Maybe it’s that I am on marriage number four at the young age of forty-three. Maybe it’s learning enough about myself at this stage in life to view things differently. It could possibly be the decades of experience I have in coaching clients who are unraveling childhood trauma that I learned a thing or two about myself. It could even be related to the fact that my first son is turning twenty-one this year. Whatever the situation that sparked the confidence to say, “Hey, he’s my guy,” is worth noting.
When we are in survival mode, we make a lot of interesting choices. It is the number one phrase that I make sure to tell my clients and friends who confide in me. My hope is to give them the space necessary to feel seen, heard, and validated. If you walked away feeling as if you could tell me your darkest secret, and I wouldn’t judge you, I did my job. Not only as a friend but also as a trauma specialist working towards healing your inner child so that you may love yourself enough to stop making “interesting” choices and start feeling confident and healthy in your self-worth.
In my twenties, I was convinced my self-worth was wrapped up under someone else’s naked body. By my early thirties, I was on divorce number two and still searching for love everywhere but within. Divorce number three at thirty-six is the pivotal moment I clearly understood and wanted (key phrase) to find a guy who I would actually grow old with. No longer was I going to bandage my lack of self-love with another human being; I was going to work on myself long enough to see red flags (we all have them) and actually believe the green flags would stick around.
Surviving childhood sexual abuse is no easy task. At the end of the day, I had survived a hundred percent of my worst days. Surely, I could dive deep enough to let love in. I mean, real, shake the boots off your feet, bring calm to my soul – LOVE. I wasn’t going to settle for accepting anything less than the right fit! Which also meant having to exclude the naysayers who thought I was just busy bouncing from one love to the next. The truth is, I found that guy at thirty-seven. What most don’t know is the amount of work I did from 2016-2018, to find that guy!
It was an internal struggle to heal my inner child while creating a safe place for the variety of trapped emotions to finally escape. I knew the path. Hell, I had coached many clients down the exact same road. But the truth remains the same for me as it does the rest of society, it is a hell of a lot easier to fix someone else’s problems than your own. We are our worst enemy when it comes to seeing our own red flags. When you survive any level of trauma, at any stage in your life, the truth is, it takes a lot of guts and self-reflection to realize you need to course correct to make a difference in your life.
Let’s just agree, I found myself. Not at the bottom of a bottle of wine. Not naked while exchanging bodily fluids with someone. Not while lashing out at the bullshit life I had as a child. It was taking time to sit still, feel the world around me, hugging myself, and learning to trust that no matter what comes my way, I too deserve healing, self-worth, and LOVE. I made a decision. On a very cold, rainy Seattle day, I made the decision to let love in and stop sabotaging the good in my life.
I knew I could manifest my dream guy. Oddly, I opened Excel and created a list of fifty items my forever guy needed to be. I wrote down bigger dreams like a stable job, secure within their skin, and being a great father. I also wrote down preferences but not must-haves such as being taller than me, having dark hair with light eyes, and someone who doesn’t like sports. The list is long and, if I’m really honest, ever-changing. That is the thing about growth; we aren’t limited to a season. We can be different after five minutes or take twenty years to get there. The power to change is within. Thankfully, we are all born with that same gift.
Just as I was ready to be single and enjoy loving myself for a long while, I met my future husband. We knew that day, this was where we were headed. It was a complete accident we met while absolutely no accident at all. What was supposed to be a one-hour coffee shop meet-up turned into the place closing down and dimming lights for us to realize we needed to leave. Every time we parted ways, I knew I had to keep talking to this guy. I didn’t want to spend my life wondering what he was doing or where he was going. I wanted to be by his side, climbing the mountains necessary to build a marriage worth fighting for.
That is what we did. We have had many outside forces work hard to break us apart. We have had to make tough choices that affected our kids, our families, and our careers. We have had our share of arguments, just as we have had a lot of laughter and love. But something in me is different this time around. Something in me wants to fight to keep the others out. There is a part of me he has that I never knew existed.
The truth is marriage is hard. Divorce is hard. Raising kids is hard. Blending families is hard. I haven’t met a single soul who always had it easy. There are struggles, there are challenges, there are life-altering choices, there are roads not traveled on, and roads we wish we never considered taking. No matter where life has taken me or you, the gift is knowing when to let go and not let go. I am not letting go of this one.
When the tough gets going, my gut instinct is flight. It’s not about “I’ll leave them before they can leave me.” It’s about never learning or being modeled on how to have a healthy disagreement and talk your way through it. It’s about trusting myself I can get through the hard parts of life with this man and not be judged when we get to the other side of the problem. It’s being able to stand up and say, “Hey, I don’t really like you today, but I love you always,” while also being comfortable being upset with someone. It’s taking a pause. It’s trusting someone has your best interest in mind, even when you would rather beat them over the head with a frying pan. It’s pausing long enough to not actually beat them over the head with a frying pan.
So, while my history of love is quite questionable, the confidence I have in my marriage at forty-three versus the previous marriages in my twenties and thirties far exceeds any desire I have to lace up my running shoes. It’s waking up every single day knowing he and I will get through it. It’s the only option. It’s okay to sit in the muck together on a spoken promise that you’ll get to the other side no matter how many days of rest you need to problem-solve. It’s making a choice to do the necessary work even when you would rather hop on the next flight out.
Don’t get me wrong; my marriage is not made up only of days when I am in flight mode. We are ridiculously in love with one another. We complement each other from every angle a healthy marriage needs to strive for. We are great parents in our blended family. We wake up committed to love deeply, support one another, and grow forward. We travel. We plan. We execute.
But that is the easy stuff. Those are the days we have pep in our step. The days you see blasted on social media.
Just as much as I had to learn it was okay to be mad at my husband and stick around to get through it, I had to learn how to be happy. I had to work on trusting there wasn’t a bomb dropping at the end of his promises. I had to work on finding balance in making choices that worked for our marriage that didn’t compromise too much of who I am. I had to accept that we can really agree to disagree and just let something go. I not only had to buckle up for what life was throwing my way but to sit still and enjoy the ride.
I am forever grateful for shifting my perspective through the trauma I have survived. I look back with appreciation for getting through the trying times in every stage of my life. What I love most is finding myself and learning I deserve to be patient in love. I deserve my slice of happiness.
It may have gray days. It may not always be a well-groomed family, sitting on the beach in their matching clothes waiting to take the perfect family photo. But I will enjoy the road traveled to get to the beach to create the love you would see in that family photo. I know without a question in my mind, it’ll be with him. At the end of the day, maybe it was just about the right timing. Whatever it was, it was worth the roads I traveled on.
This was written by our contributing writer, Tiffani Morgan.
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