In my previous blog entitled The Biggest Loser I talked about the reality show “The Biggest Loser” which is a positive use
of the phrase loser. But there are
also negative ways to use it, for example: taunting people (in particular
children) who aren’t athletically inclined, seem to be “geeky” or who are just
different. Lastly, I confessed that I
was labelled a loser at one point in
my life, but I ran out of time before I could tell you how that title was earned. You can read the entire blog at http://dailyflicker.blogspot.com to get caught up,
in the meantime, I need to rescue the folks I left hanging on the cliff, so
let’s get started.
I
grew up in a household where it was implied that you didn’t tell people “ya’ bidness”. It wasn’t
Tania
Not Tanya moment: The implied secret
keeping I believe stemmed from two aspects:
1) it was an extension of the era my parents were raised in (the 1930s)
in which there wasn’t a lot of open communication, explaining, etc. You more or less figured things out on your
own and if there was some household drama you kept your mouth shut, no matter
how bad it was – at least for the most part.
Kids were seen not heard or included in “grown folks bidness”; and you
“bet-not” think about opening your mouth and contributing your two cents regardless to whether you were trying to gain
clarity, give your opinion or to correct a statement. Ignoring this expectation could result in you
getting a knot upside the head, fat lip or a hand print on your cheek because
it would be considered disrespectful.
Today, Oh Lawd!!! Parents talk
about any and everything in front of their children, and yours, children
interrupt and fully participate in grown folks’ conversations and some are bold
enough to look down your throat while you’re talking, eating up every word you
say. I’m not saying we should keep our
children in the dark, prohibit them from expressing their opinion, etc. but
there is balance in everything. A
writer from my Favorite Book said it best:
There’s an opportune time to do
things, a right time for everything on the earth. Ref:
Ecclesiastes 3:1 (MSG). There
I go running down the rabbit hole again, where was I?
Oh
yes, I was talking about implied secret-keeping and the need to talk with
someone about my failing marriage. I could have talked to either one of my
parents and they would have provided me with good Godly counsel, but I was embarrassed. Most importantly, I didn’t think they could
relate to my experiences. Why? I realized I didn’t love my husband and my
marriage was failing, in essence, I was losing. How could I talk to people whose marriage (I
perceived) as perfect? I was intimidated
and ashamed. I had one friend who was
the wife of my husband’s best friend that I talked to. She could relate because her husband was
doing some of the very same things as mine.
We were both young and basically vented to each other, not productive at
all so I prayed as I tried to figure out what I should do. As things intensified, I had to get passed
the embarrassment and admit that I made a mistake, one that was gonna cost me
dearly. To keep it absolutely
“one-hunid”, another part of my hesitancy was that I didn’t want to hear
anybody say: “you know you shouldn’t have married him in the first place.” You see now I realize I was really trying right
a wrong. What wrong? We had our first our child when I was 17. Though my mom tried to insist that I marry
him, I refused, but in hindsight I think I was still trying to make it right on
the DL. I know it might sound crazy but
hopefully it makes sense. At any rate,
that suffering in silence and embarrassment was in part PRIDE. So I chose to keep my mouth shut until I
could no longer hide the drama that impacted our lives.
One additional challenge was that no one told me about the newlywed adjustment period,
which was in part what we were experiencing.
I had a fantasy that we would go to church on Sundays, attend bible
study, night services, pray together, have children and live happily ever after. But a few months or so after we married, my
husband stopped attending church and had an issue with me going. Huh?
For my entire life, I went to church every Sunday, including Sunday
School, YPWW, Friday and Sunday nights (wayyyyyy back in the day when COGIC
folks had night service). Talk about a
culture shock! It felt foreign not to be
at church “all the time”. I just knew I
was going to hell (just kidding), but it did feel weird not to be at church –
as often as I was used to. I was sad, missed
my friends, church family, I was angry (with me and him), grieving what used to
be and I was being drained both spiritually and mentally. I prayed and asked God to help me understand
how to deal with it. Mind you I didn’t
tell anyone what was happening until one day after my preacher-Dad read my mail
on a Sunday night in front of everyone at church (on one of the rare occasions
I was able to go to church). I was spiritually depleted, after the sermon (aka
preached word) I went to the altar for prayer and afterwards was allowed to
share my “testimony” which opened the door for him to tell me what I should be
doing (I know you’re shaking your head right now, but that was common back in
the day). I knew what I needed to do,
but I was stuck. I realize now it was God’s way of getting me the help I had
been praying for. In privacy, I finally
told him that my husband had an issue with me coming to church. He said he would talk to him. “Oh great” I thought, now everything will be
perfect. I don’t know if the conversation with my
husband and father took place. I can
assume it did because my father is a man of his word. However, my husband never gave any indication
that they spoke.
Double
Take: One Monday after work, I could
tell my husband was uneasy about something but I didn’t know what. We got into an argument and before I knew it I
had a black eye. At that time my hair
was waist length. No boo, my hair, not
extensions. LOL. I didn’t know anything about make up concealer
then, so I tried to hide my eye with my hair.
I got some strange looks from people including the church folk. You know that look that’s sort of like a
double take and you can hear their unspoken comments (e.g. “What in the
world?”, “Oh My God!!”, “Umph, Umph”. I will never forget I got a couple of those
looks from the saints at church, but not one person said anything to me
like: Are you ok? Are you safe?
Do you need help? Not one
good-God fearing saint. We all pretended
that my eye wasn’t black. Really??? I’m sure the Bees did a lot of shar-ipping
(sharing-gossip) when they saw my face, but I never even heard any negative
conversations.
At
some point I finally realized this wasn’t something I could figure out on my
own and even though I prayed I wasn’t getting the help or answers I wanted. I mustered up enough courage to talk with
someone that had helped me through a rough time in my life as a teenager. God answered my prayers by placing Sharon
Janet Wright, my Gomma, in my life. She
gave me wise counsel about keeping balance, honoring my husband but standing
for the truth without compromising my beliefs as a Christian. She told me it was ok not to go to church
every time the doors were opened, including Sunday – what, I won’t go to
hell? Her response was like “girl,
bye!!” She gave me enough game to see
things differently.
Fast-forward
three years. With Gomma’s advice and with
me learning to trust God, I was able to make the best of my circumstances. At some point my husband started coming to
church and even started participating.
He was a great father to our three children (by this time we had two
sons). The children adored their father,
but in particular our sons. He would
have given them the world if he could have.
At times I thought he went over the top with some of the things he
purchased for them, but whatever. I made
a decision that I would make our marriage work for my children’s sake which is
what I did until approximately year five when things went downhill like a
freight train.
During
those times my mom actually shared some very personal things about her life as
a young adult that about blew me away. It
was at that point I realized my mom was human (she made mistakes), the depth of
her love for me and how concerned she was.
During one of our intimate conversations she never told me what to
do. She never told me to leave my
husband. But what she did say was: Tania, if it comes to it you will know when
you’ve had enough.” My response was:
“But how?” She said: “You will
know.” In that painful place a new found
relationship was born with my mom, I learned who God was for myself, my faith
increased and I fell in love with God’s word.
I suffered a few more embarrassing moments that gave the Bees more
ammunition, but I didn’t care at that point.
I wanted my sanity and safety. I
made the agonizing decision to file for divorce when that thing on the inside
said: “enough is enough”.
I
lost that battle to a marriage that
was not God’s perfect will for my life, actually I take that back. We both lost. No, we all lost, my ex-husband, my children, in-laws, nieces, friends and
me. During the separation and finally
the divorce I didn’t “feel” any better. Oddly, no one prepared me for the grief of
divorce either. Geeeesh, where are people
when you need them, right? LOL! I know that may sound strange, but it felt as
if my insides were being ripped apart, not physically but spiritually and
emotionally. Years later I realized I
went through a mourning period which makes perfect sense. When two people marry, regardless of their
religious beliefs, according to my Favorite Book, those two people become one
(spiritually/emotionally). They are tied
together forever because God honors the wedding vows, the covenant, made before
him. So
they are no longer two but one flesh. Therefore, humans must not pull apart
what God has put together.” Matthew 19:6
(CEB). When a divorce occurs, those
two people are torn apart (spiritually/emotionally) which results in reactions: fear, hurt, anger, sadness, denial, loss,
etc. which can result in physical reactions:
weight gain/loss, ulcers, etc.
Yes, this can happen to good God fearing Christians and to couples that
are no longer in love.
Tania
Not Tanya Moment: We never discussed it,
but I’m sure it was a culture shock for my husband too. My dad was also his pastor and father-in-law. The members idolized the pastor, there was
preferential treatment because we were PKs but along with it there was an
expectation that we would never make mistakes.
I think some people thought we were perfect. We were super saved religious folks who loved
Jesus and lived out of balance. People
will have an issue with me saying it, but I don't care. I’m free now and it is what it is.
I
will close on this. I’m not promoting divorce as the solution to marital
problems. Every situation is different, but there are times when it is the
healthiest thing to do. At the end of
the day, no one wins in a divorce.
Today,
I’m a winner, because I decided not to give up.
