Her name is Julie and I call her grandma. She shares my mother’s birthday and loves me and my children, like her own flesh and blood. Despite the age difference, she is also a good friend. She saw me struggle after my first divorce and helped me rebuild my life. When the second husband came along, she was happy for me, but questioned the way things were done. Getting married so quickly, me quitting everything; my life, my career, moving to another continent was too much and she didn’t like it! But what could she do? I had made up my mind and was going to execute my plan. A bit disappointed she didn’t fail in blessing me and pretending to be happy.
Two years had pass, I came back and I was ashamed to tell her that the marriage was over; that my second husband abused me like the first one in every way and exposed our young children to violence. Children? Violence? She would have had a heart attack.
Incapable of telling her that I flee from Congo and was back in the country for good, I was ashamed of my “failure”. First, I told her that I was on vacation, then I said that I was going to settle in New York City because it reminded me of Paris, where I grew up. She didn’t question me, she was just happy to have me back in the country.
So recently I decided to tell her the truth, and all the truth. She was mad that things happened the way they did, and she was devastated that I lost everything. Comparing my life to a business’s year-end report, my balance sheet was NEGATIVE. She was outraged to find out that I lived in a shelter, that I was jobless, and living on public assistance with 3 young children. My precarious life surpassed her understanding. The fact that I sounded fine made her wonder if I had also lost my mind. How can I be fine with all these going on in my life? How was I going to get out of this instability? This time Domestic Violence costed me more than the first time. I listened to her but didn’t recognize myself in this negative and hopeless portrait she drew of me.
It is true that I lost my house, job, car etc. but loosing valuable physical assets didn’t make me a looser. I had all these belongings but I was not happy because I was not healed from the first abuse. I was still conquering love. I was NOT satisfied with what I had. There was always something missing. I wanted to take my revenge on love, and I wanted to be loved and cherished because I was empty on the inside. Almost like in these love stories, I dreamt of my prince charming. Convinced that he was going to make me happy, that he was going to erase the humiliation, and the hurt that my first husband had done to me. Guided by this DEEP desire to be loved, I felt in the clutches of a second predator. It didn’t take him much, he just had to say and pretend that he loved me, and I swallowed the lies.
But what is physical and material loss compare to spiritual healing?
Believe it or not, I have no regret today. I know where I stand NOW. I am on the positive side, I am winning, I am thriving. I am free, I am healed and RESTORED. Today, I have the revelation that NO MAN can make me happy. Being happy is a personal decision, it’s not subject to what people can do to me or for me. Taking the time to know myself, I discovered what I like and what I did not like. Going through all these kind of difficulties taught me how strong I am today. Having only GOD to rely and depend on, showed me how good my CREATOR is. I know my worth, my values. I have confidence on what God put inside of me. No man can come in my life today and pretend to bring anything to make me happy. I am complete and happy in CHRIST. I am winning.
Grandma, I AM AN OVERCOMER so don’t you worry about me!