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The Cost of Neglect
My work had become my mistress and my wife had had enough. What would happen to us?
By John Davidson | posted 9/12/2008
 2 of 5
"If you don't like it, you can get out," she exploded. "I'm not going anywhere. This is my home and my children's home. You're barely more than a stranger here."
Her words felt as if she'd stabbed me in the heart with a dagger. But I knew she was right. I would have to go.
The next day I found myself in a cheap apartment, working out child custody arrangements for our two children. The child and spousal support she demanded crushed any hope of honoring my enormous debts.
I felt alone. My parents were a great encouragement to me and prayed for me daily. Yet I couldn't look to them for any financial help since a lot of my debt was to my father. And I didn't have anyone to turn to at church, since I hadn't gone to church in years. The only one I could turn to for help was the priest at the Catholic church my wife occasionally attended. I think part of my reason for choosing him, though, was to ruin any chance of her seeking his help.
I couldn't sleep and I couldn't stop crying. Day and night my mind raced as I frantically tried to figure out how to put things back together. While I wanted to place all the blame on Maria, I couldn't escape my responsibility in what was happening. With self-loathing, I thought about all those times I'd chosen work over my family. Because I hadn't been there, Kyle was.
I found out Kyle had a reputation of preying on unhappy married women. Maria had become an easy target. With this new information, I felt a deep anger and hatred I'd never felt before, and at times it scared me. While I knew I'd never go through with it, I was filled with thoughts of wanting to kill him, to watch the last spark of life fade from his evil blue eyes.
On my bad days, suicide became an attractive option. Three things kept me from killing myself. I knew from my earlier conversation with God that he was doing something with me, and he wasn't finished. I knew I still loved Maria and desperately wanted her back and my family restored. And if all other reasoning failed, I knew I could never let Kyle have my wife, family, and home without fighting to my last breath.
The only good thing I had going was my faith in God. We were growing closer than I could have ever imagined. I'd started going to a church where a few of my physician friends were elders. They knew my situation, and the church began praying for me. On days I felt the most hopeless, I'd whisper a simple, "911," and he'd always respond with comforting Scripture, such as, "We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed" (2 Corinthians 4:7-9).
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