The Anniversary of What Should’ve Been and What it Was Not

Today marks what would’ve been my 21st wedding anniversary. But we’ve been separated for over two years now, and the legal end is in sight. If I’m honest, I’ve been trying to leave this marriage for nearly 19 of those 21 years.

There were times I almost left. Times I packed the bags—mine or his. Times I did leave, and lived elsewhere for years, but somehow he would weasel his way back in, and then, there I was, stuck again. So many times, I stood in front of the mirror and tried to convince myself to stay. Or to go. But mostly, I stayed. I stayed and tried. And then I tried some more.

Blowing Smoke and Broken Promises

He was full of ideas. Good ones, sometimes, bad ones, crazy ones, but 99% of the time, they were just words.  No actions. He said yes, a lot—yes, I’ll fix that, yes, I’ll try harder, yes, we’ll get through this. But the doing never followed the saying. He cheered me on like I was some superhero—told me I was amazing, brilliant, resourceful. But that praise became his pass to check out. If I was the superhero, he could remain a child. He could play on the computer and buy collectables with his infrequent pay.

I was the one fighting the wolves and dragons at the door. I worked 15-hour days and weeks, at times, cried myself to sleep, and bore the weight of too many burdens alone. Financial stress, parenting decisions, and the upkeep of life all sat squarely on my shoulders. He skipped through daisies while I clawed through thorns. I didn’t sign up for that! I had already been a single mom raising 3 kids alone for 11 years, I needed a husband, a partner, not an overgrown man-child.

And yet, I stayed.

Why I Stayed (And Why It Broke Me).

There was guilt.

Guilt from my prior divorce and my sons growing up without their dad around. How much that broke their little hearts. I didn’t want my baby girl to go through that, too. I carried so much guilt. Not just about the kids or marriage, but the spiritual guilt as well.

I love Jesus. But for years, I was part fo a very charismatic, fundamental, evangelical Christian community. I subscribed to teachings that told me marriage was forever, no matter what. In theory, I still agree that it is ideal if the two can work through the challenges of marriage. But marriage should not be a free ride to one and a burden to the other, for the whole time. It’s a partnership where you lean on each other at different times through the journey of life. Ours was not that, but I also stayed because deep down in my heart, I felt divorce was a failure. That leaving, especially again, felt deeply like a kind of moral bankruptcy.

This wasn’t my first marriage. I had already walked away once. Though in that marriage my spouse had been unfaithful, and the church "approved" of my choice to leave but, this still resulted in my older boys growing up without their father. I carried that pain like a second skin, wondering if I’d ruined their childhoods, broken something in them I could never fix. So I stayed this time, trying not to fail again. Trying to believe that perseverance and faith could cover everything,

But no matter how long I waited it out, or how hard I tried to fix it, I could never fix him.

It wasn’t my job to fix him but I stayed too long, even so.

Collateral Damage

Sadly, his behavior and choices didn't just hurt me. He damaged my relationship with my oldest son, so much so that we barely speak to this day. Even our daughter, the only child we share biologically, carries a deep disappointment in him and very little faith in God as a result. She watched her dad over-promise and under-deliver to me, to her, and everyone in our lives. Watching him drift. Watching me fight alone and knowing it was wrong effected her deeply.

My sons, who aren’t his, saw it too. They saw the imbalance, the financial destruction, the broken promises, the foolishness, they saw their mother exhaust herself for someone who wouldn’t lift a hand unless it served him. They saw it all, and they grew to despise him.

There was never any violence or even abuse in the way you think, but to check out and be a child instead of a full partner in a relationship, competing with the children for their mother’s attention, is manipulation and very toxic. The pettiness and childish behaviors were destructive and far-reaching.

Who I Am Now

I’ve been a mother since I was 18 years old. I’ve never been an adult without being a mom. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything. But now, at 56, I’m standing on new ground. The kids are grown. The home is quieter most days, and the mirror asks different questions.

Who am I when no one is calling me “Mom” every five minutes? Who am I without the weight of someone else’s failures on my back? Who am I when I stop apologizing for wanting peace?

How do I dig out of the hole that has been dug? What do I want to do with my life going forward?

I’m figuring that out—one journal page, one breath, one wildflower at a time. That’s what Wild and Graceful Living is becoming. Not just a brand. Not just a blog. It’s my blueprint for healing. A quiet revolution of choosing myself.

If You’ve Been There…If you’ve ever been the binder glue in a one-sided storybook…If you’ve stayed too long because the church said “keep praying,”” just try to be a better wife,”…If you’ve walked away and still wonder if it was your fault—I see you.

You are not a failure. You are not broken. You are not alone.

Here’s to the women who stayed, who left, who are still deciding. Here’s to the ones who believed in love, and now believe in themselves.

Today is not an anniversary.

 It’s not an argument for or against divorce.

It’s a release.

It’s an opportunity for reflection, and it’s a beginning.

Tamara Bernal

April 23, 2025