Accident 38, Part D; March 23, 2015


Over the last two years, my abusive, actor/model husband forced me out of the house.  A marriage I knew was a mistake. I had been trapped in my marriage since 21 days in when I discovered he preferred men to me.  I had too much shame to go through another divorce, or humble myself to seek help with what also grew into seeing him consumed in drug, sex and alcohol dependencies.  It was especially hard to be humble or justify a divorce in our church and friends group when he was “so cool, soo sweet and soooo handsome”.  We would walk into church, or a party where men and women would fall over themselves to shake his hand – the very same hand that was raised against me the night before with a baseball bat and chased down the street.  Dear God literally ripped our lives apart, put in a restraining order for 5 years to ensure we could never go back to each other and re-enter the abusive cycle together.

My former CFO, a church-going man, was paying my key employees out of his bank account so he could create doubt in front of a judge that the corporate intellectual property was actually a part of my company, since the property in question is usually owned by the company that pays the employees and I, apparently, wasn’t paying them?  Dear God gave me the strength and a business partner, mid-takeover to fire every single person on my team, stare bankruptcy in the face, and then God blessed me with three times the amount of employees and ten times the profits.

If my friends hadn’t decided to stay clear of me through the divorce process because they preferred to keep my former husband in the division of assets, they surely didn’t stick around when I had no income to take them out and buy everyone a round of drinks with, and certainly not when I needed a couch to crash on.  Dear God took every shallow, two faced person I used to title “friend” and made them completely inaccessible to me.  Even when everything was done, the calls for apology from half of the “friends” that reached out, fell on ears that had been filled with Dear God’s voice and their tone became as a fool’s clang; I could no longer tolerate their presence in my now grace-filled life.

My family died to co-dependency and guilt, died to traditions instilled for generations that only enslaved us in “what would the church think, what would my parent’s think, what would my grandma think” and started listening to the only conscience that matters, the conscience of Dear God.  The more we listened, the more love and sanctuary became resurrected in our lives.  If Dear God had not ripped away my real estate in the divorce, and my financials hasn’t been destroyed in the take over, there would have been no patience or grace to move in the small corners of a 3 bedroom condo, and dwindling family business.  In our struggle, Dear God wrapped us up so close in proximity, we had no way to escape the hardships of relationship and forgiveness.  Dear God took away all of the escapes used in this first world country to become filled with his blessed gifts we had only been too arrogant, self-important and self-righteous to use for the first three decades of my life.

I accidentally lost everything, and simultaneously gained everything.


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