We Travel Paths to Either Warn or Celebrate It With Others

“If you want to know where to find your contribution to the world, look at your wounds. When you learn how to heal them, teach others.”—Emily Marourian

One day I was having lunch with my high school teacher. She was my friend and mentor. We met periodically to chat about all things life.

“You need to shepherd people through divorce,” she said.

“I am trying to do that,” I said.

“No,” she said. “I mean it. I have lost two husbands. I make sure I am there for widows. It’s part of my purpose.”

“I believe that,” I said. “I believe what’s happened to me is a part of my purpose too. It’s why I write about it. It’s why I try to be there for people who are experiencing a divorce.”

I’m a deeply spiritual person.

I thank my mother for passing that along to me.

It freed me from self-pity, and victimization. It’s allowed me to look for the good that comes from bad. It’s allowed me to take my pain, and acknowledge it as my purpose.

If my divorce had been a year, or two I don’t think I would have viewed it as my purpose. It would have been a moment in time. A temporarily painful experience.

If my divorce hadn’t been abusive I don’t think I would have viewed it as my purpose. I would have viewed it as the typical divorce. I would have regarded it as horrible and been grateful it was behind me.

Likewise…

I don’t think my high school mentor would have regarded tending to widows as her purpose had she lost her first husband, and moved on with her second husband.

But she didn’t.

She lost two husbands at a young age.

Her faith told her that she had to be there for people who experienced the same tragedy. She wasn’t unlike my mother. They both found joy in life no matter what they experienced.

I remember the first year of my divorce.

All hell was breaking loose.

My husband had unleashed his fury.

He was making sure I paid for leaving him.

I was running interference. I was talking repo guys out of my driveway, shaking while sheriff’s deputies knocked on my door, begging the mortgage people not to repossess our home.

“I think you’re pretending to be happy for my sake,” said my 14-year-old son.

“No,” I said. “I’m not pretending. As long as I have God, and you boys I have everything.”

I can thank my mom for that.

She taught me to live my purpose. The Irish Catholic momma that she was rarely gave practical advice. Instead, she repeatedly said the same two things.

“This too shall pass.”

Or…

“Put it in the hands of The Lord.”

I’ve thought about that a lot these past ten years. I’ve missed her the most when I needed her the most…during an overly long, and abusive divorce. I’ve wished I could talk to her.

I’ve longed for what she would tell me.

But of course, I already know.

It would be one of those two things. She would remind me that our pain is our purpose. She would remind me there is no long-term sorrow in our wounds.

We were meant to experience them.

We aren’t put here to live within our own four walls.

We are put here to touch people outside of our four walls.

We travel path’s to either warn, or celebrate it with others. We are meant to take unpleasant paths to help others learn from our pain, mistakes, or unpleasantness.

Likewise…

We take some extraordinary paths to celebrate it with others.

We experience something wonderful, something unusual, something remarkable, breathtaking, or a miracle, and we are meant to share it as a part of our experience.

We are meant to elevate it.

We are meant to share it as a part of our purpose.

I didn’t want what happened to me.

I didn’t want my children to experience the pain they withstood from my mistakes. I wouldn’t wish what I experienced on anyone, let alone children who didn’t deserve it.

I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

I didn’t want to live in fear.

I could never have imagined I’d be afraid of a man I vowed to love for life.

I couldn’t have imagined I wouldn’t have food to feed my kids. I couldn’t have anticipated the fight of my life to protect my children from another parent.

I never saw the abuse coming.

Until my then-husband waged a war.

Or maybe, I didn’t want to believe he was capable of abusing a woman, and children. Maybe I was in denial. Maybe I ignored everything a psychologist marriage counselor was trying to tell me.

I can’t relive it.

I can only learn from it.

I can only help others avoid it.

It’s a part of my purpose.

“If you want to know where to find your contribution to the world, look at your wounds. When you learn how to heal them, teach others.” — Emily Marourian

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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