I filled out information for divorce paperwork the day before my eighth wedding anniversary.
I didn’t even realize it right away. The word “divorce” at the top of the page had already snapped some of my tattered heartstrings, but I tried to move through the questions as emotionless as possible. “Date and place of marriage.” Flick, snap. Another heartstring. I took a deep breath, Googled the address of our wedding venue, and then typed in the date, June 11th, 2017.
It still didn’t occur to me that the anniversary was the following day.
As I finished up the final questions, I emailed the document back to my lawyer and closed the computer. My five-year-old asked what was on the lunch menu for school tomorrow. I placed the computer on the counter as I looked up at the pink calendar on the side of the fridge. Tuesday, June 11th, 2024: Caesar salad, chicken wraps, ham and cheese sandwiches.
I did a double take. My vision blurred. My head grew light. Flick, snap—another heartstring.
I kept my back to my three boys and silently wept in front of the sink.
Divorce. I was getting a divorce from the man I had fallen in love with, the one to whom I said, “I do,” eight years and one day ago. There was no going back. My marriage was over.
A little over a year ago, I stood on my doorstep and watched my husband drive away, knowing it was the end. I had asked him to leave after three years of intense verbal and emotional abuse so that he could work on his anger without harming me and our children anymore. But instead of a break, he decided to seek divorce.
Many nights I laid alone in bed, with a pillow damp from my tears, wondering if I had been faithful enough. Had I shown true fidelity? Had I loved him as well as I possibly could through all those years of mental illnesses? Did I give up too soon? Had I shown infidelity now in turning him away and accepting divorce as our ending?
After I put my kids to bed that night, I called up an abuse crisis line and sobbed over the phone to a stranger. I don’t know her name, but she gave me a lifeline to cling to.
“I just wrote down the things you told me he did to you,” she said. “He screamed at you, put holes in the walls, and sexually assaulted you. A man who loved you would never do that. A man who loved you would want to get better for you.”
In a way, my divorce became fidelity to true love. As I signed papers, had meetings, went to counseling, I was being faithful to God’s design for marriage and love. I declared that true love is the Christlike love spouses are commanded to show one another and that the abuse I experienced in the name of love was an insult to the covenant God created in the Garden of Eden.
With such a fidelity to love, I knew that I wanted to show my boys what true love looks like—and what true love will not accept. I didn’t want them to grow up believing that this was right and good, or in the very least normal. Each step towards divorce became another step closer to showing my boys what God intends for love to look like.
The lady from the abuse crisis line said to me, “Don’t think of this as a chapter closing. This is a door opening for you and your boys to have the new and better life you deserve.”
As the words came out of her mouth, the Holy Spirit repeated them to me: This is the life God wants for you—one of joy, peace, and safety.
This is the life I want to faithfully seek the rest of my life and give all my fidelity to. I want my life to be a testament to how when we refuse to accept abuse against others and ourselves, even though pain may come in our standing up, God’s goodness will never fail to follow us. His love never fails. And I want the love I give and allow in my life to be a reflection of that kind of love.
The featured image is courtesy of Amelia M. Freidline and is used with her kind permission for Cultivating.
Lara d’Entremont is a mother and author. She is the author of A Mother Held: Essays on Motherhood and Anxiety. Lara writes stories for the young and old alike, always striving to share the light of hope in the darkest of places—whether it be essays for a new mom through postpartum depression or a novel for a child wondering if their art matters. She is a member of The Maker’s Project, and her work has appeared in Christianity Today, The Rabbit Room, Verily, and others.
You can learn more about her work at laradentremont.com.
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