Why I Cried in Church Last Sunday

Nope, it wasn’t the sermon even though I thought the sermon was quite good, right on target (although in most mainstream Christian churches I imagine it would’ve been met with pure hatred), but it wasn’t the kind of sermon that makes one cry. No, the children didn’t sing in their cherubic voices so no tears over their extreme cuteness. It wasn’t even the list of prayer concerns that were read before the pastoral prayer even though there were several that touched me. Nope, the reason I cried in church last Sunday was because when I arrived early to prepare for my stint as liturgist the pastor asked me, “How are you doing?”

The conversation went something like this:
Pastor: TS! Good to see you! Let’s go sit and talk about this morning’s service.
TS: Good to see you too.
(Pastor and TS walk into the sanctuary and sit down in the very back. The choir is practicing up front.)
Pastor: (concerned look on face) How are you doing?
TS: Okay, I guess. (Tears start to well up in eyes.)
Pastor: You know BJ emailed me about you a couple of weeks ago. I hope you don’t mind.
TS: No, I told him it was okay. BJ and I are no longer together by the way.
Pastor: W shared with me that he is moving back into the house. Is that a good thing, or a bad thing? Oh, I can see by the look on your face it’s a bad thing.
TS: (A tear or two escapes the lower eyelids to trickle down TS’s cheek) It’s a good thing for W, but it’s not a good thing for me. W needs somebody to take care of him, and since BJ and I aren’t seeing each other anymore. . . (TS shrugs her shoulders and wipes the tears from her face.)
Pastor: Oh TS, I’m so sorry.
TS: You know what my worst fear is? (Fighting hard, unsuccessfully, to keep the tears from rolling) My worst fear is. . . is that. . . (choking back tears) is that when people hear that we’re back together they’ll say “Oh isn’t that wonderful!” But it isn’t wonderful at all.
Pastor: (Giving TS a big hug) I understand. I really do.
TS: It’s okay. Let’s just focus on the service for now. It’ll get my mind off my troubles.
(Pastor and TS put their heads together and go over details for the service.)

So there it is, W is moving back into the house. Why, you ask?

Well, there are a number of reasons:
(1) he is being evicted from his current residence because Q wasn’t paying her share of the rent and he can’t afford to pay her share in addition to his own so she’s moving back to where she came from,
(2) he had surgery last week to insert rods in his arm where this summer’s breaks are not healing (Did I mention here before that he broke his arm this summer? If not, he did, from walking on a sidewalk and stepping off the edge. He broke his upper arm in three places, fortunately not his dominant arm.) so he needs assistance for a while until it heals and he is stronger (In addition to surgery, they gave him two pints of blood and started him on an iron supplement because his CBC was so low.),
(3) I currently have no one else in the picture so I have no excuse not to,
(4) N is getting along with W better and begged me to let him move back in, and
(5) it assuages some of the guilt I feel for breaking my marriage vows and not taking seriously “in good times and in bad, until death you do part.”

Actions have consequences. The consequences for me marrying the wrong person are taking care of him until he dies so that I can then move on with my life.  It feels awful, and I hate it, but this is what I have chosen to do, and I will stand by my decision. As bad as it sounds, I will simply wait and hope that W dies sooner rather than later so that I don’t have to put off the start of a new life for too long.

Things are a bit different now though. The power has shifted. W is pretty much at my mercy so I am asserting myself and insisting we leave things where I put them after he moved out rather than moving them back to where he had them. I know that is a small victory but an important one for me so that I can enjoy my kitchen instead of using his kitchen. W and I won’t ever be sleeping in the same bed together again. I have grown to have as little desire for intimacy with him as he has for me. I have not put my wedding ring back on and have no intention of doing so. All of these are just little defiances, no big deal, but they mean the world to me. If I must have him in my house it will be under my rules. We are no longer life partners, haven’t been for a long time, and moving back under the same roof changes that not at all. We will no longer comingle funds. He will pay me what he can towards the household bills, and I will handle the household bills as well as my personal ones. He will handle his personal debts.

And once again, Trueself proves what a big fat loser she really is. . .