Starting Over
My sketchpad sits on the shelf, untouched. My journal, the constant companion of the last couple decades of my life, has dwindled to almost nothing. I wrote my first letter in over a year just last week. I don't actually remember the last time I made time to just sit and read something interesting that was unrelated to my job or my schooling. I hear a lot of mothers say the same. Difference is, I'm not a mother. I had expectation that upon getting married, my life would change; I would no longer have to fill as many moments with hobbies or pastimes, because I would be able to do things with my husband, and/or I would get to spend more time building our marriage. However, after the first few weeks of marriage, I instead have spent the past two years trying frantically to glue pieces of myself back together, hoping against hope that the rejection and unfaithfulness on his part would be replaced with repentance and a new start. At the end of a 2-year battle to save my