Tag: ashley madison

life

Eating the Elephant

A Graceful Catastrophe

You know, there just isn’t any guidebook for how to deal with trauma. When you see someone going through something difficult, you sometimes *try to* put yourself in their shoes. Sometimes people make judgments on how the other person is responding or how they would do it differently. Other people seem rather fascinated and can’t even begin to understand how the person is coping “so well.”

In reality, you just don’t know until you go through it – and even then you have no idea how to process life.

For me, I’ve been processing by choosing to escape. I haven’t wanted to face my reality because the rare moments where I couldn’t avoid them were crippling. So I did what I could to bury it further. The pain from the discovery on March 17 has really, quite honestly, been impossible to bear.

But I think it was because I was trying to face it all at once. I thought I had to eat the elephant in one bite, so to speak. I thought I had to look at my pain, all of it, and try to process it as a whole.

That idea was beyond overwhelming. To think that I had to try and understand what was going on inside my head, to sit down and pick apart the betrayal and agony one layer at a time until it had all been chewed up and spit back out, was inconceivable!

But I thought that’s how it was supposed to be done. Just face your fears, right? Why wouldn’t the same idea apply to facing your trauma?

And do you know how absolutely and genuinely terrifying that is? And I mean “terrifying” by its exact definition: “causing extreme fear,” as Google’s dictionary says. “Extreme,” guys. Not just regular, run of the mill fear, but extreme. Again, thank you Google dictionary for defining “extreme” for us: reaching a high or the highest degree.

I had reached the highest degree of fear and was sprinting away as quickly as I could. I was never suicidal, thankfully, but I didn’t want to live this life. I wanted, desperately, to run away. So I could pretend that this wasn’t my reality. How could this be my reality? How could I ever trust again? There are, I’m sorry, were, two men in my life that I blindly trusted. My dad and my now ex-husband. How could he do what he did, day in and day out, for almost a year, all while coming home and complaining about what an awful wife I was? And let’s not forget about how he sat in marriage counseling and complained about how awful I was there, only to turn around and tell his Ashley Madison lovelies all about our therapy sessions.

Yeah, I wanted to run. Far and fast. How could that have been my life?!

At first, I thought I could handle everything with grace. Of course you should give grace to those who least deserve it. Well, that’s all fine and dandy when you’re in the denial stage of grief. There wasn’t a ton of grace to be given during the anger stage! I don’t know if you can see the hashtags on my blogs, but if you can, and you take a look back, there’s a definite moment where I stopped using the hashtag “living life with class and grace and muscles.” Because I was only living life with muscles.

I was angry a lot of the time, which I preferred to sadness. Sadness shut me down. Sadness made me want to hide under the covers and never, ever move again. Anger, though, anger made me feel alive! I could still laugh when I was angry. I could put up a front and live in the moment and feel free of my reality.

But, that’s not exactly the most healthy way to live…

Like I wrote in yesterday’s blog, there’s a distinct shift occurring within. I couldn’t pinpoint it yesterday but I can today.

The last 2 months, while wild and fun, have still felt empty. I have felt so empty and I have been trying, in vain, to fill that void.

But when the wild and crazy calmed down, I was left feeling emptier still. I’ve never done ecstasy or Molly but I feel like my last 2 months resemble what I’ve heard those highs – and lows – are like. From what I understand, when under the influence, you feel euphoric. But then when it starts to wear off, the coming down from it is one of the worst things ever.

That’s how my life has been. I have a blast going out with my friends, or going out on dates, but when it’s all said and done, my reality is that I’m still alone, trying to process a trauma so great that it has been both exhausting and crippling. And simply too excruciating to face.

There has been very minimal light and the darkness definitely won for some time.

But I had the most amazing session with my therapist Thursday of last week and he gave me permission that I don’t have to face my reality all at once. What?! I don’t?! Oh, my goodness, halle-freaking-lujah!!

Do you know that I felt about a million times lighter after that? I can just live. I don’t have to sit down and spend hours – or days – doing nothing else except focusing on sorting out all the emotions! I can walk through life and just live. And when something triggers me, I can feel sad. I can honor that emotion, that moment, process it for what it’s worth, and then move on. I don’t have to linger there and go deeper and try to understand how it applies to the 34 thousand other layers of pain. I can just process that piece. I can eat the elephant one bite at a time.

Life. Changing.

Friday night was like my grand farewell to the last 2 months. It was probably the wildest, most uninhibited night I’ve ever had. And probably the most fun.

Saturday morning I awoke with a distinct shift in my mindset.

I want more.

I don’t want to feel empty anymore. I also don’t feel the need to escape anymore. Now that I know I don’t have to swallow this elephant whole, I am no longer terrified.

Guys. I am no longer terrified of my reality.

I fully understand what this means for me…it means that I can finally begin to heal.

And that makes me smile.

As I write this, it is June 17th. At 6:08 tonight, while I was out with my girls for dinner, I hit the 3 month mark exactly.

It makes me laugh to think it’s only been 3 months. A lifetime has occurred in these last 3 months! And I’m sure I’m in for a million more changes and ups and downs in the next 3 months.

There’s no doubt my mindset will continue to flex and change as the time progresses. If nothing else, I give myself permission to continue riding this wave, to allow it to guide me through this next phase. At least now, I am facing the challenges ahead unafraid.

This elephant will be eaten – eventually. And I’m giving myself permission to do so one nibble at a time.

life, love

In Spite of the Ache, I’ll Rise Up

A Graceful Catastrophe

This whole grief cycle is stupid. I’m so super completely over it. I’m finding that the ramifications of my ex cheating on me for almost a year has caused so many more layers of hurt than I initially even realized and they are all sandwiched in anger and disbelief and frustration and so, so much sadness.

What’s interesting is that the sadness, right now, isn’t coming from the marriage ending. I’m too logical to pretend that it didn’t completely suck for a long time.

What I am really struggling with is that I know my world view has been completely altered. I honestly, today, right now in this moment, believe that romantic love is an illusion. I believe that familial love is a thing and I think you can feel it with your friends. A deeper sort of affection and connection with family and those that feel like family. I think that’s ingrained in us at the cellular level.

Romantic love, though, has got to be a joke. In the last few days, I’ve heard about two more women whose husbands cheated on them with multiple women, one dear husband was also a fellow Ashley Madison user.

Everyone has a story. Woman after woman and man after man have come to me with stories of relationships ending due to infidelity.

Romantic love is like that faint smell of beautifully blossoming flowers that you catch for just a moment in the summer breeze – and then it disappears and you wonder if you’d imagined it. It’s there, so distinct, so strong…and so fleeting.

I don’t ever want to love like that again. And I don’t want to be loved like that again. It isn’t real. And if it is, it is fleeting. It is there one moment, so intense and beautiful, and then whisked away in the next. Only incredible destruction is left in its wake.

Why would anyone willingly subject themselves to that level of vulnerability?

That honestly just feels like such nonsense to me.

I know I’m still processing through this pain and I am fully aware that my thoughts vary depending on my emotions, depending on how I’m painting the world in that given moment.

In this moment, based on my own life experiences at age 38…and those of my parents, friends, and strangers…romantic love is a sham. It’s been proven to me over and over and over again. It’s a sad, horrible joke. It’s short-lived…momentary.

And once it’s gone, terrible things can happen. Lives are forever altered. Perceptions of the world that is being lived in have to be re-created. The world is no longer the same.

My world is no longer the same.

I am no longer the same.

I can’t decide yet if that’s good or bad or if it just is. I’m leaning towards it just is. It is my reality.

I don’t think I’ll ever again look at anything the same as I once did. Everything is different. Well, the way I view it is different. I suppose it’s the same world. I am just wearing different lenses now.

Surprisingly, I do have hope that this new world I live in will be beautiful for me. It does make me sad that I am no longer the romantic soul I’ve always been. It makes me sad that I genuinely have zero desire to be loved in a romantic way ever again. I’m mourning the fact that I no longer believe in the fairy tales and romance stories that have always grabbed at my heart. It’s all just fiction.

But what is real are people and moments and delightful moments with those wonderful people. It doesn’t need to be any deeper than that and to think that it does is a societal joke. I no longer care about the future, I put absolutely zero stock in it. It doesn’t exist and it never will. What exists is now. And I laugh plenty now. So many of you make me feel so special now. I am deeply loved by you. And I know it. Because I feel it.

I have a playlist on Spotify that started when two of my close girlfriends decided I needed music to go with this chapter of my life. I have since added to it and I’m really liking how it is taking shape. Music is so powerful and these songs are doing a phenomenal job at summarizing my current state – and helping me make sense of it all.

These are lyrics from one of the songs my girlfriend recommended. The song is called Rise Up and it’s sung by Andra Day. I actually frequently cry when I hear it because it hits me right to my core.

You're broken down and tired
Of living life on a merry go round
And you can't find the fighter
But I see it in you so we gonna walk it out
And move mountains
We gonna walk it out
And move mountains

And I'll rise up
I'll rise like the day
I'll rise up
I'll rise unafraid
I'll rise up
And I'll do it a thousand times again
And I'll rise up
High like the waves
I'll rise up
In spite of the ache
I'll rise up
And I'll do it a thousands times again

The next line is “For you.” But I’ll rise up a thousand times again – for me. For my daughter. I’ll rise up every time I fall. Every time I feel broken. Every time I feel hopeless.

I’ll rise up. I’ll walk it out. A thousand times again. Though, the “unafraid” bit is a struggle. I think that is there for the long haul. I’m far too afraid to be hurt and betrayed like this again. I won’t allow myself to be vulnerable. This castle is secure.

Which makes me think of another song on my playlist: Because of You by Kelly Clarkson.

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt
Because of you
I try my hardest just to forget everything
Because of you
I don't know how to let anyone else in
Because of you
I'm ashamed of my life
Because it's empty
Because of you
I am afraid

I know this song was written for a completely different situation, yet it fits – for the most part. Because of my ex’s actions, I’m now extremely guarded. And I just want to forget everything. But I’m absolutely not ashamed of my life. It isn’t empty. And the way I now am choosing to live it isn’t wrong. Though there is a void where romantic love used to exist and that void will remain. I no longer know how to let in anyone in that capacity. And even if I could remember, I’m much too afraid.

Despite that, most days, I am happy. Genuinely. I am fulfilled. My community lifts me up – you all help me walk it out. You, all of you in your variety of roles you play in my life, you fill my life with joyous moments. You make me feel loved and special and like I can make it through another day. You fill my life with meaning.

This journey feels as though it will be a never-ending roller coaster ride. A constant struggle. But I am not one who stays down when she has fallen – I am far too stubborn for that. And so, “I’ll rise up. In spite of the ache. I’ll rise up. And I’ll do it a thousand times again.”

love

Fairy Tales are Simply Nonsense

A Graceful Catastrophe

I used to be such a romantic. I’d cry at love songs and sappy romcoms. I used to love it when a boy made me a mixed tape, listing all the songs that made him think of me.

I used to believe in fairy tales. And I honestly thought they could happen in real life.

Now, some days I feel like a zombie, operating in full-on survival mode, functioning with a smile on my face that is only surface deep. Faking it ’till I make it, not daring to show those around me the insurmountable pain I feel, for fear of it consuming me if I acknowledge it exists.

Other days, I legitimately feel like a freaking rock star. Like I have everything under control. And on those days, in those moments, my smile stretches widely across my face and travels deep into my soul.

I’m living in two worlds, with a foot planted firmly in each.

I’ve thought a lot about why I have my zombie days. I mean, it’s not like my marriage was great before he cheated. It sucked. And it had sucked for years. I had told those closest to me that it felt like I was trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. It was never going to happen; it wasn’t ever supposed to fit.

So, why am I so affected by this? I’m free from a lousy marriage! The things that annoyed me about my ex are no longer anything I have to put up with anymore! I can stay in Colorado, for Pete’s sake!! (For those that do not know, the plan was for us to retire in FL. I do not like FL and was absolutely not looking forward to having to move from my Utopian CO to live there. Bleh.)

I think the thing that really gets to me is how it all went down. I don’t quit. Especially something like a family. I would never abandon my family like he did. When I was chatting with a good friend about the possibility of divorce, my friend asked me if I’d done everything in my power to save the marriage. Could I walk away with a clear conscience that every avenue was pursued, a good fight was fought, but just lost.

And I couldn’t. I couldn’t say that I’d put forth any effort into saving the marriage, to be quite honest. So, in that moment, I decided to try. Like, really try. I wrote a 3 page letter, front and back, and cried as I read it to him. I owned all my faults. I made myself so vulnerable. I thought, if I laid it all out on the table, if I admitted to all the moments I was an awful wife, we could grow together from there.

I read him the letter this last fall. He’d been cheating on my since the previous spring. I was too late – he was already gone.

I made myself so embarrassingly vulnerable to him, and I genuinely thought he had heard me. How preciously naive I was. And then 6 months later I found out he’d been cheating on me for a ridiculously long time. What a fool! I was lied to for almost a year and I ignored my gut when I had a feeling something was off. The levels of betrayal run so deep.

I was humiliated.

That’s where my anger is coming from, I think. That’s why I hurt straight down to my core.

I put everything out there. Left my heart unprotected, let my guard completely down. So that I could try to save my family and if I failed, I could at least say I did everything I could to keep us together.

But he can’t say that. Rather than expose his soul to me so we could grow together, he withdrew emotionally and fell into the arms of woman after woman. For months and months. Then came home and complained about what an awful wife I was.

Oh, I can feel the rage building right now.

And this makes me so mad because if I can be played for a fool so easily by the one person that I thought I knew so well, how on earth could I ever trust anyone to not do the exact same thing?

I’m jaded. And I hate it. I don’t want to feel this way. I mean, I don’t think I even believe in monogamy anymore! Everyone I know has a story. EVERYONE. I’ll never allow someone to make me feel this way again. Which means, I have to remain guarded. I can’t be vulnerable. It’s inevitable that I’ll just get hurt.

So why bother?

I know, I know. Two months. It’s been 70 days. I get it. I know what you’re going to say. The road to healing has only just begun to be traveled. I get I’m still in the early stages. And it’s impossible to really make any progress with him still living in the basement, still here to lose his ever loving mind around me whenever I do or say something that upsets him.

He’s not the easiest person to deal with. And now that I am so emotionally closed off, neither am I. Vulnerability, especially around him, is obviously not safe. I have to guard my emotions, guard my heart. I’ve already been a fool for the last year. I won’t allow that anymore.

But that means I come across as cold. Unfeeling. Uncaring.

Well, duh. *face palm*

I have to protect myself now from the person he’s shown himself to be. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

There won’t be a second time.

So when I want to escape, when I want to run away, I think it’s coming from a place of shame more than hurt. Shame that I didn’t know. Shame that I opened up, accepted blame, and put my heart tenderly in his hands – only for him to spit on it before throwing it away, tossing it haphazardly over his shoulder.

The hard truth? Our marriage, in my opinion, was inevitably going to end. He’d asked for a divorce about 9 or 10 months before he cheated. I told him no, I wasn’t going to quit the family. I didn’t believe in just giving up. I didn’t believe in abandoning the family (because that’s what I equated it to) just because we didn’t want to get our hands dirty and try to make the marriage better. I told him that we needed to work on our marriage, that I believed we could have a happy life together. So I denied him the divorce.

And then neither one of us chose to work. Neither of us tried. We both waited for the other one to change. It took me well over a year to finally get to a place where I was all in. But it took him 9 or so months to decide to throw us away and sign up for Ashley Madison.

I was too late.

I loved him. He can be such an amazing human. I married him for a reason.

And now I don’t know him. I don’t trust him. I have no clue where his morals lie.

So on the hardest of days, I completely shut down. I go out with my girls, probably drink a little too much, and try so hard to erase the shame of being such a fool, for being so hopeful and vulnerable, for being so extremely naive.

Because I had no clue, when I exposed my heart to him, that he was looking at me with eyes that had looked deep into another woman’s. That when he hugged me, he was hugging me with the same arms that had been wrapped around another woman’s body. Many other women’s bodies. And this had been going on for months and months.

How could I have missed it???

I’ll never miss it again.

Because vulnerability is too risky.

There is no fairy tale. No Cinderella story. Perhaps there’s no such thing even as true love.

I’m sure the days of operating like a zombie will pass. I’ll find a new normal and thrive there. I’ll have fun and make connections with others, but it’ll be a long time, perhaps never, before I place my heart in someone else’s hands.

I just don’t trust that they wouldn’t eventually spit on it, too.

I’ll never allow myself to walk into another relationship with eyes naively closed, blinded by love. Another person will never throw me away again.

My days of being a blindly trusting, naive little fool are over.

Walls up. Guards up. My castle is well protected. And will remain that way indefinitely.

Because those precious fairy tales I grew up watching? The ones my daughter watches and then, at the happily ever after, smiles through her tears and gives a little sigh?

They don’t exist.

It’s not better to have loved and lost. It’s better to not love at all so you can never be betrayed or hurt.

Because fairy tales, quite simply, are all just a bunch of nonsense.

life

Dear Ashley Madison Lovelies

A Graceful Catastrophe

I spent a good portion of today angry and frustrated. It isn’t all that often that I allow those negative feelings to consume an entire day of mine, but today it was, apparently, unavoidable.

I have a way with words. I typically am very capable of putting my thoughts and feelings into sentences that are able to be clearly read and understood by others.

The feelings I have from being betrayed by one of the very few people that I blindly trusted – by my husband – are just nothing that I can put into any form of coherent thought.

It’s more of a physical feeling, deep within my gut. When I allow it to consume me, I feel physically ill. Most of today, I felt absolutely sick. But, like, disgusted. Like I was forced to eat old, molded, putrid, rotted fish. Over and over. Bite after bite.

That’s as close as I can get to explaining what it feels like when I try to understand what my ex did to me and our family. It’s also the feeling I get when I look at him and fully understand that he has absolutely no clue the extent at which his actions have affected me.

And will always affect me.

I know he doesn’t understand because of his actions and words all day today.

Which constantly made me feel even worse. To know that he doesn’t understand, and to realize I am incapable of explaining it in a way that he can, drove me absolutely bonkers today.

I desperately want him to understand how I feel. I want him to truly visit the depths of the sea of anguish I now swim (and sometimes sink) in. But how could he ever when I don’t even quite comprehend how I feel?

I know I am so incredibly angry. I am disgusted. I am filled with rage and even hate. Lately, the ability to live with grace has been shadowed by so much negativity. The more he pushes back, the cockier he behaves, the more he tries to defend and justify what he did, the less I am capable of acting with any semblance of class or grace.

And he’s been home for so long now! When he was cheating on me for the last year, he was home for about 1 week each month (except during the 2 months after his accident, when he was home and I was taking care of him, the house, and our daughter, all while trying to work my new business… Ugh, I wish I knew then what I know now!) . Now that he’s not cheating, he’s barely been on the road! Coincidence? I think not.

It’s so hard to see his face, day in and day out. It’s even harder to hear him play the role of victim, which he has been doing more and more frequently. It consumes me with such fury that I know I need to head to a rage room soon because I definitely do not need to be punching another column in my kitchen…

Every time I think about what occurred during the last year of my life, I try to assign words to the thoughts and feelings swirling about. I fail every single time. But perhaps it’s impossible because words are rational and these thoughts and feelings are anything but.

My life was a joke – and I had absolutely no clue. Well, that’s not exactly true. I had a gut feeling, even talked to my best friend about it, but dismissed it quickly because I thought, no, not him. He’d never lie or cheat.

God, I was a fool! Listen to your gut, ladies and gentlemen. It doesn’t lie to us.

You now the other thing that made me so mad today? Apparently, he has shared this blog with some of the women he chats with on Ashley Madison. They read it and then text him, reinforcing his thoughts that he is a victim, that how awful I am to paint such a picture of him. I mean, they are women with letters after their names! They know! They told him, apparently, that I have portrayed him as a villain. And since they have titles, they absolutely know what they’re talking about.

Well, it’s a good thing you Ashley Madison women know my (ex) husband so well! How dare I show him in such a terrible light?! Of course I’m just a woman scorned, out to say horrible untruths about the man that did nothing wrong over the course of our marriage. He was the victim! If he did behave in any sort of unsavory way, it was simply because he was provoked! His behavior was always justified because I acted in such a way that deserved to be treated and talked to in such a manner. He was, of course, justified in his actions over the last year, too, because I didn’t show him love… Of course all of these blogs are written because I’m just hurt and want to attack him.

Barf.

I do not write this to throw him under the bus, as his precious friends would like to reinforce. I write this to not feel so alone. To process. To feel support from my community during a time when my heart – my life – is absolutely shattered. To try, desperately, to put words to the ugliness I feel within, down to my core. To rationalize this catastrophe. And I write to hear how maybe you assigned some sort of sense to it when you went through it.

I write to know that I will come out ahead and even stronger than before. To know that I will never allow something like this to ever happen to me again.

I write so that I can look back on these blogs and remind myself to never again be such a naive fool. To always listen to my gut.

Because, guys! I don’t remember things. Ever. I have the worst memory! And God forbid I ever forget how this feels.

So I write. I document. I process. I lean on you all (well, maybe not all. I’m definitely not leaning on you lovely Ashley Madison ladies).

So, let me speak directly to you, you Ashley Madison lovelies: understand that you have absolutely no clue who this man really is – you only know who he wants you to see.

And understand that I do not write to villainize (yes, that really is a word) my ex. It’s not always about him. I write, first and foremost, for me.

Because I will not forget this pain. Ever. I refuse. I will have these blogs to look back on as a constant reminder to never be fooled again.

I write to remember.

life

A Graceful Catastrophe

A Graceful Catastrophe

Google defines “graceful” as having or showing grace or elegance. Grace, in the way I am wanting to use it, is then defined as:

  • courteous goodwill
  • an attractively polite manner of behaving.

Catastrophe is defined by Google as:

  • an event causing great and often sudden damage or suffering; a disaster.

Despite suffering a pretty major catastrophe, with disastrous results, I am now choosing to live my life filled with grace towards others. Starting with my (ex) husband.

I didn’t get to this point immediately, though. I am currently typing this with a “boxer’s fracture” in my right hand. If you don’t know what that is, it is most commonly referred to as a break in the pinky finger, typically occurring after punching something.

You may not know me, so, let me quickly describe myself. I am an eternal optimist. I describe myself as being filled with rainbows and sunshine. I struggle killing insects – even mosquitoes. I am not, generally speaking, impulsive or violent.

However, the mind’s response is quite fascinating when presented with stress.

On March 17th, while at a dinner party for St. Patrick’s Day, a catastrophe struck in the middle of my heart. My home, as I knew it, was destroyed. I received an email from a stranger at 6:08 pm, telling me my husband has been leading a double life for over 6 months. See, he’s a stereotypical traveling salesman, who decided that turning to Ashley Madison was the way to fix an unhappy marriage. In a way, he was right. He is no longer in an unhappy marriage because we are no longer married. (I mean, we haven’t quite sorted things out to be legally separated, but that’s strictly a technicality.)

The rage and fury within was something I didn’t realize I was capable of, and, to be perfectly honest, I thought that extent of emotion was only real in movies. On Day 4, I lost my ever loving mind. I went into a complete blind rage (that’s totally a thing, by the way). I hated him with every cell in my body and in that moment, I wanted to hurt him. Like, really, really hurt him. I thought about attacking him but somehow ended up punching a column in the kitchen a few times instead. I didn’t really realize what I was doing. I actually don’t really remember much about those moments. He’d said something that triggered me and that was the end of any rational thought.

So, I broke my pinky bone bad enough that a few days later, I had surgery. I now have a significantly bulky cast on my hand that happens to slow down typing tremendously. *sigh*

But, a curious thing happened. My rage is gone. My hate is gone. And it happened instantly. Punching the wall, breaking my hand, was, simply put, cathartic. All the anger, rage, and fury flew out of my body through my fist. Immediately after it happened, I literally felt flooded with an inner peace. It was incredible.

I’ve heard that the people who least deserve grace are the ones who most deserve it. My ex-husband does not deserve grace. Yet, that is exactly what I am choosing to give him. He is still the father of my child, who is a sweet and innocent bystander in this catastrophe. She’s watching me and is ridiculously conscious of my every move. While she doesn’t quite understand yet, my actions are showing her how to handle pain and trauma. How to respond to those that hurt you. Revenge isn’t the answer. And surely hate only hurts the one who harbors it.

Love is always the answer.

I am hurt, disappointed, and awfully sad. Someone is going to cause my daughter to feel those exact emotions. How do I want her to handle herself when that time comes? I know one thing for sure, I definitely do not want her spinning into a blind rage where she becomes someone, even momentarily, that scares her. I don’t want her to realize she’s capable of such dark and ugly thoughts. I want her initial response to be that of grace and compassion.

So that is exactly what I am showing her. I’ve learned so much about myself in the days since March 17th. Some of which scared me and shook me to my core. Who knew I was potentially capable of such evil? Is that living deep within all of us?

It may have come about 4 days late, and my broken hand is an undeniable part of my story now. Though I believe it is there as a conscious reminder that I have to intentionally choose to live through this catastrophe gracefully. This deliberate way of living is for my daughter just as much as it is for myself.

We all have choices as to how we handle the difficult situations life throws at us. Please be sure you choose wisely. I will, too, as I will now consciously choose to live life with grace and class…(and muscles. But that’s for another blog. *wink*)