I went through his phone…why you ask? Because I found pictures of him hugging two different girls, one giving him what seems like a lap dance-and he’s not wearing his wedding ring! I don’t know, I feel justified in my actions, but maybe I’m wrong.

I want to make this clear, however, he was a great provider. Not once did he complain about me not being able to find a job, about paying all of our bills, about being the only source of income. Not once. But I digress…

I really don’t know why I am posting about this…It’s heavy on my heart, I guess. I have a lot of “I don’t know whys” and they’re nagging at me…

I don’t know why he didn’t love me.

I don’t know why he did this to me.

I don’t know why this is happening to me.

I don’t know why I was just a phase to him.

I don’t know why he holds me in contempt.

I don’t know why he was so mean in the end.

I don’t know how someone can be so cruel to me when I only loved.

So somehow, as I sit in this mire, that I chose to put myself in, and through all these “I don’t know whys” God is here. And I have to think; maybe God took me out of that relationship because, in retrospect, it was crappy. I wasn’t treasured, as I should be. I wasn’t desired, as I should be. I wasn’t loved, as I should be. Maybe God took me out because my ex simply wasn’t the one for me…I chose to marry him. I chose to ignore BIG red flags (I’ll tell you some embarrassing yet quite comical stories about this later), I chose him because “I looooooved him.” Well, me looooooving him put me in this mud I am in, and I am NOT having fun.

But God is able to make every wrong, right. God is able to make every crooked path that I have taken, straight. God is able to restore me. God is able to give me back what has been taken. God is able to make me joyful again. God is able to re-inflate my “romance” bubble. God is able, to one day, bless me with a man who actually, really, with all his heart loves me and cherishes me, and treasures me, and appreciates me, and wants me, and values me, and wants to know me, and wants to buy me flowers for no reason, and wants to take me on dates, and wants to romance me, and above all wants to love me for the rest of his life.

God is able.

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds...Great is our Lord and mighty in power; his understanding has no limit" (Psalm 147:3, 5).

Forgiving???

Let me put this out there as a preface: This is not a "man-bashing" blog. Nor is it a blog for me to talk crap about my ex and what "he did to me" (or didn't do). Yes, I may post about the things he said or did that hurt me, and I may give "my point of view" (remember there are always two sides to a story) but please keep this in mind: Forgiveness is a verb...it is me daily, no, hourly, shoot, minute-by-minute, second-by-second letting go of the past offense, restoring him to "right-standing" in my heart and mind and loving him (the God kinda way). Believe a sista when I say, I am NOT forgetting what has been done! But know that I have chosen to forgive him-for my sake, and most importantly in obedience to Christ.

I’m not going to lie, sometimes I teeter-totter between forgiveness and annoyance; some nights, I’ll lay in my bed and tell God, 

“You know that I used to sleep in this bed with my ex-husband, right?! I hope you get me a new bed soon…”

But then I have myself a nice little pathetic cry…

At other times, I feel good, I don’t think about him all day, I walk with a lil’ swagger in my step…

But then I go home and put on my wedding ring…and cry.

Some day’s I will pray for blessings to be poured over him, protection, peace, joy, love, happiness, satisfaction, contentment, wealth, the world!

But then there are other days and the thought of what he did angers me and I ask God to vindicate me…

And then I cry…some more.

I’ve come up with a list of reasons why I should forgive:

1. God tells me to do so (if we don’t forgive He cant forgive us).
2. If I don’t I’ll be held prisoner to this man who could care less about me.
3. I want to stop hurting and somehow going through the pain and through the process will make me stronger…somehow???
4. I want to move on with my life.
5. I don’t want to be bitter.
6. I want to love again…with all my heart.

I’ve come up with a list of reasons why I shouldn’t forgive:
 …

So here’s the theme: Forgiveness is first and foremost about being obedient to God, but then about choosing to not let the offensive action (words, etc.) have a hold you. Not forgiving literally traps you in that moment in time, with that person in time, and keeps you there until you’ve let bitterness take root in your heart and hatred blossoms. Who would want all that junk growing in their heart?! Not me! And really, what does all the bitterness and hatred do for you? Does it change the situation? No! Does it change the other person’s heart? No! It does ABSOLUTELY nothing but make you sick!

So with that I say-forgive homies. Forgive.

Calm

Tuesday: Calm. This morning I woke up listening to these three beautiful sirens from Liverpool. Their voices have me mesmerized. Think Homer and the Odyssey mesmerized... Enjoy! This movie will definitely be a favorite. Do you ever wish you could go on an adventure? If so, where? And what would you do?

Grieving

Grieving:"deep sorrow that is caused by someone's death." Yikes! The meaning seems so...finite, so unreal, and I can't believe that I feel that way over my ex. And this evening, it hit me, I feel that way about "his family" too. I talked to one of his family members today and it seriously felt like I was pouring salt over a wound. Or better yet, ripping off a scab, pouring salt over the wound and then I don't know, make up some other wretched action that you could think of that would make a wound hurt even more...yep, I am grieving the loss of some beautiful people, and a man that I will always hold a special place in my heart for...always.

When you get divorced, not only are you losing someone who you love, but you also lose "their" side of the family too. For some marrieds, they hate or dislike the in-laws or the "other side" of the family, but I didn't. These people were to me as if I had loved them my whole life. If you don't know me, this is one truth about me...I love! And I love with all my heart and abilities and there is no holding back. I will fight to the death for those whom I have cherished in my inner being. And that is the case with my ex and his family. But they're gone. No, not physically, but emotionally. The cords and the nets that I had cast over them have been torn from my heart. These people, ex included, were a prize to me, something to be treasured, and I now grieve for them-because they are gone.

Yes, I have my own family-and they are more precious to me than, geeze, everything (2nd to God). But when their is no distinction, no categorization (i.e. my family, your family) of love, it boils down to me losing "my family."

And through all this, here is one truth in which I must grow roots:

I am accepted in the Beloved (God's family). And although I have "lost" some precious people, God and His children are my family, and I will cast my nets and tie my cords around those who are in my life. I will love them deeply and unconditionally-without restraint. And if I lose again, I lose again, but have the satisfaction that I have loved.

My ex and his family, whom I have cherished, were in my life for a season. That season is now over, but I will forever cherish and thank God for the time that I was honored to be a part of "their" family.

"I cry to you, Lord, for help. You are my refuge. You are all I have in the land of the living. Hear my cry because I’ve been brought down so low!" (Psalm 142:5-6).

Content, right now?! Me?!

I've learned that "journaling" is beneficial both physically and psychologically. Studies show that journaling (expressive writing) decreases stress-related doctor visits, reduces blood pressure, improves mood, helps individuals to "step-back" and evaluate a traumatic situation objectively, etc., etc. And for some strange reason, I've decided to put my "junk" out there. I suppose that in writing 1. I will benefit somehow (see above list) and 2. Perhaps my "junk" and my walks through the "valley" will help others while they are walking through their valley and sorting/throwing out their "junk". (Not that I want this blog to be me ranting, or crying, or wallowing in the past, because from day-to-day my mood changes, but more so, I want to share my life and perhaps hold someone's hand as they walk through their life's journey).

I start tonight, by talking about my adjective for the day: content. So for today, this is, "The Diary of a Content Mexican Woman."

I started today by weighing myself on that wretched thing called the scale. I don't know why I do it, but I do it everyday. It's like I'm on crack or something. Seriously, if I don't know how much I weigh everyday, I start tweaking out and my lips turn blue...ok, ok, it's not that bad, but pretty close. My weight is constantly on my mind and I think that most of the time it affects my daily "adjective." For example, today for most of the day, this day's adjective would be "fat." I hate that I base one of my daily adjectives on that number, but I do. So there. But later down in this post you'll find out why I changed it to content-so stay tuned homies.

To the good stuff!

It's bed time and I am reflecting on my day, and I've decided this is why I am content: The man that I absolutely loved, no adored, decided he didn't love me and asked me to leave his life by divorcing me. His reasons, I don't know them all, and I don't understand it all and I wish that I wasn't suffering the way that I am. I feel like I have been emotionally kicked, beaten down, spit on, rejected and at the root, been told that I am not enough. The pain of it all is unimaginable at times.

Before the big D (the day he told me he wanted a divorce), I knew that I was a pretty good person and had some good qualities, (I think we all tell ourselves that), but, sadly, how I really "felt" or "perceived" myself was what "he" thought about me. I didn't have a solid identity (sheesh! A 27 year old dealing with identity issues!?!). Sure, I was a "Christian", "educated","friendly", "nice", "loving", etc., but what do all the "adjectives" mean when they aren't grounded on something that is solid? I mean, so what? You're a Christian, aaaand? So what? You're educated, aaaaand? What do they all mean? What or who do they benefit? Go on, keep giving yourself your pretty little qualities, if that makes you feel better, Reyna. See at the root, I don't know who I am, what I am doing with my life, or what the heck is going on in my life...but I now know this: God made me the way that I am, and He loves me, the way that I am. And accepts me, the way that I am. And cherishes me, the way that I am. And even though "humanity" might reject me, and who I am, God doesn't. I need to work at growing roots in THAT truth-and nothing else. What I may think, "he" may think, or another "he" may think is fine and dandy, but in the scheme of all things, the only adjective that should matter is that I am His (possessive adjective) Reyna, and no one else's, and with that, I am content