I always prided myself on my strength.

My life had been a series of so many ups and downs, that I had learned very early on to get back up and just keep going.

Strength was my salvation.

Strength was a quality that others had long admired in me.

Strength helped me to move smoothly past obstacles both great and small and make progress towards my life goals.

But when I went through my divorce, I felt that my strength had left me.

Often it seemed like I was in a vast ocean and one great wave after another was rising up, crashing over me, and trying to drag me down.

I felt unable to catch my breath, find my bearings: my foundation was rocked to the core.

Yet after my emotions finally began to calm, I realized that my strength was there all along.

I could then see that strength is not always about “being stoic.”

Strength is about having the courage to feel your emotions and to swim through your pain.

Strength is being able to admit that you are struggling, that you need help during a particular hardship, that even though you can endure pain alone, you don’t have to do so.

Strength is honesty.

Strength is being brave enough to show your vulnerability to others.

Strength is sharing your experiences, no matter how painful, so that others who suffer know they are not alone.

“Dear God, help me to be vulnerable in my strength. Help me to use my strength to bring me to an honest place on my life path.”

Often when we show our emotions during trying times, those closest to us aren’t sure how to handle it.

When my husband left, I was very sad and my sorrow seemed to consume everyone around me.

They wanted me to be happy, to find joy in my life again.

It hurt them to see me so lost in my despair.

I would try to be cheerful, if only for them, but I just couldn’t do it.

I was too sad.

Yes it can be hard for others to see us suffering.

Yes it can be hard for others to see us in pain.

But part of the process of any loss is to grieve for what is no longer ours, and to mourn the loss of what will never be.

I knew that I needed time to sit with my sorrow and pain.

It was important that I acknowledged my heartache and my grief, so that when my opportunity to move on presented itself… I was ready for it.

“Dear God, help me through my grief. Help me to walk through my pain and my sorrow and move forward and into a better life.”

When my husband decided to leave our marriage, it was difficult not to feel rejected.

For many years, I had depended on my husband for my validation.

At first, I thought… if he’s leaving… there must be something seriously wrong with me.

I knew, logically, that this thought pattern was ridiculous… but emotionally… it hit the center of my wounded core and I couldn’t shake my feelings of low self-worth.

I began to spiral:

What could he want that I hadn’t already tried to give him?

Would someone else be able to finally fulfill his needs?

How could he abandon me after twenty years of marriage?

Was our time together worth nothing to him?

I began to believe that if I had just acted differently, demanded less, tried harder I could have somehow changed his mind with my love and my effort but that’s not the way life works.

It took time for me to see that I needed to provide my own validation and stop seeking it from others.

If I was unable to see myself as lovable and worthy of a healthy relationship, it wouldn’t matter how much outside validation I received from anyone: It would never be enough to fill me up.

“Dear God, help me to find validation within. Help me to see that I am lovable just as I am.”

I had often heard that forgiving someone was the answer to releasing your own pain… but forgiving… was not always easy.

Some of us have suffered physical and emotional abuse: an event so large, so debilitating, that our resentment builds until it consumes us.

We start acting differently; maybe choosing to stay home instead of going out, fearing that we may run into the perpetrator of our pain.

But the truth is… we become our own perpetrator of pain.

In the first months of my divorce, I was so hurt, so lost in my despair, so angry that my marriage had failed, that I could barely contain my anguish.

I would try not to lose self-control with my soon-to-be ex-husband, my children, my friends, but I was like a wounded animal, ready to bite, at any word, any action, I perceived as causing “more injury.”

The truth though… was that I was sad for my loss and angry at my spouse for causing me pain when I still held him so dear.

I was heartbroken.

Over time, as the “newness” of my pain began to cool, I was able to look at my situation, and work towards making it a better one.

One of the keys to accepting my divorce and moving through my pain, was finding forgiveness.

Finding forgiveness does not mean that we accept another’s wrong doing, it means that we accept that we cannot change what has happened.

To move forward in life, I had to let go of my anger and focus on what I could do to make the immediate future better for me and for my children.

Today, I am thankful for these painful experiences.

By walking through a difficult time I learned:

to show compassion to others in similar situations…

to let go of resentment so that I can heal myself…

and that giving it over to God… asking God to heal the wounds of my pain, led me to my true life path; one that now brings me peace and serenity.

“Dear God, help me to forgive. Help me to express loving-kindness and compassion in my day-to-day life.”

Over the course of my divorce there were several times I believed that a reconciliation was inevitable.

Part of it… was my own fantasy… my own belief… that suddenly something would magically “change” from the way it was in the past… and it would all work out.

Part of it… was my husband’s ambivalent behavior related to our relationship.

One day, he would be flirtatious, attentive, almost hinting that he was up for a second chance on our marriage.

On other days, he would be moody, sullen, almost as if he wanted to punish me for some relationship sin he felt I must have committed.

Each time he was kind and loving, I would get my hopes up and have several days where I would soar with joy.

Each time he was angry and hurtful, my world would topple down around me.

As time went on… and I witnessed this pattern replay over and over again… I realized that it was a bad habit: a habit that I would have to break.

We were both addicted to the drama of our relationship.

I began to listen to his words as if I were a quiet observer; noting them… but not reacting to them.

The more I became a witness to the moment, instead of a participant, I learned to step back from my behavior, and breakaway from our pattern.

I wasn’t able to change my bad habit “over night” but by practicing my new behavior, I learned to change it over time.

“Dear God, help me to breakaway from my past by practicing new behaviors for my future.”

Letting go of someone or something was always difficult for me.

I would grow attached to a person, an outcome, and believe that if I just kept pushing… just kept working on it… I could make it right.

Even when I knew the person, or the situation was not in my “best interest,” I  would still push forward.

I just couldn’t let go.

I would fixate on all of the time I put into a relationship.

Or all of the time I put into a goal.

All of the time I put into “fixing things,” or “getting it right” and it seemed to “Let go” would mean that all of that time was somehow now wasted.

No matter how tired, worn-out, absolutely exhausted I found myself: I wouldn’t “Let go.”

One day, my sponsor said, “You remind me of a bull-terrier when they won’t let go during a tug of war with a rope.” Then she rested her hand on my arm and said, “Let go. It’s time… just let it go.”

Letting go doesn’t mean that you “give up.”

Letting go means that you stop fighting for your outcome… you “let go” and leave the outcome to God.

I would have spent my whole life trying to make things work with my husband.

I would have spent all of my precious time trying to fix something that couldn’t be fixed.

I needed to mourn the loss of my relationship, accept that I had learned many valuable lessons along the way but, when the time came to put down the “rope,” I had to be ready to move on… and let go.

“Dear God, help me to let go of what is not working for me. Help me to accept that sometimes I don’t know what is best for me… that you do… and if I stop fighting your will, I will find a new and better way to learn, love, and live.”