Validation.

It was happening again...The feelings were nearly tangible as I sat in my chair and tried not to cry. Why oh why is my body doing this? I pleaded, trying to not to make eye contact with anyone. I could almost taste my fear. It felt like the same terrifying anxiety that I was so used to feeling around him...

Flashback. 

NO. I won't go there, I quietly fought with myself. I pushed back the tears, refusing to listen to my feelings, but I couldn't do it for very long, for the next thing I knew the memories were back.

I was standing in our small kitchen making dinner with him on our first Sunday together. He dictated how most of our cooking was supposed to go, most likely without realizing what he was doing. I couldn't cook the food in the order I was used to. I was chopping the vegetables wrong. I was using the wrong knife (which was probably true. I didn't know which of his kitchen knives to pick...) He wasn't mean about it; he just had it in his mind how things were meant to be done.

But then it got worse.

Fast forward about ten months. I was sitting across from him on the ground because I had just sold our furniture (much to my dismay), and I was crying because I felt hurt by the way he talked to me. I had tried to bring up some of my worries with him. Now, he was telling me the things I had done wrong. I wasn't supposed to get angry. Anger was childish and immature. I had walked away from the conversation. I had wrongly decided to talk to him about some difficulties I was experiencing. I was placing judgment on him, he claimed. I was unwilling to look at myself. "You'll never be happy," he said, pointing a finger, "until you can live with yourself and your own faults."

And I believed him. What else could I do anyway? Nothing I said could help the situation besides, You're right. I'm sorry.

The moment faded away as I shook my head back to reality. The power of the flashback was so real, and I wanted to scream, run out of the room, and cry.

I heard my voice say, You're just making these anxious feelings up. They aren't real, so get over it.

And just like that, I invalidated myself. Just like that.

My counselor often tells me how important it is to our healing that we allow ourselves to feel what we feel because we matter and our feelings matter. 

The best way I could have done this would have been to leave the room and let myself work through the emotions. "You have permission to leave, Alissa," she told me. "You can always walk out. If you feel angry, you can leave the situation until you feel more able to talk because you have every right to advocate for how you feel."

...It's so hard to believe that sometimes. And I am so grateful she reminds me that I matter and that my feelings matter. I think I'm starting to believe it now.

The truth is that healing begins with recognizing what is causing us to feel emotion; what triggers we just experienced, and then to ask for validation - whether that be from within us or from someone else. We're human. We just need to be seen and heard . . .

I go back to that moment, and I realize how invalidated I was. He couldn't see and hear me for what I was trying to say. I was insecure on my own, yes. That is true. And the way I was invalidated still cuts me to my core when I think about it.

I hope I can keep working on my own self - learning how to love who I am, how to handle the feelings I feel, how to take care of myself and take responsibility for my own actions, because I can't ever do that for someone else. I can't control anyone else.

And no one can control me, either. At least, hopefully never again.

In these moments, sometimes I think to myself, "God loves me. God hears me. God sees me."

He validates me and will always understand my feelings, see me, and hear me.

And for me, that is enough.

For podcasts on getting through or confronting abuse, trauma, and addiction, here is the counselor my counselor recommends : Jodi Hildebrandt.

To everything, there is a season . . .

Utahn's like to joke that Utah experiences 5 different seasons - summer, winter, spring, fall, and construction - and sometimes we get snow, rain, and 50 degree weather all in the same day. Personally, I prefer the heat of the summer to a cold wintery day, but that's just me.

There's this verse in the bible that talks about seasons. . . but it doesn't refer to seasons as we seem to know them. Instead, it refers to seasons of our lives in which good and bad will happen. 

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace."

Other than the fact that right now, the whole world can relate to the sentence, "A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing," these verses really hit home to me. And I hope you don't mind me sharing some of my feelings. They're sad memories, but they're better off out in the open than in the dark where they can hide away and refuse to be comforted. 

I first met him at a small group of dance called West Coast Swing. I wanted to get a group of people to come with me after the class was over to go Country Dancing, but no one wanted to go. 

And then he walked in.

And at first I was intimidated by his height, his slenderness, his handsome and sharp characteristics... I had also never seen him at the dance class before, so I wondered who he was. He asked me to dance, and though I could hardly bring myself to make eye contact, I knew I wanted to dance with him again. So I invited him to come Country Swing Dancing later. And you know what he said? He said yes. 

And that was the first time I met him.

Summer of 2017.

At a group class. 

Dancing. 

And since the horrible, dark day I left him, almost exactly two years later, my heart breaks every time I mention to myself, It's ok, Alissa. Someday, you will dance again. And before the tears can start to flow, I try to think of something else. 

But not today. 

No, today I just want to dance again. I want to be me again. I don't have a partner this time. And the world is on quarantine, so it isn't possible anyway. 

But I want to dance. I want there to be a season of laughter and happiness in my life again. How can I create that when it's so heartbreaking to think about the activities I once loved to do? 

Yes, I was a dancer once. I loved to dance. 

Was I a "good" dancer? No, not really. But I love dancing because of how I felt - I felt happy and excited; I felt slightly talented and like I was fulfilling my childhood dream to be a ballerina. 

Yes, I was a dancer once. 

And just so you know. this season of sadness that I now call the hardest year of my life, will soon come to an end. Everyone has a season like that. And if right now is your season of sadness, let me share with you something Nephi in the Book of Mormon has shared with me :

And as you go forth, God goes with you. 

He promised it. And I believe him. Sometimes that's all I can hold on to. There will, once again, be a time to laugh. A time to embrace. A time to plant. A time to heal. A time to love. A time to speak. A time of peace. . .

And yes, someday, a time to dance. 

A Haiku for you

Choice
The earth starts to shake
and tells me to be afraid
But I choose to pray.

Overcome again
She tried it and fail'd,
Then in faith linked arms with God.
And each time prevail'd.

All is said.
Soon, with just five words,
"Remember that one year when . . ."
You'll need say no more.

Best excuse ever.

I think one of the greatest things of all time in all teacher history happened to me yesterday.

You see, my school district asked all teachers to have their online curriculum rolling out on Wednesday morning by 7:45. No biggie, right?

Well, I won't go into that here.

BUT.

Despite all the stress shaking my body (no pun intended, as you will soon read), I managed to do it!

Almost. . . I got all classes except one uploaded on time.

As it turns out, I actually had a pretty good excuse as to why the curriculum for my French 3 class got uploaded late.

See if you can find my excuse.

So yes, that happened. An earthquake. I had gotten up early and driven to school to finish the last bit of work before rolling out my curriculum, and as I sat at my desk talking to my mother about how online schooling was going to work, I heard a huge rumble.

It started off relatively loud, and then it sounded like it was getting closer and closer. In fact, it sounded like someone was going to bulldoze the school.

But then the walls started shaking. I watched them ripple and couldn't believe what was going on. "Mom, Mom!" I cried. "It's an earthquake!"

Immediately, she asked where my grandparents were.

"I'm not at home, mom!" I sobbed. "I'm at school!" Everything shook for the longest 15 seconds of my life. The sound was terrifying. And I could not stop the pounding pulse and the shaking muscles that now raged through my body.

Is this real life? 

Gratefully everyone was alright. When I received word to evacuate the building, I immediately grabbed my things and left. No one had to tell me twice.

The rest of the day, we experienced aftershocks, some worse than others, but nothing like the initial quake. Sometimes, I would look down at my legs to double check and see if it was another aftershock, or just my trembling muscles. Usually it was the latter.

My grandma taught me a lesson yesterday, one that I intend to remember. As I rushed into the house when I got home and another big aftershock shook the house, I froze in my tracks, trying to figure out how I would help my grandpa if the shaking got worse. Was another quake coming? My grandma suddenly appeared in the hall and hugged me. Making sure she was ok, I finally let out some of my tears and confided how scared I was and how scary that had been. She simply said to me, "I just prayed. I sat in my chair and I just prayed."

And isn't that a wonderful answer? We cannot control what the earth decides to do. Nor can we control how the tectonic plates choose to shift or shake. We are subject to them. But God is in charge! And who better than God to have there to help us when everything going on is out of our control?

Yesterday, I was afraid.

Yesterday, I surrendered the fear.

Yesterday, I prayed for strength and courage.

Today, I can't quite put my finger on it, but I think that I'm a little braver than I was before.

An earthquake might shake the earth, but I won't let it shake me.

Here's to a happy future and trusting in God.

Let you go.

A poem for anyone who just needs to grieve. 

How many more heartaches

Must my fragile heart endure

As I stumble through the day

Searching for a cure?

How many more memories 

Which once brought a smile

Am I wont to erase

Because of this trial? 

How many more tears 

does each day require

To fill in the emptiness

I have acquired?

With a heartache so real, 

A burden too heavy to bear,

I can't help but reach out...

Though you're no longer there.

When my heart longs to dance 

In your arms once again,

When I just want to hug you

Like I did way back then...

When I just want to be 

In the kitchen with you

Cooking away

At our dinner for two...

When my voice longs for music 

That together we'd sing,

or for watching Hogan's Heroes

With brownies and ice cream...

When all of these dreams 

Come back with such force

That I can't hardly breath - 

For they cut to my core,

Then I close my blue eyes

And I let my tears flow,

And I whisper in sadness

That I must let you go.

These innocent dreams

I'll try not to remember, 

For you didn't wish the same...

And now you're gone forever.  

Temple blessings

“Can I ask you a question?” I hesitantly inquired.

“Yes, have a seat!” he responded. 

The temple sealing room was quiet and calm, and the chandelier above us was sparkling bright and beautiful. I proceeded to ask my questions, hesitant and afraid to be so vulnerable. But I asked. 

And he answered. 

And God filled my heart with peace. 

Peace. It’s so hard to find nowadays. 

After listening to him answer my question, I then posed another. “I’ve been really struggling to know what my role is now. I just feel like I don’t know anymore.” 

With tears in his eyes, he paused for about twenty seconds, and then with conviction in his voice, he said, “You just be faithful. You just be faithful, and no blessing will be withheld. You just do the best you can. And you already are.” Peace swept over me as I listened, and I knew that God had just answered my prayer. I knew that I had my answer of what I needed to do.

So I’ll keep trying to be brave, trust in this next answer I have received, and proceed with faith. Thanks, Laura, for a wonderful temple trip ❤️

Love, Sunshine

I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand

If you were to ask me what my favorite aspect of teaching is, you’d probably be surprised at my answer. Oh yes, the kids are great (mostly), the summer break is a bonus (the likes of which I have yet to experience), the school isn’t too far away (yes, no I-15 for me!), and I have a relatively good grasp on my subject matter (despite feeling very inadequate at times).

No, if you were to ask me what I like most about teaching, I’d have to say that it’s the drive home.

Yes, let it be forever known that the best part is driving home.

Why? Well....

-It’s impossible to grade papers
-Students can’t ask me about their grade
-parents can’t ask why their child has a B+ instead of an A
-No one will sneeze on me
-I don’t have to stand up any longer
-If I’m hungry, I can eat
-An administrator can’t pop in on me and observe me
-I can listen to a General Conference talk and just simply EXIST for fifteen minutes. Sometimes more, if I’m lucky and traffic is bad.

There’s something so rewarding about having done something hard and looking back to see that God carried me through it. Granted I was the one speaking and preparing lessons and standing on my feet, but he was the one giving me the strength and ability to do it all.

Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow I’ll do better at structuring that one speaking activity. Tomorrow I’ll hand the tests back. Tomorrow I’ll tackle the grades and the sneezes and the whining and the sarcasm.

We all hit mental exhaustion sometimes, and as my wonderful counselor said, “You just need to take care of your emotional needs, and I promise you things will go better. You are human and you have a right to feel what you feel. Get validated. Ask someone to tell you how your feelings make sense and that you’re allowed to feel them.”

Another thing I love from Elder Holland in his talk “Like a Broken Vessel”,

“So how do you best respond when mental or emotional challenges confront you or those you love? Above all, never lose faith in your Father in Heaven, who loves you more than you can comprehend. As President Monson said to the Relief Society sisters so movingly last Saturday evening: “That love never changes. … It is there for you when you are sad or happy, discouraged or hopeful. God’s love is there for you whether or not you feel you deserve [it]. It is simply always there.” Never, ever doubt that, and never harden your heart. Faithfully pursue the time-tested devotional practices that bring the Spirit of the Lord into your life. Seek the counsel of those who hold keys for your spiritual well-being. Ask for and cherish priesthood blessings. Take the sacrament every week, and hold fast to the perfecting promises of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Believe in miracles. I have seen so many of them come when every other indication would say that hope was lost. Hope is never lost. If those miracles do not come soon or fully or seemingly at all, remember the Savior’s own anguished example: if the bitter cup does not pass, drink it and be strong, trusting in happier days ahead.”

Better days ahead. Trusting in that is sometimes all we can do.

And for now? I get to drive home.

Yesssssssss.

Tears don't hurt like the ache does.

All day, I felt them - right up against my eyelids. I tried to smile a genuine smile, tried to show my students I was invested in their learning.

It's too much, I told myself.

All day, I felt exhausted, both physically and emotionally. I tried to help a student who came in for help during lunch, my only break time. "I just don't want to come after school," she said. Sometimes it's hard when students don't realize you need a break, too, but I didn't know how to tell her that I just couldn't today. I just couldn't. She really needed the help and never comes in to get it. So I said a prayer and stood back up from my chair.

Hold on a little longer, I told myself.

All day, I hurt. I can do anything for an hour, I can do anything for an hour, I said.

It's too much, I told myself.

"You're in pain, Alissa. You need to validate how you feel. That's the only way you can heal, hon," my counselor's words ring in my ears. I remember how often she has told me this, that the only way humans can heal is to get validation around their pain. I guess I have a hard time doing this since I had been so consistently invalidated by the one I loved, by the one I wanted to love me. 

It's all too painful.

And then... in an instant, it's all back. Again.

The time he told me he needed to go find other friends to spend time with. What about me? my heart cried.
When he didn't want to be around me, or listen to my frustration or anger. But I listen to you, please can you listen to me? I wondered.
When he walked away in the moment I wanted and needed to connect with him most...Don't you love me? I asked myself and never dared ask him.
He left me there. Alone. Crying. Invalidated. What is going on? my spirit pleaded.

Slowly I regained control of those thoughts, let the tears out, and tried to stop the spiral, tried to count some blessings. I listened to Saints (a book) on  my way home. I finally got home to my wonderful grandparents, and my grandma had already made dinner. What a blessing she is to me. After dinner, I decided to do my scripture study before getting back to work on my lessons. What a wonderful miracle I experienced as I read in Jacob chapter 2 - some of the most validating words in all of scripture, in my inexperienced opinion :) God validated all my feelings from today.

This is what He told me.

It's pleasing to God that I, as a woman, have "tender and chaste and delicate feelings", (v.7). And He has "seen the sorrow, and heard the mourning of the fair daughters of [his] people. . . . because of the wickedness and abominations of their husbands" (v.31). And he will not let "the cries of the fair daughters" go unnoticed. No, he will protect us and help us as long as we are faithful to him!

Amidst all the pain, God truly has been so good to me.

Yes, the tears don't hurt like the ache does. Somehow, God managed to reach down and validate that ache. And a little, just a little bit of it, I can feel is gone.

A single pearl.

It was all I could do to smile. Hold back the tears. Keep walking.

And I failed.

As soon as I saw my parents, my sisters, the posters, the "Welcome to Tennessee" signs, I couldn't hold it in. I should have been happy, and I was! And inside I was still a wreck. The divorce had been final for only about three weeks, and I was still feeling quite raw from it all.

I was there to see my sister - my beautiful little sister who I hadn't seen for a year and a half! It was marvelously wonderful to see her again. And magically, it happened to be my birthday that weekend. So. There I was in Tennessee.

My family decided to surprise me with some presents - which I wasn't expecting at all. I was just excited to be there. And I got to see the dog again, which, let's be honest, was one of the most important parts ;)

Holding back tears, I opened a small pouch that contained a beautiful pearl necklace.

"It's because you are a pearl of great price!" my parents told me. What a sacrifice they made for my pearl.

My single pearl. My pearl of great price.

With their sentence still ringing in my ears and flowing through my watery eyes, I thought, "Me? A pearl of great price?" And then I decided to believe them.

I was actually quite proud of myself for believing them, or at least wanting to. I was worth something? YES.

I have learned that pearls are formed when an oyster gets a piece of sand or another irritant stuck inside under it's mantle. In response to the pain or the irritation, the oyster secretes nacre - a fluid - that helps to sooth the irritated area and keep the irritant from irritating further. Over time, the nacre forms a pearl.

I felt that my parents were trying to help me see something I didn't really believe about myself. Yes, my heart hurts. We all hurt from time to time. Everyone has pain and sorrow in this life - no one is exempt. And from these trials, if we trust in the Saviour's atonement to heal them, the trials will turn into pearls, blessings, treasures, moments of building and learning and opportunities of faith. So what do my parents see? Well, I think they see beauty, a girl that's trying her best, a daughter who knows she is loved by her family, and a woman who is slowly getting back her shine.

And so, I wear my pearl because someday, that's what this trial will become. And because that is what I hope to be now. A pearl against a black background. After all, that's when you see them the best.

“The heart of man is very much like the sea, it has its storms, it has its tides and in its depths, it has its pearls too.” – Vincent Van Gogh

Surrender.

Several years ago, I was laying in bed one night reading my scriptures when, as I was cross referencing something, I came across this story. It's told by President Thomas S. Monson in his talk entitled, "In Search of Treasures."

"In late 1892 Benjamin was asked to travel to Salt Lake to audition for a place with the territorial orchestra. For him, this was a dream come true. After several weeks of practicing and prayers, he went to Salt Lake in March of 1893 for the much anticipated audition. When he heard Benjamin play, the conductor, a Mr. Dean, told Benjamin he was the most accomplished violinist he had heard west of Denver. He was told to report to Denver for rehearsals in the fall and learned that he would be earning enough to keep himself, with some left over to send home.

"A week after Benjamin received the good news, however, his bishop called him into his office and asked if he couldn’t put off playing with the orchestra for a couple of years. He told Benjamin that before he started earning money there was something he owed the Lord. He then asked Benjamin to accept a mission call.

"Benjamin felt that giving up his chance to play in the territorial orchestra would be almost more than he could bear, but he also knew what his decision should be. He promised the bishop that if there were any way to raise the money for him to serve, he would accept the call.

"When Benjamin told his mother about the call, she was overjoyed. She told him that his father had always wanted to serve a mission but had been killed before that opportunity had come to him. However, when they discussed the financing of the mission, her face clouded over. Benjamin told her he would not allow her to sell any more of their land. She studied his face for a moment and then said, “Ben, there is a way we can raise the money. This family [has] one thing that is of great enough value to send you on your mission. You will have to sell your violin.”

"Ten days later, on March 23, 1893, Benjamin wrote in his journal: “I awoke this morning and took my violin from its case. All day long I played the music I love. In the evening when the light grew dim and I could see to play no longer, I placed the instrument in its case. It will be enough. Tomorrow I leave [for my mission].”

"Forty-five years later, on June 23, 1938, Benjamin wrote in his journal: “The greatest decision I ever made in my life was to give up something I dearly loved to the God I loved even more. He has never forgotten me for it.”

This passage so inspired me that I felt to write a poem. I started the first stanza and promptly forgot about it.

One year later, I finished it.

And shortly after that, I got married . . . and my life began to change. It wasn't until I was in the thickness of it all, alone and afraid, that I remembered the poem.

It saved me. 

For a long time, it has had no title, but I think now I know what to call it.

Surrender.

I fall to my knees at the end of the day,
The tears leave my eyes, and I have nothing to say.
I feel overcome by the darkness inside.
It tortures my spirit, and I just want to hide.
My heart has been torn and it won't seem to heal,
And I long for the happiness that I used to feel.

I question my faith as I kneel by my bed:
Do I truly believe Christ will do as He said?
This pain overwhelms me and aches in my soul!
Do I truly believe Christ can make my heart whole?

How can I let go of the things I hold dear,
How can I give place for faith over fear?
When the future is dim and I can't see the light,
How can I keep walking when I'm afraid of the night?

The Truth is that sometimes we experience pain
because that is the only way to obtain
The joy and the happiness we were sent here to have,
Amidst all our anguish and days that are sad.

Though cry as we will, God numbers our tears.
He answers our prayers and he quiets our fears.
Quite simply the truth is in order to feel
The love He extends for our hearts to heal,
To Him our will we must surrender up,
And sometimes must drink from the small bitter cup.

But He promises blessings and joy through the tears,
So I'll continue to trust and believe that he hears
The pleas of my heart, though weak I may be.
He won't leave me comfortless - He will come unto me.

Quietly, gently, peace comforts my soul
And beside me I picture my loving Saviour.
As I choose to act in the way that Christ did,
As I say what He'd say and live as He lived,
I cannot completely partake of God's gift
Until I have given the one thing to give.

My desires and passions, though right they may be,
Are nothing compared to what God wants for me.
As I freely will choose to follow His son;
I'll give him my will so that we can be one.
His purpose, my purpose, His will is now mine,
He knows he can trust me with errands divine.

So here is my faith, my desires, my dreams.
I'll give them to thee, though hard it may seem.
I'll give what I love and the life I adore,
Surrender my will to the God I love more.


And that's what I feel that I have done - I gave it all to God. I surrendered what I wanted. I surrendered my control, at least the efforts to control. I never really controlled anything in my marriage at all, for better or worse, I'll never know.

The hard thing about surrender is that it has to be a daily thing for a while. Sometimes hourly. But it is getting better.

Let me rephrase that - I am getting better. 

I. Me. Alissa Murdoch. 

"How do you go on . . .

 . . . when in your heart you begin to understand... there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep.” J.R.R. Tolkien

Lots of people tell me that time mends wounds. Time heals everything. I guess that's where the need for patience comes in, but I also would say that because some hurts go too deep, time alone cannot mend them. For me, that's where Christ comes in. He can heal what time cannot.

The reason this is significant is because I am learning how to surrender. Surrendering some of the saddest things that have ever happened to me. I never imagined that I would be divorced, but here I am. :) Wounded, but willing to go on.

Except, the battle still rages in my head. . . . It's hard to accept the reality.

I cannot go back. I cannot change him. 

I cannot go back. I cannot bring him back. 

I cannot go back. I cannot love him more than I did. 

I cannot go back. . . . He probably wouldn't take me back. And that hurts. 

Yes, it happened again today. That moment when someone calls me by my last name that isn't part of my identity anymore. When someone assumes that I have just gotten married, so that's why I have two last names. When the reality is that I have done just the opposite. 

Yes, it happened again. That moment when I am walking down the stairs and all of a sudden I've got tears in my eyes, tears that burn and hurt and are hot because they've been held back for too long. The trigger today was that my mind took me back to my rings again. My beautiful rings...the ones he made me, the ones he bought me. The one he embellished with mother of pearl, the one he bought that was my dream. I have long since known that one of my love languages is gifts, and therefore it is understandable that I would be so attached to my rings, so attached to something that I so purely and innocently loved. I loved them. He showed love for me when he gave them to me, right? 

Right? Doesn't that mean he loves me? 

It's not about the rings, Alissa. It's not about the rings, my mind whispers.

I cannot go back. I handed them to him, that terrible day that I went to get all my belongings. I left them securely in that box, that beautiful mahogany box...my beautiful rings that I loved.

Yes, it happened again. That moment when my mind flashed back suddenly and without warning to the last time I ever saw him. The look in his eyes, the darkness inside me, the burden.

I remember the last time I ever saw him. Oh, how heartbreaking it is that our marriage got to that point.

In all of my pain, I must say that it is healing and I am getting stronger. 

I read a book recently entitled, "Out of the Ashes," written by Ruth Davidson. She writes something that really struck me, and really validated all my pain, ultimately helping me to not feel guilty or obligated to go back to him .  She says, 

"How will I know when my spouse is on the right path? What does the picture of a 'humble' spouse look like?" 

"Many want to know if their spouses have reached a point where true healing can begin to occur. Some of the guidelines to watch out for are : 1) complete and open confessions of sins with nothing witheld. If there are sins not fully confessed, those sins will inevitably resurface in recurring falls, bringing in continued contention into a relationship; 2) a willingness to bear the burden of fixing the broken relationship. If any statements by a transgressor begin with, "There are changes that you should be making, too; this isn't about just me" or "You'e not handling this as you're supposed to be handling it," true humility has not yet occurred. Other signs to watch for are: 3) a willingness to listen and understand an injured spouse's anger and feelings, which entails putting aside personal agendas while concentrating solely on helping the wounded spouse; 4) ongoing apologies for behaviors of the past. Mark H. Butler (a marriage and family therapist) said that he's seen truly repentant spouses continue to apologize for past mistakes, even when the injured spouses feel like they're "over it." Another sign of true repentance includes: 5) increasing love and devotion toward a spouse, including expressions of gratitude for any forgiveness that has come and for a spouse's willingness to work through the devastation that has occurred."

It was incredibly validating to read this, realizing that while I loved the man with all that I had, the love was rarely reciprocated. And if it was more often than just rarely, I didn't ever interpret it as that.  It is hard to go forward, simply because I saw the good side of him, I saw the amazing man that he is, and I saw his potential. I felt God's love for him - that is a feeling I have never forgotten. I was blessed to be divinely aware of just how much God loved this man. 

And yet . . . the hurt goes too deep. 

And so, I go on. I go on because I cannot go back.