Category: life

life, love

Nailing the Heck Out of Life

A Graceful Catastrophe

Each and every blog I’ve written has been written in the raw moments of the intense emotions storming inside of me. I haven’t filtered my pain. I’ve been open and vulnerable to the blank page before me – and to all of you.

As a verbal processor, it has helped me work through whatever emotions I was feeling at the moment and by the end of each blog, I’ve, for the most part, felt better.

But once I’ve written them, I let them go. I haven’t gone back and read any of my blogs.

Until tonight, that is.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to, really. But for some reason, I’ve been in this challenging head-space lately. It’s even gotten to the point where it’s affecting my workouts, which has been super frustrating. Something has to change. I have to get my mindset right again.

So tonight, I decided to read the first few blogs, from the beginning. And you know what? I am not that person anymore. I’ve felt the change. I’ve known that I’ve blossomed into this different woman. But reading how I thought I should’ve behaved immediately afterwards blows my mind.

I needed to look back in order to move forward and I’m grateful I have the opportunity to do just that, thanks to these blogs.

Back then, I wanted to choose to act with class and to give my ex the grace he didn’t deserve. That was important to me. In those first weeks, that turned into that first month, I was hoping to be an example for my daughter in how you deal with pain. And I thought there was a “right” way to show her how it all should be processed.

I no longer believe that.

I have absolutely yelled at my ex in front of her. I have gotten angry and frustrated and slammed doors with such intensity that I thought perhaps I’d broken them. (I haven’t.)

But I haven’t punched a wall again. So, that’s a win. *smile*

Because I promise you that I have wanted to. So. Many. Times.

And I don’t think it’s wrong to show my daughter that a person can feel such intense anger. It’s real life. For years now, she has experienced the exact same intense anger where she yells – no, screams – at the top of her lungs and throws things and wants to shred things with her teeth and her little fists ball up and she shakes and she just wants an outlet…just like me when I get mad at her daddy. And then, when her anger subsides, her and I discuss it. Calmly. Rationally. And we hug it out.

Now, I don’t hug it out with my ex, but I do apologize to my daughter when she sees me get that angry. And she understands. Because she has that emotion, too.

I’m at a point now where I really don’t care about giving my ex grace or treating him in any special way for my daughter. He’s just there, the father of my daughter, and someone I have to interact with to go over the details of her life. At this point, it doesn’t need to be anything more than that. Calm and civil co-parenting is the current goal. Perhaps someday in the future, we’ll be friends. For now, I’m just not ready yet. Sasha Sloan says it best in her song Ready Yet:

 I just want the bad feelings to end
But there's some shit I can't forget
I don't think I'm ready yet
Hit me up another time
Maybe one day I'll change my mind
You know that I just wanna be your friend again
But there's some shit I can't forget
I don't think I'm ready yet

Too much has happened, too much has been said, so many ridiculously challenging moments have been had in the last 5 months for me to think like I did in those first few weeks after receiving the email.

And he’s surely not as filled with humility like he was at the beginning, either. Which has been challenging for me to deal with, though, I am starting to be able to let that go. So, my daughter sees a vast array of emotions. And we talk about them. I’ve been really quite sad the last couple days. And she barely acknowledges my tears anymore. Not out of a lack of empathy, because she is such a compassionate and sweet soul. But more because she is so used to it. She kind of looks at me sweetly, but then carries on with whatever she was doing in the moment. Because it’s normal.

Emotions are normal. Feeling sad or angry is normal. Feeling happy and laughing is normal. I’m showing her that it’s okay to feel whatever it is she’s feeling. It’s all exactly as it should be.

And maybe that’s a much more valuable lesson?

Through natural conversation, the topic of future step-parents being in her life was brought up. I told her that I would never bring a step-dad into her life that wasn’t an exceptional human…that didn’t cherish both her and I. I told her that if someone were to be a part of our lives like that, it’s because he’d be out of this world and nothing less. And she smiled. And then, with a smirk, she reminded me of her one requirement, that she stated *I think* the day we told her we were separating, or within the first few days, at least. She wants to call her future step-daddy (and step-mommy) “Poopy Head.” I told her that if someone were to be in our lives playing such an important role, he’d absolutely be someone with a sense of humor and would have no problems with his new nickname. And she giggled.

I think these kinds of conversations are healthy and needed – and significant. They are never forced and come about only when she asks questions. I think, a necessary part of giving someone grace, is turning a blind eye to what they did. I don’t want my daughter to ever deny her emotions in order to make someone else feel less rotten about themselves. I am not sorry for my emotions. And I don’t try to hide them. Throughout this whole process, I’ve been an open book. And she has seen me process and battle all along the way.

So this week that she has been with me, she has seen her fair share of my sadness. And we’ve shared happy moments, as well. For example, when she asked me yesterday if I’d gotten any new clients yet, and I told her I had, she got so excited for me. And she was proud of me because it’s this early in the school year and I already have new clients. And, on a different day, she asked me about my day before I even had a chance to ask her about her’s. She cares. She’s thoughtful, She’s so considerate and kind.

It’s been over 5 months since her daddy and I split and just about 2 months since she’s been going back and forth in between two homes. And, while she still has moments where she asks why we can’t get back together (where I honestly respond that there are some things you just can’t come back from, and she seems satisfied with that answer thus far), she is a resilient little soul who is doing just fine. Despite seeing her mommy’s raw emotions. Or maybe it’s in spite of them.

She is thriving. And so am I.

And as I wrote that last sentence, I smiled. Because I believe it again. I haven’t felt it for a few days now. I just haven’t felt right within my world. I think looking back at those first few initial blogs helped me achieve the perspective I needed. I’ve come a long way. And yes, I have a long way to go. Significant personal growth continues to lie ahead in my future. And, that doesn’t take away from the fact that I have undergone a monumental transformation over the last 157 days.

I really enjoy who I am now, especially when the clouds part from overhead and I can see myself clearly. Fearless. Authentic. And ready to explore all the possibilities that now lie along my path.

You know, writing is the most incredible outlet for me. I started this blog tonight feeling so defeated and just kind of beat up. Writing reminded me that my daughter is both healthy and rocking the heck out of her life. She is thrilled about the adventures on her path. She is getting braver (she just told me she wants to be an actress, which is huge, because she’s always been so shy!) and I am going to take a bit of that credit. She is seeing her mama live fearlessly and chase down opportunities that once scared me silent. And she wants to do the same.

So, it’s been just a bit more than 5 months since catastrophe struck our home, and I am now able to clearly see that my daughter and I are absolutely nailing the heck out of this life we’ve been thrown into.

life, love

Onehundo

A Graceful Catastrophe

Okay. Not like I ever really sugar coat things, but this one is going to be pretty vulnerable. *sigh*

I just don’t get it. I felt so cheerful and optimistic when I wrote my last blog. I felt so high, so much like, “I’ve got this! This new life is amazing!! The world is my oyster!!!” And then, the last few days have felt so heavy. A quick nosedive into “bleh.” This roller-coaster is so not predictable. It sucks.

And I don’t really know why these emotions of mine tanked.

At the risk of sounding terribly cocky, I know I’m a gem. I know that I’m ambitious and smart and fit and pretty. I know that I’m a catch. I also know that my downfalls are that I’m stubborn and require a fair amount attention/validation. And when I’m not getting that validation, I end up having endless arguments within my head that I’m being ridiculous and I don’t need external validation. But I sure want it! And I repeat, over and over to myself, that I am wonderful. I’m a gem! And that I know I am wonderful so who cares if nobody else tells me that I’m wonderful?! And then the argument with myself ends because I either realize in that moment that yes, I am a badass or there’s no point in arguing anymore because I just can’t convince myself.

And then I have moments like this morning, where I still find myself crying at the gym. So many tears have been shed there!

15 minutes before this picture was taken, tears were freely falling. Here, we’re all smiles, ready to take on Round 2 of a killer workout at F45 and get those endorphins flowing. I’m super grateful for my gym bestie!!

Today, at the very end of my workout, new tears were shed because Rachel Platten’s “Fight Song” came on during the last station, when I’m in a plank, physically exhausted, and walloping my arms as hard as I can into a fake body thing. She sings, 

My power's turned on
Starting right now I'll be strong
I'll play my fight song
And I don't really care if nobody else believes
'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me

And I cry…because it makes me feel like a fraud. Because days like today I just don’t feel like I’m strong or that I have any fight left in me. So the tears flow.

Some days I feel so tenacious and determined. And I know the world is my oyster and yadda, yadda. But then there are days like the last couple where I can’t snap out of the funk and it all feels too heavy. And all I want is a partner to remind me of how amazing I am. And then I want to believe it.

How can I fully grasp that I am this wonderful being AND still struggle with needing validation?

Look, I am a logical person. So, I start to reflect and really wonder where this is coming from. Have I always been someone who requires validation? (Friends who’ve known me for most of my life, or even for a while, reach out to me and tell me, please.) Or is this part of the aftermath because my ex stopped choosing me? Stopped fighting for me? And ultimately made the decision to throw me away?

I know why he says he made those choices. Because I was a crappy wife. I know why I was a crappy wife. Because I was treated awfully.

It was a terrible cycle that just spiraled out of control.

And, at the end of it, his choices still caused me feel as though I wasn’t enough, I wasn’t worth anything.

But I had my epiphany, right? I know I’m enough now. And I honestly do believe it.

So why do I feel like such a fraud still?

It’s beyond frustrating.

While a friend was reading my blog from the other day, he wrote me and said the sweetest things, validating me. 

"You couldn't have said it any better. You are MORE than enough. Never let anyone tell you different. And I wouldn't call you a dime...more like a onehundo (that's slang for a one hundred dollar bill, people).

A dime can be easily lost, but losing a onehundo would feel like the end of the world."

Umm, yeah. That was so incredibly powerful to read. Especially the last line. My heart absolutely melted. It was exactly what I wanted, and perhaps even needed, to hear. I’ve read his words about 50 times, easily, in the last 2 days, to remind myself that what I feel is real.

I am the gem that I think I am. You should be sad if I’m not in your life. *shrug* While it’s hard to fully internalize it, I logically know that I am all these great and wonderful things. There are just some days where it’s a bit harder to fully own it, I guess.

It’s confusing and frustrating, though. How can you believe something about yourself and still argue with yourself that it’s real??? Why do I still feel like a complete fraud? I have to believe that this is a residual mess from the way my marriage ended.

Hmm, maybe that is it…

Perhaps it’s because actions speak louder than words. And in my reality, his actions were loudly and clearly that of someone who believed his wife wasn’t “enough.” So, while I know that I am enough, I also know that I wasn’t enough. At least, not as a partner. Not as a wife. Because if I had been, he would’ve fought for me, right?

Argh, even as I type that I know that to be untrue. I can’t absorb his fault. There’s never a good reason to do what he did.

But now that’s my baggage to carry, I guess. For the moment, at least. Until there’s a way to process this all out. It may take another opportunity to be in a relationship and see what kind of partner I can be. I’m not sure when or how I’ll let that baggage go, but I know I eventually will because my confidence is pretty great in all other facets of my life and I’m sure it’ll overpower these negative feelings eventually.

So maybe it’s not that I should feel like a fraud so much. Perhaps it’s more that I have yet to prove it to myself that I can be “enough” as a partner. Because no matter how much I logically understand that his choices during the last year of our marriage have very little to do with me, I still can’t help but internalize his words, that he’s repeated over and over, reminding me time and again, that it’s my fault.

But now, when those arguments inside my head happen, when I start absorbing the blame and questioning my abilities to be a worthy partner, I at least have the words quoted above, and of so many of my other friends, to fall back on. I keep saying that I’m going to write down each positive message that I’ve received from friends and stick them on a board or something, so I can see them every day and be reminded that plenty of other people think that I am enough.

So much weight shouldn’t be put on the actions from one person, especially when so many others negate it, except when that one person was someone you blindly loved and trusted with everything you had. The weight of that kind of betrayal, I’m finding, is quite challenging to fully dig out from. But I’m doing it, one pebble, one stone, one boulder at a time.

Because I am one incredibly resilient, beautiful badass. And I am enough – in all aspects. So I’ll keep smiling, keep living optimistically, authentically, and vulnerably, and I’ll remain open to possibilities and spontaneous adventure. And I know that one day down the road, someone will treasure me like the gem that I am. And, in turn, he will be adored.

Until then, I’ll keep fighting to stay strong. Because it is when I am strong that I remember that I am, in fact, a onehundo.

life, love

153 Days

A Graceful Catastrophe

In approximately 6 hours from the time I am writing these first words, it will have been 5 months since I received an email that changed my life.

153 Days.

I used to call it a catastrophe. I suppose, by definition, it still is.

However, I now view that email as the greatest shove into opportunity that I have ever received.

I was in an unhappy marriage. I felt stuck. I hadn’t given it my all to make it work, so I couldn’t justify leaving. We have a daughter, so that complicated everything. Or so I thought.

I am stubborn.

And…

I do not quit.

I don’t run away from things. So, in a crappy marriage I stayed, with virtually daily phone calls to my best friend, complaining about how miserable I was. Almost daily phone calls for years, guys. Years and years and years. Very few people knew what took place behind the scenes. Very few people, even now, fully grasp how ugly it was. I didn’t even understand the extent at which I was broken. It was my normal. Hindsight, though, shows me that who I was in that marriage was a byproduct of how I was treated. I just didn’t see that then. I thought that was who I was. Cautious. Scared, really. Neurotic. Worried about every tiny little thing. A catastrophizer.

Wow.

But this is how I, slowly and without even realizing it, got there…

How do you frequently hear that you add such little value as a wife and not let that get internalized and become something so much greater than that? I decided I had to work harder to seek out everyone else’s validation and approval so that I could be enough in some capacity of my life. Because it was made abundantly clear that I was not enough at home.

I upped my effort and it paid off. I became an incredible mom, raising a little human into somebody who already adds value to society. And I got positive feedback from my efforts. Our bond grew tighter and we are still exceptionally close.

I also doubled my efforts as a teacher and became highly respected at my school. My students, the families, the other teachers, and my admin valued my input. They listened to my thoughts and opinions when I spoke them aloud (a novel concept that rarely occurred at home). They sought me out for advice.

But at home, when I tried, it went unnoticed. The message of not being enough was on repeat. My efforts there were overlooked and disregarded. I was frequently reminded of how awful of a wife I was. Right in front of my face, other women on the street stole his glances (ha! long stares, really), rather than him being blinded by pure love for me. I wasn’t enough. I was worth so little, in fact, that it didn’t matter to him that he did those things blatantly and right in front of me. And then, my own perceived value as a wife, and therefore, as a woman, slowly waned.

Over the years, I internalized it. I wasn’t enough. If I wasn’t “enough” at home, then how could I be enough for anyone – even myself. So, that black cloud hung over my head, creating this persona that had to hyper plan everything and fear the worst, because surely since I was such a failure as a wife, I must also be on the verge of failing everywhere else, too.

That is who I was for at least the last 6 years. And who I absolutely was 153 days ago. A beaten down version of myself. Guys, I seriously entertained the idea about taking him back! I didn’t value myself enough to fully believe in myself and walk away.

Well, until there was a breaking point and I filed straight away the next day. But that’s another story for another day. It might even be in an earlier blog, I cannot recall…

But now? Ha ha! I had my epiphany and I see my worth. And being “enough?” Psh, I am way more than enough.

Now? Man, oh, man… Now I know who I am. And watch out, world, because as my friend worded it on our way to volleyball yesterday in the car, I’m a dime.

I. Am. A. Dime.

And I know it. Now, boy, do I ever know it.

And nobody can take that from me ever again. If you don’t see my value in your world, then that is just fine. I get it now. It’s not about me. It’s about you. You don’t have to like peaches. (Hmm, I’d thought I’d written about that, too. But, in a nutshell, it’s a reference to my favorite quote: You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the orchard, and there’s still going to be someone who doesn’t like peaches.) It’s not up to me to change to fit your definition of who I should be, who is enough for you. I am enough just the way I am. If you don’t like me, then that is about you, not me. I get that now. I’m done taking it personally. It was never about me not being enough. (Oh, found it. Looks like I wrote all of this same type of stuff a week ago here. This topic has been a hot one for me lately.)

I wouldn’t be where I am today, with all this potential that lies before me, had I not received that email 5 months ago.

Five months. *shaking my head* Goodness, it feels as though that was a lifetime ago. And I suppose, in many ways, it was.

Without that woman having the courage to write me, I would still be questioning my self-worth. I would still be relatively unhappy.

Today, there is so much excitement in my life. Gah! There’s a whole load of things to be excited about. My energy is radiating happiness and my heart is open to being vulnerable.

My life has not aligned, professionally and personally, for years. Typically, things were wonderful professionally speaking and kind of, meh, personally speaking.

Not anymore. I am excited about both my professional and personal future. I have magnificent and fantastic dreams for me professionally that I am actively chasing down. Dreams that mesh perfectly with my many passions. Dreams that are realistically attainable. Actions in hot pursuit of those dreams that are pulling me in several different directions and keeping me awake at night from the buzz of the potential. It’s exhausting and exhilarating.

I am excited to live this life! Just a short time ago, I’d written that I wanted to fast forward and that I didn’t want to live this life that was unfolding. I am so grateful for the last 153 days and every single thing that occurred during them. They have meticulously molded this being into who I am today. And I love her.

I fully grasp the idea that when you live, especially when you live out loud and without fear, as I do now, a potential side effect of living like that is pain. I know I may get hurt again. I also know that if I don’t allow myself to be open to that possibility, I will miss out on the opportunity to truly live – and to be loved and cherished. I want to be treasured by another. I want to feel adored. I am looking forward to being able to shower someone with my love and know that he appreciates everything I have to give. I look forward to the chance at being in a healthy, mutually respectful relationship, where we push one another to grow and become better versions of who we were yesterday. And because I know now that I am enough, I will never settle for anything less than a partner that elevates me and treats me as I truly deserve.

I love that I now realize that nobody defines my worth for me anymore. I am healthier, and stronger, now than I have ever been before: physically, emotionally, and mentally.

I am a dime and watch out, world, because there is no stopping me now.

Yet, I can’t say that I am healed. 153 days surely doesn’t seem like that much time. But, I have grown exponentially. I have had so many epiphanies and have learned a great deal on this journey thus far. Honestly, it feels as though a fire is burning within, burning so brightly that my spark could never be dulled by another again.

I’m filled with light. With gratitude. With vulnerability. With understanding.

This phoenix is rising from her ashes and cannot wait to fearlessly conquer her world. And I am more ready than ever to add color and beauty to whatever shall cross my path.

153 days. Of pain. Of agony. Of tears. Of defeat. All to lead me to where I am today.

I am a dime. And now I know it.

life, love

That’s MY Remote

A Graceful Catastrophe

So, if you’ve been following my blog, this won’t come as a surprise to you.

I’m filled with rage.

But, it’s just sitting there, simmering, so it’s not always obviously present.

Until I get triggered.

My biggest trigger is when my ex says things like, “I would’ve never cheated if you’d been a better wife.”

Guys, I go from zero to a million. Like that. *snaps fingers*

When I went to see my therapist earlier this week, I asked for help to control my anger. I hate that I’m living with such a terrific loathing towards him. I also can’t stand that I give him the power to illicit such pure wrath towards him.

I need to figure it out. Perhaps I cannot forgive him…yet, but I can learn how to release my anger. I have to.

So, I have to learn how to take my power back.

I had absolutely no clue how to do that.

And then my therapist explained it to me. And things started to make sense.

I’ve already re-framed his betrayal as an opportunity for me, for a new and improved life. So, what does it matter that he blames me for cheating? He betrayed me, over and over, for almost a year. That is a fact. It led to our separation. Another fact. Which has led me to living fearlessly and with more raw honesty than ever before, while chasing down adventures, and being given occasion after occasion to explore the world around me.

I’m living my best life.

I’m meeting people I never would’ve met before.

I’m smiling genuine smiles and getting butterflies in my belly from excitement and anticipation.

Life is good.

So, as my therapist literally gave me the remote control back to hold, I realized I should no longer give him permission to push my buttons. Those are mine to hold onto. And I get to choose which buttons are pushed.

I’m holding the remote now.

The other thing he told me was to focus on something else, so it gives my cortisol a chance to lessen again. Well, that was easy. The mountains bring me peace. And so does music.

Do you remember the scene in the Sound of Music where Julie Andrews is dancing and twirling amongst the mountains and singing? Yep. That’s where my mind goes. Except it’s me, twirling and dancing around the open field near A-frame on the hike up Pike’s Peak. (It’s beautiful there.)

And I smile.

Okay, I don’t smile on my face, because I’m pretty sure that’d just make me look crazy when my ex is sitting there gaslighting the heck out of me. So, I smile in my head. As I spin and twirl and sing, “The hiiiilllllllls are alive, with the sound of muuuuuusiiic….”

So, I’m learning how to manage my anger. I had a wonderful opportunity just yesterday, on our daughter’s first day of school, as he sat next to me in the car (she’d asked us to ride together as a family to take her to school, so I, of course, obliged), raising his voice and making all sorts of demands.

One of the demands? He wants to censor my blog. That’s a tough one.

“The hiiiilllllllls are alive, with the sound of muuuuuusiiic….”

I should not be silenced.

But I digress.

So, the remote is in my hand. He doesn’t get to push my buttons anymore. My anger is dissipating and I keep remembering what a wonderful opportunity he has given me.

One day, I will be treasured by a man. Someone who sees my worth and lives in astonishment that I am his. And I will adore him right back. I know what love is – and what love isn’t. I will not fall victim to gaslighting or narcissism again. My eyes are open and my level of awareness is at an all-time peak. And I know what I want and I won’t settle for less.

The sense of freedom and weightlessness of this new life is incredible.

So, with all of these wonderful and exciting details in my life to live, why harbor such toxicity?

I shall not. And I will not. Because I own this remote and I’m never giving it to him again. (Or to anyone else.)

And when he tries to take it from me? I’ll smack his hand and start to sing at the top of my lungs, figuratively speaking, of course, because it’s really all in my head, “The hiiiilllllllls are alive, with the sound of muuuuuusiiic….”

life, love

I Am the Cheese Dip

A Graceful Catastrophe

I have about a 4 minute drive to my gym. That’s it. It’s through my neighborhood and across the street. Today, those 4 beautiful minutes brought me a realization that rattled me so hard, that I cried.

A few weeks ago, I was chatting with a friend and he asked me the following: “If you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be? Be selfish, say exactly what comes to your mind.”

So, I did exactly that. I told him: “To be enough.”

His response was to ask for clarification. Did I mean for myself or for others. I told him, “Both.”

This interaction has weighed heavily on my mind, for obvious reasons. It was an incredibly vulnerable moment.

A week ago, I did the Manitou Springs incline with my bestie. While spending the morning together, many topics came up, of course. We’re friends, with busy lives and rarely get quality time like that. So we chat non-stop – even when we can’t breathe because we’re climbing almost 3,000 steps. *chuckling* Anyway, the topic of me not feeling like I’m enough came up.

And it’s haunted me since.

Then, like a lightning strike to my core, in a bitty little 4 minute drive this morning, out of the freaking blue, it hit me. I am enough.

I AM ENOUGH! *grinning like an idiot* I really am. *cue the tears*

It hit me like a ton of bricks, seriously. I was listening to a song…and then I was crying. And smiling. I can’t even remember the song.

I’ve always been enough. I’ve always been enough for me and for others around me. It was him who made me feel otherwise. It’s always been my ex. That’s not my issue – it was his perception that he reflected back at me. Perhaps it is he that feels that he isn’t enough? And he projected that onto me for years?!

Who knows. All I know now, after reflecting back on who I have been, especially in the last month or two, is that someone wouldn’t be as raw and authentic as I have been if they struggled with self-worth, or with feeling like they’re enough.

My interactions are pure. And if you don’t like what I say, what I believe, who I am, then it’s really no skin off my back. You see, I have this phrase that I love, “You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the orchard and there’s still going to be someone who doesn’t like peaches.” If someone doesn’t enjoy your company, it probably has more to do with them than it does with you.

Because you are enough. And so am I.

I don’t see it as rejection and I don’t take it personally if somebody stops talking to me. It’s their prerogative to walk away. And it has more to do with them than it does with me. Because if it were really about me, and they cared enough, they’d approach me, talk with me, ask me the hard questions, and value the conversation. Like my bestie did last week. If they just walk away, then it’s not about me, and I don’t internalize it.

If I didn’t, deep down, think that I was enough, that wouldn’t be my response. It’d eat me up inside. I’d take it personally and something inside of me would be devastated.

But I am so secure with who I am that I’m pretty much completely unaffected. I mean, am I sad that I’ve lost friends? Sure. But, that’s all a part of life. Some people are just in your life for a season. And that’s just fine. I get it. Sometimes the friendship comes back full circle and if it does, wonderful! But for now, it’s like, I shrug my shoulders and move on. I’m done fighting to shove a square peg in a round hole. You don’t like peaches? Cool. Seriously. I’m not going to jam them down your throat or disguise them in a smoothie. *shrug*

So, I cried. Because I’m free! I’m finally free of the bricks that have been weighing me down, that I allowed my ex to place on me, one brick at a time, over the years. I never realized they were there, as there was such a subtle (and, at times, not so subtle) art of putting them into place.

Those closest to me have spent a lot of energy trying to take those bricks off. Telling me that I’m enough. But I just couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t wrap my head around how I could be enough when it had been ages since his actions showed me that I was enough. And then, for him to betray me? Insult to injury. Of course I wasn’t enough.

That was my thought process. Anything they said to tell me otherwise, was erased when he reinforced my thoughts by showing me that I wasn’t enough for him. Actions speak louder than words, don’t they? I wasn’t valued. So, that was my fault. Because surely I couldn’t have been enough or else we could’ve had one conversation without his phone in his hand (for example).

But – I am enough. And I always have been. I see that now. Geez…finally!

All of my actions are of someone who really doesn’t care what others think – because deep down inside, I’ve always known that I’m enough. I just had to dig my own way out from under the pile of bricks. I’m not out to behave in a way just so that it pleases you. I’m me. And I’m a delightfully juicy peach.

Or, as my friend told me. I’m not the free salsa. I’m the damn delicious cheese dip you probably pay way too much for.

Because I’m worth it.

life, love

Happy Anniversary

A Graceful Catastrophe

By the time I publish this post, it will be August 7, 2019. My 9th wedding anniversary. To the husband I am still legally tied to but for all intents and purposes, is very much my ex.

It’s weird. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this anniversary. I mean, this time last year, he’d already been cheating on me for months! And we went out to dinner and celebrated our marriage. What a joke! I mean, goodness, when I look back at that dinner and that night, my blood boils. What a betrayal…

You can see it in this second, forever frozen by the phone’s camera that night. Look at his eyes. How did I miss this…this…”lacking” towards me. It’s just empty – and looking nowhere near me. This is the face of someone celebrating his 8th year wedding anniversary while he had been cheating on me for the last 3 months – and would go on betraying me in a hundred different ways for the next 7. Captured forever in this still. Let’s be perfectly real, here. He probably even talked to some lovelies that very day!

I guess that’s why I’m not really emotional about tomorrow. At least year 9 is being done honestly. Last year should’ve never been celebrated and I’m glad tomorrow won’t be. It’ll be a normal, busy day, filled with the typical Wednesday activities.

For me, right now in this moment, that is the hardest part to process through. To look back at memories and realize exactly what a sham it all was. To realize your whole life for 10 months (at least) was a complete lie. I felt bad for being a crappy wife. I sought out suggestions from male friends in the hopes they could enlighten me so I could be better, and do better.

Because I’d been convinced it was me who needed to be better. To do better. And of course, I definitely was lacking as a wife. Considerably so. I also wasn’t being nurtured. Or treasured. God, how my heart was starving for love and affection. I just wanted him to like me…to be nice to me. It sounds so pathetic.

I was talking with a friend tonight about my “bar.” Be nice. That’s it. He said he’d like to find a princess. Wait, no…a Princess. He’s a bit younger. Never married. And he deserves a bar that high.

I just want someone to be kind to me. That’s my bar at this point in my life. *sigh*

In the meantime, though, the world is my oyster. Every single person I make eye contact with is a potential new connection, a chance to learn about someone else’s life. To hear their story. Every new experience I pursue is another opportunity to face my fears. To challenge who I once was and become someone better. My mentality as of late is a, “Who cares, why not?” mentality. And, boy! Is it working for me!

There’s something about my energy right now that is exciting. I literally feel like my world around me is buzzing. It makes my heart race. My Colorado bestie and I have some irons in the fire that excite me like a 6 year old on Christmas morning. The people I continue to meet, the conversations I have, the random chance encounters while climbing up or running down mountains, or because I just decided one day to send a direct message to a stranger on Instagram…I am open to it all. And the universe is responding beautifully. It all adds so much value to my life.

I have met the most incredible people! With some, well most, really, I feel this instant connection with – like they are my long lost people. We can talk about anything. And we do. I think maybe it’s because I’m blunt. I just put it all out there. I’m not shy about my thoughts, my feelings, my intentions. And I’m more honest than I’ve ever been in my life.

Because I have nothing left to lose.

And absolutely everything to gain.

So, this year I’m giving myself my 9-year-anniversary-of-our sham-joke-of-a-marriage gift.

The gift of binoculars. No, really, follow me here.

Just shy of a week ago, I was in a pretty dark place. It was only 6 days ago and the world felt like it was collapsing on top of me. I was in the middle of the darkest tunnel and couldn’t see the light.

Because I hadn’t given myself my gift yet.

So, this gift. Tell me, what function do a pair of binoculars serve? According to Azo Optics:

Two objective lenses are situated at each end of the binoculars. The purpose of the objective lens is to collect light from the object that the user is looking at and bringing the collected light into focus in the eyepiece lens, which creates a visible and magnified image.

And because this word is used, and details matter, the definition of objective, according to Google Dictionary: not influenced by personal feelings or opinions in considering and representing facts.

“Not influenced my personal feelings or opinions…”

So, here’s my gift: I have this theoretical tool, immediately at my disposal the second I require it, that will remain clear and logical in helping me to see what is, in fact, right in front of me. I’ve just been unable to focus in and see it. So, my binoculars will gather that light that I couldn’t find a week or so ago, and bring it right up close to me, so close that it is not only visible, but envelops me in the magnified, warm glow, allowing me to see all that is good around me, giving me no choice but to focus on that, instead.

What an incredible gift.

life, love

Snitches Get Stitches

A Graceful Catastrophe

Life is weird, right? One day, you’re trucking along on your path, minding your own business, and then a semi-truck blindsides you.

It happens to all of us.

We’ve all been shaken up by something and it doesn’t really matter how you choose to describe it, what words you use to help you define it. You get rattled to your core by some defining moment and then you respond.

I have chosen to respond through writing. One day, I’ll write a book. Every day that passes, I feel my confidence and determination grow.

I will be a published author one day. I feel it down to my bones. In my gut, I know this to be true.

Writing is magical for me. There is something that occurs between my thoughts and my fingers. I feel this immense release once I’ve painted these intangible reflections bustling about within my head into black and white, as words form sentences and sentences form full blog posts.

But not everyone finds my words magical.

In fact, I’ve been accused of exaggerating the truth.

I couldn’t disagree more. These are absolutely my truths and my reality. Every single blog I’ve written has been done so with raw, blunt honesty as I process through the shit storm that has engulfed my world. Currently, I don’t know how to live any other way.

My life was shrouded in such blatant deceit that the only way I can combat the feelings roaring inside is to move forward with pure and frank sincerity.

I also strongly believe in karma. And fully accept that I am not immune to it. So, let me tell you a little story…

While running down a pretty sketchy trail yesterday, I hit uneven ground and lost my footing, causing my left ankle to completely collapse. I fell directly on my right knee, with barely a moment to put my hands down. My leg got a pretty gnarly gash.

It wouldn’t stop bleeding all day, so tonight I went and got stitches.

And I haven’t been able to stop chuckling since. The irony is not lost on me. Karma, I feel you.

Snitches get stitches.

My ex hates what I write. I mean, H-A-T-E-S it.

Should I perhaps leave a little bit of my reality a mystery and not “air out the dirty laundry?”

Hmm, I actually don’t see the problem in what I’m writing. Because it’s real. And nobody is real anymore. How can anyone truly connect, human to human, without getting a little dirty?? You can’t. You. Simply. Cannot.

Now, what my ex argues is that I am not sharing 100% of the details of 100% of my life. I am not sharing stories about my dates (though, as I was talking with a friend this weekend, I think that would be a cool book option. I have had quite a few very interesting moments that would make for an entertaining read. And the stories I’ve heard! I love hearing other people’s stories! You guys are a fascinating bunch and some of you have lived more life than I probably ever will. I’ll never tire of hearing your stories.)

But here’s the thing: I am not sharing all aspects of all parts of my life because not all moments need to be processed to this level.

Blindsided.

Semi-truck.

Cannot catch the swirling chaos inside my head.

So I write.

And somehow, after writing, I no longer have the desire to attempt to catch the hurricane and shove it in a bottle. The pandemonium within all comes out in a relatively calm and coherent string of words that forms something you connect with – and not because you want to attack my ex, but because you understand my struggle and my pain. Because you’ve struggled. And you have pain, too. We are not alone – no matter how alone we feel.

It’s not about him. And anybody worth their salt will understand that when reading my blogs.

I write about this topic because this is what I need to process. I write to figure out how to ignore the text blasts of venom and still try to believe that I am enough (still actively working on that bit). I write to figure out how to get strong (emotionally) – and remain that way. Because I am so emotionally exhausted (at times) that I feel laden with literally tons of bricks, all stacked on my shoulders, the weight of my world heavy on my soul.

But because I write, little by little, the bricks are removed. One by one. One moment at a time. One blog at a time.

By, me. And, because of this connection, by you.

Because so many of you get it. You’ve been there. You read what I write and interpret it as you like, seeing how it fits your own personal narrative. Pain is pain.

And then you reach out to me and encourage me. You share with me. You connect with me.

When I write, people don’t come to me about what a lousy person my ex is (because, when you peer into his soul, you do see a kind spirit). You all just don’t read that. That’s background noise. What you get from my blogs, at least, what I have interpreted from your comments, messages, and stories, is that you feel it, too. In your own battles. In your own lives. And you reach out to me because you see that I’m hurting. You acknowledge and validate me. You all remind me, sometimes daily, that I am enough. So I can believe it, too.

You see me.

That’s what these blogs do.

What my ex doesn’t understand, but you all do (at least those of you that reach out to me) is that the motivation here isn’t to bash him. It never has been. This isn’t about him at all.

It’s about me.

My pain as I process this catastrophe.

My inability to grapple with the idea that I am enough.

My battle to fight for some level of understanding as I deal with the aftermath of the catastrophe.

A friend told me tonight that my colors had been dulled. And one day I’ll figure out how to sparkle again. She reads my blogs. She understands.

This isn’t for him. This isn’t about him. My writing is nothing more than an attempt to sparkle again. To process this reality in the best way that I know how, using the one medium I’ve been passionate about my whole life – through writing.

So I will continue to write.

I refuse to be silenced.

Snitches get stitches.

So be it.

I’ll end with the lyrics of one of my newest favorite songs, Speechless, which happens to come from the Aladdin Soundtrack:

 "I can't stay silent
Though they wanna keep me quiet
And I tremble when they try it
All I know is I won't go speechless."

These blogs have brought me through the darkness in a way that I never imagined. And I’m finally beginning to see the light. I won’t be silenced now.

life

21 Years

A Graceful Catastrophe

It feels like a lifetime ago, and I suppose in many ways, it was. It feels like it was so long ago that it simply shouldn’t matter anymore.

Yet, it does.

After 21 years of life, a person undergoes an incredibly substantial transformation. A person goes from the rather incomprehensible and mind boggling transition from tiny bundle emerging from the womb to adult human, capable of making such important decisions as, which shot am I going to take as my birthday shot.

21 years is a lifetime.

Last night, in the wee hours of the morning, marked 21 years since an event occurred that fundamentally changed who I was. I thought I was “me” again. I thought that I had mostly healed and returned to the woman I knew I once was, when the light came back on – both literally and figuratively, about 11 years ago.

That is, until last night.

Last night was the first August 1st that I have spent alone since that night in 1998. When that hit me, it kind of shattered me all over again. Last year, the 20th “anniversary,” was difficult in its own way because, while my husband at the time was indeed laying by my side, I felt lonely. I wrote my first blog that night and it felt really good; I felt exceptionally strong, though undeniably lonely, despite his warmth next to me.

This year, I, thankfully, did not feel lonely, as I was texting with a friend that lives out of state. Our conversation brought many smiles to my face and I am so grateful I had that. He has no clue of the gift that his presence and insightful conversation provided me.

But I was still alone.

For the first time, in 21 years, I spent that night all by myself.

I don’t know why that fact affects me so – but it does. I suppose, perhaps, it’s because I didn’t have the option of a shoulder to lean on, someone to hold me, and remind me that I am safe, if I wanted one. And I did want one.

But that’s my job and mine alone now. I remind myself that I am strong. It’s up to me to wrap my arms around myself and tell myself how resilient and fierce I am. I just have to believe it.

Sure, I have friends that do the same, but on a night like last night, I just would’ve appreciated something a bit more. And I no longer have that, because I no longer have my husband. Truth be told, I didn’t have him last year either, but at least then I wasn’t alone.

So if wrapping my own self in love and self-care is now my reality, then I shall embrace it.

I just don’t want to today.

Dealing with the reminder of the date, the event that occurred, compounded with my current reality, makes today one where I’d rather just crawl under a rock.

Luckily, it has been a busy day, and I’ve smiled and done my best to put on my game face while I worked. But make absolutely no mistake about it, my heart has been heavy all day and tears were shed in between clients.

Hell, tears are falling now.

The swirling of pain just seems to get worse. And then, I guess there are moments that are better. It’s an ebb and flow, I get it. Today, though, everything is mashing together in a way that has taken me completely by surprise.

Everything about August 1st has always been heavy. Its weight is barely endurable this year. And the absence of someone to lean on, for someone to hold me and give me the love and respect that I didn’t receive that night, makes today suck a whole lot more than it has in a long time.

I have nothing uplifting today. No words of inspiration to end with. Just the somber reflections of a burdensome past coupled with a really shitty current reality and writing it all down gets it out of my head, at least.

So, thank you for reading. And maybe even for embracing me from afar. And I have to tell you, I am so grateful that August 1st only comes but once a year.

life

The Puddle and the Pause

A Graceful Catastrophe

The amount of interesting people I get to talk to, the whole slew of stories I get to hear now, the amount of life that exists around me, truly astounds me. Like, I seriously feel like I’ve been living under a rock for the last several years! When I spoke with my therapist last week, I told him that I’m working on re-framing this catastrophe as an opportunity. And I’ve had so much opportunity come about since finding out about my ex’s infidelity – more so in the last month, especially.

Part of the reason, I think, is that my energy has shifted. I’m in a much different place now than I was in those first few months. The other significant reason is good ol’ social media. Social media gets such a bad rap but it has genuinely helped to give me these opportunities. People complain about it but I have found it to be an incredible asset in my life. It has given me the gift of connection.

For example, I am now going on a solo trip to Greece, on a photography tour, with someone I met through Instagram. He’s an incredible photographer and his pictures made me want to see, with my own eyes, exactly what his lens captured. So, after talking with him for a bit, I decided to go. We have since talked frequently and I’m starting to see him as my friend. He’s such a positive influence in my life and today, he shared a photographer’s perspective about life.

We were chatting about his day and he’d told me it was “pretty awesome.” Well, pretty awesome doesn’t just happen to ordinary days, does it? So I asked him what was so special that had happened to make it “awesome.” His response was so refreshing it made me pause.

He said, “There’s no need for something special to happen to make your day great. You just make it great.”

Huh. Whoa. Okay.

I was blindsided by that response.

And then, duh! It hit me!

So, we continued talking and he told me, “even the routine of your job makes your day a little better.” Routine – something some people, most people, I dare say, complain about. And he finds joy in it. He then mentioned that thoughts become our reality, which I believe, and I think I may have also written about in a previous blog, but now I can’t remember. I responded with, “The world (our own individual reality) is absolutely the way we choose to see it.”

He mentioned that this concept was a secret in photography, too, and I asked him to clarify. He sent the following picture, saying, simply, “It’s all about perspective.”

Uhhh, wow.

How many times do we miss out on something because we refuse to pause and will ourselves to change our perspective? How many times do we respond to something with a knee-jerk reaction, rather than hesitate and practice the pause?

I have intentionally practiced the pause a couple times today. One time, I went ahead with the communication I had written out earlier in the day and felt very comfortable with that decision. The other time, I hesitated long enough to realize I was wrong (yes, that does happen from time to time! *wink*). And I erased it. Shortly after deleting it, I learned that sending it would’ve made me look rather foolish. I learned a great lesson in that last one today. And I am going to start really working hard at practicing the art of hesitation.

Because we can either choose to see the lousy little puddle that is immediately before us, or we can pause, shift our perspective – even slightly, and end up seeing something that instead, reflects the beauty that is all around us.

And make no mistake about this: it is a choice.

We just have to remember to pause, and maybe even shift a bit, in order to find the right view. And when we do, we become fully capable of seeing our reality in a much different light.

Each and every single one of us is carrying around really heavy baggage that weighs us down. That is merely a side effect of living. We are also constantly surrounded by beauty. It’s, at the very least, annoying enough to deal with our burdens. And for so many of us, it’s downright excruciating at times to try to live with the weight of our pain. So why do we also choose to carry it all in a storm?

Let’s collectively practice the pause, take a breath before reacting, and shift our gaze to the beauty that surrounds us. When we make the conscious efforts to focus on the loveliness that exists in our world, life becomes just a bit more fascinating, more opportunities arise, and the baggage actually becomes a smidge lighter to carry.

And you know what? Carrying that baggage while seeing a rainbow is a far more pleasant experience than sloshing around with it in the storm. So, I will *try to* deliberately and willfully wait out the storm so I can focus on the rainbow that I know will eventually appear, after a long enough pause…even if I am only seeing it through the reflection in a puddle that was formed by the storm.

life, love

I Cannot Forgive

A Graceful Catastrophe

I fully understand that forgiveness is about me and not him. I get that concept.

I just cannot forgive.

And I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to.

I’m constantly triggered. His persistent and unrelenting need to validate his infidelity and his complete inability to grasp the magnitude of his betrayal strikes a fury within that burns hotter than what I’m assuming drinking pure hydrofluoric acid would feel like as it devours me from the inside out.

Which is why forgiveness is so important. Because this savage storm that, at best, is a windy, raging thunderstorm, lives within, ready to explode into a full-blown Cat 5 hurricane at a moment’s notice. It’s toxic. And I feel it eating away at me.

It’s been especially difficult lately because he’s been so smug. He hasn’t accepted any responsibility lately. At the beginning, when it first all happened, he was humble and apologetic. He understood what he did was wrong. He acted like a real man, owning up to his indiscretions.

Lately, though, as we get closer to finalizing the separation, and finally separating all our assets (ie, the house), he has become this self-righteous twit, attacking me with every text he sends.

Perhaps it’s because any semblance of control he thought he had is now ending. The papers have been signed and all that is left is the court’s judgement.

So, how do you forgive someone for not just one heinous act, but for revolting behavior that lasted for almost a year, when he doesn’t assume any responsibility for it. Not only that, he literally blames me, telling me if I’d been a better wife, he never would have had to cheat.

Literally, that was a text message I received. “…had to cheat.” What goes on in a person’s mind, how warped does it have to be when you genuinely believe that you “have to” cheat?! Now, I get how infidelity occurs. I understand how a person can even justify an act of infidelity. But to betray me for over 10 months with multiple “lovelies” around the country? And then come back home for the weekend to berate me and tell me how awful of a wife I am?

Yeah, that I can’t wrap my head around.

All the while, I am *trying* to maintain the house, raise our daughter, run a brand new business, run around like a maniac, take our daughter to all her things, just so he can travel as much as he can “for work” but really, it’s to sleep with more lovelies.

Yeah. I absolutely cannot forgive.

Not yet, at least.

So the storm rages on. The poison slowly erodes my patience, my kindness, my ability to respond with grace. Well, I haven’t been able to respond with grace for months now. The aggravation is just far too intense.

Which tells me that I must forgive. Because it’s for me and not for him.

But – oh. my. goodness, that just feels so impossible.

So maybe I can just give myself permission to hate him – for now. To understand that his behavior is harmful, venomous, even. And not worry about forgiveness just yet. The pressure I have put on myself to try to find a way to forgive him, to respond to him with grace, is just as emotionally taxing as it is to deal with him and all his abusive rants.

I know that it takes a remarkable inner strength to forgive and to respond with grace. I just don’t have that in me right now.

I read a post on Instagram that really hit home:

Closure doesn't come from another person. Closure comes from a peaceful acceptance and surrender that we have internally." 
- Vienna Pharaon

Yep. Nothing internal is peaceful right now.

I struggle with self-worth, with the concept of being valuable to a partner. I feel unloveable – romantically. I don’t believe I’m capable of being in a successful relationship. I don’t believe in my ability to fall for a man that truly loves, values, or respects me. I have allowed my ex to ruin that side of me – and now it has to be built up again.

And that will take time.

And, oof, so much inner strength.

So, I’d rather put my efforts into remembering that I could be an asset in somebody’s life, that just maybe someone could see my worth, that I could be treasured, rather than try to forgive someone who is unable to be a man and face what he actually did to his family. He didn’t just break one marriage vow. He didn’t simply “cheat.”

What he did was far more destructive than that. And incredibly multi-layered.

Which is why I cannot forgive. Not yet.