Forgiveness with Thanks

This true story is a contribution from my sister Denise Marks. The name of the woman has been withheld for privacy.

Riding the elevator to the 10th floor was surreal. The elevator doors opened to a reception desk.  It was only a few steps to the counter, but my feet felt like leaded weights and all I could do was shuffle.

"We will need your purse, shoes and any other personal items brought with you."  The receptionist handed me a hospital gown.

"Put this on once you are situated in your room; a nurse will visit with you shortly."

She placed my belongings in a locker and escorted me down a long corridor to my temporary home on the psych ward.

As I sat on the edge of the bed, I contemplated the circumstances that had brought me to this place.  I didn't feel like a crazy person, I had never attempted to take my life; I wasn't addicted to drugs and held a full-time job.  Yet, here I was in a hospital gown waiting for a nurse to talk to me.

The Marriage
When I first met Eric, it was a dream come true for a single, divorced mom.  He was good-looking, romantic, charismatic and financially stable.  We met at a local football game.  As we sat in the bleachers and chatted, it became apparent there was a mutual attraction.  We agreed to link up later that evening for dinner.  After a brief courtship with many "too-good-to-be-true" fairy tale moments, we married.

The Hospital
The psych nurse entered my hospital room and took all the usual vitals and then flipped to a new page on her clipboard.

"Let's talk about what brought you here."

After the assessment was completed, I was free to visit the common area where other patients congregated to visit, smoke and play games.

The Marriage
I was happy and content the first two years of marriage.  Apart from the usual marital arguments, life was good.  We purchased a home, enjoyed family vacations and lived a suburbia lifestyle most would envy.  It wasn't unusual for Eric to send flowers to my workplace or send a limo for a surprise lunch date.  There were exquisite gifts and romantic weekend getaways.

But in our third year of marriage, Eric lost his job and everything changed.  It was swift, harsh and the truths sited by his employer left little leave room for debate.  He had cheated the company out of time, money and failed to call on clients.  It wasn't long before the bar stool became Eric's companion of comfort.

The Hospital
I sat perched like a wounded bird on a chair in the common area. The cigarette smoke was suffocating, but I didn't care; my thoughts were focused on the future of my twelve-year-old daughter.  How would all this affect her?  My sadness and depression had left me hopeless and unable to function as a mother.

"Hi, I am Linda."  With tears in my eyes, I looked up to see a young woman standing by my side.  "Is this your first time here?"

She continued, "I cried too on my first visit to the psych ward; I felt so alone."

I wasn't sure what she meant by first visit and shuddered at the thought of being here more than once. Later I learned Linda had been abused as a child and was a frequent patient in the psych ward due to her suicidal tendencies.  It was the first of many interactions I would have with other patients during my hospital stay.

My own circumstances began to register as insignificant as others shared their stories of emotional, physical and mental pain.

My Marriage
After Eric lost his job, he descended into a secret world of drugs, women and alcohol.  Years later I would discover the depth of his abyss and just how close I came to being destroyed by it.  I had married a man that not only lacked integrity, but basic moral principles.

The Hospital
My first therapy session was with eight other patients.  I listened to strangers share the horrors of their physical and emotional abuse; unthinkable acts that I couldn't begin to image.  I have never forgotten how those in my group faced issues far greater than mine, yet reached out with compassion and friendship to help me find my buried hope.

After ten days in the hospital, I checked myself out and returned to work.  I continued with my prescribed meds, but knew all the meds in the world would not fix my broken marriage.

The Marriage
In the early morning hours, Eric crept into our bedroom and crawled beneath the covers.

      " I have something to tell you."

What he said next brought every suspicion to the surface.  I could no longer deny what my heart already knew:

      "Things didn't go well on my job today."  There was a long hesitation before he continued with, so I stopped for a few drinks.  I ended up in a hotel room with a woman I met at the bar....."

The betrayal of a spouse pierces the heart, soul and mind in ways never thought possible.  There are no answers to the questions of why, how could you, or what were you thinking, which only intensifies the heartache of the betrayal.

Eric's admission of infidelity opened Pandora's Box and it wasn't long before I learned his late work nights included prostitutes, strip clubs, alcohol and cocaine use.  I was on the verge of a breakdown as the layers of the man I married were peeled away.  It would eventually send me to the psych ward.

A letter from the IRS is what sent me over the edge.  It stated our home would be seized in 90 days if Eric's delinquent taxes were not paid.  I immediately called Eric and left a message.  He never returned my call and never returned home.

Three months later, I answered a knock at my door and a court officer served me with divorce papers. After closing the door, I phoned my attorney and then fell to the floor and cried.

The Ending
As I stood in the eye of the storm, I couldn't find hope or comprehend God had a plan in place to restore my brokenness; but He did.  With time, family and friends, I was able to rebuild my life, put my daughter through graduate school and eventually marry a man who has been my faithful partner for 17 years.

I haven't spoken to Eric since we divorced, but should we ever have a chance encounter, I would say this:

"I forgive you!  Your weaknesses uncovered my strengths. Your indifference taught me compassion.  Your betrayal of trust showed me I had everything to gain and that when moments in life break us, they can also define and shape us.

I thank you! Through you, I learned the integrity of a person is measured by the obstacles placed before them.  But most of all, I thank you for that visit to the psych ward.  It was there, among the most unlikely friends, I found hope, love and the encouragement to begin again."


Thank you Denise for contributing this story.