After 15 years of marriage my husband and I agreed to separate.
As with any breakup, there are always two sides to every story,
which I won’t go into the details today, that’s another story.
Through this process I’m finding the person I was and the
roles I had assumed have changed.
I could no longer define myself as the wife of Mr. Mike Edmondson, but I’m still me
and the mother to our two beautiful children. I thank God every day that even
though our marriage didn’t work out, that these two kids were one of the positive,
good things from our union. In thinking about my new self, my thoughts
take me back to my past.
I was born in a small town in Kentucky, the 2nd youngest daughter of eight children
of Albert and Rosella. My parents instilled in me a strong work ethic,
which included faith in God, to respect and care for others less
fortunate then us, and to treasure and value your family.
We were taught to respect other peoples property and to take care of your own
stuff. Mom would clean up Hotel rooms before we left, because she
believed you should leave things in better shape then when you came.
“If you break it fix it” was one of my Dad’s mottos. Dad always had his workbench
full of projects he was working on. And if he borrowed something from you he
would often return it in better shape then when you lent it to him. He was always
letting us play with scrap pieces of wood, and would let us practice sawing (with a
small saw) and hammer nails into the scrap boards. He would often show us
how to do something and then let us go. Teaching us NOT by doing it for
us…but showing us how to do it and learn from our mistakes. He was and is
always encouraging us, “You can do it!” he always says.
This leads me to “The Wall”.
I’d been asking my husband for the last year to fix the damaged drywall
in our rental home. We did not know when we moved into our house, but the
dryer was vented incorrectly into the wall, causing the drywall to buckle, and
mildew. In my husband’s defense, he tried to patch it and ended up
hanging a large framed poster over the wall to hide the crack.
After we separated, Mike moved his stuff out, including the poster.
This left me with “The Wall”! He said he would come back and fix it, but
when it still wasn’t done three months later, I was faced with the task of either
calling a repair man or fixing the wall myself. Since money was tight, I
figured I could do this myself. I asked for advice from my friends and my
dad showed me how to do it and said “You can do it!” So I got the drywall, drywall
nails, and tape and drywall mud.
Tearing down the old wall was fun and easy! I enjoyed the process of
hammering and watching large pieces crumble and fall. All the while
grumbling about my husband’s shortcomings as I smashed another piece of
drywall and angrily imagined his head on the other side of that
hammer! Then I started laughing at myself for being so angry at him
and wasting so much mental energy on anger and for all the times I
complained about “The Wall”, instead of doing something about it. Kind
of like my marriage in the last year, I spent a lot of time complaining about the way
things were but didn’t want to take the steps to change anything.
As I worked, I realized “The Wall” was symbolic of my
marriage. It looked OK on the surface, but underneath, the
foundation was cracked and crumbling.
So I’ve got the old drywall down and now I am a little concerned about
what I do next. What is my next step? Similar to the fear I have about
the next steps I will take in my life; how will I survive as a single mother, will I
ever be able to quit thinking of myself as Mrs. Mike Edmondson, will my kids adjust
to their new life. What if I mess up the wall and it looks worse then
before. What if I screw up! I sought more advice about the wall and my life from
my friends and family and started the next process.
Repair, like recovery takes time and small steps.
Whether it is fixing a wall or fixing your life.
I measured twice, remembering my Dad’s advice, “Measure twice, cut
once.” Just like I though long and hard about separating from my Husband, think,
measure and then make the cut. My teenage son got involved helping me cut the
drywall and hang it up.
Just like he has started helped me more around the house and with his little
sister.
After the new pieces were hammered in, we added the mud, drywall tape and
sanded and sanded and sanded (that part is hard!). Throughout the whole
process, I kept thinking “I don’t know what I’m doing, I should have paid
someone to come and fix this or asked Dad to come over here to help me.”
Something inside kept saying, “No, you can do this!”
I realized this project had become bigger then “The Wall”. I had to
prove to myself I could do this, I could fix “The Wall” and It would be
OK. I could fix my life and I would be OK! My kids would be OK. Mike
would be OK.
After several hours and days “The Wall” is fixed. Fixing “The Wall” was not
easy, it was hard work, it was dirty and messy, but in a way the
process was very therapeutic and healing for me. It’s not a perfect
wall and it’s not the same wall it was but it’s OK! Just like me, just like
my life! Going through a separation is hard work and dirty and messy at times.
But like the steps I took to fix “the wall” there are steps through this process I
must complete in order for my life to be “fixed”.
Next project:
I’m handling a door and going back to college!
Pat Edmondson faith inspirational faith writings positive inspire
Christian home family life inspiring words wisdom southern
woman women writer writers Louisville ky kentucky
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The Wall!
Copyright 2010 by Pat Edmondson
AHHH Thank Ewe very much!
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