Why I Stayed

My first post a few weeks ago told a little about me and my first marriage. I've wondered how much I should sensor what I write here in order to avoid any drama in my, now, drama-free life. I was married to a sociopath. He knows it's true, but he still isn't too keen on me using that as an adjective to describe him. Who would be? To say I stayed through way too much would be an understatement. I survived multiple affairs, identify theft/fraud, manipulation, compulsive lying and so much more. The first thing people always ask me is, "So, why'd you stay so long after you figured it out?" Great question. Complicated answer.

Or answers...there's more than one.

Pride

For the most part, I let my pride get in the way. We got married because we found out I was pregnant. I did love him, and I believed he loved me, so it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. There were already issues with him being unfaithful before we became pregnant, but I was young and in love so I ignored the obvious. In my eyes, I had already embarrassed my family once, by being a young, unwed mother. When I started to realize the severity of everything, I wasn't about to follow that up with a divorce. I don't blame my family or church or anything like that, but I knew what we believed about divorce and the stigma that comes along with it. I didn't want to face it.

I also didn't want to be another statistic. No one thinks the couple that gets pregnant and gets married is going to make it. The odds are stacked against us from the start. The more years that passed, the harder it was to give up. I'd tell myself that we were proving everyone wrong. In reality, we weren't because it was all for show. That's not real success. We didn't stand a chance from the beginning.

Comfort

Sometimes in life you get too comfortable. You know you need to make a change, but the comfort of your circumstances keeps you from doing so. Your comfort level can be unhealthy and toxic, but it's your normal. Most humans crave consistency and stability. You get into a flow or a pattern and things that would seem terrible and unbearable don't cause you any alarm or discomfort anymore. From time to time, you see glimpses of what you really deserve or desire in your life and you think about leaving. Then the doubts roll in. You wonder about if you can afford life on your own. You wonder who will want to be with a 32 year old woman with two kids. You wonder if it's worth changing everything about your life and all your future plans just to be a little happier. It seems like too much, and you start to reason with yourself that you can handle a little sadness if it means keeping your life together.

What you don't realize is, you are bargaining with so much more than your comfort. In accepting this environment, you are altering yourself in ways you only discover once removed from the situation. I became numb. I was so good at not letting anything about my personal life affect me and that mindset leaked into every aspect of my life. I built up emotional walls of protection and hardened my heart as a defense mechanism. What I thought was strength was actually withdrawal from feeling anything real. The real strength was leaving and having the courage to learn to feel again.

Money

This one is plain and simple. I didn't know if I could afford a divorce. I didn't know if I would be able to support my family, even if I received child support. Little did I know, I was WAY better off financially after leaving. I was amazed at how far my money went when someone else wasn't using all of it behind my back. I also had an amazing support system and a dad that said he'd pay whatever he needed to get me away from that guy.

Guilt and Protection

Of course, one of the things you worry about is the kids. Will they understand? How will this affect them? Will it hurt their future relationships? Will they hate me for it? I think our kids handled the separation and divorce about as well as they could. There were a few teary nights when it first hit home, but the older they got they were able to understand why it was necessary.

For a long time though, I told myself I could endure anything to keep them sheltered from who their dad really was. I wanted them to have a "normal dad" for as long as possible. I could make him appear normal; it just meant I had to suffer a lot of our struggles alone and quietly. I didn't mind doing that for them. Strangely enough, I also felt an obligation to protect others from him as well. If I stayed with him, then he'd just keep doing this to me and not someone new. Because I knew it wasn't about me or my fault and I knew he'd do it to someone else if given the opportunity. I have two lovely ladies I talk to from time to time. I call us "The Ex-Wives Club" because we are all the exes of my first husband. One of these ladies shared that she felt the same responsibility to protect others as well. She once told me she stayed to protect my kids, as well as her own, from more chaos and pain. While I appreciate that more than she'll ever know, I'm relieved she found her way out as well.

I still get the urge to protect and warn others about him. I've tried a few times here and there with different people he brings into the picture, but it never goes well. I try to tell myself that it's not my job to control the situation anymore. I guess old habits die hard.

Accountability

This one is going to seem a bit strange to some people, especially if you aren't a Christian. I felt accountable for my ex-husband.

I grew up in a religious home with real, authentic examples of what being a Christian means. My parents provided me with everything I needed to the best Christian I could be and any mistakes I made were of my own foolishness entirely. You can call me stuck up or self-righteous for my opinion, but my family is the real deal when it comes to being true believers. I don't feel like my ex-husband had the same authenticity as I did growing up. His family went to church, but I don't know if they lived out "church" at home. Again, I'm not trying to sound like my family is better than his, or that they aren't what they claim to be, I am just going off of lifestyles and observations.

When we were dating, we tested the waters of spiritual rebelliousness by being physical before marriage. I knew it was wrong and I struggled with it on a daily basis. What happened was inevitable. We found ourselves pregnant and ashamed. I knew better but I had let it happen. I felt remorse for myself, but I felt even worse about not being stronger for him. I should have been the one to keep us on track by making the right decisions. I felt like I had caused him to spiral down a path of sin and now it was my job to make sure I never allowed that to happen again.

I was able to get back on track almost immediately after the reality check of becoming pregnant. My ex-husband, not so much. I'd catch him in lies or manipulating situations and I'd have to bring him back from the grips of darkness and sin time and time again. He liked to play the part of a good Christian, but he just couldn't do it on the inside, where it really mattered. He'd volunteer at church in various positions, attend conferences and lead small groups. Nothing stopped his destructive behavior and I told myself it was my fault.

We are told never to be a stumbling block for others on their way to Christ. I had been his, so I stayed. I was going to fix him. I could make him believe the way I believed. My biggest fear was making it to Heaven and being asked, 'What about him? Why didn't you try harder? He needed you. I needed you to do more."

Our last therapist (we went to many throughout our 11 years of marriage) told me several times that I was Biblically released from my marriage if I wanted to be. She wasn't encouraging a divorce; she just wanted me to know that I didn't have to stay just to be okay with God. I knew that, but I didn't feel like He was telling me I could go.

Why I Left

So, why did I finally leave? What was the breaking point?

About two years prior to the day I left, I finally told others about our relationship. I told my mom, my best friend, my pastor's wife, and two others who were close friends of my ex-husband. We needed help and I couldn't do it alone. I needed my mom to watch the kids so we could really commit to therapy instead of trying to go in secret. I needed my best friend to know because I was tired of being fake around her and I needed emotional support. I told my pastor's wife because they kept wanting him to lead things at church and I worried about it knowing he wasn't the person he needed to be to lead such things. I told the other two men (also members of our church) because my ex-husband needed accountability partners to check in with and help him stay on track.

With the support of others, I finally felt like things might be getting better. I felt like he was being honest in therapy and implementing the safe-guards we had put in place to protect and rebuild our marriage. I hadn't found evidence of any affairs, money issues, lying or manipulation in while.

It came out of the blue. When I least expected it. I got out of the car and headed into our church small group on a Sunday night. My pastor's wife stopped me before I made it too far and asked me to come talk to her for a minute. She walked me into her husband's office and they told me. My parents were there as well as her husband. They told me one of my ex-husband's accountability partners had been contacted by a woman who was having an affair with him. Then they showed me the proof. The last two years had been a lie, just like every other year of our lives together.

I didn't cry. I remember feeling my pastor's wife squeeze my hand and seeing her eyes fill with tears. But I didn't cry. And for the first and only time, I heard God audibly speak to me. He said, "It's time to go."

And so, I went. On God's time.