Marriage is not a test.
But I didn’t fail.
Society makes assumptions about those who are divorced. Maybe we lack the fortitude to persist through difficulties. Perhaps we possess some great fatal flaw that makes us unable to sustain matrimony. Or, possibility we are flighty, given to jump in without thought and give up just as easily.
There is often shame inherent in admitting that one is divorced, like some scarlet letter “D” is forever branded upon your character if your “ever after” ended sooner than expected. It’s as though you failed at one of the biggest assessments you face as an adult.
In the strictest sense, my marriage did fail. After all, it ceased to exist upon the receipt of the horrific text: “I’m sorry to be such a coward leaving you this way but I’m leaving you and leaving the state.” Furthermore, my husband failed me through his betrayal and abandonment. I failed him by not seeing that he needed help and I failed myself by not being aware of his actions and the signs of a crumbling marriage. Yet, even with all that defeat, I refuse to look at my marriage as a failure. That label undermines our years together with all its shared memories and joys; the shared life and experiences are negated with that single word. Although I did feel as though I failed in some ways, I was adamant that I was not going to let my divorce define me as a failure.
Failure is an act, not a person. I’m divorced. Not defective.
As I grappled with the end of my marriage, I found comfort in the words of others. Others who had faced their own challenges and were determined to learn from and grow from their mistakes and unrealized goals. Read the rest on The Huffington Post.