Tag: betrayal

life

My Ex is Dead

A Graceful Catastrophe

Last night, my ex died. Not literally, though he is dead to me now. Any last hope I had that somewhere deep inside he’s a good person, is also dead.

Yesterday, I was served with papers from his lawyer stating he did not agree with the calculations ordered by the courts. He believed I was lying about my income and, therefore, is fighting me on support payments.

Here’s an interesting story for you.

Shortly after I started dating my ex, he was arrested for a DUI. He spent a night in jail, where I had to bail him out. He lost his job. He lost everything. And, while our relationship was still quite new at this point, I stood by his side. I lifted him up. I supported him in every single way a loving partner ought to have supported her significant other.

This DUI followed him for years. For quite some time, he had to take whatever crappy job he could, slowly working to build his career back up. We had our daughter and I managed teaching full time, taking care of every detail of managing a home and family, and raising our daughter, almost completely by myself. So that he could focus on rebuilding his career.

Today, he has a job where he makes over $10,800 each month (he actually texted me and corrected me on this) This month, I’ll make right around $800. I typically average right around $2000 per month.

In our divorce, I didn’t come after his retirement, though I could have. I didn’t come after him for many, many things I very well could have. I only requested to follow the court’s calculated support payments. The court agreed. And so did he, signing all the papers.

His income today is largely due to me – his girlfriend, then fiancée , then wife – supporting him, helping him rebuild the life he lost, through his own irresponsible actions. When we met, he was tens of thousands of dollars in debt. His credit score was embarrassing. He made extremely poor financial decisions.

I stood by his side. I helped him rebuild.

When he started punching me with his words, I still stood by his side. I helped him rebuild.

When he tells people “his side” of the story, he tells them how, y the end of our marriage, we had sex quite infrequently and that I rarely kissed him.

This is fact. I do not deny losing passion for him.

He treated me like garbage. Why would I choose to be intimate with somebody who spent much of his time insulting me? See, what people don’t know is that while I was fighting an extremely debilitating illness that gave me chronic fatigue and incredible pain, while teaching full time (where I had four preps – if you’re a teacher, you understand what that workload looks like), while managing the home, while raising our daughter, all with as much of a smile on my face as I could muster, he was out, building his career.

That was his focus. And I supported him.

Well, that, and treating me like garbage the next day for falling asleep with our daughter while putting her to bed rather than spend time in the evening with him. Falling asleep was never a choice. And I dealt with immense guilt for not having the ability to stay awake and spend time with him.

Rather than be compassionate and understanding, however, he would attack me first thing in the morning the next day, serving up an onslaught of words that felt like punches to the gut. His words were so ugly that they literally affected me physically.

And then, another new day started – again.

Where everything was repeated.

This happened for years and years.

I came to believe that I was not enough. I was not worthy. No matter what efforts I attempted to put forth, they were laughed at because, in his eyes, it wasn’t ever enough. To him, I showed no effort. He only saw what he wanted to.

Meanwhile, I was his punching bag and still tried to be a good wife, taking care of everything I could so that he could focus on rebuilding his career.

I took the almost daily verbal and emotional abuse. Why? I have no idea. Guilt, I guess. And believing I deserved it. If I could’ve been healthy enough to be a good wife, then he wouldn’t have had to be so angry towards me. If he could still be living in Florida, he wouldn’t have to be so resentful towards me, slinging his anger at me like daggers cutting through my heart.

We tried marriage counseling. The therapist tried outlining to my ex why I was who I was in our marriage. For a minute, I thought he got it…he didn’t.

I finally found a doctor who listened to me. After exploratory surgery, it was found that I had one of the worst cases of endometriosis he had ever seen. And he was not a young doctor. We decided to do a less invasive surgery, one where the doctor predicted I’d be healthy and good to go for approximately the next 3 years.

I felt great for about 3 months before all my previous symptoms started to come back. I dealt with them, getting progressively sicker for the next 3 or so months. In June, I went back to my doctor, because I just couldn’t take it anymore.

Everything with my endo was so severe, that I was scheduled for a hysterectomy just 6 days later. During surgery, it was discovered that my appendix was so diseased that the doctor was in shock that it hadn’t ruptured. I had an emergency appendectomy, too.

After surgery, I didn’t take any pain medicine. Once the pain meds from the surgery wore off, I didn’t take anymore again – for days.

The pain from that surgery was less than the chronic pain I’d been dealing with for the previous 5 or so years. So much less that I actually drove myself home from my hysterectomy and was hiking (miles) in Utah (on a family camping trip) just 11 days later.

This was a little over 2 years ago. That was also less than 1 year before my ex decided cheating on my was the way to go. Our marriage was shit from years of stress, years of beating me down for not being good enough, and he gave it less than one year after I was finally healthy to try to work on us.

He never worked on us.

Three or so months after he started cheating on me (unbeknownst to me), we went on a “beautiful family vacation” to Anguilla. There are a lot of Europeans who vacation in Anguilla and one woman’s standard of beach attire was much different than mine.

I knew my ex was watching her every move that day. What I didn’t know was that when he took a picture of his daughter and I, it was actually a picture of this beautiful, naked woman who was standing in the background.

He had such little respect for me that he didn’t even realize this was a dirty and disrespectful thing to do. When we came home, we went on a camping trip with a friend of mine and her family. We started talking about our trip to Anguilla and my ex asked the husband, “Hey, do you want to see a picture of my beautiful family on the beach?” He, laughing quite jovially, pulled up the picture, and then zoomed in to the real focus, of the naked woman in the background.

Guys, this was my life. Disrespecting me daily, womanizing, devaluing, and de-emphasizing my worth.

We were together for almost 11 years.

Recently I found an old journal with an entry dated approximately 4 months into our relationship. The first sentence is, “The words you just said to me stung as though you just smacked me across the face.”

When he shares his side of the the story, where I didn’t show him physical attention, please understand my side, too. For our entire relationship, I supported him so that he could rebuild his life professionally, all while managing the home and raising our daughter, teaching, and, for at least the last 6 years of our marriage, dealing with a chronic illness so severe that the pain 24 hours post major surgery felt like a literal walk in the most beautiful park.

When he hired a lawyer to contradict the court’s decision on support payments, he finally died to me. I finally see him for exactly who he is. He never once valued me as a partner, oftentimes making derogatory remarks regarding my teacher’s salary, amongst other things, and chose to focus on the fact that I didn’t take care of his physical needs.

Day after day, year after year, I was reminded that I was not enough. I was treated like garbage. I was reminded that I was an awful wife, almost daily, for the vast majority of our relationship.

And yet, I supported him so that he could rebuild. I took care of every detail so he didn’t have to worry about anything outside of building his professional life again. And I did so, for the most part, with a smile on my face.

He chose to end our marriage by cheating on me with random women across the country, then coming home on the weekends to remind me just how awful of a wife I was, and sit in therapy sessions that he later told his mistresses all about. He chose to stop working on our marriage less than one year after I was finally healthy.

Through sickness and health were not vows he embraced. Looking back, what he showed me was not love. And if I were gracious enough to define it as such, it surely was not unconditional love. He only treated me well when he was on the receiving end of physical attention. I was barely a human to him, much less a valued partner.

And he’s showing me that again.

I am not valued.

My efforts in managing all the details in order to support him from being in a position of being in jail and losing everything to where he now makes well over $10,000 per month (oh, and that does not include any bonuses he will be receiving), is non-existent to him.

He threw this family away. He threw me away. And he continues to devalue me.

Well, I am a changed woman and will no longer give him the power and control it takes to feel devalued. Sure, last night when I received the letter from his lawyer, I lost my ever loving mind. I was betrayed once again. His actions showing me that all he does is purposely hurt and destroy others – even the woman that helped to bring him to where he is today.

So, he’s dead. His actions will no longer have any impact on me. He is completely inconsequential to my life. I agreed to his lawyer’s request, following the court mandated amounts, because he is not worth any more effort. I could absolutely hire my own lawyer and make out like a bandit, as my documentation supports a lower amount than what I even thought I made. I could probably also sue him for the emotional and verbal abuse. I could hurt him financially to where he would regret his decision to hire this lawyer of his.

I could.

But that would mean putting energy into a human that no longer exists to me.

So I won’t.

Entitled? Call it what you will. I earned that money, too. He would not have the opportunity he currently has if it weren’t for me and my support over the last 11 years. I worked hard for the income and it is just as much mine as it is his. I know my value and fully understand it, even if he doesn’t. He won’t. He never did.

So, this is the last is the energy I will give to a man that is now dead to me.

Because my ex died last night. And I am finally released from any hope of the person I thought he could be. Because he doesn’t exist to me anymore.

When a person dies, he can’t hurt you anymore. I am finally free.

life, love

Eating Crow

A Graceful Catastrophe

A few days ago, I was talking with a friend that has this ability to call me out, saying all the difficult things that I need to hear, yet doing so in such a way that makes me pause, rather than defend (for the most part). I definitely don’t want to hear these observations, or answer the questions that inevitably follow, but, the truth of the matter is, in order to really grow, I must listen. And, in the kindest of ways, he makes me question all the things I thought to be true about not only me, but also my past.

After some hardcore self-reflection, I realized I have been a pretty shitty person to my ex. And not just in the last 7 months since I found out about his infidelity, but for years.

I lacked intention.

I lacked compassion and grace.

I reacted to his poor behavior, validating my response because I was a victim. A victim of all the things I’ve written about in previous blogs.

But, you know what? Just because somebody shits on you doesn’t mean you shit on them back. That’s just not being a good human. There’s no validating poor behavior. No matter what.

For my own reasons, I chose to treat my ex poorly. I withdrew. Any affection I’d had for him diminished day by day. I started to only see him in a negative light. I focused on all of his faults. And when I spoke to those closest to me, I complained about him. Incessantly. All I saw were the awful things about him. That was all I chose to see. So, naturally, I convinced myself that my poor behavior towards him was understandable. It was excusable. My awful behavior was valid.

Sure, we all know by now that he did not treat me well. However, I allowed myself to play the role of victim – for years. And have continued to do so for the last 7 months.

Was I a victim? Yep. Did it mean that I had to define myself as that? Nope. But I did. Unconsciously, sure, but I did. Right up until Friday night. Until my friend smacked me with that info.

Oof. That didn’t sit well with me at first. I immediately tried to protest. “But I only behaved that way because he…” No, no, no! That’s not okay. It was time for me to own my actions.

So I bit my tongue. Literally. And I sat there in silence, continuing to listen to what he was saying. I processed this info longer than anything else we talked about that night.

I lived in a place of constant hurt. And anger. And I held onto those emotions tighter with every breath I took.

And when someone’s words and actions constantly hurt, there are some defense mechanisms that have to be put into place for survival.

Or so I thought.

So, that’s what I did. I began to shut down. To be perfectly honest with myself, and, I suppose, you, my ex eventually ceased to exist to me. Over time, he wasn’t someone I fought for or tried to engage with. I loved him, and at the same time, I didn’t really care about him. And I gave myself all the valid reasons for my actions.

  • “Because he hurts me.”
  • “Because he doesn’t care about my feelings. Or my job. Or my day. Or (insert reason here).
  • “Because he doesn’t respect me.”

And guess what? It showed. It showed that he was an inconsequential human in my life.

He felt it.

I’m not sure which happened first. Did I shut down first or did he? Who shit on whom first?

Honestly, it doesn’t matter. We both turned away from one another. And we both convinced ourselves that it was okay. Because of that ugly place of being hurt. Both of us just wanted to feel love from the other. And neither of us was receiving it.

We were stuck in a negative loop so deeply entrenched in anger and hurt, stubbornness and frustration, that we both made decisions, some deliberate and intentional, others lacking complete intentionality, that drove a very solid wedge between us.

Let me be clear – hindsight is 20/20. In the moment, I never saw this. I actually didn’t see any of this until that conversation a few days ago. But the very ugly truth is that, over time, I came to care so little about him, and his feelings, that I would live my life with absolutely zero regard towards how my actions would affect him. He became insignificant and unimportant in my life.

Guys, we were married. I was his wife. And, though it was unintentional, I was, at the very least, a big giant jerk to him and at the very most, an astonishingly cold-hearted and inconsiderate human.

Just because it was unintentional doesn’t make it okay. Sure, I didn’t set out in the morning, when I opened my eyes, and plan how I was going to hurt him that day. I also didn’t set out that morning, when I opened my eyes, and plan how I would fill his life with happiness that day.

Truly loving somebody else is placing their happiness above your own. Seeing them happy should make you happy.

I didn’t care about his happiness. Because he didn’t care about mine.

Goodness, how wrong that thinking is!

Look at what it did, the outcome of that thought process…and to so many lives.

For the last 7 months, and for years before that, even if I thought that perhaps my actions could hurt him, I didn’t care. If it was something I wanted to do, I’d do it. His reaction to my actions weren’t my fault.

But, in a lot of ways, they were.

It wasn’t that I would purposely do something to hurt him. I’m not consciously evil. It’s that I wouldn’t think twice and consider that my actions could perhaps hurt him. He was that inconsequential to me.

Ouch.

Time for this incredibly inconsiderate person to eat crow.

Should he have betrayed me for almost a year? Of course not. Is it my fault? Of course not.

Were we operating from a place of love towards one another? Of course not.

My happiness didn’t matter to him. His happiness didn’t matter to me. Neither one of us mattered to the other.

Again…ouch.

I see the wife I was to him. I see it now, at least. Operating from a place of hurt and anger is simply a terrible way to live. And just because his behavior was poor and it did cause me pain and damage, it still doesn’t excuse my shitty behavior. I’m a grown woman capable of making sound decisions. I’m intuitive and bright. I engage in self-reflection. Yet, I chose to play the role of victim and react with venom, adding to the toxic environment. And then I justified it.

Not anymore.

My friend encouraged me to try to finally forgive. And not just my ex. But to take an honest look at my role in this and then forgive myself. He told me that it was an absolutely essential step in my ability to move forward. In the moment of that conversation, I probably looked at him like he was crazy.

But you know what? He’s right. So I have. I am. I’ve already begun to let my hurt go. I’ve come to terms with all the circumstances that have ultimately brought me here, to today, and to writing this blog.

If I want to move forward and continue to grow, if I want to be a positive and loving example to my daughter, and if I want to have any chance at having a healthy relationship in the future, I have to be a good human. And I have to face the realities that, during my marriage and right up until this last Friday night, I was not. And I have to not only forgive him, but I have to forgive myself.

So today, I am at a place where I have hope. I have hope that we can be civil to one another. I have hope that we can respect one another. I have hope that we will be supportive and kind to our future new spouses. I have hope that, someday, all 4 of us will be incredible parents to our marvelous little girl.

I have hope that, from this day forward (or, at least, most of the days that will follow), I will make the daily choice to walk through this life with purposeful intention, acting from a place filled with grace, and of love, which is once again filling my heart.

Crow has never tasted so good.

life, love

184 Days

A Graceful Catastrophe

This might be the day that I quit counting. 184 days might be the “magic number.” Some time ago, a friend told me that I should quit counting the days, that it wasn’t healthy, and asked if I was waiting on some magic number of days to pass when everything would be right in my world again.

Well, it’s here.

And it only took 6 months.

I doubt I’ll finish writing in time to publish this on September 17th, but that’s the date right now. To be exact, it’s 6 months, 4 hours, and 20 minutes from the time I received the email from my ex’s Ashley Madison lovely, exposing his double life. Exposing his infidelity. And exposing just the tip of the iceberg of the multitude of betrayals that would unfold over time.

Today, I celebrate that email. Today, I have a sense of peace and calm that I haven’t had in decades. I don’t think I’ve felt like this since July 31, 1998. And even then, I was just a kid.What did I know? Now, I have so much more experience that I approach that which life hands me with a sense of peace that has probably never existed within me.

My first husband was verbally and emotionally abusive. As was my second. Over time, without realizing it, I became an entirely different person than I tried to portray. My inner dialogue was painful and harsh. I thought very little of myself, while simultaneously trying to be the person on the outside that I desperately wanted to be on the inside.

I was living a lie. And it was exhausting.

I wanted nothing more than to live an authentic life. I’ve recently looked at an old journal, from several years ago, where I specifically wrote out “live an authentic life” as one of my goals – but I couldn’t. Because my internal message never matched what I presented to the world.

And it happened again, just yesterday. I have a dear friend group of moms at my gym. There are 5 of us in total and one of the moms bought us all hats. She carefully picked out the sayings for each of us, being deliberate and intentional with our phrases.

My hat says, “I’ll bring the dance moves.” I immediately thought it was given to me ironically because, as my internal dialogue has always affirmed – I don’t dance.

But then she explained that I’m always moving at the gym, dancing to the music. And it made me pause. I do dance! I dance without a care in the world at the gym! I’m confident there, and surrounded by people that love me and are just as crazy and ridiculous as I am. It’s my safe place. And I am completely comfortable there, surrounded by my friends-turned-family, that love me dearly.

I do dance.

I am in a news video clip, promoting our gym, that was taken last week. In the clip, you can see me dancing. I knew the news crew was there, yet I was in my zone, in my happy place, and I was dancing. Without a care in the world.

I do bring the dance moves.

Such a simple moment, with such profound results.

Once again, my internal dialogue was feeding me lies! The people around me see an entirely different person than the way I see myself and that has got to continue to change. Little by little, my worlds are coinciding.

I feel as though I’m finally achieving my goal. I’m living authentically. My internal dialogue is filled with positive messages to myself.

For example, I have (had?) body dysmorphia. I’d look in the mirror and see a completely different person than what others would see in me (hmm, I’m seeing a pattern here…). I’d stand on the scale and berate myself, calling myself a heifer and other such names. I wasn’t very kind to myself. *sigh*

But why?

Looking back, I think it’s because I was beat down for so long. I wasn’t enough for the people I loved – ever. I was criticized and humiliated. Accused and attacked. For decades.

So, the external onslaught became my internal dialogue.

And then, March 17th happened. And I started seeing my therapist frequently. I don’t recall now, but I think it was once a week, though at the very beginning, it might’ve even been twice each week. I just can’t remember.

But, man, is my therapist out of this world. 

(PSA: Guys, go get yourself a good mental health professional. No matter how you're feeling, seeing a therapist should be a part of your general self-care routine - even if it's quarterly, just to check in. Go.)

Okay…where was I?

Ahh, yes. My therapist calls me out. He doesn’t tiptoe around things. He knows I’m a perfectionist and tells me to knock it off, to quit playing “God.” He’s blunt. He’s seen me break down and ugly cry in his office because I didn’t believe the words he was telling me. I was so broken and had spent so many years beating myself up that I found myself unworthy. I believed the negativity my ex spewed at me. And I didn’t believe my therapist or anyone else who tried to tell me differently. Well, until this last month or so, when it just clicked after one of my appointments with him.

At this specific appointment, I left feeling defeated. I was still crying as I walked to my car. He had told me to re-frame my thoughts and gave me a replacement dialogue to use. I looked at him through my tears and shook my head. I told him I couldn’t say those things to myself because they were lies. I didn’t believe them. How could those things possibly be true???

He sighed, and with a look of sadness for me that he just couldn’t mask, he agreed to give me another option. For now, he said…one that was neutral and I was much more comfortable with saying to myself.

And I did. Anytime I needed to re-frame my inner dialogue, I repeated the second option. Until one time, I repeated the first. And it felt good. It felt honest. And I smiled. Because I believed it.

And I haven’t stopped believing my new inner dialogue.

Until I received the hat and the first thought in my head was, “I don’t dance.”

My inner voice still lies to me. I suppose we all deal with insecurities and things we’ve convinced ourselves of that, with enough confidence and self-reflection, we can find to be utterly untrue.

I do dance. Happily and ridiculously. And it took a dear friend to see that in me to make me realize this truth about myself.

I am finally listening to the positive messages people tell me. I no longer think I am unworthy of those messages. I no longer believe they’re just feeding me lines of complete garbage, just to try to make me feel better. I’m listening to the correct messages now and it’s changing who I am.

I used to worry about every little thing. I called myself a catastrophizer. I saw the negative outcome in anything. With some things, it turned into paralyzing fear.

Now, I simply ask myself, how do I feel about that right now. It is only this moment that exists. Why fret over the possible “what ifs” in life? I was a Type A planner. And worrier. I covered all the bases. Or I thought I did…

And where did that lead me?

No amount of planning can prevent life from unfolding exactly as it is supposed to. Loved ones will die. Car accidents will happen. Illness will strike. Personal catastrophes that are far worse than mere infidelity will occur – catastrophes that have no positive outcome in the end and yet, you still have to reconcile it all and try, valiantly, to move forward. (**Okay, I am not downplaying infidelity. However, so much good has come into my life from his choice to end our marriage through those means. With some catastrophes, no matter how hard you try, you cannot find the silver lining an no good will ever come from it.**)

There are some things that will still turn your world upside down, if only for a moment, regardless of how much effort you put in to make sure you’re following a certain path that has been deemed “safe” inside your head for your multitude of reasons.

So, I encourage you to live free and with authenticity (whatever that means for you. For me, it was to finally ignore the lies I’d been living with for decades).

Make sure your mind, body, and soul align to your truth.

Only listen to the voice in your head if it’s feeding you positivity. Otherwise, remind yourself that it’s all just lies and should be re-framed and shut down.

Six months later, I feel lighter than I have in a long time. The burden of the lies has been lifted. When my ex does beat me up, verbally speaking, he’s attacking triggers that used to exist. His words no longer have power over me. Where he was once able to destroy me with just a few sentences, I now simply shrug them off (okay, I might still throw in some cheap shots back, I haven’t quite mastered this whole “living with class and grace” thing). But the point is, his words do not defeat me anymore.

I am now living a life that is extremely satisfying. I am content. I feel empowered and strong. I very rarely overthink and over-analyze. And I have no fear.

Things just are.

I form my next decision based on how I feel right now, in this moment. I can’t put enough emphasis on that. Right now, this moment, is the only true reality. To me, that is the only thing that matters. If it is bringing me happiness right now, I will continue to pursue it. As soon as it evokes a negative emotion, then I change my course of action. I no longer worry about “what if” and “should’ve” and “could’ve.” Things just are. Life just is. I breathe in. I breathe out.

This is what is working for me.

I do dance. Thank you for seeing that in me, Casey. And even more than that, thank you for pointing it out to me.

And, finally, I live and love without bounds or fear of what may come or what may be. Because none of that matters. It simply doesn’t even exist, so how could it matter?

Six months later and I am finally free of the lies. I never would’ve thought, in the moments after receiving that email, that this is where the chain of events would lead me.

Who would have ever thought that I’d be so grateful that my ex cheated on me?

184. This might be my new lucky number.

Because life is so good today.

Please excuse me…I feel the need to go dance. I do that now. *smile*

life, love

The Demons from My Past

A Graceful Catastrophe

With my ex, I thought I had to work to prove my love to him. And I had to earn his love. And on the days where I didn’t earn it, it affected me in such a way that it made me wonder about my worth. What was I doing wrong? Why couldn’t I get him to love me? What was wrong with me that I wasn’t enough for him?

*sigh*

Because I haven’t held back yet, there’s no point in starting now. I’m going to get just a touch more vulnerable with you all and share a couple poems that I wrote on March 3 of this year, exactly 14 days before I found out he’d been living a double life.

Darkness

lonely soul, vacant eyes
a stretched smile,
nothing but a guise.

surrounded by love and support - except from The One, 
who tends to fall short.

rarely understood, no interest in chatting,
she stands alone,
her heart and mind combatting.

if hope exists, she doesn't quite see it.
the baggage too great,
the future dims - bit by bit.

can they hold on? how much longer?
both want to love, but
the heart must be stronger.

crowded life, full of joy.
except from that one,
special boy.

so her soul is tired. desperate and alone.
her heart is heavy. 
she's worn to the bone.

with nothing at home to hold her close, 
she quietly slips away,
unnoticed as she goes.

                                                -KKC

That same night, I also wrote this one:

You

She's strong and broken,
both happy and deeply pained.
Buried and losing herself to this life, 
 she feels chained.

She wants nothing more than authentic living,
a heart that beats true.
Moments spent with her best friend...
If only it could be You.

                                                    -KKC

I share these with you because this is where my head and my heart were a mere 2 weeks before finding out about the nearly year-long series of betrayals. Our marriage hadn’t always been difficult, but the last 6 years or so were pretty awful. By March, I knew something was off. I knew that we were hitting an all-time low.

Undeniably, it shows in my poetry.

And yet, I was still blindsided when I’d found out. And the feelings of unworthiness intensified after March 17. My mindset was in a terrible place, as all those negative thoughts, all the self-defeating inner dialogues, were justified – surely I wasn’t enough if he’d been able to do that.

Now, here we are, after just about 5 and a half months, loads of self-reflection, conversation, and affirmation after affirmation from my dear community, and I find myself turning the page on this chapter and staring at the promise of a brand new chapter.

I’m so excited to see how this one unfolds.

I was talking with a friend last night and we got on the subject of being “enough” and “worth it.” This is a constant struggle because, while my logical brain can process that of course I’m enough (I’m a onehundo, right?), emotionally it is still something I struggle with from time to time. I’m quite sick of believing the lies my inner dialogue feeds me, so I’m processing through it as frequently as possible, so I can, at long last, shut them down.

I was asked why is it that I don’t feel like I’m enough? And, with a shrug, my response was, “Historically speaking, I haven’t been. So, clearly, I’m not.” Without skipping a beat, the next question that was thrown at me was, “And where is that history?”

I sighed, then laughed, and said that it’s in the past. “Exactly,” was the response. “It holds no validity in the present.” Which is exactly what my closest friends have been telling me for decades, what my current community of phenomenal friends tell me, what my therapist told me on Tuesday… You see what I’m getting at. Just because it may have been true in the past (and yes, it may have also not been true, but that isn’t the point here), it holds absolutely zero weight today.

My past does not define me. What I do in this moment does. And in this moment, I do feel like I’m enough. I feel like I’m living my most authentic life, chasing down dreams, living without fear, and taking care of myself in ways I’ve never prioritized before.

Yet, these last two months have been pretty terrible. I’ve felt like my roller coaster has been completely out of control. Going into these months, I told myself they were going to be hard. And guess what? They were. I wonder how much my mindset controlled the peaks and valleys these last two months?

Actually, I know exactly how much my mindset controlled every peak and especially every valley that I’ve gone through during July and August. *rolls eyes*

Yet, I’m grateful for the rough road I’ve traveled throughout the last 6 or so weeks. Without it, I don’t think I would’ve been given the opportunity to hear so many positive messages from my community that continues to rally around me, showing me true unconditional love. My friends have been flooding me with loving affirmations and without realizing it, have been helping me recreate my story and rewrite the narrative that is my internal dialogue. Just because I may have been unworthy in the past doesn’t make it valid today.

I’m finally listening. I feel like today, I finally took out the earplugs. The messages are coming through, loud and clear.

Who I am today is the only real version of me that exists. And this girl is enough. And I know it. I feel it. Down to my bones.

I’m finally living the authentic life I’ve longed for, the life I’ve so desired.

As I was driving around today, from one client’s home to another, I was listening to the playlist I started months ago (thanks to friends who recommended I have a playlist for that chapter of my life), and continuously add to, that is full of songs that represent my journey. It is quite the mix and it’s interesting to see how the song choices have evolved with the passage of time.

A relatively recent addition, “Undisclosed Desires” by Muse, came on, which I’ve listened to no less than 30 times, at this point. But today, I actually heard it. Honestly, in the last day or two, I feel like I’m finally listening and absorbing everything that has been falling on deaf ears for so very long.

The following section hit me today like I was listening to it for the very first time. This is what my community has done for me. Every single person who has been here for me since March 17, giving me their love in order to lift me up, has essentially been saying these words to me. 

I want to reconcile the violence in your heart
I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask
I want to exorcise the demons from your past

My community has rallied with such consistently positive and affirming language, that I am actually starting to believe them.

Without me realizing it, and quite possibly without my dear friends even realizing it, they have been, slowly but surely, exorcising the demons from my past. And I’m not just talking about the emotional damage from the catastrophe that occurred 5 and a half months or so ago. I’m talking about decades of damage that is finally beginning to be healed.

Hours after Muse’s song struck a chord deep within, when I was exhausted from the long and busy day and just about to get home, Kacey Musgraves’ song, “Rainbow,” came on. Now, I’ve probably listened to this song several hundred times. But like I’d already mentioned, the energy surrounding me today is distinctly different, and so, I just got it. And the tears flowed freely as I drove into my neighborhood. 

When it rain it pours but you didn't even notice
It ain't rainin' anymore, it's hard to breathe when all we know is
The struggle of staying above, the rising water line

I’d been drowning. For months and months. My community has been filled with the most incredible life preservers, letting me hang onto them, even though I was probably almost drowning some of them from the weight of my chaos…but they never let me go.

They waited out the storm.

And for months, I just couldn’t look up. They told me, over and over, that: 

...the sky is finally open, the rain and wind stopped blowin'
But you're stuck out in the same old storm again
You hold tight to your umbrella, darlin' I'm just tryin' to tell ya
That there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head.

But I just couldn’t. No matter how many times they told me to look up and fed me all the words of love I needed to hear, I couldn’t believe them. I was just too busy holding tight to my umbrella, weathering the storm that was in my head, trying to keep from drowning. I was in survival mode for a long time.

It was when I heard this bit, where I really started to lose it:

 If you could see what I see, you'd be blinded by the colors
Yellow, red and orange and green, and at least a million others
So tie up your bow, take off your coat and take a look around.

Because now, as I look around, I see them.

Guys, in that moment when I was driving, I could see all the colors. And everything is just so beautiful and filled with light.

Today, I’m finally able to put my umbrella aside. I’m no longer drowning in my storm. And I am sensing all of the messages. I can see that the sky if finally open and:

That there's always been a rainbow hangin' over (my) head
It'll all be alright.

And I finally, truly, believe it will be.

life, love

Piece by Piece

A Graceful Catastrophe

Some days you’re reminded of exactly who you are. Just how broken you really are. How much further you have to go. And you wonder if you’ll ever get “there.” To the place where you feel true contentment and peace.

I thought I was in a good place. I am strong. Blunt. Honest. Transparent. I self-reflect. A lot. I want to be a better me tomorrow than I was today.

And then something comes by while you’re walking this path to remind you that you aren’t exactly doing it right. What you’re presenting to the world doesn’t match with what is going on in the depths of your soul.

Because it is in those depths that a great void still exists. And I’m trying desperately to fill it. And the kicker is, I’m trying to fill it disingenuously. I’m stealing little bits of myself, sacrificing my authenticity, for just a moment, in order to try to fill the hole.

And do you know what’s left? A bigger hole. Because I stole from myself to try to fill it and just left myself more broken than when I started.

Or, at least, that’s how it feels.

This journey started 163 days ago. Just over 23 weeks. 5 months, 10 days.

Time is a funny thing. With each day that passes, I learn something new about myself. I have days where I feel like I could conquer the biggest obstacles in one fell swoop. There are others where merely opening my eyes is a feat all on its own.

The roller coaster is far from over. And that realization really sucks because I thought I was getting somewhere.

But it turns out, I’m just as defeated today as I was when I received that email on St. Patrick’s Day.

Perhaps this is it? Maybe this is just real life. There are days where you feel like a beast and nothing can tear you down. And then there are other days where you feel like you’ve taken a punch to the gut from the Hulk in full rage mode and it does so much more damage than just take your breath away.

Does this happen to you? And if so, how do you not feel like a fraud on your strong days? Because you’re reminded, on the not so great ones, just exactly how weak you really are.

Days like today I truly hate him. And I hate myself for allowing him to tear me down, piece by piece, over so many years. Sometimes, the extent of the damage from his awful words sucker punches me. His venom was sprinkled over me like such a fine mist that I barely realized the destruction that was happening within. After years and years, that fine mist added up to something much more like a dense fog. And I’m still trying to fight my way out of it.

But at least I’m fighting.

I know I’m shattered. I know my pieces are so destroyed that they’re barely recognizable and incredibly difficult to try to put back together. But piece by piece, I’m putting myself back together. In these moments, the ones that suck, is where my growth occurs. I stare at the pieces of my soul, scattered and shattered, that were left behind after the catastrophe blew up my world, and am completely overwhelmed by the destruction.

And then I’ll take a breath. Remind myself of exactly who I am. And garner the strength to put myself back together again.

Piece by piece.

All the while trying to give myself grace. Because this is going to take some time.

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

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.