Not Jumping Ship, Even When It’s Sinking: The Raw Reality of Waiting

Not Jumping Ship, Even When It’s Sinking: The Raw Reality of Waiting

I said it was possible—but I never said it would be easy.

A friend told me something that has stayed with me ever since: “It takes two, but it starts with one.” That truth deeply resonated with me; the concept behind it always does. Because when you’ve been betrayed, it’s almost always the one wounded who has to start the hard work of waiting, rebuilding, and choosing not to quit.

In 2022, my world cracked open with a revelation that forced me to face a devastating truth: I had been waiting, working, and building alone for 11 years. From the very first betrayal until that moment, I was the one starting, waiting, praying, forgiving, trying to hold together what I didn’t even realize was breaking apart. Had I known back then the depth of what I was facing, I probably would’ve jumped ship. But God, in His mercy, didn’t let me see it all at once.

Here’s the thing about God: when He shows us His promise, He rarely shows us the process. Because if He did, most of us would run the other way. The process hurts. The process costs. The process requires sacrifices that make you wonder if you’re strong enough to keep standing. And yet, the process is exactly what prepares you to hold the promise when it finally comes.

The Ugly Side of Waiting

Waiting is not passive—it takes work. And not just any work, but the willingness to work despite and in spite of the other person’s lack of participation. You have to fight to keep your heart soft when everything in you wants to shut down. You have to fight to choose grace when bitterness feels safer. You have to fight to keep showing up when you feel like the only one doing the work.

And part of that fight is being brutally honest with yourself. Sometimes that means admitting that certain conversations with friends only feed temptation and make it harder to resist what you’re trying so hard not to do. I’ve had to tell people close to me, “I can’t talk about this with you right now—because this is triggering and I'm already struggling.” That’s not weakness. That’s wisdom.

Because waiting is not pretty. It’s not poetic. It’s not soft worship music in the background and hands lifted in serenity. Sometimes it looks like:

• Wanting to pack up and walk away.
• Saying words that cut deep.
• Becoming cold, distant, or unreachable.
• Being tempted to give your heart, body, or time to someone else.
• Fantasizing about punching him in the throat or putting the “other woman” on blast for the world to see (especially when she’s bold enough to text, call, or lurk on your socials—yes, this has happened many times, even recently).

For some of us, it’s not just temptation—it’s action. And I’ll be real: I’ve come dangerously close. I even had a therapist who encouraged me to cheat as a way to “take back control.” But I knew if I crossed that line, I’d completely implode my life. That might sound liberating to some, but in reality, it’s another layer of bondage. I’ve played tit-for-tat in a past relationship, and it never gave me peace. Plus, the double standard is brutal—what men are excused for women are crucified over. They are not built to carry and endure like we are.

The truth? When you’re hurting badly enough, you’ll consider almost anything just to make the pain stop, even if only for a moment. That’s why I say: give yourself grace. Waiting can feel lonely. It can feel like nothing is happening, like your prayers are bouncing off the ceiling, like you’re wasting your time and wasting away in the process. Waiting hurts.

And perhaps the hardest part is that tug-of-war inside you: wanting the love and affection but resenting the only person you want it from. Feeling like your own body and heart are betraying you. Maybe even feeling like God Himself betrayed you for allowing this kind of suffering.

The Bigger Picture

I recently read about a couple who celebrated 80 years of marriage (he’s 103 and she is 97). Eighty! Can you even imagine the storms they had to weather? The betrayals, the misunderstandings, the changes in who they were as individuals and as a couple? Eighty years wasn’t built on fairy-tale perfection. It was built on sacrifices, forgiveness, resilience, and seasons of waiting.

That made me ask: how many storms will I have to weather to see God’s promises fulfilled? How many will you? Whether in marriage, healing, children, or purpose—it’s always bigger than just us.

This doesn’t mean pretending nothing happened or enabling destructive behavior. It means doing your part—holding the other person accountable, yes—but also committing to your own healing. It means refusing to let circumstances, people, or even the enemy dictate how you show up in your own life. Because this is still your life. Your family. Your calling. And make no mistake: your adversary (and those women) would love nothing more than to see you forfeit it all.

Don’t give them the satisfaction.

The Hope

Maybe it won’t be 80 years. Maybe it won’t look like someone else’s testimony. But your story can still be one of lasting love, healing, and restoration. It will take a lifetime of forgiving, rebuilding, and walking through highs and lows. But when the pieces finally come together, your life will be a testimony—a living picture of how God can turn ashes into beauty, how He can use your scars to bring healing and hope to others.

Because it’s bigger than you.

Waiting isn’t passive—it requires action. Showing up, fighting for your heart, and trusting God through the pain is how promises are forged. Don’t abandon the ship; anchor yourself in His purpose, even when the storm rages.

✨ Until next time… don’t drop your crown, Sis. Pick it up, straighten it, and walk in the promises God wrote for you! ✨