A house with a white picket fence, two kids, a cat, a new car and a dedicated husband of 40 years just wasn’t in the cards for me. I’ve been married four times, have two children, no animals and life full of love.
My first husband not only cheated on me every chance he could, he raped my children. I was married to him for almost 18 years. You see, I didn’t want to let go of that marriage. It was my justice – something I deserved after coming through a childhood of hell.
That just wasn’t the case.
I had to leave that marriage before me and my girls were fully destroyed.
Some folks who come through tragedy end up with a life married to one devoted, kindhearted husband.
That just wasn’t the case for me.
Does that make me bad? That my first marriage and the ensuing two other marriages weren’t good marriages? Am I somehow left to live a defeated life because I had failed relationships?
Some may think so.
I don’t think that I now deserve to feel no love, and to be able to try again. When is failure the last voice?
It’s not how many times you fall that ultimately brings justice; justice is served through the many times you rise up and stand again.
I believe in myself, still. God believes in me even more.