The second marriage I had wasn’t much better. The reasons for getting remarried weren’t much better than my first marriage either. No longer in the Army, I felt alone. I knew something was missing in my life, but because I was still playing the church and religion game, I hadn’t healed physically, mentally, or spiritually from my first failed marriage. So I went into a second marriage with a similar mindset that if it didn’t work out, divorce was still an option. Without taking the time to get to know the other person or even to make an effort to seek out the Lord’s will, I remarried.
I even had friends who encouraged me to get back into relationships and to find the “one” I was to be with. But the problem was that with their well-meaning advice, there were things I needed to deal with before I ever considered marriage again.
There were a lot of problems with my second marriage. Both of us had children from our first marriages, and neither asked the difficult questions which need to be asked when marrying when children are involved. Loneliness is also never a good reason to actively seek out someone to marry. There’s a lot of wisdom in what Paul wrote, Art thou bound unto a wife? seek not to be loosed. Art thou loosed from a wife? seek not a wife (1 Corinthians 7:27). Paul is giving us a warning not to be in too big of a hurry to do something which changes our lives so dramatically.
I didn’t need to get married again. I needed to heal.
With the failure and stress of a second marriage I really didn’t know where to begin. A divorce is messy and destructive on every part of life. Sure, there’s the obvious things of who gets what. Then there’s the financial destruction of who has the responsibility to pay this and that. But there’s deeper destruction that happens. I’m not a woman; I would have no idea how to explain how women see divorce. But for me, I can share what I felt.
A terrible sense of abandonment
I’ve heard people say that even a bad marriage is better than being alone. Although the last three years of my second marriage exposed me to emotional, psychological, and spiritual hardships, at least there was someone around. The divorce took that comfort away. There is nothing more quiet and hard to become accustomed to than an empty house. Questions began filling my mind; anyone who regularly follows my blog knows I have a hard time forgiving myself for my past. And with that in mind, the questions were, at times, mean. You’re not worth anything; two women left you. Who’s going to want you now? Do you really think God will forgive you?
Divorce breaks something inside of us. I’m not sure what to call it but those who experience divorce are never the same. The abandonment doesn’t immediately make itself known. At first, after both my divorces, I believed I had been freed from a terrible burden. The loneliness crept into my life slowly both times. But when it was there it was unmistakable.
A terrible feeling of meaningless
We all want to feel as if we matter. We also want to feel appreciated, loved, and respected by others. Divorce made me question if I had anything to offer anyone. And it also made me wonder if I had anything that could give the Lord a reason to want me. Sure, I was in graduate school, working on my Ph.D. Although I was doing well in the courses and research, I felt as if my life had no value whatsoever. I didn’t believe I had anything of value within me.
More questions occupied my mind, and these were equally as cruel. You can’t even do the most basic thing – marry and stay married. You’re garbage; what meaningful thing will be remembered about you? But my mind wasn’t finished with me yet. I’d compare myself to those couples I’d encountered who had been married for 40, 50, and 60 years and wonder why I couldn’t have been that fortunate.
A terrible feeling of being a failure
Another aspect of my childhood is the desire to be the best in all that I do. My parents expected it, and it became something that defined all parts of my life – including marriage. A second divorce simply added to the sense of failure I felt about my first marriage. I couldn’t understand how my life could get so out of control. I married twice and divorced twice before forty.
Professionally, I was still making progress in graduate school and even was teaching college-level courses. On the outside, I appeared to be successful. But on the inside, I was a wreck, questioning every success with my focus on the failures of marriage. Again, my mind would say things that no one else would have dared to ask. So, you’re so good at your job but if people knew your personal history, they’d see how much of a failure you are.
