Are the clouds parting? Many years of storms and there is light on the horizon

[Healing with Jesus]

I have been a single mom for many years. I have lived in an extremely rural area raising children with no support network. My ex-husband and I moved away from our families many, many years ago because his mother financially enabled his escape into the wilderness. He has deep trauma he refused to face. I also have trauma but have been more willing to try to deal with it.

He mistreated me in many ways, the details of which are too unconscionable to write here in a forum where children may be reading. I always rationalized that I would be able to win my husband's affection if I kept loving him, but this was not the case. I ran myself into the ground for him. And I know now that is not what is meant by wives submitting to their husbands. There is a lot of false preaching out there, which I internalized and used as the basis for staying with him. All the while, he abused me, used me, manipulated me, degraded me, took advantage of my kindness, ruined my once-perfect credit (yes it matters in a world of financial transactions), and left me for dead in the hospital...

It's not surprising that such a traumatic decade of marriage left deep scars, though I couldn't see them for what they were. I was happy to escape with my skin and have our children most of the time. I am a hardworking soul, and over the years I got run into the ground, again.

You see, when I left him, I was a shell of myself. I had a bunch of medical problems that the doctors said were psychiatric. I was going to the emergency department every other day sometimes just to get IV fluids because I was so dehydrated and hypokalemic. I lost a ton of weight and became so dizzy that I couldn't even drive anymore. The irony is that my husband took time off from work to help with our kids because I was so ill, but that just made it worse.

I quit smoking weed back then. I got to the point that I couldn't tolerate it anymore. I would smoke and feel worse, instead of better. See, I had quit using weed after coming home to Jesus... But my ex used it very frequently. And I wanted his affection, so I participated in using it with him.

But he didn't look at me with love and admiration. I try not to envy couples who have that connection. That's all I wanted from him. Instead, he gave that to his mom, his sister, his best friend who sent him inappropriate emails and photos. I would try and try, but never earned his affection.

So I quit smoking weed right before I left him. And during my prayer time, I felt led to divorce him. I immediately balked at the idea. "But we just bought a house together!" I said. Yep, that was my first thought. I had been so run into the ground by him that our material possession was my reason for saying no.

I refused to consider divorce. Not just because of the house, but because I really believed it was a sin. I kept abnegating myself. And I got sicker, and sicker... Until...

One day, I had a medical procedure called a colonoscopy. Nasty experience in many ways, and I had delayed it for months in spite of my doctor's wishes. Well, I was so ill that I figured that I needed to do it or I would die from the debilitating symptoms I was experiencing. On the way home, I became violently ill with an adverse reaction to the anesthesia. My ex was not understanding at all. So now, on top of being ill, I was even iller, shaking and sweating and not able to hold down water. I asked my ex to stop to buy popsicles for me. He came out with coconut flavor. I reminded him that I am unable to eat coconut and asked, could he get the strawberry flavor so I can have something that will sit OK? He threw the popsicles at me and said, "You get them!" But I was soo weak. I had been carted out by wheelchair from the hospital to give you a picture and there was no way I could walk into the store, get the popsicles, stand in line, use currency, etc.... So he drove home in a huff, with the coconut popsicles in my lap.

And I remember thinking, maybe divorce is right.

But I wasn't convinced, until the colonoscopy came back showing that my intestines were very healthy.

I finally started to accept that the stress of my abusive marriage was killing me. He had isolated me from my family and everyone I know for a decade. He would not let us invite people over. He would not come to Church with me in the years I went. And then, I had no support except him, and he was not truly supportive. He was just there.

My mom came up to visit and help so that he could go back to work. She saw my withered state and crumbled. She said, I want to kidnap you and take you home with me. I said, I want to let you do that. I was finally ready to accept help, to leave him.

I attempted to have a rational conversation with him about my plan to convalesce with my mom near our hometown. He lost his temper and used every control tactic in the book.

My mom and I left with the children. After some time recovering, I called him and told him I would remain his wife under one condition: he returns to our hometown to be with our family support system. He refused. His love is the trees. His love is his isolated paradise. His love, was not me. It never was, and never could be.

I had to go back to the isolation, though. The state where we live has very strict laws about removing children from its jurisdiction. I didn't research that as a pregnant woman when we moved up to the wilderness. And since he so vehemently opposed the move, I was in legal jeopardy, and could face loss of custody of the children. I was not willing to take that risk.

So I lived with my kids in domestic violence housing for months. Then we moved into a beat-up old mobile home. I started to put one foot in front of the other, on my own. I tried to build a surrogate support network. I thought I had one in my neighbors, but it turned out to be very flimsy. The woman I confided in quickly turned on me with rageful screaming; the man who I shared my Christian faith with ignored me while ousting me as a Jew (just ethnic..); the family whose child the kids had play dates with ignored us and called the landlord about very petty things. This all caused me an extreme amount of stress.

So I tried to find fellowship in the Church. What would be better than serving God with a common purpose. But if I didn't find rigidity, I found rejection. If I didn't find judgment, I found more control tactics. There were a couple experiences that left lasting wounds. One was when a woman reprimanded me for not participating in a medical experiment in 2021. She quoted papers about variants and accused me of subjecting my children to an illness that would lead to their deaths. Another was a pastor who would not stop emailing me after I asked him to. The next year, an elder from that church called to ask if he did anything to me. I asked why. She said he had a very inappropriate relationship with a single mom, and they wondered if I had been targeted too.

So... I turned to dating. What could be more supportive than building a family together with someone. I quickly learned that I was viewed as a uterus by men who asked me about having more kids before they even knew how I comport myself. So I found others who were content to not have children, since I didn't want to almost die in childbirth again. But many did unconscionable things which I cannot write here.

I have spent hours on the phone with local law enforcement (not helpful and blamed me, the victim) and domestic violence shelters during these years. "Safety planning," "what did you expect," "you're calling us again?" Meanwhile sometimes, I wasn't even dating but simply had a contractor quoting a job, or was going grocery shopping and in the parking lot in the dark, or called a friend for support.....

Weed entered my life again. The smell and the smoke soothed my aching soul with a counterfeit peace. It was tangible and it gave me a ritual to calm down at the end of every stressful day. No one understands, I sighed. My life had become constant turmoil. Each of my children were injured at their schools. I was doing the job of three people as a caregiver and case manager and schoolteacher for my severely disabled child. I had another full-time job of learning carpentry and home repair, as my trailer suffered one issue after the other.

I blamed God for my suffering at this point. "Why do you want me here??" I would spit at Him. "I know You're sovereign. I know that Satan needs Your permission to afflict me. So why are You doing this to me?? Aren't I your daughter??" I would curse. I fought. I thrashed in my soul.

Then I saw it. It wasn't the way out yet, but the path to a conversation to get there. So much had changed since I first left my ex. Maybe a judge would see things my way. And I asked some lawyers what they thought. It was looking good for me to build a legal case.

Mold took a toll on my health, and it still is. And yet, this horrible fungus and its associated mycotoxins are exactly what propelled me to quit smoking weed, again. Because I went to the emergency department multiple times last month, and finally got to the point where smoking made me feel closer to death than life. I lost my coping mechanism, the warm sensation of okayness I had come to rely on at the end of the day. And in its wake was the utterly stark truth staring me in the face: I am no longer where God wants me to be.

I finally had the gumption to start Court action. In my mold-induced delirium, I spilled my reality onto pages for the Judge to read. I needed action, I needed accountability. I need my family, so do the kids. We cannot survive in isolation with mold anymore.

All these years, my ex has been ardently opposed to the children relocating. To the point that he insisted that I "give" him "the kids" as if parenting duties were purely transactional. He said that he would fight my Court action and I was prepared for a battle. I lined up witnesses, prepared evidence, and rehearsed testimony.

Imagine my surprise this week when he agreed to let us go home.

This is just the start of an arduous journey back home. In these weeks, my ex has spoken to the children to make them feel fear and hesitation about this change. Whereas a month ago, they were enthusiastic about the possibilities, now they are bracing for loss.

I am still alone with no support network, trying to sort through a trailer full of stuff, and my mind is damaged from mold. My executive functioning is not in good shape, and I have very little ability to make quick decisions.

To make matters more complicated, we have two rooms full of belongings that I may need to just abandon. Did I store treasure on earth? Are the family heirlooms, which are books and photos and unexpensive jewelry, my children's first toys, and their baby clothes corrupting my soul? I am having an impossible time letting go.

And I have to abandon the trailer before I can get it ready for sale. I just literally cannot be here anymore. I wake up hardly able to breathe many nights, with my heart racing and my sinuses swelling. The doctors here don't believe in mycotoxins, so once again I am labeled as a psychiatric case.

My friends, I need prayer in so many ways. Prayers for guidance, for grace and mercy, for physical, tangible support and blessings. I need a new home for the kids and me that will be safe and dry... Somewhere we can rebuild a sense of peace, or rather build it perhaps for the first time. I feel that I have been able to give them the emotional and spiritual guidance that they need, but they have never known what a well-supported family really feels like. They have experienced moments of that, but not as a daily reality.

We have many family members who really care about us. Most of them aren't believers, so we also need prayers for them to be humbled to come to Christ before their conscience is seared against Him. May we be blessings to them spiritually while they are blessings for us socially.