After any major life changing event, there comes a point where you either accept things or it slowly begins to define you. We all know that person, the one that holds grudges against their ex-spouse. The ones that spew hatred for anything that triggers them. The ones that have literally lost years of their lives being enslaved to the travesty which they endured decades ago. I didn’t want to become one of those people. That was for sure.
It took listening to a news program for the penny to drop. For me to see the bigger picture and wipe the mess off my rose colored glasses that was clouding my view. Essentially after much soul searching, I figured out real quick that my husbands infidelity had less to do with me and everything to do with breaking up our family. And I wasn’t about to let that happen. My kids, quite frankly, mean everything to me.
So on that spring morning as I drove back from yet another doctors appointment, I returned home a changed wife. I recounted the news story to my husband and told him, “I don’t know how I am going to forgive you. If it will come in stages or one lump sum. But today, I chose to forgive you. And each day I wake up, I will say those words until they become my reality.”
He cried. I cried. Then we had sex.
If I could go back in time, I would stop myself. Looking back years later, I realize that I fast tracked my forgiveness for the sake of our family. I placed all the pain and hurt into some imaginary box because let’s be honest, I had a life growing inside of me. I didn’t have time to wallow in this mess. Like Mel Gibson in the movie Braveheart shouting, “Onward!”, I too had to keep pressing forward at living.
So I did.