“Before tearing your children’s lives apart, please consider counseling. My husband and I were at this cross-section in our lives 15 years ago. We muddled through and now, I can’t even begin to imagine not sharing this journey called life with anyone other than my best friend. Family is worth fighting for and working hard on. Sorry, not sure about your Universe view. Will pray to the Heavenly Father, my “universe”, for wisdom and the realization that nothing is set in stone. God allows free will. You make choices. You have consequences. May they be good ones particularly for your children.”
On July 7th, 2015, I got married for the second time. According to many, it should never have happened. Less than 12 months ago, I was still married to my college sweetheart and living in Japan with our two small daughters. The full story of how my first marriage ended has never been told, and I’m not sure it will ever see the light of day in a place so public as this blog. But, the watered-down version is that I left my first husband for another man, and I haven’t looked back.
Assume what you may, but I didn’t have an affair. (The logistics of doing so while living on two separate continents made that quite difficult.) I loved a man who wasn’t my husband, told my husband, watched as the shit hit the fan, and realized that my marriage was over long before I knew it was. I knew before divorce papers were ever drawn up that I’d get married again, and I knew who I would marry. In the most ballsy move I’ve ever made, I let myself fall deep down into the rabbit hole. I left one relationship to jump into another and it was the best thing I’ve ever done.
Opening my inbox to find a Facebook message accusing me of “tearing my family apart” and warning me of the consequences of my decisions (not to mention, belittling my spiritual beliefs), was one of the more hurtful moments I experienced when I decided to get a divorce. At the time, it seemed as though everyone had an opinion about my life; everyone knew my marriage better than I did. I notice myself struggling with the desire to make everyone understand. I want everyone to know how good this is. I want everyone to know how happy I am; how happy my kids are. I want everyone to see the difference between this relationship and my last one. I know, however, that it will never happen and the only reason that is okay – the only reason that the judgement, the opinions, and the estrangement don’t get me down – is that I KNOW.
On July 7th, I married the man that I love. I said yes to the most spiritual, most intuitive, most supportive, most fulfilling relationship I’ve ever experienced with another human being. I didn’t do what many people wanted, or thought was right, but I trusted myself. A part of me loved him before I was born, and long before I knew of his existence. In the most cliche, yet truthful way of explaining it, I acknowledged the pull of the Universe and agreed to go along with its plan.
In the last 12 months, I’ve learned who my friends are. I’ve learned how to better trust myself and my intuition. I’ve learned to
stop judging work really hard to judge less. I’ve learned more about who I am and what is important to me. I’ve learned that some of the best decisions are also the scariest and most challenging.
And I’ve also learned the most important thing of all: that I don’t know nearly as much as I thought I did.