Hi, my name is Meg, and I’m still a marriageaholic.
If you read Part I, you know my story. But now there’s more to tell.
I recently wrote Part I under the name of Meg Kline. That was what I thought my married name would be, and I used it as a pen name.
Now it’s two weeks later, and I’m farther from my marriage dreams.
My engagement is over; the result of the toughest decision I’ve ever made. The man I love, gone. The man I thought I would spend my life with, moved on.
Everything reminds me of him. I misplaced my glasses just the other night, and when I couldn’t find them, I started to cry. He used to find them in five seconds. In fact, he used to watch me when I put them down so that he could pick them up when I would start to scream, “Baby, have you seen my glasses?” Instead, I was alone, and it took me 30 minutes to find them, resting in plain sight on my coffee table.
I have his sweatshirt. It still smells like his cologne.
I’ve taken his pictures off of my wall. Part of me doesn’t want to. Part of me could stare into his gorgeous green eyes forever, and I did for the past year and a half of my life. But I know that dwelling on him will never bring healing.
So, I’ve shoved all of his stuff in a plastic bag, anxious for the moment that I can give it back to him and forget it was ever here. And I’m terrified at the same time, to face him, to struggle not to feel the pain of the love I’ve lost.
In the past week, I’ve been through a range of emotions. I’ve spent days crying, unable to eat, unable to sleep. I’ve gone downstairs and stared at my dress, hanging so beautiful in my closet, safely hidden so that he wouldn’t have a chance of seeing it. I’ve held the silk flowers I bought—Calla lilies, my favorite. I’ve spit-shined the unity candleholder I found for 97 cents at Goodwill.
But now, I just can’t stop thinking.
How does a relationship change? How did I lose control?
Simple really. I am not in control.
I can’t prevent him from moving on with his life. I can’t stop the hurt I am feeling over the loss of someone that I loved so much. I can’t make him follow what he felt God spoke to him over a year ago.
But I can control myself. And now is my time to find out who I am.
In my previous article I examined 1 Corinthians 13. Last night my attention was drawn to the same chapter, different verse.
“When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me” (1 Corinthians 13:11, TNIV).
Interesting that God would place His commentary on immaturity in verse 11, right in the middle of His conversation about love.
I realize now that the love I felt was the love of a child—immature, self-seeking and jealous. I pushed him until I pushed him away. I pushed myself until I was angry, lost and confused.
As you know, this is hard for a marriageaholic to admit: I’m still not ready.
So now my prayer lies in this: that I would find maturity in love. That God would show me the doors He wishes to open and close the doors that are wrong for me to enter.
I’m Meg Arnette, and I’m a marriageaholic. This is my therapy: I’m finding me again. Finding my focus, finding my purpose. That, and selling my wedding dress on Ebay.