Jesus Take the Wheel!!

That Carrie Underwood song used to make me giggle, and I often quoted, but with irony. I even made a crossed stich about it.

 

My husband cheated on me, so I fled with only what I could pack into a small trailer. He got to keep all the furniture and household items, and I still don't own a couch. "Jesus Take the Wheel!" I interviewed for four different teaching jobs and didn't get a single one. "Jesus Take the Wheel!". Ben didn't get into the VPK program at Seth's school. I have no idea where to send him next year, and don't have the money for child care. "Jesus Take the Wheel!". I'm now a thirty-four year old single mother of two. Loads of men will want to date me. "Jesus Take the Wheel!" I've quoted and quoted, trying to laugh at my misfortunes when I just want to bawl my eyes out and eat sadness key lime pies.

It seems like lately, the more I pray for something, the less likely I am to get it. Maybe I've been too bitter and unbelieving. Before all this mess, I had so much faith in the Lord that I wanted to stop every person I saw and tell them all about it. But now, I sit in church, wishing I could find a shred of what I once had. It's mainly the unfairness of it all. And I know life isn't fair, but it doesn't seem right that I have to struggle while my ex-husband gets to be fun an fancy free. Not that I'm complaining about having sole custody of the boys. I would live in a box behind K-Mart if it I got to keep them. It's just harder than I thought it would be. I am eternally grateful that my mom and dad watch them while I'm at work, but I still hate that I am gone from them for most of the day. I hate working. I hate doing everything on my own. I hate to sleep alone. I hate that I'm scared most of the time. I hate that I now fear the future.

There are days when I feel like everything good and lovely that was once inside of me is dead. It was destroyed by the man who swore to protect me from harm, to love me at my weakest, and to never give up on me. All those promises were broken, and it broke me. I'm rebuilding. A work in progress. Someone get me those bright orange construction cones to place around me. I'll keep smiling through the pain, and continuing on my journey, even when I want to give up. I think this makes me brave. It makes me the Buffy Summers of your world.

I'm learning to love myself again. I doubt I'll ever think myself pretty enough to talk to a handsome man without stuttering and spilling my drink all over myself. I'll never be confident enough to strut around in a bikini. I'll never feel good enough about myself to leave my house without makeup on. I've got plenty of flaws to keep me humble. What I'm really working on is believing that I'm worth being loved. I'm genuinely surprised when my friends call me and ask me to hang out, or when my mom tells me she misses me. I don't expect anyone to care about me, even the Lord. This is what happens when you spend years forced into submission. You don't believe you're worth. . . anything.

Everyone tells me it takes about a year after a divorce to get your life back on track. I'm almost eight months in, and would just like to fast forward through the next four. Get me to the good stuff. I know eight months from now I will be writing this blog from London, where I am visiting my boyfriend Tom Hiddleston. I'll be working from home as a fulltime author. And I will be able to spend every waking moment I can with my little men. Faith proceeds miracles, and I have so little faith right now. I honestly believe my life is forever going to be like this, praying to no one and getting nothing I need.

So, Jesus, if Thou art listening, I'd like Ye to taketh the literal wheel of my life. I'm putting everything in, all my faith, all my hope, all my prayers. I'm all in and counting on a miracle.

I'm sorry. I know I complain a lot. That's not the reason I write this blog. It's because I want other people who are struggling to know it's okay. I'm there in the trenches with them. I have felt their heartache and failings. And I want to have this record, so I can look back one day and see that I made it through the hardest time in my life because of friends, family, and faith. I want to remember this pain and darkness, so once I reach the stars, I'll see them for how bright they really are.