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Automobile Insight: Unmet Expectations

Automobile Insight: Unmet Expectations

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Monday morning I was going through my normal routine, I got in my car to go to work and turned the key…

I’m a person of high expectations, and my expectations for my car is that it runs–every time I turn that key. I spent the time and money laying the groundwork to meet that expectation. I bought a brand new car, a reliable brand and model. I am adamant about taking care of it. I have done everything I can to maintain the expectation I have. It is the most expensive thing I’ve ever purchased (and by myself). I’ve had it for over 10 years. I’ve kept up with the maintenance, and have never had an unexpected repairs. I’ve done everything imaginable to keep that car in a condition where I can always count on it to start and take me where I need to go. Every time.

Monday apparently missed that memo. I turned the key and… nothing. Nothing happened. Well, all the dash lights lit up like a Christmas tree, but there was no sound–not even an inkling that the engine was even trying to start.

I am just going to be honest here, I don’t handle unmet expectations well. I am a detail-oriented and very strategic person who plans and prepares so things will go as expected. No surprises. That is what I like. That is what I expect. So, the car not starting thing didn’t go over well. Especially on a day my husband had gone out of town with a friend to go kayaking and I was breaking out in a poison ivy rash I just hadn’t noticed yet… needless to say, by the end of the day I felt I was living out a storybook. Mel and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

The car situation pales in comparison to the other unmet expectations in my life. But serves as a perfect metaphor. Your car won’t start and everyone around you has an answer or judgement. You become frustrated and defensive– “No, I didn’t leave a light on and drain the battery. No, I didn’t forget to fill the gas tank. Seriously, stop looking at me like that. I did everything right. This should not have happened.”

Our expectations say it shouldn’t happen. But it did.

Same thing happened with my career. I went to school and worked my butt off. I was an honor student who studied non-stop, graduated in the top 20 students of my high school class, was offered multiple college scholarships, went to college and continued my dedication to education over socialization, duel majored in growing and competitive industries (Communication and Technology), graduated with honors and a passion to use everything I learned to make an impact in the next place I landed. Well, where I expected to land: a career in the field I spent my whole life preparing for. But when I turned the key, that car didn’t start either. It’s been over a decade since I graduated and I still don’t have a job in “my field.”

My expectations were that if I followed the plan and worked hard I would get the job I wanted. I followed the plan. It just didn’t work the way I thought it would. So far none of the redirections along the way have fixed it either. It just is. I have to live everyday knowing my life just isn’t what I expected and no plan is impervious to unforeseen circumstances. Most of our expectations are unwritten and unspoken. I never really thought about my expectation of my car starting every time I turned the key, but it came barreling to the forefront of my mind the moment it wasn’t met.

My car not starting is sad, wasting my potential in a job where I feel underutilized is depressing, but not being able to diagnose and fix the brokeness in my family is life shattering.

When I married my husband I knew things wouldn’t be easy forever bonding myself to a family shattered by divorce. However, I still had expectations that things would be better than they are. I guess I thought I was immune to surprises, having come from a broken home myself. That I had the answer key, and a map to all the landmines so we could cross the desert without igniting any fatal explosions. But, sometimes I turn that key and the car doesn’t start.

For the three years we have been married, I have daily walked past the bedroom we set up for our stepchildren–a room that they have never used. It breaks my heart to see it empty, I can only imagine how much more it hurts my husband. I long for something I have never had, but he longs for something he lost–the children he created and raised. He recalls fabulous memories of camping and fishing with his kids and remembers a better time; while I have only dreams of my imagination of what I wish for things to be like. We both have our own unspoken expectations. If we allow those expectations to go unchecked and sideswipe us when they go unmet, it can destroy us, our marriage, and our family.

Take a lesson from me and my car: be cognizant of your expectations of things and people. Don’t allow yourself to drift into despair when things don’t go as you expect. We have terrible seats for analyzing our entire lives, our perspective is incredibly distorted being right in the middle of it. I don’t know why my car wouldn’t start Monday, or why we still can’t figure out what is wrong with it, but someone else does. Maybe I just needed to learn this lesson. Maybe I needed more patience. Maybe if my car had started Monday morning, I would have died in a fiery car crash on my way to work. Afterall, while my job seems like a huge mistake that took me down the wrong/unexpected path–if I hadn’t struggled after college I wouldn’t have moved, if I hadn’t moved I wouldn’t have gotten the job I have now, if I hadn’t gotten the job I have now I wouldn’t have met and married my husband, and if I hadn’t married my husband I wouldn’t have started this blog. So who’s to say things aren’t meeting expectations? Just not mine.

So, if you put your key in the ignition and your expectations aren’t met the moment you turn it to the “start” position, try not to be upset. Re-evaluate your expectations. And praise God for knowing what you need every moment of every day. He is not worried about my car never starting again, or my job never bringing me fulfillment, or my family being broken forever, no, God has a much better perspective of the big picture. He is aware of all the work my husband and I have put into building a foundational marriage to break the cycle of divorce for our children, and all the preparations we have made in our home and our hearts for the day our children come home. Maybe I’ve seen the film Field of Dreams one too many times, but I truly believe our work will pay off and my family will be reunited. God sees all of your hard work, too. He is using our struggles to teach us, because our God isn’t a God of meeting expectations, He really prefers to exceed them.

“My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing. If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him. But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for he who doubts is like a wave of the sea driven and tossed by the wind. For let not that man suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways.”  James 1:2-8 NKJV

Father’s Day Special

Father’s Day Special

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As I think about Father’s Day and the Anniversary of me starting this blog, I thought it would be a good time to do something a little special and share an excerpt from a novel I am working on. The book is entitled, “Busted Hearts.”

Tristan felt a tug on his shirt and turned looking down at an energetic four year old with a sparkle in his big brown eyes and world class grin across his face.

“Mr. Tristan! Mr. Tristan!”

“What is is, Billy?” Tristan asked, stooping down to get eye-level with the little boy.

“This is for you,” Billy said while the smile that already engulfed his face seemed to get impossibly larger.

Taken aback, Tristan stuttered for the words to say, “Uh, Billy, this is supposed to be a gift for your dad.”

The little boy’s smile faded as he looked down at his shoes, “I know, but… but I don’t have a dad.” He continued to study the floor as his expression teatered between an onrush of sadness and deep contemplation.

A flood of emotions passed of Tristan. He had really stepped in it this time. How was he going to fix this? Poor kid.

“You could give it to your mom,” Tristan quickly threw out the first thing that came to mind.

Billy giggled as the smile returned to his face and he replied with a playful, but confident tone, “You’re so silly Mr. Tristian! Mommys can’t be daddys!”

Tristan was relieved that the awkward moment of sadness had passed as fast as it had arrived, but remained at a loss as to what to do next. Thankfully, the little boy took the lead.

“Daddy’s are boys!” Billy continued between more giggles. “Daddy’s are big boys–like you, Mr. Tristan. Daddy’s are strong and they take care of you and teach you how to be a big boy… and they play games with you!”

Tristan struggled to process the words coming out of the little boy’s mouth. His mind transported him back into time, looking down at his own son when he was about the same age as Billy. Dante’s eyes were a striking dark green, but held the same sparkle and passion as Billy’s brown ones. At least they had. Then. It has been a long time since Dante’s eyes has displayed that kind of energy and life. Tristan was overwhelmed with fear as he worried: Will my little boy ever be the same? Will he ever have that sparkle of joy in his beautiful green eyes again? Will I ever even get a chance to see those eyes again?

Billy stood there still holding out the Father’s Day craft they had worked on during Sunday School class, “Pleeease, you can be my at church daddy” Billy pleaded while waiting for Tristan to accept his gift.

Tristan couldn’t find words, but nodded in agreement and accepted the necktie-shaped foam cut out with “#1 Dad” sprawled across it. He just stared down at the word “Dad” as he stood up and the feelings of doubt and despair rushed over him. I don’t think I’m much of a dad, Tristan thought to himself, much less a number one ranked dad. My kids hate me. They never want to see me again. I’ve hurt them, ruined them. I’m no dad. Certainly not one anyone wants.

Tristan’s self-deprecating thoughts were cut short as little Billy brought him back into the present moment. Tristan looked down again, this time Billy had his arms wrapped around Tristan’s legs and let out a quiet confirmation of his intentions, “I love you, Mr. Tristan.”

Tristan’s eyes darted around the room to see if anyone else had seen what just happened. Sure enough, his eyes met with the downcast glare of Ms. Betsy. He had a pretty good idea of what she was thinking right now, too. It was the same look his wife had given him to remind him of what a true disappointment he was: Tristan, the man who doesn’t listen. Tristan, the slob. Tristan, the failure.

Tristan wished he could pick up the little boy and hold him close and tell him that he loved him too. But in this day and age, a man can’t even touch his own children without being suspected of malicious intentions–let alone someone else’s child.

The Most Depressing Time of the Year

The Most Depressing Time of the Year

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I love Christmas. Love. With a passion. You will definetly see me skipping around this time of year, wrapping everything I get near and singing “It’s the most wonderful time of the year!” while watching Hallmark movies nonstop,  but it doesn’t always feel that wonderful.

Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years all pile up to form a trifecta of togetherness that can overwhelm anyone who is separated from a loved one and lead them down a dark drag of depression and desperation. I have countless stories of of tears and drama that make up the ghosts of my Christmas’ past. One of the hardest things is dealing with a crash of reality after taking on an extra expectation of miracles… because it’s Christmas–the time for miracles, right?

My husband and I are still waiting on our Christmas miracle (or anytime miracle for that matter). 2017 marks the sixth Christmas we have spent together. Our memories together are joyous and wonderful things to celebrate–and I have the Hallmark ornaments to prove it! However, this time of year (and every moment we celebrate throughout the year) is a double-edged sword of joy and heart break. 2017 also marks the sixth Christmas we have spent alienated from our children.

Every year I hold onto the hope that the magic of Christmas will bring peace and reconciliation, and so far every year I have been disappointed. The more I hope, the harder I hurt. But I cannot stop believing. I will not stop believing. God intends to heal our family. My job is to wait and trust. And I will continue to do as I have every year, and trim the tree, wrap the gifts, and stuff the stockings in the anticipation of my family being whole at Christmas. One day it will be. And that will be the most wonderful time of our lives.

Christmas_2017

The Roots of Divorce are Strong and Far-reaching

The Roots of Divorce are Strong and Far-reaching

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I’ve spent the majority of my life reflecting on divorce. Always the little kid asking, “Why?” Divorce is like a giant tree that has grown in the middle of the garden of my life, like a weed with big twisted roots choking out everything else in the garden. The first 20 years, I was caught up in it emotionally, fueling the tree like Miracle Grow with my bitterness, anger and resentment. Somewhere during the last decade, I started going through a renaissance period. I started cutting through the emotions with the blade of the sword of Truth and looking at things a little differently. Still asking “Why?” but this time looking for answers that held truth instead of those jaded by my own brokenness. First I realized Miracle Grow is poison, so let’s get rid of that. This tree is not one good for fruit or shade or anything else, it is dark and brings nothing but darkness; so not only is it not productive in my garden it is slowing destroying everything else. So, I decided to chop it down. Hasn’t been easy. When you realize how much the roots have intertwined with everything else, the task almost seems impossible to complete.

One of those roots is selfishness.

A marriage is a single unit. Two people choose to come together to become one. Continuing on the path of one-ness requires sacrifice because you have to abandon all sense of selfishness. Nothing is mine or yours, it is ours. Having children just adds more “we” to the “us.”

Divorce is like a villain everyone underestimates. I’ve talked to many people who claim, “Oh, I wouldn’t do that.” “Our divorce is different.” “We get along so much better now.” Some divorces are less tumultuous, some people are luckier (if you want to call it that) than others–but you cannot underestimate this enemy. There is so much going on behind the scenes.

The hard truth is this: divorce makes everyone involved selfish. Whaaaaaaaat?! Yes, you. You’re not magically immune. Don’t deny it, it will only make things worse–and teach your children to be even more so. Think about it logically for a moment. Divorce fractures a family unit. What was one now is in several pieces. Even if some of the pieces try to align together, the underlying truth is that every man now fends for himself. There is no us, there is only me.

Somehow our society has come to the conclusion that we should not rock the boat and try to salvage things–you know, for the good of the kids. I imagine their thought process is that a broken family breaks apart like a puzzle (it seems logical, people were separated before they come together to form a family) and if we just remove one piece of the puzzle, it will be OK. The puzzle is still almost whole. You can still see the image. We can glue all the other pieces together, to the table, so we don’t loose any more. That one piece won’t be that big of a deal. But that is not how it works. That thinking will never work.

When hearts break, they don’t break even. Hearts–and families–shatter. Imagine a glass shattered on the ground, spilt milk everywhere. The glass is the family and the milk was their future. After this moment, nothing will ever be the same. All of the family members made up one glass together. When the glass broke the family didn’t just break apart into a clean piece for each person. Every person themselves is shattered and all the pieces strewn about. What do you do? You try to put yourself back together.

It’s not that anything is wrong about that. It’s human nature. And a necessary evil. Think about being on a distressed airplane where the oxygen masks have fallen from the ceiling–what do you do? You put on your mask. You have to. They tell you to. You put on your mask first. You can get all indignant and wax eloquent saying that you’re a selfless parent who would definitely be concerned with putting a mask on your child first. But you may not live to help your child, if you don’t help yourself first.

I’m not saying that you shouldn’t start by putting yourself back together. On the contrary, I am. But you have to realize what you are doing. Don’t lie to yourself, or others. Sometimes you have to be selfish for a moment to become selfless for a lifetime.

Think of Jesus in the garden at Gethsemane. Sweating blood. Irate with his brothers for falling asleep and having little regard for what is going on. How pivotal of a moment in history is that? Jesus needed that moment to say “I don’t want to do this. Please don’t make me do this.” He needed a little me time to get perspective on the us. Then he made a choice, to make the sacrifice for the good of the world–a broken, fractured group of people. Altruism. He didn’t whine “Woe is me, look what I did for you, look how selfless I am that I would die for you! Blah, blah, blah, me, me, me.”

The irony about the glass scenario is how people act like divorce is the end of the world when it comes to family life. But it is not. Divorce doesn’t destroy families (well, it does if we let it; but it doesn’t naturally) it just restructures them. Same way that new additions, death, adulthood, marriage, or other life changes would. That’s probably where we get the term “family dynamics,” because families are dynamic. Families don’t stay the same. Ever. They are always changing. They involve multiple people who are constantly evolving and changing the way they interact with one another.

So, why when there is a divorce do we try to take all the glass shards for ourselves and force everything to an old memory to stay the same forever? I’m still trying to figure out that why. Actually, no. I think I know. I think it is because all logic and reason goes out the window and people act only on emotion. And the emotional response to hurt is to pull back and avoid being hurt again. So the most aggressively emotional person in the group grabs all the pieces and tries to force them into their desired memory, while driving out any memory of the one person they are removing and placing all the blame on. Selfishness. I don’t think that person necessarily means to hurt anyone. And they are convinced they are a victim and an vigilant, saving everyone else from this hurt. But hurt happens. The hurt has been done. Don’t push it deeper. Help it heal.

The cool thing about glass is that it melts at high heat. It just so happens that divorce (and other life-altering events) is an intense heat situation, providing a perfect opportunity to make something beautiful in the midst of an ugly situation.

You just thought that a puzzle was a better scenario because you didn’t truly think about the entire picture.  Just a puzzle missing a piece, much better than tiny shards broken glass that can’t be fixed. But the puzzle will remain broken forever. You can’t just get by without a piece. You can’t force a different piece in it’s spot. Or draw a new piece yourself and get the same finished whole product as the original.

The shards of glass cannot be glued back together to form the same shape they were in before. But they aren’t meant to. Once a family is divided it has to start again, re-creating new families. Just like you did when you got married in the first place. You don’t think you left broken glass when you left your parents’ glass?! Well, you did. Just go ask your mom. Her life changed. Forever. Families are supposed to change. They were designed that way. That’s what makes them dynamic.

So, why are we forcing children of divorce to cry over spilt milk? Demanding they use superglue to desperately try to glue together something that cannot be fixed? Tying their well-being and self worth to our own and trying to force them to feel our feelings and reject the other parent?

It’s time to stop being selfish. Take a moment to be selfish to reflect on yourself, get help from outside to focus on the big picture: families change, and you cannot remove anyone from your family–marriage is forever (in more way than one). IF you make a child with someone you are tied to them for life. You cannot change the laws of life. No amount of running or lying or repressing will eliminate a member of your family. So stop trying. Look at what is and make the most of it. Choose to be selfless for your children. Recognize that you are hurting your children more by your actions than the divorce itself. And accept the cold hard truth that the best way to navigate your family through divorce is together. In case you missed it, together means with your ex. Because no one’s ex falls of the earth after a divorce to never be heard from again. They are there. For the rest of your life. Learn to live with it. Not just “until the kids get older,” or “after the payments stop,” or “when the ex gets remarried,” but for-ev-er. Your children will grow up, get married and have children of their own. You will have weddings, funerals, births, graduations, birthday parties, and countless other milestone moments in your family life that you cannot eliminate someone from. Suck it up, Buttercup. For your family. For your kids. Set fire to the broken glass and make what you want of the pieces–together. You’re family never gets smaller, it only changes form. Teach your children how to handle the changes in life, stop the cycle of bitterness, brokenness, and victimization, prepare them for the inevitable next change. Dynamic. Families are dynamic.

Disney doesn’t ruin children’s minds with fantasy images of marriage and family. We do. We’re the ones crying “Woe is me… ” “All this bad stuff? I didn’t deserve…” “Make sure you pick the right person…” “Leave them before they leave you,” and all kinds of other bad advice. Whether verbally or through our actions. Stop telling children that you can make “perfect” families and keep them that way. It’s not normal. It’s not supposed to happen. It’s not going to happen. If you keep feeding them these lies before they ever realize the truth they will be lost and broken thinking something is wrong with them, when the only problem they had was having a parent fail to teach them the beauty in broken glass and the ability to create under fire.

Do you want your children to spend their entire lives preoccupied with mediating their parents’ failed relationship? “Well, if I invite dad, mom is going to be unbearable the entire time..” “I’d call my mother, but I don’t want to spend an hour listening to her berate my father…” “I think my kids would be better off spending minimal amount of time with their grandparents. Too much drama.” “If I have to choose between my parents… I choose neither. I can take care of myself.”

No matter how awesome you think you are. You cannot be both parents to your child. They will always have a hole in their heart. After-all, fifty percent of them is the other parent. If you teach them to hate the other parent. You really just teach them to hate themselves.

For the Fathers Separated from their Children on Father’s Day

For the Fathers Separated from their Children on Father’s Day

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For many years, there was one moment in movies, at weddings, etc. that would inevitably bring me to tears and make me feel like someone had just stabbed me with a knife through the heart:  a father-daughter dance. Every time. Why? Because I was preemptively mourning something I thought I would never have. It hurts so much to watch someone else be happy enjoying something that you long for.

I am not a father (and never will be, courtesy of me being a woman and all), so I cannot directly share your pain of being away from your children on Father’s Day.  However, I do want to share what I encouragement I can offer from the other side. Because I have been a child separated from her father for so much more than just Father’s Day.

My parents divorced when I was a child. Prior to that divorce, I was your typical Daddy’s girl. I was my father’s little princess and he was my hero. The foundation of my life crumbled along with my parent’s marriage. The divorce was ugly, lasted for years, and ultimately ended with my mother moving my siblings and me 1500 miles away from our father and everyone we knew.

Years of geographical separation paired with resentment and bitterness fueled by my devastated mother caused an emotional alienation from my father. I went from being sad, to being mad, to never wanting to see my father again, to referring to him as my “sperm donor” and minimizing his impact on my life. At least I tried. And so I cried. Every time I saw a father-daughter dance.

The thing about parent-child relationships is that you can’t break them. You can’t ignore them. You can’t destroy them. You can’t try to run away and escape them. The blood bond is just too strong. Trust me. I’ve tried. So no matter what happens–whether death, divorce, abuse, alienation–whatever your story is, your child will always love you and want to be with you (even if their words and/or actions say otherwise at the present moment).

As a father, part of your job is to sacrifice for your children. It is unfortunate and unnatural that you have to sacrifice this way, but yet here you are spending [another] Father’s Day without the very child[ren] that qualify you to celebrate this holiday. And you have to bear it. You have to stay strong. You have to maintain a level head and also not resort to anger–against yourself, or your child, or their mother, or whoever you think may be responsible for the current divide. Sometimes it is your job to make the sacrifice. It is not fair. But no one said fatherhood was fair.

So, I’ve been a little depressing but I intend to encourage, I promise. If there is one thing I want to desperately say to you today it is to keep on loving your child[ren]. You are and always will be their Daddy. They love you. Love them. Love them with the unconditional love that parents were always meant to share with their children. And when they are angry and bitter and tell you that they hate you and never want to see you again, love them harder; because they need it all the more. Given your situation, you may have to love them from afar; but do everything you do as though they are watching you (because they probably are, or will be) and are looking for an opportunity to run back to you.

I married a divorcee. My husband has been separated from his children for years. It kills me to see the pain in his eyes, every day; because every day is a one more day they aren’t together. It is a crying shame, but has become a staple of our society (I have heard countless stories) for loving, able fathers to be alienated from their children. Please know that the children hurt, too. Your child may be caught in the middle of a tug-of-war with his/her mother and just trying to survive with the least amount of damage. Your child may have been turned against you by someone they trust and doesn’t know what the truth is anymore. Your child may be an adult who disagreed with you on something and just isn’t ready to admit they were wrong yet. So many stories, but they can all end well with the same approach–Love and open arms.

I want to close with a special photograph. And a thank you to my own father. I spent 15+ years of my life trying to eliminate my father from my life, reveling in resentment and bound by bitterness. I don’t know the extend of the pain I caused him; but I’m well acquainted with how much I have hurt myself. I couldn’t be more grateful or proud of my dad who, when I realized that I wanted and needed him, was waiting for me with open arms. Loving me the same way he did when I was a three year old little princess. After all of the terrible things I have said (and thought and felt) to and about my father, he loves me and continues to sacrifice of himself for me.

I sometimes mourn the lost opportunities for all the memories I could have had with my father over the span of the many years we were emotionally separated. However, I no longer preemptively mourn for things that I think I’ll never had. Life is too short, and suspect for change. Today will not inevitably be your tomorrow.

Enjoy today. Happy Father’s Day, Daddy! Reminisce of all the happy memories you have shared with your child[ren] and look forward to the memories you will create in the future. You will be reunited with your child[ren]. Focus on being ready by continuing to love them through the pain and keeping your arms wide open.

My Father-Daughter Dance

My father-daughter dance–that I thought would never happen–became a reality at my wedding. Thank you, Daddy. I love you!

Marriage After Divorce

Marriage After Divorce

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I’m sure there will always be naysayers telling me how I don’t really understand divorce because I myself have never been divorced. I do understand divorce. And my entire life has been influenced and affected by divorce–my parents divorce. Getting divorced and being a child divorce are two different things. On top of that difference, each individual is affected differently by the circumstances of divorce. However, I submit to you that the underlying spirit that affects everyone in divorce is betrayal. When two people come together in marriage they make a commitment to retain that union forever. Divorce is a betrayal.

Betrayal – the breaking or violation of a presumptive contract, trust, or confidence that produces moral and psychological conflict within a relationship amongst individuals, between organizations, or between individuals and organizations. (Wikipedia)

People who get divorced usually feel betrayed. Most often they see that betrayal as adultery or another act but the divorce itself is also a betrayal. Betrayal by both parties. Your partner may have betrayed you when they committed adultery, but you also betrayed them when you walked away instead of getting to the root of the problem and working to resolve your differences – as you vowed to do “for better or for worse.”

What people don’t see is how divorce is a betrayal to their children. When we have children we don’t have elaborate ceremonies and make public vows to them promising to support them, providing for their physical and emotional needs. But it is implied. An implied contract. Parents realize their responsibility to their child’s physical needs and outsiders assume that is why divorces get so ugly, arguing over the house, custody, the children’s expenses–after all what decent parent isn’t doing what they feel is best for their child? What most parents (and outsiders) don’t see is the implied promise in the heart and the mind of a child that they will always be one family with the two people who made them. And you might think well I didn’t or couldn’t ever promise that! And that doesn’t really matter. A child inherently feels that way and consequently feels betrayed when that commitment is not kept. Furthermore, the high-conflict divorce situation cuts the betrayal even deeper as angry parents argue over physical needs while ignoring the emotional need of their child to continue fostering healthy relationships with both of their parents.

Another thing to keep in mind is that being betrayed and feeling betrayed are two different things. But are they really? When you feel betrayed does it not still create the moral and psychological stress that actual betrayal does? The problem that arises with children is that they have a more difficult time understanding and communicating their feelings. There is probably enough evidence to prove that divorce–in itself–is emotional abuse to children. Not that I’m saying I’m against divorce. Personally, I find staying in a failed marriage “for the kids” to be even more detrimental and abusive (but that is an entirely different blog). I just think it is very important for parents to be aware of their child’s emotional needs.

My parents divorce rocked the very foundation of my life. It changed my worldview and most specifically my view of people and relationships. Imagine one day your parents telling you that they made you because “Mommy and Daddy love each other very much,” then in the future being told “Mommy and Daddy are getting a divorce because they just don’t love each other anymore.” Imagine your view of love? Your view of marriage? Love is forever? Pffft! Marriage is sacred? Ha! Marriage is a commitment? Yeah right! It seems like marriage is more of a social stamp on love. Which is easily erased when you “fall out of” love. Marriage becomes disposable. Thousands of children everyday become hardened against marriage because of its disposable nature. I spent most of my life vowing to myself to never get married and to never have children that would inevitably be abused by this world. It took 20 years and a lot of turmoil for me to forgive my parents and to redefine my view on marriage.

A friend shared of blog listing the ways that children of divorce love differently. The thing that stood out to me the most was feeling “hard to love.”  That is a feeling I have spent most of my life trying to overcome. We expect others to love us as those we have dealt with previously (our parents). We believe that we will inevitably be betrayed, abandoned, etc. because we feel our parents did those things. And if our parents–our very flesh and blood–value us so little that they would treat us so poorly, why would someone who is not related to us (forced to be with us) want to be with us? If my parents don’t love me, how could anyone else ever love me?

I also vowed I would never marry a divorcee. Too much baggage. Too much hurt that I don’t want to relive. Too big of a chance for history to repeat itself. I also felt entitled to something bigger, something better then my childhood. Because of the bad hand I was dealt as a kid and because I’ve never been with anyone else, don’t I deserve something better? All part of the misconception I built in my head about marriage.

I did marry a man from divorce. And it is beautiful. We understand one another’s hurts and hesitations. We pass beyond sympathy to empathy. We know how to build each other up and are aware of what tears one another down. And I think we love harder because of divorce. It is possible to be like the Phoenix and rise from the ashes of divorce to something more beautiful than before. So to those of you divorce or entering the idea of marrying a divorcee let me encourage you today. Divorce is not an end. There is marriage after divorce. And it is possible to have the love we only see in fairy tales and to appreciate it all the more.

Who am I?

Who am I?

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My story goes back several months to a Chamber of Commerce luncheon I attended, where circumstances lead to me sitting at a table with city officials, including an apparently very important gentleman receiving a lot of attention. “So, glad you could join us Mr. Senator!” Mr. Senator?!?! No wonder he is being treated like royalty! I continue to smile and converse with the people at the table, thinking to myself how I need to start paying more attention to the people in politics so I don’t find myself in these awkward situations where I’m eating lunch with someone important whom I don’t recognize. Come to find out this former senator, was none other than Hank Erwin–also a well known Christian evangelical broadcaster. I had to be the only person in the entire room who didn’t know who he was. (Can I justify my ignorance at all by stating that I am not from Birmingham? Maybe? A little bit?) Well, you know what, you ought to treat all people the same anyway. And we are on a level playing field, since he doesn’t know me either. Then, he turns to me and says those gut-wrenching words I so loath to hear, “So, who is Melissa?” It’s already painful when any random stranger asks me that. But someone of his stature, looking at me, and asking about who I am. What I do? What are my successes in life? Honestly, I wanted to climb under the table and wish this whole situation away. Who am I? I am no one. Especially by comparison to the people in this room. I’m the girl who strives for excellence in everything, but has nothing to show for all the heart I put into the things I do, because I’m always behind the camera. I graduated at the top of my class and was expected to be a phenomenal success, but I show more as a failure. I received a Bachelor’s Degree in filmmaking, at a local college, an hour away from where I grew up. I am an eternal dreamer, with reality gnawing at every fiber of my being as I go to work every day at a dead-end job which barely pays enough for me to make ends meet. I am the single 25 year old girl whom cannot build a lasting relationship, because all the men of authority in my past abused, abandoned, and rejected me. I’m the foreigner–born in Massachusetts, raised in Florida, and picked up everything and just moved to BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA–of all places in the world–Just because I felt lead there. Wow. I am an emotionally damaged, professional failure, who is crazy enough to believe that I could find my purpose by moving to a new city–where I know no one (including public officials and local icons)–because a higher power prompted me to do so. So… which part of that should I say aloud first? I know. Right? *sigh* But hey, my job inspires me every day to sugar coat the crap life hands me… so, I smiled and said something. Blah. Blah. Blah. I don’t remember. Did it even matter? Funny thing is. It did. I mentioned film school and Mr. Erwin’s entire face lit up like a Christmas tree! I mean, usually I try to downplay my lost dreams of becoming a filmmaker because it is just another failure in my life. Really? I could have gotten an Engineering degree or a Computer Science degree and be living it up right now… but I studied FILM! However, Mr. Erwin didn’t for a moment look down on me for my choice of education. He was jubilant about my passion for the industry. And he went on and on about his two sons. How they were both filmmakers. Worked on music videos. Nominated for Dove awards. And are working on their first feature film. I was shocked and energized by this notion of someone seeing my dream, as that–a dream. Not a convoluted notion of something completely ridiculous to find success in. I was inspired. Felt guilty inside, for hiding who I am. Hiding behind what I deemed as failure and declaring my life dead and worthless. I could have talked with him for hours, I’m sure. But nevertheless, the rest of the room was waiting to have their moment with this powerful man. He left me with these words that continue to haunt me to this day, “Melissa, never give up on your dreams.”

It’s amazing to me how some people can come in and out of your life, saying few words but leaving such an incredible impression. That conversation is one of those moments in my life I will never forget.

Fast forward. (Yeah, nothing of great value ensued in this time. Didn’t try networking with the Erwin brothers; even though I found their Facebook pages and contemplating many times jotting a message to them, and pursuing them as friends… at least in the social media world. But, I’m a stubborn breed. Refusing to take assistance from others, and more importantly refusing to get ahead by who I know. Even though research revealed that the Erwin brothers also directed the most recent music videos of my FAVORITE BAND. How awesome is that?!?) Present day. My sister is going on and on about this abortion movie they are talking about on the radio. “I really want to go see it,” she tells me. I shrug it off. Phffft! Who wants to watch a movie with a political agenda. Definitely not MY cup of tea. “It’s a Christian movie,” she clarifies. Oh, Lord. That’s even worse. Imagine a Hallmark movie on steroids. It is sure to tug on your heart strings and demand you to not only suddenly feel abortion is the worst sin in the world; but that you need to go out and preach it to everyone! And I’m going to have to sit and watch cheesy actors overact a preachy message, which probably follows a scattered storyline with a pigeonholed plotline. (I like alliteration. Get over it.) “But the way they talked about it on the radio… I really want to see it,” she insists. So, I take a moment to research it. I’m pretty sure I was searching for an excuse NOT to go see this inevitable disaster of a movie, but instead I found a reason to go and see the movie. October Baby. The first feature length film written, directed, and produced by Jon and Andrew Erwin. Hey… That’s… Their movie. Local filmmakers, who filmed a local movie. Now I HAVE to see it!

Now, forget the abortion thing. It’s a coming of age film, which is entertaining with the precise balance of drama to comedy… This might be good. Oh, but the “Christian” stigma. Have you seen Fireproof?! Ugh. No. No. No. But these brothers… the Skillet music videos are awesome! My mind argued against itself. But at the end of the day. I have a heart for film. And I am going to support the local filmmakers. So, I went to the movie on that premise: knowing that the more people go to see the sneak preview release, the bigger the opportunity when they release it nationwide. I tried to hope for the best, but was prepared for the worst. (Which is kind of the same for all movies these days. Most Hollywood films aren’t worth the price of admission… definitely not worth buying a $10 bucket of popcorn.)

I ended up watching the movie alone. My sister was always working or out with her boyfriend. But she had made me curious, and I was going to see it before I missed the opportunity. Actually, I’m kind of glad that I did go alone. I had no idea how much the movie would affect me. (Yes, if you are an emotional being like me, you are going to need a box of Kleenex to make it through this film.)

October Baby is far from being a movie about abortion. It is a movie about forgiveness. The storyline of Hannah’s journey to overcoming the overdue truth revealed by her parents may not directly affect every member of the audience; but the message does. We all face struggles in our lives. The biggest of these is finding ourselves, being confident in who we are; and forgiving the people who hurt us along the way. Many times we don’t see how symbiotic those two components are. But the truth is that we can never truly be ourselves until we forgive those who have trespassed against us. That bitterness of unforgiveness takes root in our hearts and breeds resentment and hatred for others and ourselves. Before long, we feel worthless and lash out at everyone who cares for us, unable to build relationships, unable to strive for our dreams; and we don’t even know why! We search without finding. We feel like everything that happens to us is the end of the world. We don’t feel we have a purpose in this world. And it all started because someone who was hurting, unbeknownst to them, hurt us. Our world is caught in a vicious cycle of people hurting people hurting people. No one wants to step up and be the first one to say, “I don’t want to feel this anymore. I realize that you didn’t intend to hurt me this way, and even if you did, I’m forgiving you. Because I want to move on. I want to have faith that you can have relationships with people who don’t hurt you.”

This film hit me like a sack of bricks to the head. Abortion–that’s Hannah’s story. My story is different. Yet, everything that Hannah is feeling, I feel. Her wounds are highlighting my wounds. And her courage to stand up and be the “bigger person,” forgiving everyone who wronged her, cast a weight of guilt on my heart that I have been so stubborn and blind to have the strength to stand up and do the same to change my own life. Talk about making an impact.

I believe that film is a medium that speaks to people, because it speaks to me. My life is affected by things portrayed on the big screen. Not in the I-just-saw-a-war-movie-and-feel-the-urge-to-go-kill-people kind of way; but in the thoughts-presented-in-the-story-changed-my-way-of-thinking kind of way. We conform to our environment. It is why we have to be careful about what we say, choosey about who we keep company with, and confident in our purpose.

Since I was a child, I had dreams to change the world. I’ve been through many phases of how I was going to do that (from super hero to super model), but I always wanted to leave a lasting impression on the world. To be able to say, “I touched other people’s lives.” I don’t know where I found the confidence to think I was so important. While I was talented and involved in everything–honor student, community service volunteer, musician, actor, artist, Future Business Leader of America, dancer, costume designer, puppeteer, “IT guy,” sports guru, leader, etc.–I was wounded in a way I could never forget, and yet I tried to repress it. My parents got divorced when I was a child and in the wake of the destruction of their relationship I was emotionally abused and utterly lost faith in people. I lived my life trying to please everyone around me. Trying to be perfect in everything I did. Trying to vindicate my life by working without rest until I forced success on my life. And I never let anyone in my personal bubble because I was afraid. Afraid of rejection, abandonment, and abuse. Here I was, the girl with everything–talent, intelligence, beauty–and yet I felt no self-worth. I smile with my straight A’s as my teacher chooses to read my essay aloud to the class, as I am chosen to sing the biggest solo in the choir performance; but inside my mind was plagued with thoughts of suicide. Why?!? I have everything I need! I am perfect. I am who everyone wants to be. But it creeps in. You don’t even notice as your world becomes dark. You’re trying to repress the pain, but its swallowing you whole. And it is nothing you did wrong. It is all because of something someone else did. And even worse, something done to you, you don’t even know or remember. It is so much harder to forgive someone when you don’t even know that you need to forgive them.

I feel for Hannah because I was in the same boat. Different issues, but same obstacles nonetheless. My parents didn’t tell me everything that happened, didn’t relay everything that was important for me to know because they were trying to cover their sins, their mistakes, and their parents mistakes. But none of us can be free until we hear the truth! We can’t forgive unless there is something to forgive. But when we do come to the realization that everything in our lives wasn’t perfect. We have to set down the burden that is weighing on our hearts and take a leap of faith to offer up that forgiveness. To be the bigger person. To start a new cycle. A cycle of forgiveness.

That emotional connection is the greatest thing that can come out of a film in my opinion; but not the only great thing to come out of this film. It’s funny how the little moments in life add up to something great, sometimes. When my parents got divorced and all the family’s possessions were divided up, my mother somehow scored the family video camera my grandfather bought us. My father recorded family videos of every occasion. My mother, on the other hand, has a hard time turning on anything with a power button. Me? I could program the VCR before I could walk. And I loved that video camera! Granted I could only carry it for a few moments, and had to build “tripods” to set it up for long periods of time. Film has always been my favorite medium to tell stories. I do draw, paint, design clothes, play guitar, sing, design and write; but taking everything I do and putting it together… creates an unmatched feeling of success. I wrote scripts, drew storyboards, got all the neighborhood kids to act, designed sets and costumes, etc. It was my world to escape from the one I was in. And my way to express myself. Tell my story. I would later go to film school. And build my own PC designed specifically for video editing.

October Baby made me reflect on my life. And inspired me to follow my own dreams. To me, filmmaking was always a hobby. And an incredible waste of my college education to “study” it. But it is a passion I cannot get rid of. But I don’t want to struggle to make lame independent films no one sees. And I don’t want to go to Hollywood to sell my soul to please someone else. I never saw an outlet for my passion. But the Erwin brothers found it. And I’m inspired to follow in their footsteps. To be a part of something like October Baby.

The cinematography is gorgeous in this film. It’s not a home video shot by amateurs. Some of the shots took my breath away. Alabama has never looked so good. The acting was phenomenal. Every one of the actors seemed to embrace their role and live it; it wasn’t a cheesy production made with whoever close happened to make it to the shoot. The script was well thought out. Words chosen to make an impact without straying or rambling about unnecessary elements. The difficult to achieve balance between drama and comedy was spot on. This movie had me balling my eyes out, and yet left goofy one-liners in my mind I’ll be repeating forever. It was nothing I thought it would be. But, everything I could have hoped for. A message with the potential to touch and change lives; but without being “preachy” or “hokie”. It finished and I wanted to watch it again. And the most touching thing for me to see was watching the credits as more than half of the audience still glued to their chairs watched the names of those people involved in the creation of this film roll across the big screen. I love that. If my name was on that list, I’d want everyone to see it, too. And it’s touching to see an audience that cares about who and what went into the production of a film. I probably sound like I’m gushing. But I was completely caught off guard at how much I enjoyed this film. A diamond in the ruff of the film industry today. I hope that when the movie is released widespread in March 2012 that people go out to see a great movie. Forget the hype about it being “anti-abortion,” forget the idea that it’s a “Christian” film so it must be “preachy” and horribly acted. It’s a great movie. One worth the inflated theatre pricing.

Every life is beautiful; sometimes we need to hear the story of others to be assured of the beauty of our own. My challenge to you, is go watch the film and note that beauty. Find the courage to ask yourself, “Who am I?” Be honest with yourself. You are not your circumstances. It is what you do that defines who you are. Not your title or your career, but what you DO.

Who am I? I’m a writer. I am a daughter of God. I am chosen. I am an artist. I am a creative dreamer. I am a story teller. I am my talents. I am my future. I am Mel Sigrist; and I am a filmmaker.

Note: This is an archive post originally from my Faith & Filmmaking blog.