Growing Through It: The Men, the Mistakes, and the Grace That Saved Me

I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but the ones that cut the deepest were the ones I made with my heart. I didn’t set out to marry six times. I didn’t plan on five divorces. I never imagined I’d be a widow once, or that I’d spend years trying to understand why I kept choosing men who were never meant to stay.

But the truth is, I wasn’t choosing men — I was choosing patterns.

Patterns shaped by childhood wounds. Patterns shaped by loneliness. Patterns shaped by a girl who never felt truly loved, so she kept searching for someone who would finally make her feel enough.

By the time I was old enough to know better, I had already lived through more heartbreak than most people see in a lifetime. And instead of slowing down, I kept running — from pain, from emptiness, from myself. I ran into relationships the way some people run into storms, hoping the chaos would distract me from the ache inside.

Each marriage started with hope. Each divorce ended with pieces of me scattered on the floor. Each relationship left a new bruise on a heart that was already tender.

I kept telling myself, This one will be different. This one will love me right. This one will stay.

But I was choosing men from a place of brokenness, and brokenness attracts brokenness. I didn’t know my worth. I didn’t know my boundaries. I didn’t know how to love myself, so I kept begging others to do it for me.

And then came the marriage that ended not in divorce, but in death. Becoming a widow was a pain I never expected — a grief that hit differently, quietly, deeply. It forced me to face the truth I had been avoiding for years:

I didn’t know how to be alone.

I didn’t know how to sit with myself without reaching for someone to fill the silence. I didn’t know how to heal without attaching myself to the next man who promised comfort. I didn’t know how to break the cycle because the cycle felt familiar, and familiar felt safe — even when it hurt.

But here’s the part that changed everything:

God didn’t give up on me.

Not after the first marriage. Not after the fifth divorce. Not after the relationships that left me shattered. Not after the widowhood that left me hollow.

He kept pulling me back to Him, gently, patiently, lovingly. He showed me that the love I was chasing in men was a love only He could give. He showed me that my worth wasn’t tied to a ring, a last name, or a man’s attention. He showed me that healing doesn’t come from being chosen — it comes from choosing yourself and choosing Him.

For the first time in my life, I stopped running toward men and started running toward God.

And that’s when everything began to change.

I learned to sit with myself. I learned to understand my patterns. I learned to forgive the girl who didn’t know better. I learned to love the woman I was becoming.

My story isn’t about failure — it’s about transformation. It’s about a woman who kept choosing the wrong men until she finally learned to choose herself. It’s about a God who stayed through every heartbreak, every mistake, every vow spoken too soon. It’s about grace that met me in the ruins and rebuilt me from the inside out.

I’m not ashamed of my past. I’m not defined by my marriages. I’m not broken because of my choices.

I’m growing — through it all, because of it all, and in spite of it all.

And if you’ve lived your own version of “too many rings, not enough love,” I want you to know this:

You are not alone. You are not unworthy. You are not beyond redemption.

God can rewrite any story — even the ones we think are too messy to tell.

I’m living proof.