In the last few years, my life has dramatically transformed. These changes were so sudden, and also so unplanned. I am a Christian woman so I appreciate the unplanned, the unexpected, but yet exhilarating surprises that come up in God’s plan. Of course, when changes happen, sometimes we don’t understand them and we become frustrated with the cards we have been dealt. However, we learn the reasons why through the outcomes we receive. For me, these unplanned gifts were a beautiful newborn baby, a marriage to his father, and the identity of being a mother. You are probably reading this, and think this is another letter from one loving wife to another, one tired-worn-out mother to another, or some thankful woman proclaiming the gratefulness of our God. 

In some sense, that is accurate, but it is also the very reason I decided I had to break this chain of viewing life from this crystal ball I so badly wanted. Because the truth is, my crystal ball resembled more of a snow globe. On the outside, my crystal ball was smooth as glass, possibly a little chip here and there from small hands wanting to take a peek inside, but over all, imperfectly perfect. Identical to all of the others being shared, viewed, and liked. Yet, in the inside, it was a snowstorm, a very cold, blistering storm in which I felt completely alone. I often sought out others to take a look inside, to validate and confirm whether this storm was really there, or if I was like the insane weatherman who overdramatizes any flurry that comes on the radar. Some could see it and some could not, which infuriated me more and more. My hurt and unsolidified feelings evaporated into anger.

At first I begged the storm to stop. I pleaded, I cried, and I argued. The air grew colder. I blamed myself for the chilling change, so I told myself I could not criticize it. I started to wear a blanket, a hat, my mittens, anything warm to block the piercing fault the storm was throwing at me. I began to focus my strength on being a good mother. This focus grew into an overwhelming obsession of fear that my son could one day create the same storm his father did. The snow became heavier. At this point, I took on the task of trying to control and manipulate my husband. I honestly believed I could stop someone else’s storm. I started searching the house, the garage, and his vehicle for beer cans. I would pour them out when he was not home, throw them in the dumpster across the street, little by little, hoping this might soothe the bitterness of the night. I made threats, I screamed, I insisted that if he didn’t stop I was leaving. I called for outside help, but no one wanted to enter the chaos. I gave him ultimatums of us both getting help, so that we might be able to stop the storm together. Then, the conditions became unbearable. He resented me as much as I resented him. In that moment, I was hit with reality. I realized I am powerless. My life is unbearable and I need some support from a higher power.

Once in awhile, the storm will settle just enough that from the outside looking in, our crystal ball looks like, well a crystal ball. However, it’s still storming, Come close enough, sit still, lightly grasp your hands around the bottom of the glass and you can feel from the outside just how cold it really is. The storm hasn’t ended yet, but I took my first step of 12 to remove myself out of the storm and live differently. I am still not sure where and what different will look like or if the storm will also admit to its own powerlessness. What I do know is that I didn’t cause it, I can’t control it, and I can’t cure it. Nevertheless, I will pray and keep praying and let God handle it.

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