♾ Infinite Gumption ♾ Amy Infinity ♾

Everything Happens for a Reason (That Is, If We Choose to See It)

Everything happens for a reason. I really do believe that. Could be because I’m sitting here typing this from my living room couch, sipping coffee and doing what I love, writing, as a way to make a living. Actually, I’m not making anything at it yet and maybe I never will. But I am writing. And that’s important in my book. 

I’ve had numerous hiccups, distractions, and challenges along the way, things that have endeavored to derail me. People, jobs, various crazy incidents. As soon as I seem to be making headway in a category, something creeps up to test me, to sabotage my progress. I've learned the hard way that there are things I cannot control, although I have found the biggest monster is in my head. That is a hurdle I think I will always need to jump. Am I saying everything has an explanation? No. Not everything does. Death, sadness, pain…in the thick of it, these things may seem unexplainable. Unbearable. But I do believe these things happen in our lives for a reason, whether it is to teach us how much we can handle, how to bond with others, or something else entirely. 

Take my first marriage and divorce for example. I do not regret it. Not in the slightest, even though it ended in a world full of pain. I met him when I was in the throes of the evolution of adolescence into adulthood. It was my awakening to independence, to sexuality, and an opportunity to become my own woman, to be independent, and to finally find the love that I had romantically envisioned in my life. I wanted the movie and I got it. He was a high speed, special forces guy with the firm-footing of being a medic. Stability AND instability – perfect in my book. So I overlooked the volatile nature of our relationship, the early anger, the clashing, the beginnings of control. I thought we were a WE. So we continued. We got engaged quickly, only a couple of months after meeting. It was passion and intrigue and a whirlwind in the craziest way, a dream for a drama-loving freshman.

My dad freaked out. As dads do, he thought I was going to throw my life away and quit college. He was also upset that the guy hadn’t asked his permission, among other issues. But I was not my dad's property. That was my stance. I was my own woman. So I decided I would marry him, even in spite of other red flags. And I eventually would.

From the beginning, we had a tumultuous relationship. Very dramatic. I was in college, devoted to my work. He was working, devoted to his craft. Somehow, we maintained our growing “love” through similar interests and a sense of duty. Since we had started it, we had to see it through. We didn’t want it to be all for nothing. 

Then, September 11th happened. This bound us in a new way. He went off to war and we got caught up, planning a Hawaii destination wedding while he was away. On my own, I learned to function alone for the first time in my life. But I also had the drama of being on the homefront to keep me from getting too lonely. I grew even closer to his parents and felt a void was fulfilled. So upon his return, it was all fireworks and happiness and the wedding went on without a hitch. A perfect topper to the cake of a life we had built. 

But the cake was made of ice cream and would soon start to melt. I started my last year of college and he went off to Iraq. More drama and this time we had even bigger problems brewing, ones I had pushed under the rug for way too long. I took solace in friends and stupid choices.

But everything happens for a reason.

He hurt me for a reason. Not that I deserved it. No woman, no person, EVER deserves to be battered, EVER deserves to be abused. I had finally begun to realize it.

I was not whatever name he called me while we were fighting. I was not merely the meek person who forgave and allowed things to be okay. I was me. And that was enough to not deserve that kind of treatment. Someone else would treat me right. Someone else deserved me more. I had to learn that on my own in order for it to take hold. Some are fortunate enough to know this from birth. I thought I did. But I had lessons I had to learn about myself, some the hard way.

That’s where things got complicated. I still loved him, for better or for worse. Perhaps I loved the idea of him, the drama of him. But it was still him. And we were WE. I had made a commitment and had even gone up against my dad about it and that was pretty big in my family. So I was not about to admit defeat, call my marriage a mistake, and end it without trying, without fighting. But my heart knew it was over before I did. My heart was out the door already. And with my broken heart overpowering my brain, I made more stupid choices. Did stupid things. And I hung in there. 

When he got back, things were worse because I was different, I was changed. I had evolved from an accepter to an adversary. I was ready to stand my ground. He did not like this. I was not the girl he met and married. So we blew up. We moved and hoped that that would help. But it didn’t and I found a way out. I was not the wisest in my execution. But it had to happen one way or another and it was one of the smartest decisions I have ever made. 

Some people wonder, even now, why I do not hold a grudge. The divorce was awful, bitter and drawn out. He, again, kept up the diatribe of my worthlessness. But instead of bringing me down, it made me grow and actually believe that I am truly worth something. I had a rebirth into someone entirely new. A stronger version of me. 

There were nights of bottles of wine, laying on the floor balling my eyes out to be sure. When I left him, I did so for a job across the country in a city I had never been, a place where I knew no one. But the city and the people I worked alongside embraced me as I have never felt embraced. I felt safe and accepted for the first time in a long time, perhaps ever. 

Upon arrival, I severely sprained both of my ankles, broke up with a new love interest, and had to deal with my ex canceling my car insurance among other things. 

But I had a new life. And that was it. I had the strength I had found within myself to break free and start over. I had always thought I was strong. But in the years previous, I had learned, or thought I had learned, how weak I really was. I was abused. Me, an independent woman. I let that happen. So when I broke free, I learned I was even stronger than I ever thought I was as a child.      

So, no, I do not regret my past life, hardships and all. I am thankful for it. I got to see the inner workings of the military and live an entirely different life than I do now. And I am forever grateful for the kind of love I did receive, did experience, from my ex-husband, from his parents, and from all I encountered during that time in my life. I learned from it all. And I wouldn’t be in the beautiful life I have now if it wasn’t for that.