Out of all the components of grief you experience with betrayal, I never knew hopelessness and physical pain were some of them and I wasn’t prepared for the onslaught.
It happened later that night after the ‘explosion.’ After the rain had ended and after the normalcy of making dinner and cleaning up.
In the morning my husband left a message on my phone expressing more regret, love and desperate praying for my heart to heal. But it was too late. I had spent the night in the fetal position praying that God would just take me. I’m not strong enough for this. How did all those other women make it through?
My toddler came to me and laid her favourite blanket on me and held me until she fell asleep and there was nothing I could do to protect her from that. That’s what hopelessness is all about. No matter how much you think that your kids should be enough to help you survive, they just aren’t. As brutal as that sounds.
Hopelessness knows no hope.
I don’t know what is helping me breathe again or what’s allowing me to sleep. But I imagine that the prayers of my family and friends and Sister Margie are taking hold. I suppose when you aren’t strong enough to hold on to God, he holds on to you instead.