I still remember the day my world shattered. My marriage, the business I poured my soul into, the home I worked tirelessly to build equity in... all of it, gone. Taken by the person I trusted most. The divorce left me with scars that ran deeper than any court settlement could ever acknowledge.
In the aftermath, I made a vow to myself: I would never again open myself to that kind of pain. I would never let a woman have the power to destroy me like that again. The memory of my ex-wife's betrayal would forever be a wall between me and the idea of true vulnerability.
But life has a way of testing our resolve, doesn't it? Fast forward to today. I stood on the cliff of a new chapter, one where I was ready to settle down and purchase a home with my new wife and there it was … the ghost of my past looming large. Could I really bring myself to put her name on those papers? To risk losing half of everything I’ve worked for again?
The fear was suffocating. It felt like a betrayal of my own wounded heart to even consider it… Am I truly ready to put it all at risk again?
And then, like a whisper in the darkness, a thought emerged. It felt different than the others, heavier with a wisdom that only comes from something greater than ourselves:
"Let them keep what you gave them."
Let them keep the love, the time, the pieces of your soul... even if they walked away. Even if they gave you only pain in return. Why hold on to it? Why demand they account for what they did with your gifts? You have the ability to love again and to give again. Let them retain every memory, every fragment of the life you built together. It shaped them, even if it shattered you.
I realized that my ex-wife needed what I gave her, It changed her, even if it destroyed me. And me… I have the capacity to generate more love, more life, and more resources than what was lost.
I don't have to be a prisoner of the past. I don't have to let fear dictate who I am and how I love. I am not defined by the ways I was hurt. With a newfound sense of freedom, I knew my decision. I would put my wife's name on that deed. I will trust again, I will give again... not because I'm naive to the potential risks, but because I refuse to let my scars have the final say.
I am more than my pain. I am more than my fear and I will keep walking, keep giving and keep loving no matter what because in the end, what man takes … God restores and multiplies.
Rvr@tsr.com.mx will send it to me please