Our Story: Part 4 - The Turning Point: The Day We Chose to Stay.

So, how did we rebuild?

To answer that, I need to take a slight side step.

I was never into my faith. I grew up going to church on Sunday, and that’s pretty much where it stopped. Even though I called myself a Christian, looking back, there is no way I ever had God in my heart. Juan grew up in church, and his faith was his own. As a result, we continued to be regular attendees at church. I had the “church talk” down to a T! From the outside, God was the center of our marriage and home. We played the part perfectly. Until it all came crashing down.

When we separated, everyone was in a state of shock. No one had any clue we were struggling. They saw the smiling photos posted online. Saw the perfect facade we carried so well. No one knew we were slowly burning inside, locking all the doors to keep everyone else out.

Now, after reading our previous post about our separation, I realized that the darkness in my heart was not only directed towards Juan. I was angry with God as well. I refused to believe He even cared about me. When you're in so much darkness, it’s almost impossible for light to shine through.

Until it finally does.

One night, during our separation, I was home alone in our apartment. Juan and the kids were states away. I had no one. I had pushed everyone I loved and cared about away and was a shell of a person. It was late at night, and I was feeling the despair even more than usual. I’ve always dealt with depression from unhealed childhood trauma, but this season I was seriously in a hole. One I dug for myself, but in that moment, there was no way to get out. So I sat in the middle of our stairway, not wanting to go upstairs and see our empty bedroom. Not wanting to sit in our living room, filled with pictures of happy smiles and lost memories. So I sat in my darkness. I knew I was done. I had reached my point. I don’t even know why I did, but in that moment, I spoke to God. Probably for the first time ever, really. I told Him I was done. I was going to end my life. I had nothing left. I told Him I needed something. ANYTHING! I needed to feel seen, loved, and wanted. If not, my life would end that night. I did not doubt that.

I can’t explain it, and yes, it sounds crazy. But in that moment, while I sat numb and broken, I suddenly felt a warmth wrap around me. It was as if someone was holding me in a protective hug. Slowly, my heart felt free, and in that instant, I gave my life over to God.

I called Juan. I told him I was ready to work it out. That we could get back together. That’s exactly how I worded it: we could get back together. As if I were doing him a favor. He kind of laughed and told me that if I felt the same way the next morning, give him a call. He then hung up on me!

To say that was a slap in the face would be an understatement! I expected tears, happiness, and joy. I was taking him back! That’s what he wanted, right?! But I had dragged him along. Waited for him to stand again just to knock him back down. I had played with his heart over and over again, and in this moment, he didn’t trust me. He didn’t believe this new revelation of mine. And in a last effort to save his heart, he turned me down.

I was angry and almost vindicated in that moment. “See! You never really wanted me!” But with God newly in my heart, he calmed my anger, somehow quieted my voice, and I went to bed. The next morning, I called Juan once again. We spoke for a few hours. We cried, yelled, and sat in silence. Juan knew that for this to even have a chance, he had to go to me.

So he did. He took the first flight out, a red-eye. He left the kids with his mom and dad and got a ride to the airport (2 hours away). He slept on the floor in the airport, surrounded by a group of young military personnel heading out, and he flew back to me.

When he arrived and our eyes met across the airport, all the pain and hurt disappeared. We ran to each other, Juan dropping his carry-on to lift me in his arms. Strangers clapped as we kissed passionately and knew in this instant, love would be ours once again.

Yeah…none of that happened.

Our first time seeing each other again was awkward. Neither of us knew how to act, what to say, or even if we should touch at all. We spent the day walking around a zoo. Trying to get used to being around each other. Slowly breaking the ice and seeing if this was even possible. Neither of us wanted to get into the heavy things, fearing it would just break us before we had a chance to mend some of our relationship.

I will never forget those first few days together. It was like meeting for the first time. Scary, uncomfortable, and hesitant. But we agreed, our family was worth the fight. We both committed to working together one more time. Giving it our all, going to therapy, doing all we could, understanding that if it didn’t work, we could walk away knowing we tried.

We returned home to the kids and started a year-long journey of rebuilding. I was a new Christian, slowly diving into my faith and talking to God daily. He was a broken man, struggling to find his footing from the ground I ripped out from under him. We were full of hurt, anger, disappointment, and sorrow.

It was not easy. We sometimes went to therapy twice a week. Sometimes we refused to say a word because we were so angry (great way to spend $160). It became our full-time job. We agreed that if we were going to work, everything had to be laid out on the table. So slowly, we hashed out 11 years of pain, arguments, resentment, and distrust. We told each other everything. We finally had those difficult conversations that we never wanted to face.

There were moments when I felt helpless. That there was no way we could continue. Moments when each of us was ready to throw in the towel. It was the most difficult season we have ever faced.

We are often asked how we reconciled. Was it the kids? Was it just stubbornness? True love? Was it fate? No, it was none of those things. The only reason we are together today is because of God’s unbelievable love and grace. Without Him, we wouldn’t be here. He took our broken, damaged, and helpless marriage and made it an example of His unconditional love. We shouldn’t have made it. It is truly only because of HIM that we did.

We are living proof that God can work miracles. He rebuilt us and made us better than ever. But raising three kids who were dealing with their own hurt from our mistakes was not easy to do while we were both broken. Our whole family had to be rebuilt. We mourned the loss of the life we had before, and slowly paved the way to something that was better than we ever imagined.

Check out Part 4 - Parenting Through the Mess.