Tag: catastrophe

life

My Cinnamon Roll Life

A Graceful Catastrophe

So, apparently I make a pretty incredible cinnamon roll.

I discovered this secret after quarantine gifted me almost a complete loss of income. “Gifted me,” you ask?

Why, yes. I am a private math tutor and my working hours are typically after school and weekends. Because of that, my daughter was seeing more of her babysitters than she was of me. My time was consumed with growing my business. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do! It’s just that I was also missing my daughter…so much. On March 17, we went on lockdown. Shortly thereafter, I lost almost all of my clients. Which means, I lost the vast majority of my income.

Thank goodness I’d saved for several significant vacations my daughter and I were going to take this summer. Because I had something to fall back on. For a while, at least.

And then things got serious. And I got nervous. I was overwhelmed with fear – how was I going to survive without any income??

As a stress relief, I started to bake. I’ve always loved to create in the kitchen and there’s no feeling quite like the one that comes over me when someone compliments my cooking.

One day I made cinnamon rolls from scratch, along with the frosting. My friend in Texas had made them and sent me the recipe. I had nothing else to do, so I decided to also make them.

They were SO good! And the recipe had made SO many! I decided to go to social media and made this, what I thought was sarcastic, post:

People love cinnamon rolls!

As it turns out, I stumbled upon some pretty interesting information: people really, really love cinnamon rolls!

I started to get orders for cinnamon rolls like crazy! In those first several days, I didn’t leave my kitchen. I was making cinnamon rolls from the time I opened my eyes until I collapsed into bed at 2 am.

And so began, the cinnamon roll life.

Now, I’ve learned how to manage the orders and lump them on the same day. I make cinnamon rolls once a week now and I’ve even begun cooking dinners! On the weeks that I have my daughter, and it’s a “cinnamon roll day,” she breathes in deeply when she hugs me and says, “Mmm! You smell like cinnamon rolls!”

I love the example that’s being set for her. This virus, and the quarantine that followed, threw every single person in the world for a loop. Most of us have this illusion that we’re in control.

We’re not. Not even a little bit. We can plan and prepare for almost anything and there will still be some “opportunity” (that’s what I call difficult moments now) that presents itself. When we are given this opportunity, we can either choose to succumb to the stress and whine and complain, curl up in a ball and freeze, wondering how in the world you’re going to make it (which is what I did for a hot second)…OR you can embrace it and do whatever it takes to not merely survive, but thrive.

I’m a “thriver.” I am not a survivor. Last year, when catastrophe struck on a personal level, it was all I could do to simply survive. I learned an abundance in those initial 8 months and during the most wonderful solo trip to Greece, I was able to reinvent, or perhaps just rediscover, who exactly I was.

And I am a thriver.

Whatever is thrown at me, I will make the lemonade from those sour lemons. And it’s going to taste damn delicious.

Catastrophe continues to teach me who I am. Through each difficult pass in this journey, I am able to unfurl another layer and delve deeper into the essence that makes me, well, me. And, at least currently, the me that I am smells like cinnamon rolls.

I don’t quite think there is anything better, or more beautiful, than the chance to really see what you’re made of, down to your core. This virus has given me a souvenir that I will add to my collection as yet another reminder that I am strong, capable, and enough.

What souvenirs from this historical moment are you taking into the future with you?

life

365 Days

A Graceful Catastrophe

It’s supposed to be a lucky day. St. Patrick’s Day. The luck of the Irish, right? Well, perhaps, in hindsight, today continues to be lucky…despite last year’s events and this year’s pandemic shutting everything down. When viewed properly, March 17th is indeed a lucky day. It’s all about perspective…

There are distinct moments in our lives where we are shoved off our path with such great force that we’ve lost the old path completely and find ourselves battered and bruised in unknown territory. It hurts. It’s scary. And you’re absolutely lost.

But that exact moment, that figurative violent kick from the universe, was exactly what you needed to wake up and learn lessons you refused to learn the easy way. You weren’t entirely and intentionally doing anything to grow, so the beautiful universe then decided to intervene.

I flew off my path at 6:08 pm on March 17, 2019 and face planted elsewhere, landing in unknown and very painful territory. I spent the majority of the last 365 days rediscovering not only who I am, but deciding who I want to be.

This past week has been a lot harder than I anticipated. I love the path I’m currently walking. I love the people I am walking it with. I love myself. I love.

So why have these days been so hard?

It hit me on Sunday. The insecurities that overwhelm you when you’ve been cheated on are abundant. I…

Oof. I just had to walk away. This is surprisingly turning out to be one of the hardest blogs I’ve written. The feelings and thoughts filling my very being right now are so painful and I was not expecting this time to be so challenging. These emotions have caught me completely off guard.

It’s like, everything I’ve reflected on and had thought was nicely processed and behind me is right in front of my face again. It’s like I’m her again. The me I was a year ago. The one who was inadequate in all aspects of her life. Everything is rushing back to the surface and I feel buried in all that shit all over again.

Growth is work. Constant work. Constant positive self-talk, to drown out the voice that seems to always be there, ready to lie to you. And I’m trying so hard to shut that voice up. I thought I had. Ugh, it had been silent for months.

But today…today is hard. I feel inadequate.

At least today, I know that feeling is a lie.

Because I’m not only adequate. I far exceed that. I’m not just enough – I am more than enough. And today, well, today is weird. But, on most days, it doesn’t matter if others don’t see that. Because, quite simply, I do.

So that’s the key. I have to fill my head with positive self-talk. And surround myself with people who lift me up…who remind me that I am strong and amazing…who tell me they’re grateful I’m in their lives. There’s no doubt that my ex’s negative words became the voice in my head, filling my being with lies for years upon years. And there’s also no doubt that my community has gotten me to where I am today. They never hesitate to fill me with unconditional love and encourage me with their uplifting words.

My community has supported me for the full 365 days that have past, seemingly, in a flash. They never once judged me, ridiculed me, or left my side for even a second. They chose to lift me up when I fell and I had so many shoulders to cry on – which was necessary because there was a bit of a flood for a while. They never condemned me for how I chose to process the pain. They believed in me. Not only that, but they believed in love for me when I was sure it didn’t – couldn’t – exist. It is also because of my community that I was able to be vulnerable and dream of love again…because I felt their love so deeply that I knew it surely must exist in reality.

It isn’t easy to come out on the other side from a catastrophe. It takes careful diligence, intention, and far too many difficult moments of seeing who you are at your core. And it truly takes a village.

But it pays off.

So now I’m taking a moment to pause. As I close my eyes, I see myself standing in the middle of this beautiful, blossoming path, so fragrant with brand new, blooming life that I can no longer smell the shit that covered me just days, weeks, and months ago. And as I open my eyes and look around, I see my people who have willingly chosen to accompany me on this journey.

This new community is filled with not only my tried and true, been-there-for-every-step-of-all-my-journeys soulmates, but also people who have come into my life that I never fathomed could ever exist. These significant souls keep pushing me to grow, to dig deeper in order to discover the true roots of my pain, so that I can continue to properly heal my past wounds. And as I take this symbolic meandering down my new path, I can give myself a little pat on the back, pause to smile, and realize how far I’ve really come.

It was this past Tuesday, March 10, that I realized the date. And the week that followed has been a roller coaster. I was incredibly on edge and the people closest to me felt that chaotic energy and, thankfully, dealt with it with grace. I purposely pushed buttons over the weekend, as the emotions that were coming out by then were anger and insecurity. And then I started to write this past Sunday afternoon, when the anger had finally left and was replaced completely by intense self-doubt and vulnerability.

And I continued to write, well into Tuesday, March 17, but now in yet another significantly different place.

When I had to walk away, when I had a bit of a breakdown while writing…that began to heal me. When I wrote on Monday, I felt uplifted. I finally saw my baggage. I had been holding something so heavy all week but I didn’t know what it was. Just that it was an incredible burden. It was weighing me down and turning me into my former self – though I was fighting it hard.

But then, after a lengthy chat with a soul that truly gets me, I was able to stand in front of that figurative mirror, my dear old friend from the past year, that I hadn’t stood before in months. And I saw what that weight was. I saw the roots of those feelings of inadequacy.

And what I saw surprised me.

My ex did some work to bring me down and led me to believe I wasn’t enough. Years of it. Well into the wee hours of this morning, it hit me. I realized that what was really happening was that he was projecting onto me the pains from his own childhood, the feelings of never being enough for his own father. Growing up, no matter what he did, he couldn’t get his dad’s approval or attention. I can’t even imagine how inadequate that makes a young boy feel and how heavy that makes a little boy’s heart. The pain that my ex has lived with, of never feeling like he was enough…that’s heartbreaking. And he didn’t know how to process that pain, so he projected it onto me, causing his pain to be mine.

Ultimately, he cheated, I think, because I devalued him. Just like his dad had. I unknowingly and unintentionally triggered the memories of that same old pain from childhood because I wasn’t being nurtured how I needed to be. It was a vicious cycle. He didn’t give me what I needed, so I didn’t give him what he needed. I didn’t behave with understanding or compassion.

I see now, though, that I wasn’t getting what I needed from him, not because he didn’t want to give it to me, but because he was just too broken to do so. I took his pain personally and then internalized it all, because, frankly, I didn’t know any better. I didn’t understand because I had never really read the whole story. Looking at him today, I know now that he loved me, although that was something I’d questioned for the last 6 years of our marriage, causing more hurt and resentment. He just had no clue how to show it because he couldn’t overcome the hurt in his heart that’d been simmering there for decades.

Cheaters are victims, too. They cheat because they’re trying to cover their pain, ignoring it by finding solace, even for just a few moments, in somebody – anybody – who will give them the attention they’ve been seeking since childhood.

One year later, I understand. He never intended to intentionally hurt me. I was just the collateral damage to his trauma.

So I see it – and feel it – a bit more clearly now. I am not insignificant or inadequate. And I am not a victim.

I think I can finally move forward in grace, as I now have an understanding of what occurred like never before. Perspective is beautiful.

365 days later. What. A. Year!

Today, my heart swells with compassion for my ex. And I’m also thrilled to have been catapulted onto this path I am walking today, filled with these once-strangers who see me, push me, and help me to grow, and who I am now lucky enough to call my family.

As we navigate this new season all of us are entering, with our country, no, our global community, at a virtual standstill, I think it’s important that we embrace these hard-earned lessons. None of us fully understands another’s story because we’re all reading it through our own filters. If we take a moment to step outside of ourselves, to remove our personal filter, to change our perspectives, we can then begin to live with true compassion.

From the beginning I’ve wanted to live through this catastrophe with grace. I can see the bigger picture now. We all have our hurts. Therefore, it only makes sense that we all give grace, live with love in our hearts, assume best intent in others, and treat everyone with kindness and true tenderness. Life is hard. It’s going to be a touch harder now that everything is shut down and social distancing is a thing. As humans, we are naturally social beings. So, give love in whatever capacity you can. Be gracious. And if someone hurts you, try to approach the situation with mercy and understanding. Hurt people hurt people. Try not to add to their hurt.

I wish you all an open heart so you can feel the peace, love, and luck on this very odd St. Patrick’s Day.

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

Snitches Get Stitches

A Graceful Catastrophe

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

It happens to all of us.

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

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

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

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

But not everyone finds my words magical.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Snitches get stitches.

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

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

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

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

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

Blindsided.

Semi-truck.

Cannot catch the swirling chaos inside my head.

So I write.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You see me.

That’s what these blogs do.

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

It’s about me.

My pain as I process this catastrophe.

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

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

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

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

So I will continue to write.

I refuse to be silenced.

Snitches get stitches.

So be it.

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

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

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

life

The Puddle and the Pause

A Graceful Catastrophe

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

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

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

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

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

Huh. Whoa. Okay.

I was blindsided by that response.

And then, duh! It hit me!

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

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

Uhhh, wow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

life, love

Only the Beginning

A Graceful Catastrophe 
 How long can you wait for the one you deserve?
Light on, never let it out, never let it out
If I'm gone, if you ever leave I hope that you learn
To fight on, to fight on

Don't tell me this is all for nothing
I can only tell you one thing
On the nights you feel outnumbered
Baby, I'll be out there somewhere

I see everything you can be
I see the beauty that you can't see
On the nights you feel outnumbered
Baby, I'll be out there somewhere 

- Outnumbered
Dermot Kennedy

As much as I’d like to think that I’m hardened against the world and I’m protecting my heart from any kind of future pain, I just cannot deny who I am.

I am a hopeless romantic.

I always have been. Now I know I always will be. If this catastrophe (and yes, you lovelies that continue to read my blog, cringe all you want at that word, that’s exactly what occurred in my life 130 days ago, by definition. And hey, thanks for being a reader, by the way! *wink*) didn’t break me from believing true and beautiful love exists, that someone will treasure me and respect me one day, then nothing will. It’s who I am to my core, I guess, a beautifully naive and hopeless romantic.

It’s one part of my essence that was not altered. And I’m truly grateful for it.

But, it means that I cry whenever I hear this song. Like, ugly cry. It doesn’t matter where I am, or what I’m doing, if I hear this song, it’s over.

Because I want so desperately to believe it’s true.

So many of my nights, I feel outnumbered. I feel the weight of this chapter putting so much pressure on me that it physically affects me. And some days – goodness, so many days – it takes all my energy just to stay upright.

Since hearing this song, though, my perspective is starting to shift slightly. When it all feels so heavy that I just don’t want to get out of bed, I now think of these lyrics. Somebody out there is meant for me. And he will help to remind me of who I am on the dark days that I forget.

How long can I wait for the one I deserve?

A lifetime, if I have to.

I’m on a path I never expected to be on, really. Our marriage was crap for a long time, I just never thought it’d ever really end. I figured we’d finally decide to fight for it. And when I did, it was too little, too late. He was already long gone – I just hadn’t realized it yet.

So now, I have this journey to go on that I’ve finally started to embrace. I mean, it is what it is, so may as well make the best of it. So, now, my philosophy is: if it makes me nervous, I say yes. If I hesitate for any reason, I know that I must jump in with both feet and I muster all the energy and confidence I have to actually go through with it. But I do it.

And because this is now my attitude, amazing things have happened! I’ve met the most incredible people and have had the loveliest of connections. I’ve gone on midnight motorcycle rides that have taken me places I’ve never been, hiked a mountain with strangers, some of whom became people I want to learn as much about as I can and would be so sad if they weren’t in my life anymore, and I’ve had countless other encounters that have filled my soul.

And this is only the beginning.

One of my favorite things about this journey so far is that I’ve learned that people are good. Honestly. I learned that. I used to be so skeptical and ready to mistrust. Now, I have this incredibly beautiful faith in humanity once again.

My energy is changing and it’s changing for the better. This whole attitude of saying yes and just truly living in the moment has inspired a sense of freedom I don’t think I’ve ever had. And I’m getting rather addicted to it.

I’ve never felt stronger, braver, or more empowered. I am showing my daughter that even though we may fear something, it doesn’t mean we avoid it. On the contrary, it means we embrace it wholeheartedly. That never used to be my philosophy. I used to be so cautious. So incredibly cautious that I think I stopped actually living. I stopped enjoying the moments and being silly and free. I’m sure that absolutely impacted my marriage. (But I also had to always be on point, always the consistent parent, always the responsible one. There really wasn’t much balance or sharing of the parenting responsibilities, which was exhausting.)

Actually, now that I just wrote that, something so obvious just struck me. Life changes us. Okay, duh. I told you it was obvious. Seriously, though, without even realizing it, one day we are somebody we don’t recognize. Someone stuck in the rut of life. We slowly become the person we need to be in the situation at hand. Okay, maybe not everyone gets stuck, but I surely did.

I’ve always been strong, a bit reckless, and someone who desires adventure.

But life changed me. Having a daughter being born so sick we almost lost her devastated me. Having a husband who had a hard time finding the line between responsible adult and perpetual 14 year old was exhausting. I felt I had to become someone else in order to maintain balance in our lives.

And now I have this life. One where I am free to be free.

One where I am free to be me.

And I refuse to lose myself again. It’s interesting, going through this journey at almost 40. The first time, when I left my first husband, I was in my late 20’s and I thought I knew who I was and what I wanted out of a partner, out of life. I really did. Now, though, it’s different. And I’m not so naive as to believe that in another 10 years, I won’t have an entirely new perspective and outlook on life. In fact, I hope to continue to grow and adapt and flourish.

So, how long will I wait for the one I deserve?

Well, here’s the thing. I now know what I deserve. I know what I want out of a partner. I know I want to chase down adventures with him and laugh and have deep, meaningful, and emotional conversations. I want to be with someone who is completely smitten by me and treasures me like the gem that I am, even in the moments…no, especially in the moments when I’ve temporarily lost my shine. I want to be with someone that helps me to flourish and blossom and I long to be in a relationship where we constantly elevate one another to the next level of awesomeness.

And the moment it all stops, I know to give it my everything, to devote my energy to the honest effort that a relationship deserves, and then to get out if it still is no longer fulfilling.

Life is simply too short to waste a second on something that, after thought, effort, and consideration, is still broken.

I have seen friends’ husbands who genuinely adore their wives. I know it exists. I know, in my heart and into the depths of my soul, that there is someone out there, ready to point out everything I can be and show me all the beauty that I can’t see.

And I will wait a lifetime for him if I have to, all the while having a blast solo, and saying yes to all the things that scare me.

So to quote Mark Groves, I will end with this:

"And just when you think it's the end, it will be the beginning. You will find someone who will learn the nuances of your soul. Who will be able to predict the tears on your cheek so they may catch them and turn them into a river of desire. They will break the cage that protects your heart so the same light that fills your cells can fill theirs. They will learn why you do everything you do so that in the fleeting moment of fear you will run to them. And if there should be moments of despair, you will land in their arms so they may carry you so high that the only fall you will experience will be in love."

I am not only trusting my journey, I’m skipping down my path with a joy in my heart and a strong conviction that all is unfolding as it should. (Well, the skipping and joy may not be there everyday, but I at least feel it on some days and for now, that is enough for me.)

So, with that same zealousness, I will no longer be here, merely existing. But I will live with more enthusiasm and zest than I have in years.

Because a great many adventures lie ahead in my future. This is only the beginning.

life

This is Real Life

A Graceful Catastrophe

I’m not entirely sure what the “typical” or “normal” process is when trying to navigate life after catastrophe strikes. I just know what I’ve personally been experiencing and it makes me feel crazy. It feels like everything is extreme – the happiness I feel is just off the charts and wildly amazing and the sadness I feel makes me want to hide under my covers and never come out again.

I’ve drafted several blogs that I haven’t published, for a variety of reasons. Mostly, though, it’s because I just wanted to write and get it out of my head. Sometimes I worry that you will worry about me after reading my words.

I am okay. I will be okay.

And because I know this to be true about myself, I wanted to give you pieces of blogs I’ve written, just to show you exactly how all over the place my emotions are – and how quickly they change from moment to moment throughout the days and weeks.

Perhaps you’re dealing with your own stress and feel a bit “crazy,” too. Perhaps your feelings jump from one to the next to the next, from one extreme to the other, in a matter of hours – or even minutes.

You are not alone. You are not crazy. This is grief. This is real life.

The following draft was written 4 days ago:

Today was a really wonderful day. I woke up to a beautiful view, got an amazing workout in, worked a good bit, had a great doc appointment to try and get my leg issues/cramping under control so I can workout without pain again someday, and then got bonus time with my daughter in the evening. We went to listen to live music on the patio of a restaurant/bar with new friends, magnificent weather, and a perfect view of the mountains in the distance.

I sighed contentedly all day long. 

It wasn't until a little after 7 pm that I realized the date. And you know what? I smiled. Four months ago, I was set free. I didn't realize it then. And sometimes I forget it now. But my whole soul has shifted. I feel like a whole new woman and I feel so much lighter.

The biggest change that I keep coming back to is how unafraid I am. I have no fear of rejection or of being hurt and let down by another person. Literally none. I have no fear about going places by myself. In fact, there are many times where I'm quite excited to go to a bar or restaurant solo. 

I have met so many wonderful people. I have had conversations filled with substance. There have been many chats where I'm left chewing on the words for hours - and even days - afterwards. 

I have met couples that renew my faith in the possibility of love. I have met strangers that have treated me more kindly than I've been treated in years. And these strangers have quickly turned into friends. 

I'm reminded, almost daily, that people are good.

This was written just two days later, the night before last:

I wonder how long it'll be before I feel a sense of normality again. I wonder when my ex's words will stop hurting. I wonder how long it'll take before I stop internalizing the garbage he spews at me. I wonder how long before I can stop letting him get to me. I wonder when my emotions will stop fluctuating from the highest highs to the lowest lows. 

I wonder when my eyes will stop being puffy from crying so much.

I wonder why, after 124 days, I still feel every minute detail of this pain.

I wonder when it will all stop feeling so heavy.

And then it occurs to me why it's all so dark. Actually, a friend pointed this out to me today. The awful part of our marriage, the incessant emotional abuse, hasn't stopped. And I can't block him from contacting me because he needs to be able to get in touch with me in case of an emergency with our daughter. 

Our daughter. 

The one that is around when he lashes out at me. The one that is there to hear all the ugliness spewing from his mouth. The one that, according to him, should hear it all because she should know "these things" about her mother.

So now I'm worried. The psychological and emotional trauma I have received over the last 6 or so years is not only being witnessed by our daughter, she's now on the receiving end of it, also.

I had to tell her that when daddy talks to mommy, she needs to plug her ears and go away.

Why do I have to say that to my daughter?!

I wonder...when will this all end? When will he leave me alone? I'm not his to attack anymore. 

Well, I never was, but I allowed it for so long that it's now a natural way of treating me.

I no longer know what to do. 

I'm sick of living in the dark.

The ups and the downs are constant. I spent most of lunch with a friend the other day crying. In public. Tears streaming down my face, shamelessly.

Because this is real life. People cry. They hurt and they feel pain. And they laugh through the tears and they get up every morning and brush their teeth and start their day, so they can hopefully catch a glimpse of joy during the day. Or hit the jackpot and have a banner day.

Like I did yesterday.

It seems as though so much of living used to intimidate me. Or maybe it was that I felt like I had to be this ultra responsible, no nonsense person to offer a counter balance to the lack of boundaries and relative irresponsibility of my ex. Looking back, I think I felt stifled, like I couldn’t be free to really be me because I always had to be the “responsible one.” So then I became the boring one.

I don’t have to be that person anymore! I can be free to be spontaneous and truly live! I am doing things now that I never would’ve done before – like going to places alone, chatting it up with strangers, going to outdoor bars to listen to music by myself (well, my daughter was with, too), and joining a random group of strangers to hike up a mountain together for over 8 hours.

This wave I’m riding is wild and turbulent. I fluctuate from feeling like I’m doing a killer job surfing it and am nailing this whole living life thing to feeling like the wave is drowning me.

Yet, I’m still here, riding that wave. I refuse to give up. I refuse to allow it to keep me down. I will not drown in the sea of my tears. I’m hopeful this sea will calm eventually, that the wave will be something like you’d perhaps find in a kiddie pool rather than in the middle of an ocean during a storm…I’m hopeful.

Some days it’s a little harder to have hope, it’s a wisp floating by that is just out of touch. Other days, it’s this big, fluffy, beautiful entity that embraces me and I don’t have to worry about trying to chase it down.

The moments fluctuate – constantly. From the highest of highs to the lowest of lows. It’s almost impossible to process, which is why I write. It’s why I see my therapist. It’s why I break down at lunch with a friend and then keep crying so much throughout the day that my eyes are still puffy the next morning. It’s why I find extreme joy in the little things and can’t help but exclaim, “Wow!” over and over again when I see the beauty that surrounds me. It’s why I get out of bed, out of my house, and go away as often as I can – even if it’s for a walk.

I want a sense of normalcy again, whatever that is.

It’s been 126 days now. There are days where the emotional exhaustion from just living the moments and riding this volatile wave are so heavy, that I physically feel it to the point that it is difficult to walk upright. I literally lean on things to help me take another step.

And there are other days where I feel so buoyant and light and free that I feel like I could just float away into the bliss that surrounds me.

Then there are those days where both those feelings take turns, bouncing from pure radiant joy to utter misery, within hours of each other. (Those days are great fun! *rolls eyes*)

If I take a step back, however, I realize this is all just a side-effect of living. If we are to live, to sincerely and authentically invest in our souls and live to our fullest potential, we all experience a wide range of emotions – throughout our day, the week, the year. Perhaps it is all just a bit more intense now, due to the nature of this beast that has temporarily taken up residence in my space.

Yes, temporarily. Nothing is permanent. This wave I’m riding surely isn’t.

And thankfully, little by little, I’m realizing that I’m not actually living in the dark, though at times it may feel as though it’s impossible to see an inch in front of me. The good days, the beautiful moments, are slowly starting to outshine the shadowy gloom. I’m carrying a flashlight that’s ready to illuminate my world in a wondrous glow.

I just have to remember to turn it on.

life, love

Grateful for My Ex

A Graceful Catastrophe

If my ex had never cheated on me, I would never have had the opportunity to be who I am today.

So I’m grateful.

How on Earth can I be grateful that my ex betrayed me, you ask? Well, just keep right on reading and you’ll quickly find out.

The other day, I was having dinner with a friend and she fluffed my feathers so much that I’m not entirely sure how I was able to walk out of that restaurant. We met at the gym somewhere around 2 or so months before my world exploded, I think. She says it was around February when we really started to get to know one another, as our friendly competitiveness started to ignite. So, she knew the “old” me, the “married with a child” woman, but also the gym version of the old me, so also pretty confident and semi-outgoing.

Since March 17th, we’ve become incredibly close and she is one of my top “go to” people. She’s been there for me every single day, ready to catch me at any moment, and also has been the one to boldly call me out when I needed it. She’s insightful, supportive, and caring and to say I’m grateful for her is an understatement.

So just the other day, she, once again, (both literally and figuratively) picked me up and proceeded to say all the right things. And I love the analogy she gave.

She said that when she first met me, talking about the “me before,” she could see I had this fire within. Yet, it was small and controlled. Beautiful and radiant, though reserved and perhaps a bit protected, but you could still see it, as though looking at a small campfire through a transparent glass covering.

She said that now I’m like this uncontrolled wildfire that is igniting the world around me. The true essence of who I am, who I want to be, is finally able to flourish. The glass covering has been removed and the spark set alight all that I had allowed to die – there’s no stopping me now. There is nothing to stifle me, and I am no longer living in someone else’s shadow.

You see, my ex is a true extrovert. The life of the party. My ex is just so full of life and fun, and for a long while, complete and utter irresponsibility, there had to be someone to balance that all out. I was still me, still fun, just a subdued, and at times, highly irritable, version of me. Without realizing it, I allowed myself to fall into the roll of “responsible mom” and “boring wife.” And it’s exhausting being the only consistent parent, the one working hard to raise a child that had darn well better be greatly beneficial to society.

My ex didn’t make the greatest “parent partner.” Not only did he travel often, he just wasn’t ever consistent or that into doing the “parenting” part. He was the fun dad. So, since my goal was to raise an exceptional human, and I wasn’t getting that much help from my spouse, that’s where all my energy went. Don’t screw up at being a mom was on repeat in my head. I couldn’t be anything else, it was far too exhausting to be anything but the stable and responsible one.

Now, he has given me freedom. My ex has to be the responsible one now, too. And I can finally figure out who in the hell I really am. I’ve played roles for so many years, but never really fully “being,” anyone. I was merely existing. And, guys, ugh…man, was I ever afraid. I was intimidated by the world around me. I was comfortable in my role, being the hard working teacher, the good mom, the responsible, rule following woman. Anything outside of my comfort zone made me super nervous.

Then, March 17th at 6:08 pm, my world became incredibly uncomfortable. And there was nothing I could do about it. My new reality hit me like a complete shit storm and I was covered in it for a while. Through the storm, though, I’m coming out stronger. It’s like it ended up being fertilizer and I’m growing like crazy. *get it? hahaha*

I’m no longer afraid. My interactions with the world have completely changed. My friend told me something along the lines that I put out this energy that attracts others – it’s like I’m glowing and they are drawn to the warmth of my light. (See? I told you she super fluffed my feathers.)

And it’s true. She’s absolutely right. No matter where I go, it seems, I either know someone or I find myself talking with someone new within a few minutes. These interactions add so much value to my life! And I am so incredibly thankful for each new encounter because every new experience is helping to shape who I am, helping me to rise above who I once was, and blossom into this marvelous new being.

There’s a song on my playlist that is purposely on there to remind me to be grateful for my ex, for throwing me into this new world of mine. The song is A Little Bit Stronger by Sara Evans. Every single time I hear it, a huge smile spreads across my face. Here are the lyrics that are the most meaningful to me:

I know my heart will never be the same
But I’m telling myself I’ll be okay
Even on my weakest days, I get a little bit stronger…

Getting along without you baby
I’m better off without you baby…
I’m getting stronger without you baby”

Sara Evans – a little bit stronger

It’s all so true. I am a new me, thanks to him, and I am getting along okay without him and I know I’m better off without him. Even on my weakest days, I’m fearless. He has given me the gift of fearlessness! Guys, I’m not even kidding – I wouldn’t go to Target after dark, for fear that something awful and catastrophic would happen… *facepalm*

Now, something awful and catastrophic has happened. And guess what? I survived. Not only am I surviving, it has ignited something within that is truly beautiful.

I go to restaurants and bars alone now. Happily. And I hike alone. Super happily! And I even go to Target after dark now. (Shocking, I know.) I approach someone that I want to talk to, without fear or concern, which has led me to engage in a multitude of interesting conversations.

All of these experiences are shaping me. They’re helping me grow into my true self. This is all helping me to discover who I am, who I want to be, and what ignites my fire within. I am not who I once was and I’m so grateful to my ex for that.

I am stronger now than I ever was. And I’m fearless. Because nothing will hurt me like I’ve been hurt. No rejection will be as painful as this has been. For those of you who have been shattered – you understand how freeing this feeling is. Will I fall again? Will life come at me sideways again? Of course! But I now know I am strong enough to stand up and face whatever the universe decides to throw at me. My flame is far too great and has spread into every corner of my world…there’s no dousing this wildfire.

So, ex husband of mine, since I know you read these “articles,” as you call them, thank you. Thank you for putting my entire world into such a tailspin that I lost myself so completely that I had to figure out who in the hell I really am. Thank you for putting me into a situation where I could become fearless.

Thank you for shattering the glass dome that was keeping my flame from growing. Thank you for igniting this wildfire. I will be forever grateful for your actions because without them, I would never have had to dig out from the depths of despair and rise above. I would’ve never had the opportunity to discover this new and fearless me.

This wildfire is spreading and igniting all that it touches.

And from the ashes, “I am getting stronger without you, baby.”

And to your lovely, thank you for taking the time to read my blog – hopefully this one isn’t “too preachy” and “almost unreadable.” *wink*

life, love

Suffer Patiently

A Graceful Catastrophe

Life is full of challenges, right? Some we choose to endure, some are completely involuntary.

Endure. That is really quite the interesting word with two distinct definitions. Google defines it as:

  1. suffer (something painful or difficult) patiently.
  2. remain in existence; last.

“Suffer patiently.” Isn’t that a rather beautiful phrase?

I think dealing with the aftermath of this betrayal (because it’s so much more than infidelity, to me) has felt more like definition number 2. It has remained in my existence, completely overtaking my being. It has lasted for what has felt like an eternity already. I have had moments where this betrayal has all but consumed me. And while I have been suffering, I have not been doing so patiently.

This challenge has been one for the books. And I did not ask for it by being a terrible wife or having an awful marriage, no matter what anyone says, thinks, or tells my ex. And no matter what my ex himself says.

Yet, it’s a challenge. It’s here. In my face. And while I did not welcome it, I am living it.

And today, I embraced a different kind of challenge. I participated in my first open water sprint triathlon. Completely voluntarily. It’s an endurance race and a delightful combination of the two definitions. *chuckle*

I embarked on this adventure because I wanted to challenge myself both mentally and physically. I also wanted to face some fears and conquer them. You see, I am not a strong swimmer. I learned how to swim in my backyard pool and created some terrible habits. After taking swim lessons for 6 weeks, I knew what I was supposed to do, I just was incapable of actually doing it. I need a lot more practice. But that didn’t stop me from signing up and, consequently, participating in the open water race. And you know what? I did way better than I had ever thought I’d do on the swim. And you know what else? I actually enjoyed it!

Fear faced…and conquered! *huge grin*

Some challenges we don’t ask for – yet they still force us to face unpleasantness and decide how we’re going to react to them. Or, do what I did and make almost no decisions for 3 months and let the wave carry me to wherever it wanted to guide me.

Whatever works for you.

Making zero decisions and riding the wave was exactly what I needed to do. I don’t regret it, or any of my behavior during this ride, because it guided me to where I am today. And today, I am at peace. Finally.

In a typical tri, you bike after the swim. I can bike for a while without any bother. So, I entered “the zone” in my mind and just rode. Shortly before mile 4, my mind wandered to my current situation. More specifically, it wandered to my ex. At exactly mile 4, tears sprang to my eyes and I almost started to full on cry because I was flooded with the desire to forgive him.

I want to be his friend. (Yeah, that blindsided me, too. I surely wasn’t expecting that today.)

At this exact same moment, I felt a vehicle approaching from behind and it wasn’t exactly going slow. Because I was lost in my thoughts, this vehicle startled me and I went off the road. I forgot my foot was in a cage and when I went to put my foot down, I was unable. I very nearly almost bit it – hard. I was still going pretty fast.

But, I didn’t. I didn’t fall down. Not today. And not in life.

I took a breath, guided my bike back onto the road, and began pedaling my heart out again, annoyed that I’d lost a few seconds there.

While I realized then and there that I needed to stay focused on the road – and the ride – the epiphany stayed with me.

Cue definition 1: I think it’s time for me to suffer patiently. I think I am ready.

I have been undergoing a shift these last 2 weeks and I mentioned it in a previous blog. But, I’ve still been holding on to my anger. All that bitterness has lived inside of me for the last 98 days. I am quick to snap or cry or get frustrated. My emotions live right there, simmering on the surface, ready to get triggered at any moment. This is still the case – but at least now I realize it.

This pain is going to linger. I’m fully aware, as my therapist reminds me, that I could still get triggered by this 5 or 10 years down the road. It’s a journey. And like I said before, it is far more about the betrayal than the infidelity. And this betrayal is so multi-faceted that I’m sure it’ll haunt me for a good portion of the rest of my life, and in ways that I’m still unaware.

Because I know this suffering will persist, at least for a while, I have to learn to live with it without it consuming me and turning me into something – and somebody – that I am not. And this bitterness I taste, and quite possibly could always taste, is beginning to be covered up by something just a bit sweeter now.

I am patient. I always have been. I have not been patient these last 3 months. I have lashed out in anger at moments where I should’ve bitten my tongue. There have been a few episodes where I was a complete jerk to my ex because I didn’t care if it hurt him. I wanted to give him a glimpse into my pain.

But nobody can understand the depth of this pain. That is a gift strictly for me.

And it is a gift. This dreadful catastrophe changed me. Who I once was in no longer who I am now.

Which is perfectly fine, too. I think I’m going to like the new me. Empowered. Communicative. I know what I want and I’m not afraid to voice my opinion about it.

I have endured pain in the form of heartbreak that I’d never realized could exist. I did not welcome it but it is now time to embrace it. It is my story. This is my journey.

I am ready to forgive.

And I’m ready to suffer patiently.

With class. And grace. And muscles. Again.

life, Uncategorized

90 Days

A Graceful Catastrophe

As I write this, it’s two days shy of 3 months since I received an email that completely and irrevocably changed my world. It’s been exactly 90 days.

When I left my first husband in January of 2008, a lot happened in those first 3 months. A lot of fun was had and life was carefree. Then, by early April, I was in an exclusive relationship with future ex-husband #2.

I can’t even begin to imagine trying to be in a relationship at this point. I mean, come on, let’s be real… I can’t think of ever being exclusive with someone again, but for sure not after 3 months! I was with my first husband from late 1998, when we’d started dating, until early 2008. Almost 10 years together. And just a bit more than three, short, insignificant months later, I was already in another relationship.

Ex-husband #2 and I were together almost exactly 11 years. I didn’t choose to leave him so the way this is going down is significantly different than with #1. My feelings, my heart, my everything, really, is completely changed. The way I perceive life has been catastrophically altered. After #1, I still believed in love. I still saw the world through a set of beautifully romantic lenses. Perhaps that’s why it only took me about 3 months to be in a relationship again.

There’s an interesting parallel that’s beginning to develop between the end of this marriage and marriage #1. After just about 3 months post leaving my first husband, I was ready to calm down some and re-focus my energies. It just so happened to be in the form of a new relationship with now ex-husband #2. Today, early this morning, a feeling from deep within started bubbling to the surface. I’m undergoing a bit of a transformation, something feels slightly different now, in how I’m approaching life and how I see the world around me.

So much has happened in 90 days, yet I still wonder who I am and I constantly question what I believe. I have moments of sadness that are so great that even breathing feels like an impossible task. I have super low lows and also pretty magnificent highs. And the rest of the time it just “is.” I run through the motions. I take care of my daughter. I workout and hang out with friends. We laugh. I cry. Some days, the moments range from feeling quite “normal” to catastrophic to incredible. All within hours of each other.

For example, yesterday was such a day. The morning was great. The afternoon was filled with sadness and I felt like a zombie, simply going through the motions. Then the evening was one of my favorites I’ve had in the last 90 days. That’s a lot of emotion to process in just one 24 hour period!

But that’s also the way it has been, day after day, one after another, strung together now for 90 days. There’s just so much emotion to process in each 24 hour period. And it’s been exhausting! I’m seeing hope on the horizon, though, that the sea is about to calm significantly, going into these next 90 days. I feel something shifting within and I’m curious as to where it’s going to take me.

I’ve learned a lot, I think, in the last 90 days. Mostly, about people. People are inherently good. I’m no longer afraid to talk to a stranger or go to Target after dark or sit by myself at a restaurant or bar. Literally, guys, these were things I didn’t do because the fear was so all consuming. I catastrophized and feared so much that it stifled my life. Now, so many of those fears and hesitations no longer exist. I’m becoming far more confident in who I am and in going after what I want.

Unapologetically.

I’ve spoken with more random strangers in the last couple of months than I probably have in the last 10 years total. And the freedom to just connect with other humans is so beautiful! It has opened up my world. I’ve experienced things that I normally wouldn’t have ever even tried before. I’m being introduced to new music, food, drinks, places…all because I have stepped out of my comfort zone (okay, I was thrown from it) and I’m creating a new comfort zone. I am free to reinvent myself and to explore life in a way I never have before.

It’s energizing. And exciting. And liberating.

On this journey of reinventing myself, I’ve had to do an insane amount of self-reflection. And over the last 90 days, I have reached some hard truths. I realized, finally, that I lost myself for a while. I threw myself into being not only a mom, but the best mom there could possibly ever be. I also was incredibly sick for years and, man, living with a chronic illness really changes you. And then, all of a sudden, I was this person who was not me. She just wasn’t Katrina. But nobody could’ve told me that. I would never have believed it.

I know that I was a big problem of why my marriage sucked. It takes two, for sure, but in talking with someone tonight, it hit me that I probably started the negative cycle we were stuck in by not reaching out and getting help after my daughter was born. I blamed myself for her traumatic birth and lived with that for way too long. I put my husband on the back burner because he was not a helpless little child that almost died because of his mother’s stubbornness. He was a grown adult who didn’t need me.

But he did. And it surely wasn’t fair for me to treat him like an afterthought. Not only did I just not know any better, it wasn’t a conscious decision. I didn’t even know that’s what I was doing. So he struggled, of course, with being an afterthought, and that also changed our dynamic. He wasn’t understanding or compassionate towards me. I viewed him as selfish – didn’t he understand why I couldn’t be anything more than a mom to this helpless little girl? But of course he didn’t understand. It is very difficult to understand irrational behavior and my behavior was exactly that. Like I said, I needed help. In those moments, though, I didn’t think I did. Hindsight is always perfect, isn’t it?

So here we are. 90 days later. The actions of our pasts are permanent and irreversible. We can be sorry for our parts we played and also understand that somethings are just too great to come back from. My ex’s cheating and lying for so long – that betrayal – is far too great to come back from. It changed me to my core and has made me question everything I thought I knew or believed.

It also put me on a path towards a new sense of freedom and discovery. There are no expectations, limitations, boundaries, and, most importantly, no fear. It’s incredible how much fear and worry I had. How it snowballed, too, and magnified my fear. And it’s even more astounding that it’s *mostly* been erased. I think it’s because everything I avoided out of fear was to keep me from being hurt (physically or emotionally).

I’ve now been so deeply hurt that I literally can’t put it into words.

The pain is truly indescribable. There isn’t much that could make me feel lower than I have in certain moments over the last 90 days. So my attitude and approach towards life is now just so free of concern. Because nothing (pretty much) will ever hurt this bad so why not take the risk and go for it? If I end up getting hurt, it still won’t be this bad, so it doesn’t even matter. To know that I am rising above this pain means that I am capable of rising above whatever adversity is thrown in my direction.

Well, except when we’re talking about that “r” word. That’s something where I am making a conscious decision to avoid at all costs. I’m surely not ready to consider being in a relationship. I may never want to go down that road, to be that vulnerable again. That’s pretty much the only thing that could make me feel this low, so out of self-preservation, there isn’t much need to be in a relationship. Ever. Well, that’s how I feel today. That level of connection is just not anything that needs to exist in my world. And I don’t want it to.

But I digress… Back to rising above! I think part of the shift I’m feeling today is that I’m focusing more on the positive life changes that my ex’s actions are bringing me. I’ve never felt more confident. I’ve never realized the strength I have within. On those extremely difficult days, I still survive. As exhausting as it is, I take a breath…and then another. I’ve survived through incredible pain that stems from a betrayal so deep that it’ll be a long time before I process all of those layers.

For 90 days now.

I’ve done a ridiculous amount of self-reflection. I mean, really looking at myself. And I have no regrets about who I am becoming. I’ve learned that I can be exactly who I want to be and that this moment, right now, is the only thing that is real. I’ve learned to live in moments, not days, weeks, months, or years. I’ve learned to let go of expectations and just be. I’m open to try things I never would’ve before. I’ve learned that living out loud is the most freeing and wonderful way to live.

Life is difficult. For all of us. Every single one of us has something we’re going through. If anything, I hope to inspire you all to live out loud. Unapologetically be who you want to be, even if it differs greatly from societal pressures. This is your life and you are free to pursue your happiness as you see fit. And you definitely do not have to live according to tradition or society’s rules. That is far too stifling and you end up losing yourself. Live in the moments of life and actively seek out those moments that make you smile as often as you can. Don’t worry about what tomorrow could bring – just be. Right now is the only reality that matters. It’s the only thing that exists.

At least, that’s what I am doing. And because of the freedom to live out loud, unafraid and uninhibited, I have had wonderfully fun experiences and have met more interesting people that I never would’ve even made eye contact with before. By living life this way, by being on this path (thanks to my ex’s betrayal), I feel more alive than I have in a long time. And I’m now incredibly aware of how much I missed out on due to the grip of fear controlling me. My ex has done me a favor, honestly, by causing me to hurt so deeply.

I am no longer afraid. Truly, there is no better gift I could’ve ever been given. Who would’ve thought that I would’ve looked at his infidelity as a way of shaking me awake so I can live the life I want to live? 90 days ago I don’t think I would’ve called this betrayal a gift. Now, though, I feel as though it has empowered me. It has granted me permission to live an uninhibited life. It truly feels limitless.

So in this moment, I am now looking forward to the next 90 days. Who knows who I’ll be by then? What I do know is, whoever I am, I’ll be happy.