Identity – the distinguishing character or personality of an individual
Individuality – total character peculiar to and distinguishing an individual from others; separate and distinct existence
~ Merriam Webster Dictionary
Pretty straight forward, isn’t it?
Makes sense.
Easy to wrap your mind around, right?
For most people anyway.
Not so much for others.
Those others include me.
I always thought I knew who I was.
Daughter. Sister. Granddaughter. Aunt. (Ex)Wife. Sister-in-Law. Mom. Mother-in-Law. Nana. Friend. Employee. Sunday School teacher. Writer.
Each of these roles describe who I am or was. With each one, I can picture in my mind those they pertain to and how each one is different, distinct, and separate. Even though they’re all part of who I am, each one carries with it a very different purpose.
Within the past week, I’ve realized I played another role in the life of an individual to whom the role was never meant to be played.
But it makes sense now.
Seems like all the pieces have finally fallen into place.
Answers to questions I didn’t know I needed have become reality.
Before the internet was at our fingertips twenty-four seven/three sixty-five, there was a periodical 
called a newspaper. I’m old enough to remember it being delivered every morning by a young boy on his bicycle. As he pedaled past the front yard, he’d toss the newspaper towards the house and, hopefully, if he had good aim, it would land someplace near the front porch.
The newspaper was full of both local and world events, engagements, weddings, births, deaths, etc. But right in the middle was a huge section called the classifieds or the “want-ads”. If you had
something you were interested in buying and/or selling (such as a car, a boat, or a new house) or were in need of a job, you’d peruse the want-ads to see if anyone had the item you wanted to buy or were offering the type of job you were seeking. The want-ads were the perfect source for buying and/or selling tangible merchandise or finding just the right place of employment to meet your needs.
Yes, the newspaper truly was a wealth of knowledge and kept us informed of all the goings-on in the world.
Oh, how I wish there were a periodical, book, or magazine I could search and find answers for this recent discovery from my past. It would be so much easier if I could search Amazon for a manual entitled “Jennifer ~ How to Heal and Move On From All the Insane & Grievous Things You Had to Deal With While Married to Your Ex”!!
Unfortunately, there are some things a newspaper could never help with, even if they were still in circulation. There are some things that cannot be found by diligently perusing words in a book, magazine, or even the internet. There are some things that cannot be found by seeking out worldly answers to questions that are screaming from a broken heart. There are some situations that occur in this life we cannot control nor wrap our mind around nor find answers to no matter how many times we do a google search.
There are some things that can only be found by surrendering everything to Almighty God then patiently wait and trust Him to bring the answer…in His time.
Two passages of scripture just popped into my mind that help me in the waiting.
“Then you will call upon Me and come and pray to Me, and I will hear you. You will seek Me and find Me, when you seek Me with all your heart.”
~ Jeremiah 29:12-13 ESV
“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And He who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose.”
~ Romans 8:26-28 ESV
For most people, waiting on God’s timing and trusting Him to work everything out isn’t a popular choice. Most people (and that most includes me) want an easy fix so the problem or situation will go away and life can go back to being “normal” again, if there is such a thing. I have sought out easy fixes to situations in the past and have found them to be a futile endeavor. I am human with a finite mind. I cannot see all nor do I know everything. But my God does. He sees and knows everything.
God’s timing is infinitely perfect.
So, I completely trust Him when new discoveries are brought into the light. Even when I don’t understand them.
It all started with an afternoon counseling session.
It never ceases to amaze me how God leads the conversation to exactly what I need to say in order for my counselor to ask all the right questions. We never set an agenda for our sessions. We just start talking and trust the Holy Spirit to lead. And He always does.
Besides healing from the grief of divorce itself, there is one thing I have longed for.
Closure.
I guess you can say it’s been a mission of sorts to put the past behind me and move forward.
While I have made great strides toward that end, there has been something holding me back.
There has been a missing factor in the equation.
That is, up until a few days ago.
It was something I already knew but did not realize I had completely missed the context as it has now been presented. It was the missing factor that was holding everything back.
When I was finally able to add it to the other things my heart has been grieving over and wrestling with, it all started to make sense.
While clarity is a central part to this mission towards closure, it did not come without pain. It was accompanied by another swift stab to the heart.
And this one was deep.
It was a stab aimed with perfect precision into the hidden place within me that only God and I know.
The place the outside world doesn’t see or is even aware of.
The place that makes me…well, me.
It’s the place where the core of who I am and who God created me to be dwells.
It’s a place that is very special and can be easily deceived. It’s a place that must be guarded. For better or for worse, it’s molded and shaped by those we allow to access it.
“Guard your heart above all else,
for it determines the course of your life.”~ Psalms 4:23 NLT
I truly wish I would’ve realized the importance of this scripture a lot sooner and had taken it more seriously as a young teenage girl.
It is truth that has come full circle in my life.
For the first nineteen years of life, my parents did their best to raise me and teach me things I would
need to know as I grew older. Most importantly, they ensured I was in God’s house every Sunday and grounded me in His word. (Something I’m so very thankful for!) I lived a fairly carefree childhood. My parents were not rich by any stretch but we always had food to eat and a warm place to sleep at night. We had troubles, just as every family does, but I had a good upbringing. I had a family who loved me and a best friend who was my constant companion and confidant.
I had everything I needed.
I thought all men were like my daddy and my pappy. Hard working men, with calloused hands and 
farmer tans, who loved their families and loved God. Men who might not always say how much they loved you, due to their rugged exterior, but you knew they did. It was something you could sense and you knew they’d always be there. It was a secure and protected place I grew up in. Perhaps a little sheltered but it was all I knew and I felt safe.
The constant distraction of social media and the pull towards a cell phone weren’t even things when I was a kid. Those of my generation used our imaginations and played outside from daylight until dark. We rode our bikes up and down the street and drank water from the hose. We walked to the small grocery store a few blocks from our house and bought “penny candy”. One quarter would buy us enough candy to keep us happy for a week! Oh, and we never wanted to be inside the house. That was pure punishment. We only stayed inside if we were sick or when it rained. But the rain was always welcome because once it stopped, there were puddles to jump in, mud pies to make, wild flowers to smell, and salamanders to catch.
Such was the life of a country girl.
However, everything changed when I met him.
No one, not even my parents, could’ve prepared me for what happened when I allowed him the privilege to get close to my heart. Not only did he get close to it, he got in and took over.
From the very day he walked into my life, to the very day he walked out again, he was a force to be reckoned with. Everything he did was filled with drama or over-the-top situations. He had to be the center of attention no matter what he did or where he went.
Little-by-little, everything I had ever known was stripped away from me. What I thought to be love was abuse. What I thought to be security was manipulation. What I thought to be protection was control.
Day-by-day the young, simple, carefree girl I was became someone I did not know.
I became his.
I was his possession; someone to be controlled and manipulated; someone to do as I was told and not ask questions; a puppet on a string.
To the outside world, he was very charming, loving, devoted…a man amongst men. He truly portrayed all of these things, on the outside. But in his heart…the place where his true self was hidden…was someone far more deceitful and conniving.
The first time I realized I was completely trapped was in December of 1984.
Our first child, a beautiful baby girl I named Kimi, arrived in November of that same year. His maternal grandmother went home to be with Jesus exactly one week to the day after our daughter was born. We were blessed to be stationed about 120 miles north of where his grandma had lived for many years, prior to her death. We were able to spend a lot of precious time with her when he could get away from his job long enough to drive down over a weekend. I grew to love her as my own.
His parents flew down to California for her funeral and subsequent purging of her estate. Due to his
mom inheriting half of the estate (which included A LOT of furniture), we rented a trailer, hitched it to the back of our car, and took off across the country (which included the cascade mountain range) to Washington state, where his parents lived. Up and down, around and around, hill after hill in the backseat of the car, with my precious baby girl asleep beside me in her car seat. I was still healing from my first childbirth experience and by the time we stopped for the night to rest, I was in pain and exhausted, only to have to do it all over again the next day.
I can’t remember now how long it took us to get to Washington but it felt like forever. Since we were pulling a trailer, loaded to the max with furniture, it was slow going. When we finally arrived at our destination, I was very happy to be there.
The realization came on a day I had been visiting with my family at my childhood home, where my parents still lived at that time. That particular morning, my then-spouse and I hadn’t discussed any definite plans for what the day would hold. Having a newborn in the house, we usually just took each event as it came. I remember it was early evening and my mom was in the kitchen getting dinner started when he called to tell me he was coming to get me. I wasn’t ready to leave. However, I wasn’t given a choice. He told me his sister was making dinner for all of us and he wanted me and the baby with them. I didn’t understand why I had to have dinner with his family. Why was it okay for them to make a last minute decision about where we should eat and I couldn’t? I only wanted to stay until after dinner. Was that too much to ask? Apparently, it was because, for him, it was not to be borne.
After I hung up the phone, everyone was telling me not to go with him when he arrived. “Teach him a lesson, Jenny! Don’t let him tell you what to do.” That is, everyone except my mom. Before he got there, I went to her quietly and asked her what I should do. She told me he was my husband, I needed to do as he asked, and go with him.
So I did.
He arrived and helped me get the baby and all our things into the truck. I don’t remember the conversation that ensued once we were on the road but I must have been crying or complaining (or both) about having to leave. My parents lived out in the country and the drive took several twists and turns around a small gravel road. We were at the top of a steep hill when he suddenly swerved the truck onto the side of the road, spun it around, and floored it! I was a little confused as to what he was doing but I remember telling him to stop driving so recklessly since our one-month-old daughter was in a car seat between us. He slammed on the brakes at the bottom of a hill and threw the gear shift into park. At this point, I was afraid because I’d never seen him act that way before. I’d never seen him angry much less, in that kind of state. He swung his head around, glared at me, and said, “You have to choose right now! I’ll take you back to your mommy and you can live with her if you want to! Choose, right now! It’s either them or me!”
I chose him.
We rode in silence all the way back to the other side of the Columbia River but my mind was reeling. I was trying to figure out who he was back there on that country road. I’d never seen him that angry and all because I’d made a decision without consulting him first. It was then I knew I had a lot to learn about being his wife. I was still very young and naive but I was confused about the outrage he displayed. It sure didn’t feel as if that one decision warranted it.
We had dinner at his sister’s but I don’t think I was very chatty. He acted like nothing had happened.
I was traumatized.
I was very careful not to provoke him for the rest of our trip. I did what I was told and was always where he wanted me to be. I was thankful our baby was too young to understand what had taken place in the truck that day. She slept through all the drama.
It was sometime later before I realized the magnitude of what had transpired in the truck that day. I am forever thankful that God’s Almighty hand was on me and I chose to go with him, as my mom had told me to. Had I not, he would’ve taken me back to my mom’s, that’s for sure. But I also know for sure that he wouldn’t have let me take my baby with me. He would’ve opened the door, thrown me out, and driven off with my baby in tow.
I would’ve never seen her again.
You may be thinking, that most courts would never take a baby away from its mother without some type of evidence of abuse or neglect and I would agree with you. However, knowing what I do now and how angry he became over the situation, I know with all my heart, he would’ve lied and made up some story to convince a court of how “abusive” I was. He would’ve also found a way to come up with “evidence” to prove his side. He was a masterful liar and he had a way to make people believe him.
I settled into my life after that incident. I did my best to keep him happy no matter what it took because I didn’t like the way his anger made me feel. Later on, I convinced myself that I understood why he was upset over me not wanting to leave my mom for his sister’s. (I realize now it was just denial over what had actually happened but my life was much easier by being compliant.) I knew there was no reason for him to have become as angry as he did. His outrage completely jeopardized our safety by the frantic way he was driving. However, I made it a point not to put myself or our child in that kind of situation ever again. For the most part, I listened to him and let him make all the decisions. Fighting with him left me exhausted and by being agreeable to what he wanted, it kept peace between us.
In September of 1985, we were stationed at Fort Irwin, California. My sister was getting married so Kimi and I flew back up to Washington so I could be in her wedding. My best friend was also engaged to be married at this time and decided to move her wedding date up to the weekend after my sister’s so I could be in hers as well. I called and told him I needed to stay an additional week so I could be in Tami’s wedding and he refused. He told me Kimi and I were to come home as originally planned.
To say I was heartbroken is an understatement. Tami and I had planned our entire lives for each of us to be the other’s maid-of-honor…
Kimi and I flew back home to California as scheduled.
It was after this incident I knew I was not allowed to have a “voice” in our relationship. Not only was I trapped, I had no voice either. He was the boss and he called the shots. Oh, he pretended to want my opinion on things and we’d talk about decisions that needed to be made once in awhile but somehow, we always ended up doing what he wanted to do.
That was the pattern that continued throughout our entire marriage. We got along very well while we were away from family but whenever we moved to a new duty station or decided to go home for Christmas or a wedding, the power struggle was on.
He fought me for control over the entire agenda of every single visit. It was completely exhausting. It was better for me to just give in than to try to explain to my family the dynamic of the relationship that had developed over the years between me and my then-spouse. However, I found it rather contradictory that last minute plans with his family were always acceptable but last minute ones with mine, were not.
Eventually, the day came when he was finally able to cut me off from my family.
I don’t remember exactly when it happened but we stopped going home as frequently. We still moved a lot but we didn’t move via the Pacific NW. The phone calls to my parents became fewer and farther between. I used being in the military as an excuse for the distance between us. You know, different time zone, different schedules for the kids, etc. I usually only called them on special holidays or birthday’s. Which, in turn, made them think I didn’t want them in my life anymore; which couldn’t have been further from the truth.
In April of 1991, my precious maternal grandpa, my Pappy, became very sick but no one from home called to tell me. He lingered for an entire week and he died on my wedding anniversary. I didn’t even get to tell him goodbye or how much I loved him. Perhaps they thought he was going to rally and be okay because he’d done that several times before. I really don’t know why they didn’t call me sooner but if they truly believed I didn’t want to be part of the family anymore, who could blame them. It was my daddy who called to tell me pappy had died. I received the news via voice mail on my landline phone.
“Hey, Jenny…just wanted to let you know that Pappy died this morning…call back when you can…”
I have no words to describe the emotions of that moment.
We had two other children (another daughter in 1987 and a son in 1992) and life carried on. We continued to move every three years or so with the Army. While he did his job for Uncle Sam, I was a stay-at-home mom and raised my kids.
From the outside looking in, you’d have thought we were the perfect family. I always told myself we were but there was always, always something that just didn’t feel right. I told myself, as well as others, I was happy in my marriage and with my life. I bragged on my then-husband and told story after story of all the amazing accomplishments he’d achieved during his military career. He truly was a very decorated army officer and deserved every accolade he received. Still, in my heart, something was off. I never truly felt accepted or loved for who I was. Oh, the sentiment was there and he said all the right things but they were very superficial. As if they were being said because it’s what he was expected to say as a husband or it’s what he thought I wanted to hear.
At some point, somewhere in all the years of being a very obedient and subservient spouse, I lost the sense of who I was as a person. I couldn’t figure out where he ended and I began.
I completely lost my identity.
Everything I did, as well as everything I was, completely revolved around him and his desires. To this very day, the one thing that still astounds me is that I had no idea when it happened or how it happened. Giving in to him just became the norm for me. It became as automatic as breathing. I didn’t have to consciously think about it at all. It was my life. It’s just the way it was.
I know now that being wrapped up in another person’s identity is no way to live a healthy and productive life. For years, I viewed other married couples as odd if they didn’t spend every free moment together. If neither of us were working, such as on the weekend, we were together. Whether it was working in the yard, going to the store, or watching a movie. The only time we were apart was when we were at work during the week. There were also times, if he left work early, he would come by my place of employment to see me on his way home. And, if that weren’t enough, he usually called me two or three times a day to check-in as well.
We were practically joined at the hip.
When this way of life is your normal, every day existence (for years) then abruptly comes to a halt, it’s like being hit by a mac truck!
That’s what happened to me.
It was as if one day, I had this fairy-tale existence of a super attentive, romantic, loving, amazing husband and the next, he couldn’t stand to be around me.
It went from one extreme to another.
I thought I was imagining things. I pretended that everything was okay and never let on to my kids that things had changed. To them and the outside world, we were still the happiest married couple anyone had ever seen. I guess it’s why it was such a shock when the news came out about our divorce.
The only answer I have for his abrupt change toward me is that I finally found my voice and started fighting back. I was tired of being walked on and told what to do all the time. I was supposed to have been his wife…his partner…his equal.
It was all a complete lie.
~ Into the Unknown ~
This journey into the unknown has been five years, nine months, and twenty-three days in the making. To look back and reflect on where I started, as compared to where I am now, is nothing short of a miracle and it’s only because of the hand of Almighty God on my life. I am no one special. I’m just a child of the Father, saved by grace through faith, doing my very best to walk faithfully every single day, with Jesus at my side, through troubled times and uncertainty.
I trust God with everything I have and everything I am so when He allows grievous truth to be revealed, I know that I know that I know He has a specific purpose for revealing it at the exact time in which it is revealed. It is something I have learned to welcome and embrace because I know it is for my good and His glory. It’s not an easy thing to do but completely necessary if I am to learn and be healed in the process.
I mentioned before that within the past week I’ve realized I played another role in the life of an individual to whom the role was never meant to be played. It was a role I did not choose on my own nor would have ever chosen. It’s not a role I should have never played, especially not in this individual’s life. It was placed on me without my knowledge and yet, I lived under it for most of my adult life. And I didn’t even know it.
This role was the missing factor that had been holding everything back.
It all makes so much sense now.
Everything.
Perhaps some of you are familiar with or have heard the phrase “children are to be seen and not heard”.
I was born in 1963 and when I was growing up, this phrase was pretty common. I knew I was the child and my parents were the ones who called the shots. They made and enforced the rules. I respected their authority over me and was obedient to their leadership. I didn’t step out of line very often but when I did, there were consequences to my actions.
However, when you’re 19 and married, you don’t expect to be treated as a child anymore. You expect
to be an equal partner and helpmate to your spouse then together, you raise your children to be respectful and obedient members of society and so on.
What happens when that is not the reality you married into but you thought it was? What happens when you are placed into the child role (without your knowledge) and your spouse becomes your “parent”? What happens when your spouse tells you, as well as others, that he married you young so he could “train” you?
This is the grievous truth revealed to my already abused and confused mind a few days ago during my counseling session.
I knew he said this to others. I’ve said it to others myself! I thought nothing of it. I always thought it to be endearing…as if it were a badge of honor to be worn with pride.
UGH!
REALLY?!
This realization is almost harder to deal with than finding out about his affairs and all of his lies.
For thirty-five years, I thought I was a wife and mom but the truth is far more disparaging. My ex saw me as a child. Not his wife nor his partner and never his equal. He married a nineteen-year-old, child-bride; so young and so naive; so he could raise me…
I have been completely mistaken in what my identity truly was.
I was a child.
I was to be seen and not heard.
~ end of part 1 ~