Quicksand

I haven't blogged in a while. Obviously. Because I've been keeping a secret, and I don't know how to blog without talking about what's impacting my life right now. And that secret has just been eating away at me. For months now.

Anyone who has access to my Facebook page (or knows someone who does) has likely noticed a couple of recent status updates in which I alluded to some rather serious problems in my marriage. I've declined to talk about it publicly and even to most people privately. I've been intentionally vague and occasionally even deceptive about the status of my relationship with Brett.

Why? Too many reasons to count. One, because it's personal and my marriage is nobody's business. Two, because I care about Brett and don't want to drag his name through the mud. Three, because Brett doesn't want to share the information either.

But it's gnawing on me. And I can't do it anymore.

Brett and I are separated. We will be getting a divorce. No, it's not because I left the church. It's not because of any choice I made. No, reconciliation at this point is not possible. And no, I will not give details.

In many ways, I'm still in shock. I'm still processing that yes, this actually is happening to me. It's not some horrible nightmare I'm going to wake up from. I'm dealing not only with the cold reality of a failed marriage, but also the terrifying future of being a 28-year-old single mother to 3 children. I have no degree yet. I have no relevant or recent work history. I have no idea what I'm doing. And I am terrified. The idea of being alone for years to come is incredibly scary to me. Of co-parenting with Brett, but not having someone WITH me as backup. Of facing life and its many challenges alone. Especially when this comes so closely on the heels of my faith transition when I've lost so many friends, friends who made up the bulk of my support system. The awkwardness now present in my relationship with my in-laws--because while I adore them, Brett is their son and their priority (and understandably so).

I feel like I'm sinking. I'm stuck. I have no idea how to move on from here. This isn't something you're taught to have a contingency plan for. It's not something you learn to prepare for. So I do all the reading I can, love my kids, and hope that I don't screw them up too badly.

Yes, I've withdrawn a great deal the past few months. I return phone calls and emails even less than I used to (which is saying something). Because I'm in survival mode. It's not even day to day right now, sometimes it's hour to hour. Because I don't want to pretend to be happy, but I certainly don't want to discuss my private life with anyone but a very few trusted friends. Because I'm so wrapped up in trying to figure out how to keep a roof over my kids' heads and gas in the car to go to my crappy job that I can't really think of anything else. Because I am so completely, utterly, painfully lonely.

I know people insist I'm not alone. But aren't I? Friends and family and support groups and who knows what else are great. But they're not HERE. Not with me, in my home. There's no one here when it's the end of the day and I'm so emotionally exhausted from trying to be both parents that I just can't function anymore. There's no one here to hold me in the wee hours of the morning when I'm sobbing about losing the one person I thought would always be with me. And in those moments, those hours, I am frighteningly alone.

Some people ask about my relationship with God. I don't really know how to address that, other than to say that...we're not really on speaking terms right now. Because I'm angry. With Brett, yes, of course. But with God, too. Because for years I did all the "right" stuff. Brett and I were sealed for time and eternity. I tried so hard to believe the gospel and practice it. And my life is falling apart anyway. I feel abandoned. I feel set aside. I feel...insignificant. Ignored. Not exactly conducive to having fuzzy warm feelings about God.

I don't really know what else to say. I know I'm rambling. My life sucks right now. Yes, I need love and support and I welcome that. Pray for us if that's your thing. Please be sensitive. Now is not the time to inundate me with scriptures and Ensign articles. Or stories of marriages working out in the end. And be sensitive of Brett's needs, too. Yes, I'm angry and disappointed and completely crushed. But I still care about him, and he is the father of my children. I won't badmouth him, and I don't want others to, either. He's in a rough place right now and needs love and support as much as I do.