Five Years After the Divorce

It has been five years, this December, since a judge declared my marriage officially over. It was the culmination of the worst season of my whole life. It was the end of something I had believed was forever. It was a season of bitter tears, struggles with depression and thoughts of suicide, and complete and utter hopelessness. Everything I had believed in had been shattered and in the end, I hadn't been chosen by the one who I chose to marry. I believed the false narrative that I hadn't been good enough, strong enough, or healthy enough. I was certain happiness would never find me again. 

Over the next five years, I had to rediscover myself. I had to relearn my strength, my worth, my value. I had to heal from what had happened. I had to be angry and learn how to let that anger go. I lost my relationship with church and grew new relationships with a team of doctors when I got a cancer diagnosis just four months after my divorce was finalized. I had to figure out who God was, who I wanted to be, and how to overcome a newfound crippling social anxiety. 

In the five years since my divorce I have endured chemotherapy and unending appointments and medications. I have fallen in love, for real this time, to the kindest man I have ever known. I have gotten married, moved to a farm, and started a new life. I have tried a few jobs and landed on one I love. I have gone through fertility testing, detoxed off medication, and gotten pregnant. I have given birth to a beautiful and perfect baby girl. I have discovered who I am at my core, renewed my relationship with God, and given church another try. 

Five years later, I am nowhere near the person I was when I was standing in the snow, alone, knowing my marriage was never to be repaired. 

I recently was going through some pictures from Jeff's phone to make our yearly photo book and it showed me something. The photos on my phone all try to capture beauty. I want the best photo, no matter how many tries. Most of the photos are posed and there are so. many. pictures. 

But the photos on Jeff's phone are different. Most of the pictures Jeff has are of me. They aren't posed and they certainly aren't perfect. Jeff, without me realizing it, captures the simple, everyday nature of our lives together. In many I am without makeup, hair up, not the perfect angle or pose. 

At first I saw these photos in their imperfections. But then I looked more closely and saw the everyday beauty of our lives. I saw my comfort in being without makeup or being in my baggy pajamas. I saw the peace that is taking a nap on the couch with our dog. I saw the joy of holding up many many homegrown vegetables. 

Where my pictures captured the adventures of the past year, Jeff's pictures captured the essence. 

And that is when I realized something. This life I now lead is, in many ways, simple. It is imperfect, it isn't always pretty, it certainly doesn't have everything figured out. But in all of the imperfect snapshots of our lives that Jeff has captured, there is one thing that is always present. It is actually impossible to miss. . . 

Complete and utter happiness.