I sat with a friend recently, warming my hands over a fire pit as the nights here in Colorado begin to slide into fall. What she and her family have been through is nothing short of horrific, and it felt sacred to listen to her story in relative silence.
They’re on the other side of tragedy now–the side they weren’t sure they’d ever see. But because they made it through the trauma, she explained quietly, everyone thought they were okay now.
When my husband and I tied the knot, I was pounds lighter–and not just because that was four kids ago. I was peering over the edge of anorexia.
My carefully constructed salads for most meals and stringent rules for all things eating meant I was consuming around 1200 calories a day. I jogged relentlessly. And I was only beginning to recognize the deep dysfunction beneath my white-knuckled control over my life–complete with spiritual overtones.
Genevieve’s voice poured through the phone to me. She’s a former pastor’s wife still wading through court proceedings following a horrific, jarring divorce. That’s not to mention the affair, the pregnant mistress, the mental disorders and gaslighting. Her descriptions called to mind a life upturned, shaken violently, spilled. How do you help a friend grieving after divorce?
Some pieces of her former life had temporarily skittered beyond vision: Her ally in the world’s onslaught. Financial security. A co-parent and advocate for their boys. Her helper to pick up the kids or fix the washing machine. A calm presence after a nightmare. Someone to process the day with. A lover of her body.
Heartrending news landed in the New York Post this week: Divorce rates spiked 34% between March and June this year.
According to the article, 31% admitted quarantine caused “irreparable damage” to their relationships.
![Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language](https://www.janelbreitenstein.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/love-languages-text-1.jpg "Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language")
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