Tom and I are having a hard time. The enemy is relentless in his attacks on our relationship, and I can feel the strain pulling at us from every angle. Tom’s struggles are becoming more evident—his eating habits, his attitude, his behaviors—and I find myself slipping into my old patterns, trying to fix him. I know that’s not my job, but it’s hard to watch him wrestle with disappointment in God and the feeling that others see him as a failure. His insecurities are causing him to either overemphasize himself or seek attention, and in his frustration, he’s trying to control me more—directing, instructing, treating me like a child. It hasn’t been easy, and I’m struggling to keep my reactions in check.
He admitted that he thought he’d enjoy having me home, but now he feels like I’m constantly watching him, judging his every move. I’ve encouraged him to reach out to other men for support, but he insists they’ll call him when they’re ready. I see our extremes—me, always doing, sometimes too much; him, often waiting, sometimes too long. I pray that we can find a balance between striving and resting in the Lord.
I also had to set a boundary. I told Tom I need him to take back the role of initiating prayer and worship time. I don’t want to be the spiritual leader anymore. I need him to step into that.
The meeting with the pastor keeps getting postponed, now scheduled for March 5th. Tom is fixated on it, letting it eat away at him. He can’t seem to let go of his frustration, and I see his struggle with authority creeping in again.
To make things harder, my emotions have been heightened by PMS. Everything feels more intense, and last night at the marriage class, I found myself in a situation I couldn’t escape. Tom made some comments that embarrassed me—harmless in his eyes, but he kept going, even as I felt the tears welling up. At first, we were all laughing, but then the laughter turned to something else, and once the tears started, I couldn’t stop them.
I got up from the table, went into the kitchen, and blew my nose, hoping no one would notice. But of course, they did. The embarrassment only deepened, and I wanted nothing more than to run upstairs and lock myself in my room, just like I did as a child. The memories flooded back, and for a moment, I was her again—the little girl who hid away in her room all night after feeling exposed.
But this time, I didn’t run. With God’s help, I gathered myself, forced a sheepish smile, and reentered the room. I explained that my emotions were heightened, and we were able to move forward. Looking back, I see how the enemy tried to derail the moment—right when I was talking about what Christ’s death on the cross meant for us. He wanted to silence that conversation, but God allowed us to return to it later.
Lord, I need Your help. I want to get back on track—praying for Tom, supporting him in the way You’ve called me to. I pray against the enemy’s schemes in Jesus’ name. Strengthen our relationship, protect our marriage, and help us stand together against the real enemy instead of battling each other.
Amen.
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