The year after my marriage fell apart was hands down the worst of my life. Most days were a blur as I stumbled through them trying to contain my emotions and take care of my children.
It was the pinnacle to a life full of loss that seemed unbelievable, and undeserved, and just … unfair. It left me shaken, literally, as I noticed that I could no longer hold my drawing tools steady for my job as a textile designer. I felt like a shell of the person I’d once been, and wondered if I even knew that girl anymore.
I took a year off from life — as much as I could. I still lived through it, but cut out anything “extra” from my days, knowing that this girl had some serious healing to do. Not only from her marriage, but from the loss of her family growing up, being disowned, a devastating job loss, and apparently every dream she’d ever held dear.
I clung to God’s hand as if it was the sole thing that could pull me through. And it was. Day by day, He seemed to gently nudge me from my bed, push me along my tasks, and catch me when I crumbled into a pile of tears. He was so close — so close — that I felt the covering over me. He was protecting His daughter when she could no longer stand up for herself, could no longer fight, could no longer move forward.
As the months went by, the burdens eased. I began to poke my head above the bedsheets and wonder if there might be life outside the four walls I’d been hiding within.
At some point, you will do the same.