Anne Marie Miller

Tag: friends

  • Advice for Helping People Going Through a Divorce

    Divorce is not something new to me. As I think back through my childhood, I clearly remember many of my friends’ parents getting divorced. In my mid-twenties, two of my best friends, married for almost ten years, split (as did each of their siblings, who were also friends of mine). Then two more friends…and two more.

    As I shared in the post on my own divorce, I never thought my marriage would end. And while the news is still fresh in the public eye, being separated and divorced is a reality I’ve been walking through for almost a year.

    Because we chose to keep our private life private as we traveled that journey, only a small group of friends, people in our church, counselors, and a few colleagues and pastors knew what we were going through. Reflecting over the last several months has awakened my analytical mind, and I’ve been intentionally processing how many of our relationships have changed, what’s added to the pain, and what’s helped relieve it.

    Some questions and comments I’ve frequently heard over the last month are:

    “What advice do you have for friends going through a divorce?”

    “Are there any resources you’ve found that have helped you, or that you’d recommend for me to help my friends?”

    “I just don’t know what to do or what to say to them.

    “I don’t want to get in their business.”

    Because these remarks occur on a daily basis, I thought it’d be best to share two thoughts with you – one on things that helped me and one on things that hurt.

    Keep in mind, these are unique to me and every relationship is different, so please don’t assume I’m an expert by any stretch of the imagination.

    —

    WHAT TO DO:

    Be there.

    Just because you don’t know what to say doesn’t mean you shouldn’t say anything. In fact, most of the time it’s better that you don’t say anything at all except to acknowledge what your friend is feeling is real (and is usually pretty rotten).

    Here’s the catch. When a relationship is ending, especially a marriage, it physically feels as if your soul has been ripped out of your body. People going through this change will likely not have the strength to reach out to you. We will feel that we’re a burden or that the only thing we have to talk about is how sad, angry, lonely, or afraid we are. Most of us don’t want to be Debbie Downers, but we feel as if we epitomize that character in a season like this.

    Not only do we not want to bring people down with us, we don’t have the strength to engage with others.

    This is why it’s so important you reach out constantly to your friends. I’m an introvert and I tend to isolate myself when I’m going through a hard time. During the worst six months, I had friends texting, calling or emailing daily and at times willing to drive through snowstorms to pick me up and take me to the only open café in town with no agenda at all but to be with me. Sometimes we talked about the situation. Other times, we talked about music, or watched TV, or we didn’t even talk at all.

    Knowing our friends are pursuing us helps remove the weight of loneliness that haunts us. And don’t worry…if you think you may be intruding or being overbearing, if we really need some time alone, we’ll let you know.

    WHAT NOT TO DO:

    Don’t disappear or blow Jesus smoke.

    Don’t ignore the situation. If someone reaches out to you to even make you aware of the what’s happening, even if you have nothing to say back, just say you’re sorry. That is enough.

    When I sent an email out to an expanded (but still small) group of friends and acquaintances a few weeks before my blog post went up, about 90% of the fifty or so people responded. The 10% that didn’t were people I had traveled with, shared stages with, signed books with, who had endorsed my books, or I endorsed theirs. After no response from the email, or from the blog post, or any acknowledgment whatsoever that they even received the information, I re-evaluated my relationship with them. Sadly, many of the friendships I thought were based on mutual respect weren’t. They were simply relationships of benefit and circumstance. Coming to that realization hurt, and I had to make changes in the way I view those relationships now.

    There is a medical term called body dysmorphic disorder which essentially means you believe something about your body image that isn’t true. For example, many people who struggle with eating disorders literally see their bodies as being significantly larger than they are in reality. For me, this has translated into an emotional association. I realize I don’t have actual leprosy, but I often feel like a leper; that I’m contagious, or unclean. I feel people need to stay on the other side of the road. And when friends disappear, it adds to this misconception.

    Please don’t disappear.

    Also, don’t assume that “ministry” or cliché “Christianese” will stitch up our bleeding hearts.

    Be Jesus. Don’t just talk about him.

    I recently received an email from a pastor who shared about a friend currently in the middle of a divorce: “My prayer is that he will wake up to this hurting world around him and engage,” he wrote.

    I can only hope this pastor’s heart is in the right place, however, I wrote him back and explained to him the last thing we can do when we are this broken is to jump back into the world and “wake up and engage” and care for others…especially when our own pain is so new.

    This is one of the times the church needs to “reach in and engage with the people around them who are hurting,” not the other way around as this pastor indicated.

    Please keep in mind I don’t think this implies people going through a divorce should expect to be waited on hand and foot and maintain a completely selfish existence. By making our health and recovery a priority, we will naturally emerge back into a place where we can serve out of abundance – not pressure.

    —

    HERE IS THE BOTTOM LINE:

    Be there for your friends. Grieve with them. Celebrate with them. Give them lots of chocolate and hugs and hold them tightly. Don’t worry about having nothing to say. Pursue them. Pray for them. Love them. Constantly let them know you have their back.

    Don’t fall off the face of the earth. Yes, it’s uncomfortable…for both us and you.

    And please, for the love of God, don’t shove Him down our throats. He’s already here with us, and we all know it. We are each made in His likeness, so go show compassion, be compassion, and live compassion instead of misusing a “happy Bible verse” to cheer someone up.

    Sometimes at the right time, those scriptures are what we need to hear. But especially when the brokenness is new, most of the time we need to hear, “This sucks. I love you. And no matter what, I have your back. Always.”

  • Why God Hates Divorce – A Big Life Change for Me

    Things have been quiet for me online for the last few months, and that’s been very intentional. Time is a limited commodity, and I needed to invest it in my marriage and my faith.

    When I turned thirty years old, I had a birthday dinner. Thirty is kind of a milestone, so I decided to go a little fancy: a dozen friends and colleagues at a upscale bistro. I look back at pictures from that night.

    I was smiling. Glowing. Maybe even radiant.

    Some people dread turning thirty. I looked forward to it. It had a sense of accomplishment. Of being grown up. Of responsibility. Stability.

    Well, thirty fooled me. There’s been little stability. Little accomplishment, at least personally – and let’s face it – that’s what  matters most. Lots of mistakes. Lots of grief, hope, and uncertainty. Right now, I’m extremely afraid of what the future holds. At the same time, over the last year, I’ve never felt more cocooned in a loving and warm community.

    I guess that’s a paradox of pain and vulnerability.

    This month, I turn thirty one. There’s no fanfare around thirty-first birthdays. There’s nothing special. And for me, this birthday is more infantile in some regard. I’m awkwardly pulling myself up and trying to take my first steps (again).

    You see, I never expected to be divorced at the age of thirty one. Or ever.

    But I am.

    Yes, I am.

    (As I sit and type these words, it seems surreal. If it weren’t for my heart racing and the deep breaths I am struggling to take as I type and re-read this post, I would think I am having some sort of out of body experience.)

    Chris and I got married on June 27, 2003 in Kansas City. An almost eight year marriage was a flag I waved loud and proud. I thought we were strong. I thought we were invincible. And as a wise man once said, it’s pride that comes before a fall.

    As a friend of mine shared with me, I can see why the Scriptures say God hates divorce. It’s not that he hates either of us (although at times, it’s easy to believe otherwise), but he hates what the brokenness of divorce does to the very souls of a man and his wife. He hates what it does to the people who love them. And even the people who maybe they’ve never met.

    We both are extremely heartbroken. The last year has been a roller coaster for us and those near us. We have felt helpless. We have felt hopeful. We have been hurt by each other. We have been helped by each other. And we both love each other. And we both support each other as we continue to walk forward.

    But our relationship has changed. Our marriage is over.

    I realize this news may disappoint some of you. If it does, I’m sorry. I am disappointed. Chris is disappointed. As many have said, nobody goes into a marriage thinking it will end because what you have is different and is special. You never would imagine there will be a season when your body aches and you are desperate for the relief sleep brings because of how much you’ve wept at the death of something so sacred, so familiar, so full of expectation.

    In order to respect both mine and Chris’ privacy, I would ask that you not make assumptions or get involved in any conversations that make assumptions on “what happened?” I know that is the question of the hour when things like this are disclosed and I have seen (and at times spoken) ugly and untrue things when others I know have not lived up to my (or even their own) expectations.

    Then why?

    I ask myself that question often, too. It’s complex, as most life-changing decisions are. As we have walked down this dark road, we have been surrounded by family, friends, spiritual mentors, counselors, and groups. We have been entirely open and truthful with these people, and some things – like the details of ending our relationship – aren’t meant for public consumption. Please trust me when I say we have not taken lightly the many consequences the decision of a divorce brings, and without any further explanation than this, I will simply say that our marriage was broken. It’s odd to type that, as if a marriage is a toy or a gadget that just “breaks.” But because it is layered with so many things, that’s the only word I can find to describe our circumstances.

    We, along with God and others in our lives, have tried desperately to fix it, to bring it back to life, to see a broken covenant redeemed. But in order to preserve peace and love in our relationship, our marriage ended.

    With a broken heart, that’s all I can say.

    What about “Permission to Speak Freely?” I still believe it — now more than ever. The details, the pain, the mistakes, the frustrations are meant to be shared and as stated earlier, have been shared. But they are to be shared privately with those who are closest to us. That is what we have done.

    And it’s with an unspeakable pain that I share this news with you.

    ___

    With this change in life, I’ve decided to take a considerable amount of time off from a busy schedule to allow myself to love and be loved. To take time to listen instead of talk. To heal. To continue fanning the flame of the fire that is burning up any kind of ego I had tied to my identity. To continue getting help and counseling.

    I wrestled with writing this, but Chris and I both agreed it was a good idea because we have shared much of our lives with you, and you have shared much of your lives with us. We value that, and don’t take it for granted at all. Thank you for that privilege. I also wrestled with turning comments off on this post, but am taking the advice of others and leaving them open, hoping and praying regardless of your view on this decision, you will exercise grace and humility in your words. I am not the only one reading these comments. Please keep that in mind. Obviously, our hearts are broken and grieving and I will openly admit I am terrified of what could potentially be said. But I take full responsibility for my decisions and actions and with my faith, family, and friends, take one shaky step at a time as life continues down a new and different path.

    We appreciate you, your prayers, and your grace during this time, and the times to come.

    With love,
    Anne