My Love Story with Scott (Part 1)

{God Choices: GSU} {God Choices: SOAR Leader} {God Choices: London}

Let me start this by saying that this series is going to end differently than I expected, but it will just go to show that God’s plan ultimately wins, no matter how tightly you try to cling to your own desires and interpretations of the situation.

Now, this story is one that I have been meaning to write, but have been afraid that I cannot do it justice. I’ve also felt hesitant because there is no way I could express the magnitude of the story without telling a fair amount of back story. Which means sharing personal information about family and past relationships. I hope you can take it for what it is--the story before the real story. I’ve alluded to this in my love story with Jesus series and in my previous post about London. This is the story of me and Scott. He is definitely my very favorite blessing and Spirit-led decision! Since it is so important, I will have to tell it in parts.

Growing up, I was constantly battling the convention of marriage. My parents divorced when I was 6 and my mom’s second marriage was extremely unhealthy. I would lay awake at night, listening to the thundering shouts and curses and the occasional boom and crash of something being thrown or smashed, and would swear to myself that I would never get married. I cannot count the times I packed my things with tear filled eyes, thinking that we were finally leaving, only to later be told to unpack and act like none of it ever happened. My mom would tell me that she couldn’t leave because we had no money and nowhere to go. Or they would make up and we would tip-toe around the house for a few days, or maybe weeks, trying not to upset the delicate facade of happiness veiling our lives.

I don’t want to act as if my childhood was completely miserable. There were happy times. Plenty of them. And I lived in a neighborhood with all my best friends so even when times were hard at home, I could still find happiness right outside the front door. Even so, I never, ever wanted to be in the position my parents were in. I never wanted to be stuck in an unhappy or dangerous marriage because of money. I never again wanted to live with someone who could call someone hateful names and wish awful things upon them at the drop of a hat. And no one gets married thinking that will be what life is like, right? So, how could I be sure that my future husband wouldn’t turn out just the same? If I ever did get married, I wanted to be sure that I had full independence first. I wanted my own job, my own money, and a house in my name. That way I could easily kick him out or up and leave if I needed to.

But it was a battle. It was a battle because deep down I wanted to be in love and be loved. I wanted the same moments others get to enjoy. I wanted romance and a heart-stopping proposal. I wanted the perfect wedding day, with all my friends and family there celebrating. I wanted children, and I wanted them to have happy parents. So my convictions yo-yo’d, and though the thought of marriage terrified me, I knew that one day I would want it.

And there was a boy. (Isn’t there always?) He lived across the street, and we had known each other since we were 7. I first acknowledged my crush on him when I was 11. But we were just friends.

Finally, and I mean finally, we started dating when I was 17. Our first summer together was really wonderful. He was sweet and loving and I threw my whole self, body, heart, and soul, into the relationship I had been waiting on for years. But that summer didn’t last.

We would have fights similar, but not as bad, as the ones my parents had. We had lots of issues, trust being the biggest one. We would break up and get back together just about every year.

I really don’t want to stretch this out much longer because I don’t want to make it sound like this guy was a total creep with no redeeming qualities, but I also don’t want to go on about any redeeming qualities because it’s just inappropriate. I just want you to get a picture of what my life was like.

We went at it like this for 4.5 years. Sometimes I was happy, many times I was not. But I thought that was what love and life was. It was still miles better than the things I witnessed growing up. I was actually fooled into thinking our relationship was strong and healthy! But there was more heartache than I can even explain. Every time we broke up I was completely devastated. The first time I actually ended up in a hospital bed because I made myself so physically ill that I could not eat. I weighed 115 pounds (which is crazy small for me...I’m 140 now) and I looked hollow. 

Via 

The summer that I went to London was the summer that we got back together for the last time. We swore to each other that we were going to take it seriously from then on. No more breaking up. And I meant it when I said it, though it terrified me. I wanted a sense of security, but I never really felt it. I guess I didn’t fully believe that forever meant forever. And if I thought that it might mean forever, I started to panic. One time my dad took me to a jewelry store and asked me what engagement rings I liked. It turns out he was just distracting me while my sister bought me a necklace on the other side of the store, but I had a full blown panic attack thinking that my boyfriend was going to propose on Christmas. Clearly I was broken.

And then, after coming home from London and getting back with the boyfriend for what was intended to be the long haul, I met Scott.

Trust me, the story is about to get way better! :)