When my husband confessed to his affair, my world began crumbling out from under my feet. Actually, the crumbling started almost two years before, when the infidelity and incessant lying began. With each piece that shattered, I withdrew into myself a little bit more.
When all this started, and all I had was a gut feeling and doubts and stories that didn't seem to line up, we were the leaders of a non-profit organization. I didn't know how to deal with what I feared might be going on, and I certainly didn't know who I could talk to.
So this quiet girl grew even quieter.
Then doubts gave way to undeniable proof...
And then the bombshell was dropped that he was done. With me. With ministry. With all of it.
And he walked away.
And while it didn't seem like it was even possible, I withdrew even more.
In the past few years, I have fought through divorce, depression, chronic health issues, the closing of our ministry, the loss of my home, the seeming loss of me... And while I am ashamed to admit it, I haven't had the energy, strength, time, or resolve to pour into my friendships. Not like I used to. Not like I'd want to.
I simply haven't had it in me. Leaning into people seems to demand more of me than I've had left.
So emails and Facebook messages have gone unanswered. Calls have been unreturned.
In a lot of ways, I fell off the face of the earth when it fell out from under me.
And in the process of that, I know I've hurt some people. Some people I care deeply about. People who mean very much to me. People who infused me with strength through their emails and texts and voicemails, even if I didn't know how to reach out and respond.
My lack of communication has communicated that I don't care, and that's the farthest thing from the truth.
I'm sorry for any way I may have disregarded, dismissed, or ignored your gestures of love and friendship.
I'm sorry for not speaking up, even if it were only to say that I have no words.
Please forgive me.
Anything YOU want to get off your chest?