My story is still being written— both literally and figuratively. While I am excited that my memoir is underway, it is my pleasure to share a little here about my “why” and the passion behind helping others develop the strength and courage to help themselves.

Many years ago, my former spouse and I were taking one of our many drives back to our hometown, Chicago. Being a military family, we shared a total of seven different homes in three states, and going back to our native stomping grounds was always a treat. In a burst of optimism, this time I announced that someday I would write a book and share the shocking things God has brought us through while restoring our marriage. I imagined the readers would say “If God can heal THAT, certainly we can make it!” This was my attempt at speaking life into the marriage, creating space for hope and a beautiful future, and giving purpose to the trouble we were enduring. This was my second time promising myself “When I get through this, I am going to help other couples who are suffering in silence.” The only difference this time was a few years, having welcomed our first child, and sharing my plan out loud. He looked over at me, thoughtfully, and spoke in contemplative agreement. His soul, however, unbeknownst to me, was in a state of panic. At the very thought of his private struggles eventually becoming public, something happened within him that night, and I would not comprehend it for many years.

As soon as we reached our destination, there was a warm welcome from our friends with whom we would spend the weekend. They had other friends over at the time, and we joined them in the living room. It felt great to finally end a long drive and enter a home void of sneers, interrogative questions, “shade,” or judgments. We had learned over the years the places where we would find rest, and those to avoid. But this time, something was different. Almost as soon as we’d hugged and kissed everyone and sat down, he began to spew some of the most salacious details of one of his many secrets that I had been holding in a torn heart. A room that is always filled with meaningful conversation, singing, and laughter, suddenly fell completely silent. I knew this was one of the few places where he felt truly accepted— truly free to be himself— but this was a new level, even for an affiliative extrovert. Instead of the transparency he had come to know was welcomed in this home, we were witnessing a sudden, completely off-topic and unprovoked, self-exposure.

Stunned and in complete disbelief, I began to gather our little one in an attempt to escape the stifling discomfort that had suddenly taken over the peace-filled and jovial atmosphere, under the guise of putting our son to bed. After all, it was late and he had been stuck in a car seat for a little over 4 hours. The lady of the house stopped me with “No, Val, you stay. Let him put the baby to bed.” And so I did. The secret was out. Well, not completely. These were people who could be trusted to hold our hearts and not gossip, so most of our friends and family would not know for many years— the general public for many more. What I didn’t know that day— and could not have possibly imagined— was the massive, public spectacle that would be made when his spirit had become so crushed that not a shred of dignity remained… and that his mind was made up to take whatever was left of my dignity down in flames with his own. There is nothing like divorce. While many describe it as “a death” (which is true), this sentiment fails to precisely describe the experience of divorcing a partner who suffers from debilitating mental health challenges.

Today, that experience is but a vapor, with my part in its inferno at an end. And my story? Thanks to God’s guidance, healing power, and the wise counsel of people He placed in my life, it is without the stench of smoke. My story is thriving, evolving daily, and ready to be poured with loving generosity into the cups of those who thirst for what my life in that furnace produced: the hope of restoration, the miracle of renewal, and the strength to rediscover and rebuild a true, God-given identity.

My journey is one of walking out of flames and into freedom— with my dignity intact. This can be your story, too, no matter how bleak the present may appear to be. Dare to believe, and I will commit to walk alongside and believe with you. Your healing and future awaits. You need only go forth, and possess it.