The Stains That Don’t Stay

Wine spilled on the couch again tonight… It happens from time to time.

One slip, one distraction, one glass too close to the edge and suddenly, I am scrambling.

Because spills demand cleanup.

Because stains threaten permanence.

Because I paid too much for this couch to let it be ruined.

So I get to work. Blot. Spray. Blot. Scrub. Blot. Repeat.

Layers of cleaning, knowing that even when the surface looks clean, the fabric underneath may still hold what seeped in.

And as I am down on my knees, I realize… this is my life right now.

And it is not just about wine.

It is about careless words that land too heavy. It is about silences that stretch too long and too loud. It is about promises that don’t hold the way they were meant to.

I have spent too much of myself, of my heart, to let all of this soak into my soul unchecked.

This couch cost me. And so has my marriage. So… I clean💁🏻‍♀️

Here is the truth that no one tells you. The cleanup is harder than the spill. And unless you put in the effort to clean it up correctly, the stains will appear tomorrow. And they will stay. 

Life right now has me doing the hard work of blotting out lies I once believed. Of scrubbing away shame that doesn’t belong to me. Of rinsing the fabric of my heart so it doesn’t become stained by the abandonment. 

My years, my faith, my love… I have paid too much to let them be marked forever by someone else’s spill.

So I keep cleaning. Because even if he doesn’t believe it, I know I am worth the work the cleanup will cost. I am worth the cost of healing. 

The mending is layered with boundaries. With choosing myself in the middle of love that often forgets to choose me back. Healing calls for a strength I do not always have, and a patience I do not always wish to wait on. 

But my story matters… 

Because my heart is valuable.

Because my scarred soil is sacred ground.

Yet, I have to be honest… Even after all the blotting and scrubbing, there is always a moment where I hold my breath.

Will the stain rise again tomorrow? Will it show under the light of day?

That is the part of life I am in right now… I am waiting to see if all my cleanup will hold. If the boundaries, the honesty, the courage it has taken to get here… Will it keep the stain from setting?

Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t.

But here is what I do know…. I am not the couch. And I am not the stain. I am the one who gets to choose, and will continue to choose, what will happen after the spill.

Because though love may spill, and life may stain, I am still here… wine glass in hand… choosing to believe that the cleanup is worth it, even if the evidence of the spill remains…

Because I am worth it.