God, this is hard.

This week, I think I finally convinced Joe that I’m not going to leave and he helped me realize that I’ve been withholding my heart from him. I’m trying to give it to him, but I’m terrified. It was especially hard when it felt like he was pushing me away. He said it’s because he wants me to leave, that it would hurt less for me to go be with someone else than have to watch me experience all the pain he’s caused. He wants me to leave him. It’s hard to stay, but I’ve made up my mind. So long as he’s serious about his recovery and doesn’t have sex with another person, I’m staying.

That wasn’t enough to convince him though. Not after January. I had to tell him my lengthy plan for what a divorce would look like: a violation, a year of separation, then paperwork. It’s a plan I’ve crafted because I thought I might have to use it. I didn’t know, but he’s been thinking at any moment I could hand him divorce paperwork.

So we solved that issue. Kind of.

Today, I was listening to a song about a former significant other being a big mistake. I can’t help wondering if Joe is my big mistake. Am I a fool? I keep wondering if I should have cut my losses. I’m in a spiral. One day, I’m so glad I’m here. Another day, I’m wishing I could go back and see about dating other men. I’ve never even held another man’s hand. Maybe Joe wasn’t my person—just the first person who wanted me enough to ask. I think of how innocent I was and how much he has exposed me to. It makes me angry.

Then I remember the man who sat beside me, fully clothed, on our wedding night, who pulled 100 bobby pins out of my hair. He was so tender with me that it hurts to think about. Every woman should experience that. I don’t know how that person, six months later, could choose porn. I can’t reconcile them. Joe and his inner addict. I’m married to two men: one puts flowers on my desk, the other breaks my heart into a million pieces. If I stay, I’m trapped with his inner demon. If I leave, I lose my prince charming.

I don’t know what this beautiful hell is called, but I’m not strong enough for its torment. I can’t breathe; I’m on the edge of drowning, sabotaged and saved by the same man.

God, save me. Did I marry Satan or an angel? Because he’s both.

He’s hope and fear combined. He’s both the dream and the nightmare, the enemy and the ally. When his sword falls, I don’t know who it will cut down.

Oh that I had more faith, that my love were stronger, that my forgiveness came easily. Maybe if I were a milder sort, I could share him with his sin. But I’m not the meek, submissive wife. I will not share. I will not stand to the side. I will not make true the lies Satan whispers in his mind. I will choose this when Satan tells Joe he can never be chosen. I will love with the ferocity God gave me—violent to what stands between us. I will not lose Joseph. He’s in there fighting, and I will not abandon him. I will not let the devils in his mind isolate him again. My torment eases his. I have given so much, but I will still give more. Because my God made me a warrior—I just didn’t know it was for this battle. In the last days, good wins. Evil is vanquished. So, until my general tells me stop the fight, I’ll soldier on.

If nothing else, my pursuit will teach me more about Christ’s love. He doesn’t sacrifice us on the altar of Satan’s appetite—even when we run toward it. He fights for us, even when we have given up, even when we hurt Him so deeply. So, if Christ can forgive me, surely I can forgive Jake.

Because it’s up to me. This marriage is up to me. I can forgive infidelity and point us toward healing or I can sever whatever this is. If those are the options, it isn’t hard to see which is the better option—even if it’s terrifying.