But the other morning, while riding in my car listening to my favorite gospel radio station, I got mad.
You see, once again, a married woman was going on and on about how wonderful marriage is, how it is ordained by God, and how if you end your marriage it is only because you’re not working hard enough. I won’t mention this married woman’s name, but she used to sing with her sister. That’s all I will say.
This makes me mad on so many levels.
For starters, what would a married woman know about ending a marriage? Unless she’s on a second marriage, no married woman can tell me anything about what divorce looks like or feels like. They simply do not know.
And, do you live in my house? Unless you do, you have no way of knowing why my marriage ended or if I didn’t work hard enough. Speaking of which...
Who dictates what is “enough”? And who said I was supposed to “work hard” in my own home? Sure, I was supposed to compromise and listen, do some things and not do other things, but was I supposed to work hard day after day, trying to fix something that I alone did not break? I don’t think so.
What’s more, do you think I wanted my marriage to fail? Did I one day wake up and determine that it would be better for me to be single? Obviously, marriage was an interest of mine, otherwise I never would have said "I do." So the end of my marriage wasn’t something I chose, it just happened.
Special note to church folk: Please don’t judge me or any other divorced person you meet. When you feel that urge to say something about how we should have done this or shouldn’t have done that, please put your hand over your own mouth and just hush. (“Hush” is the polite, grown up church girl way of asking you to shut up.) And don’t tell me what God intended for me. How do you know? Mind your business.
You telling me about my marriage and divorce would be like me telling a basketball player how to dunk or a printer how to print or a cat how to meow. I have no idea cause I’m not a basketball player or a printer or a cat.
So, if you’ve never been through a divorce, if you’ve never lived in my house, if you’ve never walked in my shoes, please keep your opinion to yourself.
I’m done. And I’m not that mad anymore.