
This photo was taken when I was in the heart of hell. I'm on the left.

I barely recognize myself. In my mind I thought I looked pretty good, considering my complicated marital status. I was lunching with a friend, celebrating her son’s engagement.
However, looking at my eyes, I see a hollow woman trying to understand what her life had become. Sleepless, not eating, homeschooling, financially terrified, and feeling totally alone.
No one understood my world, and I didn’t bother explaining it to many people. Why would anyone want to empathize with me? It’s like asking someone to climb into a dumpster and sit with me under the rotting trash, tolerating vomitous smells and mushy disgusting byproducts of rotting food. My divorce was a gruesome explosion of inescapable shrapnel.
I was barely standing. I’m sad my kids had to see me like that. I wonder if they remember how I looked.
I wasn’t experiencing a good divorce.
Prior to divorce, my life in our faith community was stable, and I was extremely active. I created a women’s ministry in our church for moms, volunteered in the nursery weekly, made sure my kids were invested in their faith by taking them to youth every Wednesday. I volunteered for VBS. I did all the right things.
But when divorce became a part of my story, everything came to a screeching halt.
My divorce was slowly and methodically ripping away everything that was predictable. Financial stability, consistent family life, homeschooling . . . the only solid thing I knew was that I had a house.
My divorce proceedings caused my faith to become vaporous and uncertain. I watched my church of 10 years become a hazy home. People didn’t know what to do with me.
So, my focus shifted from what I thought was a stable faith to the unknown chaos of imminent divorce.
I was living in a purgatory pit. I’m not sure how else to describe this fracturing of my future. It’s the time between filing for divorce and finalizing divorce. My door to the underworld opened when I filed for divorce in January 2017. My purgatory pit didn’t end until December 2018 when I entered a courtroom. I lived in my purgatory pit for 24 months.
For many women, the purgatory pit includes waiting for random income from their husbands, attempting uncomfortable communication with their spouse, and fearing that anything they do wrong (with no idea what constitutes “wrong") will result in financial disaster or even worse, losing their children. Most of the time there are no clear rules of etiquette. Even when temporary court orders are issued, if they are violated, women don’t have the income (remember they are waiting for money from their husbands) to file contempt motions. They are still at the mercy of their partner.
The purgatory pit is the place women need immediate support, but unfortunately, I have never, ever seen a church effectively help a woman residing in her purgatory pit. I’m not saying they aren’t out there (I’d love to hear from you if you do!), but the overall message from our faith community is, well, silence.
Look at me again in this picture-

my loss and pain is evident. What would have happened if my church had met me in my purgatory pit? If they sent me a casserole? Or helped me understand that sending detailed emails to my attorney of my crazy communication with my husband was costing me unnecessarily? Or had someone show up to mow my lawn?
Divorce due to relational betrayal (infidelity, deceit, abuse- covert or overt, personality disorders) is not resolved with “Divorce Care” or blanket lessons on co-parenting. These women are dazed and overcome with confusion may not know what to ask for because their world is entirely unfamiliar. They are surviving a purgatory pit.
They must create a new future, new finances, a new family, and a new faith at the same time that their hearts are in agony.
When these women realize church is not an emotional refuge, they leave. Their nervous systems are intolerant of inauthenticity and additional betrayal.
I was blessed to receive help in my purgatory pit.
Ironically, my help did not come from my church community.
· A past house cleaner showed up one day and told me she was going to clean my house for free.
· A friend from out of town called me, said she was around the corner and was taking my kids for a while so I could rest.
· One evening a group of boys, obviously in senior high school, walked up to me in my cul-de-sac and just handed me an envelope with a Kroger gift card in it.
· A pest control guy knocked at my door and tried to sell me his product while pointing out the bugs infesting my yard. With tears rolling down my face, I thanked him for the information but shared that I didn’t have the money for his services. When I closed my door, I saw him back away from my door and begin spraying for bugs in my yard anyway.
Those were my support team, and none of them came from my church.
If people I barely knew helped me, what stopped the “Jesus” people I thought I knew from helping me?
I’d like to assume you just didn’t know how. So, my faith community, here are some ideas.
1. Deliver groceries
2. Cook meals
3. Send gift cards
4. Offer childcare
5. Recommend attorneys
6. Offer divorce education
7. Donate tuition support
8. Pay for sport activities
9. Transport children to activities
10. Pray with them
11. Clean their house
12. Supply lawn care
13. Provide organizational ideas
14. Offer financial education
15. Encourage future financial planning
Offer these women surviving the purgatory pit the ability to embrace the certainty of your encouragement, instead of allowing them to fear the uncertainty of your judgement.
Help give her a good divorce.

Find more support at www.coachinghope4u.com or www.notacasserolewidow.com

You can read my latest workbook for women divorcing due to betrayal HERE.
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