N8tivegirl

Bitterness is a dish best served cold—or so they say. But why are you still angry after all these years? Why allow the past to keep you bound, locked in a chokehold of emotions you refuse to release? We both moved on… or at least, I have.

You use our children like pawns in a game of chess, as if life is a match between winners and losers. But the truth is, the only ones losing are the children. You can’t see it—your vision is clouded by the desire to wound me the way I once wounded you.

In this game of ours, there are no victories. Only casualties. And the quiet question lingering on the sidelines is how much more the children can endure. God have mercy on a child being raised in bitterness. That kind of infection spreads quickly—emotionally, spiritually, mentally. Yet you press on, because for you, the game was never about healing. It was always about control.

Maybe that’s why the marriage unraveled. You grew up watching a Jezebel take the lead and an Ahab shrink beneath her. I grew up watching a Hosea love a Gomer who didn’t always love herself. We entered marriage determined not to become our parents… yet somehow, their ghosts walked the aisles with us.

Your mother’s shadow hovered over everything. You needed control to feel secure. And I let you have it—until I couldn’t anymore. Until all I had left of my own manhood was a fragment I was desperate to protect. So I left. And when I did, I rebuilt. I got stronger. I became whole again.

And that—my healing—infuriates you. You grip the old storylines like they still belong to you, rewriting a story I’m no longer part of.

Counseling didn’t work. Not because it couldn’t… but because you refused to let God into the center of our marriage. So I stepped away. I rebuilt. I moved forward.

But the children… they only know survival love. They’ve learned to believe that love controls, because that is the version they’ve been shown.

All I can do now is pray—pray that God delivers you from the demons wrestling within your soul. Pray that, like Paul on the road to Damascus, you meet God face-to-face and finally encounter a breakthrough that changes everything.

Closing Prayer

Father God,

I place every fractured piece of this story in Your hands.

Heal what bitterness has broken, soothe what anger has unsettled,

and cover our children with a peace that rises above the storms they’ve witnessed.

Break every generational chain that shaped us,

every wound we inherited without asking,

and every lie that told us control was the same thing as love.

Give us the courage to release what no longer serves Your purpose,

and the grace to walk forward without resentment.

Touch the heart that still clings to anger,

and let Your light meet them—just as it met Paul—

in a way that transforms, redeems, and restores.

Protect our children, Lord.

Let them grow in the kind of love that frees, not binds.

And as You continue to rebuild me,

teach me to walk in forgiveness, strength, and peace.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.