Ms.

I can't remember a time as a kid when I didn't just dream of being married. That was my number one goal in life, especially once I hit my teen years. I daydreamed about my husband, kept a journal for him, prayed for him, set up a "marriage display" in my bedroom. On the few occasions where someone dared to raise the idea that I might not end up getting married, I was terrified. How could I possibly live if God had called me to be single?

It wasn't like the typical little-girl-dreaming-of-her-wedding-day kind of thing. I actually thought very little of my wedding day. I never put a pillowcase on my head and pretended to be a bride. I didn't think about what kind of flowers or cake I might want. I didn't keep a binder like Monica Geller's. I didn't care much at all about the wedding day. I just wanted to be married.

Well, I got married. And 5 years later, I got divorced. That was an outcome I'd never thought possible.

So now, I'm single again. And people will ask from time to time if I'm dating, or if I've thought about getting remarried, and so on. And while I'm not as opposed to the idea of remarriage someday as I am to the idea of having kids someday...I really don't desire it. If I never date or marry again, I can picture myself being quite happy with that.

I've gotten to a place where I love my solitude. 20 minutes in Walmart and I am just itching to be away from people. Granted, Walmart shoppers are a particularly obnoxious and unaware bunch. But when I unload my cart and sit down in my car, I turn off the radio (if it was on...I often prefer to drive in silence anyway), I turn off the vents, and I just bask in the silence for a few moments before I back out of my parking space.

On one such occasion, it struck me. I really love being single. Not just tolerate it, or have found peace with it. I prefer it. And that's not just because my marriage was less than ideal. It's because I am so autonomous. Deciding when to eat dinner and what to cook is all up to me. What food am I in the mood for? The fact that it is invariably some type of carb-on-carb meal doesn't have to bother anyone else. Because no one else is eating it. And I can be as anal as I want about how my house is organized. (Boy, am I ever anal.) I can decorate the way I want to decorate. I can spend my money the way I want to spend it. It's all up to me. Sure, Peanut puts in her say, but at the end of the day, I don't have to consider how anyone else would like my stuff. And I love it.

As I sat in my car in the Walmart parking lot in utter silence, realizing I love being single, I realized that perhaps...despite all my years of searching for my soul mate...I was actually wired to be single. Because I don't feel lonely. I don't wish I had a man to spend my evenings with. I love my life just the way it is.

There's this idea that if you're single, there's either something wrong with you or you're to be pitied. One Bachelor contest was mocked for being 31 and still single. What was wrong with her that she wasn't married yet by 31, said her competitor. As if being married, or at least in a serious relationship, is a better, more desirable life. And maybe it is for some. But for me...I really don't feel I'm to be pitied. Life is great!

Divorce Support Group

Faith Church in Loveland is having a 13-week divorce support group on Sundays at 9:00 am, in the "Daniel" classroom. This group is open to any adult experiencing separation or divorce, or in the aftermath of divorce. We'll explore topics of loss and grief in order to find emotional healing through this difficult time of life.

The group will have a Christian, biblical focus, but is open to people of any faith. We will be using "The Transcending Divorce Journal" as our guide, along with Bible passages that complement the topics. This is a great divorce care group for people in the Loveland, Fort Collins, Greeley, and surrounding areas.

Sunday School classes for kids occur at the same time for those needing childcare.

The class will run January 20-April 28, 2013. We will NOT be meeting on February 17 or Easter Sunday, March 31. Comment below if you have any questions.

The Flip Side

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God." - 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

I grew up pretty sheltered from divorce. Sure, I had friends here and there with divorced parents, but within my own immediate and extended family, divorce was pretty rare. And even among my friends, I never had a friend whose parents got divorced during our friendship.

And because of this, I didn't really understand it. I figured anyone who got a divorce was probably sinning. I approached divorcees with judgment.

And so, faced with the decision of divorce in my own marriage, I wavered for a while. When we finally decided it was over, it had been a couple years of the idea coming up. One of the big things holding me back was my fear that others would judge me the same way I'd judged others. I couldn't stand to think that I'd fit into this "divorced" category. I didn't want that label, because I feared how others would view me.

Ultimately I decided it was between me and God, and if other people wanted to judge me, that was their problem. If I was clear with God, that was all that mattered. And that's what pushed me to make that decision.

Now I have a whole new view of divorce. Having been through it myself, I know that there's always more to it than people may be willing to share. And that's OK...there's no obligation to share it or prove to anyone that they're OK before God.

So lately I've found myself in a role I never quite envisioned: people going through divorce have been coming to me when they need someone to talk to. People I would've judged 5 or 6 years ago, I now have a heart to help. And I'm psyched about it. Of course I'm not psyched that others are going through a difficult phase of life, but I'm psyched that God is using my troubles to help me bring his comfort to others. I said from the beginning of this path that I wanted it to be something that would bring glory to God.

I'm working on starting a divorce support group at my church. I feel like I want to embrace this role and help others who are struggling through some of the same things I did. The logistics, the emotions, the fear of being labelled, the need for someone to talk to. I'm so thankful that God can use my brokenness to minister to others. It's an affirmation that he can take anything and turn it into good.

Dating

When you go through a divorce, you get a lot of people asking you if you've met somebody new. Pretty quickly, this question comes up. Even before your divorce is final. Here's my answer.

One thing I knew for sure when Dan and I decided to get a divorce—I wasn't interested in any kind of relationship until the divorce was final. As long as I was married on paper, I was going to honor that status.

The DivorceCare curriculum recommends you wait one year to date for every four years you were married. For me, this means one year—October. But they also have a checklist of how to tell when you're "ready," and by those standards I was ready a while ago. I think one thing DivorceCare doesn't really acknowledge in general as they talk about healing is that healing looks different when you were struggling in your marriage, as opposed to being surprised by an affair when you thought everything was fine. Much like losing a loved one to a long battle with cancer vs. a sudden car accident, you grieve differently.

All that to say, I'm neither waiting for October to be open to dating, nor am I planning to start actively looking to date in October.

One of my friends asked me if I'd found any possibly dates, and I said no. He said, "Do you have your fishing pole out?"

"Of course not!" I responded. "I'm the fish! I'm not fishing!"

I've done a lot of initiating in my life. I learned the hard way that this set me up to be the leader in my marriage, and that's not the way I want any possible future relationships to be. So I'm not planning to put out any fishing poles—ever. I'm open to whatever God may have for me, and if that means a life of singleness, I really am OK with that. I've finally realized something I never realized in my pre-married single life (aka my hunt for a husband era): I am a whole person. I don't need to find my "other half." I am complete in Christ.

But if God plans for me to eventually date and even remarry, I'm OK with that too. But I'm not seeking it out. I'm seeking the kingdom of God and a righteous life. I'm seeking to be like Jesus and fall more in love with him each day. And if God brings along a man to do this alongside of me, I'm open to that. But it won't be that I "found" a man, because I'm not looking. I will not set the precedent that I'm the pursuer, the fisher, the leader. God is the one who's going to bring a man with enough initiative to pursue me if that's God's plan for me.

Identity

About a month ago I met someone for the first time. As we talked she commented on how confident and sure of myself I am. She admired this quality in me.

I told her this was quite different from the me I used to be. But as I've mentioned before, I've committed this year to rediscovering my identity in Christ.

I've learned a lot about who I am through my mirror collage. I am new. I am in God's hands. I am understood. I am rich. I am fearless. I am strong. I am blessed. I am complete. I have his power. And so much more.

I've learned confidence as God has given me opportunities to step out and build my strength. Taking a self-defense class gave me confidence to know that if I can rip a guy's ear clear off his head, flick it in his face, and make him bleed from his tear ducts, I'll be OK.

I've learned that I actually enjoy exercise. Running, swimming, biking...these all help me reflect and feel energized.

I've learned to be still in God's presence, through my reflective Scripture reading and through taking yoga classes.

I've learned to abide in Christ, to breathe him in with every breath I take, to sense his constant presence around me.

I've learned what kind of styles I like as I redecorated my house.

I've learned that I don't have to live in the past or be fearful of the future. I am in God's hands and as long as I seek his will rather than following my own stubborn and foolish heart, I will be in a good place.

I'm glad this new acquaintance could see this confidence in me. She, too, is going through a divorce. I'm glad she can see the light at the end of the tunnel. That God can use this experience to shape and redefine your identity to make you completely sure of yourself because you know who you are in him.

Rejection

I've had my fair share of rejection in my life. Maybe because I've always been so bluntly honest. (My name does mean Truthful.) Whenever I liked a guy, I always ended up telling him, usually to find out that he just saw me as a "sister." And despite the fact that a couple of these guys even said things like "any guy would be nuts not to like you," I guess they identified themselves as nuts...because they didn't reciprocate my feelings.

But this never really got me down longterm. Of course, the sister line was heartbreaking in the moment, but it never made me feel more guarded in the future. My policy has always been to just be honest. If nothing else, it alleviates the game playing, the wondering, the ambiguity. Even the rejection provided a closure for me, a chance to know "nope, this isn't happening, so I can start to get over this now."

But things are different now. I realized recently that I'm much more guarded than I used to be. The rejection of the end of a marriage is far different than telling the guy who sits next to you in chapel that you're into him and having him say he's not into you. Even though in the case of my marriage, I was ready for it to be over, whereas with chapel-guy I didn't want to hear his rejection...it's still somehow harder this time.

Because when I got married I thought that was it. I was playing for keeps. This wasn't something that would end in rejection. This was for life. Or so I thought. To know that even my supposed life-long relationship ended in rejection left me a little more guarded. A little more jaded. A little more hopeless. Could I ever find a guy who likes me for me...even when the butterflies fade? (And yes, Bachelor and Bachelorette contestants, butterflies fade. Sorry to be the one to burst your bubble. No one lives happily ever after all the time.)

Most of this post-marriage period has been so good for me. So healing. Such a wonderful journey of empowerment and self-discovery. A journey toward a wholeness that I never had before. But then there's this part. This part that leaves me a little paralyzed, a little more fearful. A little less honest-ol'-Ali and a little more reserved, guarded Ali. It's a wound that may never fully heal.

But this is where I've been relishing: Ephesians 1 says that God chose me. In love he predestined me to be adopted. And get this—not just for my sake but for his pleasure. God delighted in me so much that he wanted to choose me. There will never be any rejection from God, of that I can be sure.

Numb

This blog is going to be pretty personal. But hey, I tell it like it is.

Growing up, I was always a pretty emotional person. Just ask my high school best friend, Scott. He'll vouch for me. So would Jane, my college roommate.

And somewhere in the last 6 years, that changed. It was a gradual process, so much so that I didn't notice it happening until people close to me started saying they wished I'd share my feelings more. It baffled me when they said that. Me? Not sharing my feelings? That's like saying I don't eat enough cookies. (Don't worry, I do.)

But when I took a closer look, I realized they were right. And I realized why. My marriage was painful for a long time. And I'm not putting all that blame on my ex, I'm just saying it was hard. And at some point I developed the ability to become numb to it. I'd never had the ability to numb my emotions before, but I guess when you hurt enough it turns into a callous. So it wasn't that I wasn't sharing my feelings...it was that I wasn't feeling them very often in the first place.

But you know how in the movie Click, when he starts fast forwarding through the negative things like fights with his wife and his kids annoying him, he finds that the remote is automatically skipping times with his wife and kids? Even the good times? That's kind of what happened. When I learned to become numb in the area of my marriage, I didn't just become numb to the pain. I became numb to the relationship. I think that's one reason the divorce process was so much easier for me than it is for most people. Someone in the video at my Divorce Care class said, "You only grieve for the things you care about." And that summed it up for me. I wasn't grieving because I didn't care anymore.

That's not to say I'd given up or stopped loving my husband during the marriage. I was doing what I could to fight for us. It's just that I was doing it numbly. Like drinking a glass of water when your mouth is still numb from the dentist. You can get the water into your stomach, but you haven't enjoyed the refreshment of the cool water.

Anyway, I came to this realization several months ago, it's not new to me now. What is new is that I started to see this habit of numbness creeping up again when something was starting to feel painful. Only it wasn't painful enough yet to become calloused, so I couldn't really numb it. But I found myself subconsciously transferring my emotion of pain and disappointment to anger. Because anger didn't feel quite as bad. So if I could make myself feel that instead, that would be an improvement.

Fortunately, I recognized this in myself within a couple of days. And I'm giving it to God and asking him to help me be emotionally healthy. Not oversensitive, but not numb, either. Because I don't want to become so emotionally numb that I can't feel joy anymore.

Singleness of Heart

My whole life, I just wanted to get married. In college for a bit, I went to a liturgical church that always ended with a prayer about going off "with gladness and singleness of heart." And even though not dating wasn't the kind of singleness the prayer meant, I used it as a reminder to me to try to be content with no significant other. But it was always a struggle to be content with that status. It never came naturally.

Now that I'm re-single, I'm finally truly content with it. I feel so blessed, so joyful, so whole. I've finally come to a place where in the core of my being, I really get that I am whole without a man.

I never used to enjoy solitude. I always fell right in the middle on introvert/extrovert tests, because I hated being alone and I hated being in big groups. One-on-one was my sweet spot. And while I still prefer one-on-one time to groups, I've discovered that being alone is pretty enjoyable. Refreshing.

I've enjoyed the time to just sit with God, to let him redefine me as the me he created me to be. And I enjoy the company of my puppies. I think one reason it's hard for me to make friends is because Peanut and Biscuit set standards too high for any human to compete with. They always get so excited to see me, are delighted to spend time with me, think I'm the greatest person ever to live, and are intrigued when I talk to them. Every time. And is there anything as heart-warming as a tail wag at your very approach? What human would ever love me like that?

But despite realizing that I'm more introverted than I used to think, I'm challenging myself to get out of my comfort zone and try to build friendships. I know that solitude is good, but not a place to perpetually be. We are made for community. Community with humans, not just puppies.

And I've realized I have some fears about the possibility of future relationships. About a month ago I started talking about Tim Tebow as a big crush. It wasn't even so much that I had a crush on him, it was that he felt safe. Because I knew that I'd probably never meet him, and the chances of any kind of relationship with him were astronomical. But, as a strong Christian man, around my age, he was a good pick. So it felt safe for me to talk about dating him because I knew I'd never have to face my fears and actually do it.

As for facing those fears? If and when God brings another man into my life, I know he'll help me conquer those fears. With most of my crushes, I've done a lot of manipulating of situations to try to make a relationship happen, and I'm done with that. God's got full reign of my love life (or lack thereof) from here on out. So if he sends a guy for me, I know he'll help me knock all those fears down. And if he doesn't? That's OK. I'll go forth with gladness and singleness of heart.

No Regrets

On Ashley Hebert's season of The Bachelorette, her big mantra on her quest for love was "no regrets." Not to step on her toes, but my mantra in going through a divorce has been the same.

From the moment Dan and I decided to separate and pursue divorce, I thought of all the ugly divorces I've seen and heard about, both in real life and on TV. And I decided I didn't want ours to be like that, at least not as far as I could control. I never wanted to look back on this time in my life and have to say, "Oh wow, I was so immature." Or, "what a jerk I was to him." Or, "I wish I'd been different." Going through divorce is never an ideal situation, but it was what it was, and I wanted to make the best of it and have no regrets. After all, although our marriage didn't work out, his role in my life helped me pursue the job at Group, which I love. And he was the one who picked out Biscuit. Despite all the bad things of our marriage, he has brought my life to a better place in a lot of ways.

And so, I wanted to act with dignity, treat him with God's love, and live righteously. Shortly into the decision I read Psalm 112:5, which says, "Good will come to him who is generous and lends freely, who conducts his affairs with justice." That's what I wanted to do. I wanted to be generous, fair, and just. And while I can't say I succeeded 100% of the time, my overall impression is that I did that well.

It was made easier by the fact that Dan acted similarly. I don't know if he'd taken on the same view point up front of not wanting to regret how he treated me during this season, but regardless, he acted kind and friendly toward me. As we decided how to split things, he was just as agreeable. Would I have succeeded as well at my goal if he was a big jerk fighting tooth and nail over every little possession? Probably not...but I sure would've tried.

There are a lot of times when situations in our relationships are less than ideal. Maybe it's divorce, maybe it's your marriage. Maybe it's your job, or a disagreement with a friend, or a difficulty with a parent. And we can't control how the other person acts. I was lucky Dan was so nice. But even if he hadn't been, I still would've had control over my own actions.

In another situation, not related to Dan, I held on to bitterness for a long time. And when I finally let it go and found closure, I felt so much more whole, more full. My bitterness never hurt the target of my unforgiveness. But it sure hurt me. So often, divorce is full of resentment and anger, and I don't want that. I've got no hard feelings towards Dan, and I want the best for him. And I think the only way to truly heal from divorce and move on is to let go of the bitterness that is really only hurting you.

Valentine's Day

Although I've shared the last five Valentine's Days with someone, 20 of the 21 before that were spent as a single girl. And the one exception was in seventh grade; that hardly counts.

And in all 20 of those single Valentine's, I never felt cynical or bitter like those anti-Valentine's people. (OK, no one probably cares at age two anyway.) I never felt the need to wear all black in protest. I never scoffed at the sappy cards or grew jealous at the bouquets that appeared for others. It was just a day that passed without too much thought, except the fact that on February 15 I knew I could a) get 50% off chocolate, and b) Cadbury Mini Eggs would go on sale for Easter. (And I looked forward to those same things in my married years! In fact last year Dan and I celebrated late so that we could get 50% off candy and cheaper flowers.)

But, having just filed for divorce and having a single Valentine's Day for the first time in several years, I wondered how I would feel when Valentine's started to show up. And last week, the true test happened: my city (very into Valentine's Day) launched its annual tradition of hanging up personalized wooden hearts along the main road that runs through the center of town. Romantics looking to surprise their true loves can pay to have their own hearts stenciled with loving messages and posted for all the town to read.

I've always loved this tradition, and this year was no different. As usual, I got a huge smile when I turned the corner and saw the first heart of the season hanging from a light post. So there it was: proof that divorce hadn't turned me into a Valentine's Day cynic. And here's to hoping I won't rear end someone reading all the hearts...

There is one day in February that I know will probably make me cry, but it isn't the 14th...it's the 13th. 13 years ago on the 13th, I adopted a beautiful puppy, who passed away last April. And this year will be the first "puppiversary" to pass without her in my arms. That's going to be hard. It's hard just to write about.

But I've got no qualms with Valentine's Day. I know I have plenty of people who love and care for me, two pups who worship me, and I'm perfectly content in my singleness right now. So bring on the 50% off chocolates and hang up more hearts!

Fault

Dan and I are filing for divorce. To many, it may seem sudden. The truth is, it was a long time coming. We've tried counseling, we've tried to make it work, but we could just never get on the same page. I don't want kids; he does. Neither of us did a good job appreciating the other in the way they needed. And that, on top of other problems I don't need to get into on the internet, meant we just drifted further and further apart and fought more and more.

We've talked about divorce in the past. But when it came right down to it, we were kind of playing "relationship chicken." I think we both wanted the other to be the one to say they wanted a divorce. Because then we wouldn't have to own the marriage falling apart. (And I'm just speculating about Dan's side of this—but that was how I felt.) If it had been Dan's call I could say, "Dan decided to leave me" and not take the blame. In the end, it was a pretty mutual decision and I don't think you could pin it on either one of us.

And I realized that the whole relationship chicken thing was silly. Even if it had been all Dan's decision, that wouldn't have meant I was blameless. Relationships that end rarely do so solely because of one person. Usually, the blame is pretty close to 50/50, regardless of who calls it off.

I struggle with the guilt of this decision. I never thought I'd be in this boat. But like I said, we tried counseling, we tried for years to make this work. I feel like we made the only choice we had left.

It's not a bitter divorce. I still have a love for Dan and want the best for him. And he has said he'll always have a place in his heart for me. It's just not enough. Among other things, we were never the right fit for each other, and once the blinders came off that became evident very quickly.

So, that's that. I am relieved in a sense, for all of this unhealthiness to just be done with. I'm also sad that we couldn't make it work. Sad that I broke a vow I made to Dan and to God. Sad that we didn't see the red flags 5 years ago. I'm both scared and excited about being single again. There are things I'm excited about, like not having to pick up dirty socks off the floor, and things I dread, like having to go down in the crawl space. (Spiders—black widows, even?)

What we had wasn't healthy for anyone. I felt daily like I was shrinking—my self-esteem, my ability to be myself, my joy. Dan felt similarly about being himself around me.

Dan isn't a terrible guy. I'm not angry, I'm not bitter. I'm thankful for the way he has supported me and encouraged me to pursue my dreams and come to Group. I really do want him to finish school and be successful in life. I want him to be happy. And I believe he wants that for me.

We've been friendly and mature throughout this whole process, which has made a world of difference. As we decided how to split things, we didn't really fight over anything. He extended the offer for me to keep the puppies, and he's willing to watch them if I'm out of town. I even had him read this before I posted it, because I respect him and didn't want to post anything about this that would bother him. (He said he agrees with all my sentiments.)

My goal in all of this (which I plan to post about later in more detail) was that I'd never be able to look back on this time with regrets about how I treated Dan. I didn't want to think ten years from now, "Wow, I was a jerk" or "How immature I was..." And so far, overall, I feel like we can both say we have treated each other with kindness and respect. If divorce has to happen, that's the way it should be.