Turning Point

My marriage is in crisis, friends. So much so that the word "divorce" has come up more times in the past few days that it has ever come up during the course of our 10 year marriage. We aren't sleeping in the same room, and he's even done a spreadsheet to plan out how we might be able to divide our financial responsibilities fairly. We've discussed how it will affect our son, how it will affect us, who would go, who would stay.

But the crux? Neither of us really wants to go. Neither of us really wants it to end. We're just so at a loss. We've tried counselors and so many other things. And still, here we are, fighting about all the same old things, making no progress.

At what point does it make better sense for all involved...emotionally, spiritually, mentally, physically...to move on and heal? Would we be better off? Would our child? Would we find what we are looking for in someone else? Would we be able to let go of each other?

Intense, scary questions, dear readers...if you're out there. Questions I never thought I'd be asking myself.

And because I'm really NOT ready to let my marriage go, I'm devoting my month of November to saving it. This is triage, folks...not romance...not sweet sentiments of gratitude for an already sweet and abundant life. This is an emergency. And breathing life into a slowly and surely dying relationship is hard and tearful work, which I'm not fully sure I'm up to.

I'm calling it 21 Days of Action...21 days of showing my husband and son that I can't live without them. One gracious and meaningful act every day. And sure, if it were my normal type of planning, I'd wait until November, but see...this can't wait. I'm in the middle of a hurricane, and the only way I'm going to keep this little boat from going under is to pray, to have a whole heap-ton of faith in the necessity of our love, and to row like hell, fighting even when it seem completely futile - which, believe me, it often does. I've given up a dozen times in my mind.

But, see, the thing is, something bigger than fear keeps me here. And that something is love.

Robert Frost's poem isn't necessarily about marriage, and most certainly not specifically about mine...but as a poem, it lends itself to personal interpretation. That's what's so perfect about poetry and why I love it so much - it can mean what we need it to mean, and we can find solace and inspiration there. Right now, I'm like the narrator, looking down two paths, focusing on the one that bends, overgrown and unattended. Why? Because the worn path is the path I've been on a million times, and it's not the right one. It's not leading me to the place I want to be. So, now, my only real choice is the path of the unknown, and it's a little frightening. I'm not sure where this path will take me...but right now, I have the choice of standing still and doing nothing, doing what I've always done before, or doing something totally different...even if it's wrong...even if it doesn't work...even if it leads me somewhere I don't want to go.