"The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it."

Unfortunately, the Flannery 0'Connor quote above is entirely true. Thirty-two doesn't look anything like I thought it would. The kids and I are adjusting to our new normal, but heartache muddies the waters and this is going to be a long row to hoe. 

A little over four years ago on May 9, 2009, I married the most amazing man. He was a strong, encouraging spiritual leader and treated me like a queen. I'd never known a more beautiful man, inside and out. Ren was 225 lbs of gentle romance and creative intelligence. I couldn't wait to marry this person and start a family with him.

Last Wednesday, I served Rene with divorce papers. Drugs and mental illness have taken over the mind, body and spirit of my love and best friend. It's been a slow digression that has quickly plummeted in the last six months. 

I found out exactly a year ago that he was using synthetic marijuana and bath salts. Shortly after, I found out he had a girlfriend. After many tears and fights, he swore he was done with the girl and clean, so we agreed to try to repair the devastating mess our marriage had become. Erratic behavior, severe weight loss, unexplained hours on the phone and overwhelming apathy regarding God, kids and work told me the drugs and girls were still a problem. He denied any wrong doing until he just couldn't anymore, and still he tries to convince me that he's done nothing at all wrong along the way. Ren has failed two drug tests so far, testing positive for meth. He's admittedly involved in gang activities and stealing to buy cigarettes and whatever else. I get panicked phone calls late at night that he is driving around and has no idea where he is going or how to get home. He's 124 lbs of desperate disaster waiting for the life he's chosen to swallow him whole. 

I see the horror of this unfold before me like a really morbid choose-your-own-adventure book. I do not recognize the person who expects me to pay his bills and buy his cigarettes even now. I do not know this person who refuses to work and runs drugs back and forth from one sleazy motel to the next. I want my husband back. But he's not coming back and I have to make a conscious effort to not enable him. 

While this is a situation I never wanted and a hurt I sometimes think will kill me, I've found through all of this that I have the most incredible family and friends ever. The outpouring of love and support for the kids and I has been amazing. God is good all the time. I know that and have to keep it on my tongue and in my heart more than ever these days. 

Every fiber hurts for the broken and battered person who used to be my everything. I have exhausted my emotional, financial and physical resources trying to make him better. He tells me I could fix him if I wanted to, but I finally realized that just isn't true no matter how badly I want to try. The addict will not take any form of responsibility for the lives they ruin or maim. They also perceive any form of kindness as weakness. The more I give, the more is expected. It's a vicious cycle that has no end. My kids deserve security and peace, and they will have it. We are starting over. It's scary but well worth it.