Fighting

My fiancé is gonna pay. 

He doesn't really know the full extent of how bad it's going to be, and neither do I. But, he's gonna pay. I'll make sure he does. 

Because I'm broken, shattered and just all around jacked-up. 

When you've encountered unfaithfulness in relationships in the past, it makes it pretty impossible to enter into another relationship with complete trust. And so, he'll pay. Not because I want him to, but that's just the reality of the mess I am. Untrusting, fearful, always sure that some girl is looming around the corner ready to seduce, ready to be available in all the ways I cannot, and willing to give in the ways I'm unwilling to give. 

I hate it for him. 

I hate that what I often have to offer is fear, doubt and skepticism. I hate that while I can know he loves me, there's this little voice that constantly haunts me: …but does he really? Is it enough to keep him from wandering…? 

I'm fighting it.

Every day, in millions of situations. I rarely allow myself to voice the fleeting thoughts, but it doesn't change the fact that they constantly exist. Who is he texting? Did that hug linger for too long? Was that conversation too intimate? Does he have a hidden secret that I know nothing about? 

I'm not proud of them. Admitting them makes me aware, yet again, of how painfully insecure I am. Of how painfully broken I am. It's maddening at times. Why can't I be a normal person in a normal relationship without having to sabotage everything good in my life? 

Maybe normal doesn't exist, but I sure wish it were different. That I could be different. That I could trust fully. 

And so I'm fighting. With everything that I can. The moment the irrational thoughts surface are the moments I try to view the situation from every possible other angle. They're the moments when I try to stifle them, when I swallow the fears and attempt to convince myself that my worst-case-scenario isn't always my actual-case-scenario (in fact, it rarely is). 

The other night my fiancé, before hanging up the phone, said, "Debbie. I want you to know I love you. And I want you to know the fullness of what that means and to never doubt it. I want to do whatever I can to make you always feel loved." My eyes stung with the awareness of how often I struggle to continually allow myself to receive that in the fullness of what is given. 

He's done nothing wrong, he's done nothing to deserve the questions, the suspicion, the doubts…but yet he pays. Most days he pays, even if he isn't fully aware of it. He pays because of my pain, my past baggage, my burdens. And yet, he chooses to love me anyway. It's unreal. 

But I don't want that to be my life. I don't want that to be our forever. I don't think that's how it's intended to be and I don't plan on dwelling in that existence. He shouldn't have to pay because of another's mistakes. 

And so I'm fighting. 

Fighting to allow the Lord to heal me, to work in those wounds, to build up a trust between the two of us that can only come from Him. 

It's hard.

It's unnatural.

But it's necessary. 

I don't want him to have to pay. I want to love him in the fullness of always hoping, always trusting and always persevering. It can't happen on my own. 

And so as I fight, I'm thankful for a man who stands by my side. Who assures me of his love for me in moments when I least expect it. Who looks deeply into my eyes, longing to see all of me….a man who embraces the woman I am and supports the woman I am becoming. A man who tolerates the fears, the questions, the insecurities… a man who does whatever he can to make sure I know that he only has eyes for me.

I'm getting there.

Because the Lord heals. He makes the impossible possible. 

There's hope, even in the midst of our biggest wounds. 

I believe, firmly, that I will fully trust again. 

I believe it because I already trust a lot.

I'm still a work in progress.

But, there's hope.

I'm fighting for it. I'm fighting for good to prevail. For my life to be defined by God's redemption and faithfulness, not by the darkness that attempts to steal, kill and destroy. 

There's the promise of life and having it to the full…and I intend on living in the fullness of that promise. 

I hope you do, too. 

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