Why Didn't I See It?

Letting Go of the Questions That Keep You Stuck

Dear reader,

Have you asked yourself that question yet? Why didn't I see it?

Maybe you remember all those sleepless nights when you wondered how he could go for so long without reaching out to you sexually. Or were you like me and just “excused it away” because he was so great in so many other areas? And besides, when you did come together, it was really good. Maybe you just had a stronger sex drive than he did.

Did you ever sit with other women while they talked about being exhausted from having sex multiple times a week and play along with the conversation, all the while silently wondering, What is wrong with me that he doesn't want me that often?

Maybe your story sounds a little different, but the questions are often the same. How could I have missed the signs? Was our marriage even real? Did my husband ever really love me? Why wasn't I enough? Or perhaps the hardest question of all: Was this somehow my fault?

Oh, dear reader, how well I remember the questions.

After my husband told me he was gay, my mind seemed to go into overdrive. Suddenly, I was looking backward over 23 years of marriage, searching for clues. Was there something I should have noticed? Were there signs I had missed? Were there conversations that should have meant something different to me? How could I have shared my life, my home, my bed, my dreams, my children and my ministry with this man for all those years and not have known something this significant about him?

I wanted answers. Actually, I think I needed answers, because somewhere in my confusion, I believed that if I could just understand how this had happened, perhaps everything else would begin to make sense.

But betrayal has a way of making you question not only the person who betrayed you—it can make you question yourself. You begin questioning your judgment, your memories, your instincts and even your own ability to recognize what is true. Things that once seemed so certain suddenly aren't certain anymore.

You begin replaying conversations in your head. You remember moments from years ago and examine them through the lens of what you know now. Was that a sign? Should I have known then? Why didn't I ask more questions?

I remember something from the early days of our marriage. I was trying to strengthen our relationship by having us work through a book together that explored our relationships with our parents. When we came to that area of his life, my husband told me it was one subject we would never talk about. At the time, I accepted that boundary and moved on. Years later, after everything changed, I found myself going back to that moment and wondering, Why didn't I push harder for answers?

And before long, “Why didn't I see it?” can quietly become something much more damaging:

“What is wrong with me that I didn't see it?”

That is where I want us to stop for just a moment, because there is a tremendous difference between looking back because you want to understand your story and looking back because you are searching for a way to blame yourself for it.

I didn't know then what I know now. And neither did you.

We were living our lives based upon the information we had at the time—not the information we would discover years later. That sounds so simple when I write it now, but it wasn't simple when I was living it.

I loved my husband. I trusted my husband. Why wouldn't I? Trusting the person you made a covenant with isn't foolishness. Loving someone isn't stupidity. Believing what someone you love tells you doesn't make you weak.

Yet after betrayal, it is so easy to take the information we have today and use it to judge the woman we were then.

Please don't do that to her. She didn't know. She was building a marriage, raising children, making plans, serving God and living the life she believed was real.

She deserves your compassion too.

As I began walking through my own healing, I eventually discovered something else about all those questions. Some questions have answers. Some have partial answers. And some may never be answered this side of heaven.

That was difficult for me because I wanted everything to fit neatly into a box. If I could understand why, maybe I could understand how. And if I understood how, perhaps I could figure out what I could have done differently.

During that time, a wise counselor said something to me that I have never forgotten: “Rachel, you're trying to find a reason to make his decision your fault, because if you can make it your fault, you think you can fix it. The decision he is making really has nothing to do with you. What is going on inside him goes further back than before you ever knew him. You can't fix this; only God can.”

Those words were hard to hear, but eventually I had to face another question:

What am I still trying to fix that was never mine to fix?

That question changed something for me.

Understanding can be an important part of healing. In fact, I have learned that understanding can bring clarity, and clarity can bring peace. But understanding is not the same as taking responsibility for someone else's choices, and understanding does not mean excusing what happened.

There came a point when I had to recognize that I could spend the rest of my life trying to solve every unanswered question, or I could begin healing even while some of those questions remained unanswered.

Maybe you are there right now. Maybe you're still replaying the past or lying awake at night remembering conversations. Maybe you're wondering whether your marriage was real or questioning whether your spouse ever loved you. Maybe you're comparing yourself to someone else and asking that heartbreaking question, Why wasn't I enough?

We are going to talk about that question too. But for today, I want you to consider something. What if your inability to see what was happening wasn't evidence that something was wrong with you? What if you simply didn't know what you didn't know? What if you could stop putting the woman you used to be on trial?

Dear reader, you have already experienced the betrayal of someone you trusted. You don't need to add another wound by betraying yourself.

You are grieving more than the relationship itself. You may be grieving your sense of safety, the future you expected, the plans you made together and even your confidence in what you once believed to be true. That kind of grief takes time. You don't have to figure everything out today.

You do not need every answer before you can begin to heal.

Some questions may need to be explored. Some may eventually be answered. Others may have to be released. But none of them get to determine your worth. What happened to you is part of your story. It is not who you are.

So this week, when that familiar question comes back—Why didn't I see it?—I hope you will begin answering yourself with a little more grace.

I didn't see it because I didn't know. I loved. I trusted. I believed.

And now that you know more, you can begin deciding what you need to do with what you know. One step at a time.

We have so much more to talk about together. Until next week, dear reader, remember that you don't have to have every answer today. You don't have to carry responsibility for choices that were not yours. And you do not have to walk this road alone.

God is still with you—even in the questions.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” — Proverbs 3:5