My boyfriend dumped me, and that’s okay.
He moved out on Monday. His friend helped him move his things, my kids clawed at him when he had to go. He wasn't happy about saying goodbye, but he was already long gone. Below are two things that helped me pull it together, and realize I will be fine—as always.
Yes, y’all. I was dumped. At age 26, for the first time. But, that’s okay.
This past weekend at church, the message revolved around how we behave on our worst day. The absolute, most horrid, down right, most awful day… how we behave and react defines who we are. I had a bad week. A reaaaaaal bad week. However, I am making my best effort to live as He would (sounds so not typical Ty, I know).
We all mess up. This is something I have grown to learn while with Luis. Previous to being in a relationship with him, I was an all perfect woman in the relationship. Now, now, we know there is actually no such thing as a perfect person. I have grown to acknowledge my many flaws, apologize, and own up to my imperfections. So, my boyfriend dumped me—and that’s okay.
I have this person deep inside that rages and gets angry, and doesn’t always communicate the best. My excuse has always been, “well I was honest, so if you can’t handle the truth…” or “Oh my God, be a man and just change what I’m telling you to fix.” No, though. That is not the proper way to fix things. I may have done it to Luis a time too many. So, my boyfriend dumped me—and that’s okay.
My ex-husband begged and fought and pushed me to go to counseling. He yelled and screamed and pleaded for me to seek therapy. I never did. I finally did, thanks to this past relationship. That alone, is enough. So, my boyfriend dumped me—and that’s okay.
I have been to church a time or two in my lifetime. I wasn’t a fan. I wasn’t a believer. Luis brought me to a place that I have found myself making it every Sunday. I sing. I close my eyes during prayer. I say, “amen.” I listen to the Word. I take notes. I reflect on those notes to make it through bad days. I enjoy going. I brought one of my most beloved students into the seat next to me to hear the gospel. I now pray. So, my boyfriend dumped me—and that’s okay.
If you read, “One Divorce, Two Baby Daddies, Three Children (and Teaching with a Master’s Degree)” you may remember I didn’t mention Luis. You may realize on my blog, I’ve never mentioned Luis; and I have considered now, that may have sucked for him. So, my boyfriend dumped me—and that’s okay.
Also, if you read, “One Divorce, Two Baby Daddies, Three Children (and Teaching with a Master’s Degree)” you may also remember I explained how impulsive I am. Also, that I rushed into my marriage with PJ. Well, knowing me, I rushed into a relationship with Luis, as well. He’s great. He’s kind. He’s fun. He’s inspiring. He is also not able to handle me, and the weight of a woman I am. We rushed, so we did not know this, initially. We know now. So, my boyfriend dumped me—and that’s okay.
He wants to have a kid (or kids). I have three. I do not want more. I am 26, and my youngest (Canon) will be 3 in July. My middle (Presley) will be 5 in September. My oldest (Jizelle) will be 9 in December. So, my boyfriend dumped me—and that’s okay.
I love Beaufort. I have been prompted with opportunities to move many times. I refused. I likely would not move when it was time for him to go. I have worked endlessly to build a life here. Endlessly. College. Finishing year three at the high school Finishing year one at the tech college. Journalism. Obtaining my nonprofit business license. This is my town. It is my place. So, my boyfriend dumped me—and that’s okay.
During this process of loving Luis, I built strength in areas I have needed to obtain for so long. I cut off a toxic relationship with a parent that was tainted by chasing the bottom of the bottle. Without him, I would not have reached this destination. So, my boyfriend dumped me—and that’s okay.
So, I had my worst day—or worst week. And through it, I have seen some glorious things about myself. I am a good woman. I am growing. I am wandering on a journey to faith. I work hard. I love harder. I am a wonderful mom. He is a good man, but made some terrible mistakes. No matter how much I love him, we could not come back from him laying with her. So, my boyfriend dumped me—and that’s okay.
I have the most loving and supportive friends/family who have walked on this Earth’s surface. You know who you are, but I have to say it. Duncan. Taylor. Jaimie. Brittney. Kem. Dad. Thank you, thank you thank you. You all always pick up my pieces, over and over and over. And for that I am ever grateful. So, my boyfriend dumped me—and that’s okay.
And of all the worst things this past week have held (and you all only know the surface), not the portions that were like pouring boiling lemon juice on raw flesh. But, that’s part of what the message was. Remember, how we behave in our worst day.
So I'm not going to tell all. I'm not going to call the women out who are reading this and cringing that I won't mention their name. I know. You know. It's okay. No worries, dolls.
From the wise words that filled my soul on Sunday:
In our worst days, we need to learn some things.
On our hardest days we don’t turn to God. We get frustrated with God. We have to ignore our emotions and give our emotions to God; he made these emotions inside of us. When we give our emotions to God, he will give us the comfort we need. We are a generation who don’t like time. We don’t know how to let the time pass. Sometimes, we will not get answers right away, so how do we get through the pain as we wait for the answers to the toughest questions of “why?”
So, my boyfriend dumped me—and that’s okay.
hugs, love, and tons of kisses.
Side Note: This is a personal story that I've submitted to join a blogging team. It's long. Sorry.
I have always been quite spontaneous and horridly impulse. It's a trend I am still trying to conquer!
When I say he was a good guy, he was the best guy.
Even with my mistakes, flaws, and controlling ways, he still seemed to be patient, empathetic, and never teetered.
I mean, friends would gush about their guy, how he couldn’t keep it in his pants, texted other girls, gave the silent treatment—endless things.
I treated my husband worse than any could imagine, and he never lost love and hope for me.
I rushed into a marriage.
I know this now. I get it. I am fully aware that since I did not have the most stable and positive family aspect growing up as a child, and swept a failed household with my high school boo under the rug, my heart craved a family. I wanted a sense of completeness. I needed wholeness. I needed a family, a good husband, a degree, and a career to prove to myself that indeed was a worthy woman.
In February of 2015, I’d had it. I told him I was moving out. I couldn’t stand living with him. Looking at him. Sleeping next to him. Each day, I had a new reason why or a one more thing for him to change.
Now looking back, it should have been me gathering books, articles, and self-help guides to be a better wife
I should have been sprawled on the alter, begging the Lord for mercy and healing.
I packed up, got an overpriced 2-bedroom apartment less than 15 minutes from the house we owned, and left. Those days were the most severing of my life. The silence, small space, and time alone made me beam with joy.
People noticed a glow, and questioned if I was pregnant again!
“No, ma’am,” I’d say, “I’ve just left my husband!” Sorry, not sorry.
So, I’d spent six months alone, February to August of 2015. My husband had still wanted to go on dates from time-to-time.
One, free food is great.
Two, I didn’t want to look like a bitch and decline the offer.
As if moving out wasn’t bad enough, I know.
Towards August, I was like:
wow, we have been getting along so great, maybe it’s time I move home and commit to making this work for the kids. I can’t actually get a divorce without giving our marriage a try just one more time.
In comes that evil impulsiveness, I met with him and told him I wanted to move back home. Within a week, we were moving my things back home. I found somebody to take over my lease, and it was done.
I was home. Oh, home sweet home.
Actually not. As soon as I moved back home, I converted back into the evil woman I’d once been. Bitter. Belittling. Bitch, there, I said it.
P.S. That’s the woman famous for the “ain’t nobody got time for that” news interview.
I exhaled the moment he pulled out of my driveway. Bye, bruh.
Of course, now that it’s been over two years since our initial separation, and a year and a half since he moved, I can take the blame.
I didn’t realize this while we were married, no, defiantly not.
My parents never quite taught me things I needed to know to be in a healthy marriage. It seems I was pretty much free to do what I want, say what I want, and act how I wanted my whole life—and until I was married, it never posed a significant issue. It landed me an internship, jobs, two degrees, and ultimately, the wherewithal to raise three children on my own. Heck, I’ve even gotten published from some things I have mustered up at a local coffee shop.
Even the slightest difference in my past, would have led to me not having them. And my sweet babies are everything important on this planet. So, I’ve decided my sporadic decisions and nontraditional happenings were supposed to happen just this way.
My actions serve as a model of what not to do for women. As a guide of what to do if things do not go as planned for young ladies who may have a similar story to mine.
I am only twenty-six. I’ve been divorced. I’ve Graduated with a Bachelor’s in English and a Master’s in Education. I’ve adjusted to being a single mom. I’ve gotten used to working numerous jobs—full time teaching as my primary income, even though it isn’t near enough. Taking on homebound students to supplement pay. Working as an adjunct professor at the local technical college. Picking up journalism for a local agency. Building a small business from scratch, though I barely have two nickels jiggle in my pocket, as it. Paying out of pocket for therapy to heal the wicked woman I have buried inside. Seeking redemption in His name (faith is a new journey).
I'm tired, don't try this at home, kids.
Take your time.
Never lose focus of your goals.
Be an eager learner—read, write, research, seek professional help.
Be nice to people, it’s free.
Listen earnestly to those who need an ear.
Be unapologetic of who you are, but that’s not to say that its acceptable to be unapologetic for scornful words and unjust roles in relationships with your significant other, family, or friends.
And lastly, (definitely not the least), get to know what makes your own soul smile and your heart heal.
PSS-- I am still working on that last part.
Aim for progress, y'all.
Hugs, Kisses, and all the love.
ronically enough, my first blog post was three months ago, when I had a rough night and had convinced myself that my marriage was over. Well, it is now 2016, and I've finally dug up the logins (after the billion failed attempts and excessive password resets) with confirmation that my poutey blog post from three months prior, is indeed reality.
My husband moved on Christmas. We opened presents with our three littles. I made breakfast-- bacon and eggs. He set up the WiiU and the kid's new BlueRay player. And after Canon went down for a nap, I lit a fire log, and watched my husband cry as he stood over the girls playing with their new goodies from St. Nick. I cried watching him cry-- it was one of those throat closing moments, where swallowing even becomes a lost function.
I walked him to his truck, and he gave my forehead the last kiss it would ever receive in South Carolina. I had already moved out of our home-- it was listed less than a week before it went under contract for full price (YAS) and I'd settled into my new three bedroom rental out on the island. He continued to cry, but my tears had seized. He drove away, and headed to his hometown of Baltimore, Maryland.
My exhale could have demolished even the three little pigs so-stable brick house. I felt relieved.
Horrible, I know. Oh, so horrible. I feel the embarrassment burning my face as my thumbs punch away on this iPhone.
I was relived that my husband left me with our three children, on Christmas Day. It wasn't spur of the moment. We'd found out he had an interview for the job in September. He nails interviews, and just so happens to be one of those irritatingly likable men. Everybody oozes at his 6' 2" bundle of charisma (do I sound jealous?). In October, we found out he had been selected for a job, and was placed at Washinton DC. This is an enormous opportunity-- Firefighting for the Department of Defense comes with opportunities civilian fire departments here in our small town could never provide. I was ecstatic that he was given such an opportunity-- it's really quite flattering to be offered a position.
I chose to not go.
Yes, that's right. I flat out refused to go-- not initially, of course. I played the good wife role. I looked into real estate in Baltimore (where my darling in-laws reside, hear my snark?) and even applied and interviewed for teaching positions. When I paused and thought of the reality of the situation, I could not go.
After our first separation, we cohabitated in August and the job stampeded us in Septemebr; I could not commit to leaving my hometown, my job (which has me in the middle of my teaching certification program), and take the leap of faith.
Months have come and gone since I knew my husband and I were too tired to keep fighting for our marriage. I am finally able to wholeheartedly admit, I drug the marriage out because I've never failed at anything. Tests here and there, whatever. But never a "life changing" failure. I had to fix it, beat it, win at it-- until I just didn't. And as simple as I can put it, that is how I exhaled when my husband left me for Maryland.
I can now shrug my shoulders and admit clinging on for fear of failure is complete rubbish. It is an idiotic remedy that drowns me further in the failure. Perhaps today is a chipper day; maybe I'll miss him after it sinks in (probably, like no). I love my husband (or husband that I'm separated from) but, really am so ready for the journey to being a person for myself and not squeezing into a mold that crumbles my soul.
I'm ready to throat punch the challenges to come with the three littles, teaching second semester seniors their dose of Brit. Lit., and single life-- which I know not a thing about.
One thing I have struggled with in accepting it was time to move on, was how do I know it is time to move on? I know I love this man, but with all certainty, I have grown to acknowledge, I will never provide him with the love he requires to remain satisfied in a marriage. Now, that being said, I know (better than most woman) that my husband loves me. He is a great man, a wonderful father, and can love deeper and display emotion better than anybody I know. Accepting that I am not his lady, was tough, until, finally I knew that for he and I both to be happy, it was time we acknowledged separate lives, will lead us to happiness once again.
Here are the five things I needed to accept, before knowing my marriage was over.