life, love

Foolish Notions

Do you ever have moments that cause you to just stop, dead in your tracks, goose bumps covering your body as your blood runs cold, and you ask yourself, “What in the hell am I doing?”

Goodness, I hope that isn’t just me.

That literally just happened and I was suddenly overwhelmed with a need to write.

The last few months have once again given me an opportunity to learn how to let go of any false sense of control that I thought I had.

It’s quite interesting, what March 17th has represented for two years in a row now. Last year, on the evening of March 17th, I received information that thoroughly rocked my personal world and threw me off the path I was on. In hindsight, I am incredibly grateful for that shove. This year, on March 17th, quarantine began for me. It was my last morning at the gym, the last week I worked a full week, and the beginning of another push off the path that I thought I was happy to be traveling on, though this time it was professionally that I was knocked off kilter.

I suppose the universe always knows better and guides us towards our truest destiny, regardless of what we think our path should be. Trust the process, right?

But that’s so hard! Because, inherently, we just want to believe we control our destinies. That we can fight the inevitable. But eventually, what is supposed to be will be. The energies align how they must and we are at their mercy.

The sooner we can grasp that, and understand that we really have no control, the happier and more free we can feel.

Though, let me back up, because I’m about to contradict myself. We do have control over one incredibly significant thing – our own mindset.

Last week, my boyfriend asked me if I’d forgiven my ex yet, for what transpired over the last year of our marriage. I actually hadn’t thought about it – had I formally forgiven him? I understand that forgiveness is for oneself, otherwise the toxicity of holding on to that pain and hurt consumes you and hinders your ability to experience true, uncompromised happiness.

Logically, I understand that. Emotionally, however, my first thought was, “Has he ever really apologized to me for what occurred?” I don’t remember receiving a sincere and genuine apology. So, I kept thinking…the pause extending into the arena of discomfort for my boyfriend, who began to wonder if perhaps he shouldn’t have asked the question. But that wasn’t why I hesitated in responding. I wanted to think through my thoughts and feelings surrounding the question. I wanted to be thorough in my space before speaking it aloud.

The thing is, I suppose I had forgiven him.

There are some interesting similarities between my boyfriend and my ex husband. Through many, many discussions with my boyfriend, who is essentially an outsider, I was able to obtain closure with my ex. I was able to forgive him.

I used to fully believe that I had control over my life. I could make choices and would then experience the outcome that I’d wanted.

After both of these St. Patrick’s days, I’ve learned that I can only control so much. Honestly, I’m sick of trying to plan and achieve my desired outcome, fighting to make things happen – or not happen. It’s so much more fulfilling and freeing to simply let go. Everything occurs that is supposed to anyway, so why fight so hard?

My boyfriend and my ex met a couple weeks ago. We’d planned for him to arrive at my house at a certain time so we could go together to my ex’s home and there’d be plenty of time for a decent chat. I was insanely nervous and wanted everything to go smoothly. I wanted my ex to like this man, who’d surely become a significant role model in my daughter’s life. And then, after a number of factors, my boyfriend found himself running terribly late. Unbeknownst to him, this is one of my ex’s triggers. He absolutely abhors tardiness. He was furious and texting me all sorts of irritated comments. Control. He was controlling the situation (or so he thought) and then, my boyfriend’s appearance occurred beyond his control. Late, as a matter of fact.

When we finally arrived, he lectured my boyfriend as I sat there, uncomfortable, sitting in between the man I now love and the man I once loved. These meetings are not for the faint of heart. Ultimately, they found a common ground – in me. I’ll always have love for my ex-husband, as he is a significant part of not only my history, but also my present and my future, thanks to my daughter. And my ex will always have love for me and will always feel the need to protect me, as I am the mother of his child. My boyfriend loves me and has that same desire to protect me (perhaps that is ingrained in men? The desire to protect their people?). Regardless, these two men found a common thread, which pretty quickly, united them.

They began chatting about me, both eager to work together to protect me, laughing about bonding over going on an adventure together to seek out those that have hurt me long before. Also, my boyfriend made it clear he was not in my daughter’s life to replace him and be the new daddy, rather more to just add a layer of love and support for her. He was there, to stand alongside my ex-husband, to make sure no harm comes to either myself or my daughter. They drank their favorite drink (yes, it’s the same) and came to a common ground.

This would not have been able to happen if any of us tried to control the situation. It unfolded naturally and rather pleasantly, overall. It was also inevitable that my boyfriend would become a part of my daughter’s life, as he is now a significant part of mine, so my ex’s willingness to meet him made it all flow easily.

We all know that life can change in mere seconds and everything we hoped for, planned for, and/or worked for can all shatter in a blink. And, we all know that we can recover. We can experience something so catastrophic that the ability to breathe becomes the only focus because even that is far too difficult to accomplish without concentration. And then, ever so slowly and over time, you discover your strength and just how resilient you are. You survive, then adapt, and finally, thrive.

But in order to thrive, truly and wholly, you must forgive. I’ve forgiven myself, for being a pretty terrible wife and playing my part in the catastrophic decisions my ex made. And I’ve forgiven my ex for making them.

Hurt people hurt people. And man, does my ex hurt.

I do not want to hurt anyone. Ever again. So, my pain must be processed. True and abundant forgiveness must be given. There is no longer any toxicity within, I harbor no pain from anything along my path that I have encountered. My wounds have healed and scars have formed. My pain brought me to my present and it’s now a pretty incredible place to live. My bucket is patched, I’m filled with self-love, compassion, understanding, and am thrilled to say, pure happiness.

I no longer have any desire to control anything or anyone and have finally mastered the enlightened acceptance that life just is. I will always work hard, of course, and I’m a dreamer, so my eyes will always be wide with wonder. But as roadblocks come up, as March 17ths continue to come along throughout the year, though I may have a short cry, I’ll never linger in despair. “Nothing is as bad as it seems or as good as it feels.”

It just is.

And to think we have any control over anything is not only the most foolish notion of all, it inhibits our ability to pursue the one thing we all deserve – true happiness.

life, love

What is to Come?

I fell in love.

Yep. There it is.

I’ve been open and honest about the vast array of complicated emotions that have filled my life over the last 9 months and for some reason, sharing the negativity in my life wasn’t ever that difficult for me to do. We all have our own challenging journeys we have to navigate around and throughout these months, I have always known someone who was trying to trudge through much deeper and smellier shit than I was. So, somehow, it was just natural for me to write about mine. It’s always been cathartic.

This blog, though, is different. And the same. I will still be vulnerable and raw – I’ll just be telling a different type of story.

You see, this one is about love.

When everything exploded in my world, I stopped believing in romantic love. How could someone with two failed marriages possibly believe that true love exists? The answer is simple – she couldn’t.

I told my girlfriends that I’d never love again. Fairy tales aren’t real. Love like that surely doesn’t exist. I’ll never be swept off my feet by some Prince Charming. My heart was hardened. I didn’t want to feel love again. Because then, I’d inevitably have to feel that excruciating pain again. And I sure as shit never wanted to shatter again. There’s only so many times you can break before it’s a lost cause.

Or so I thought.

But in the end, I was wrong.

Because I did fall in love. And yet, I didn’t experience excruciating pain when it ended. And I surely didn’t shatter.

And yes, those of you who follow me and read these blogs, you know I fell in love with myself while in Greece.

But I’m talking about before that.

I’ve written from my heart – and with my heart – since I started this writing journey. I’ve been raw, honest, and vulnerable.

But, for some reason, writing about love is so much harder for me. Perhaps it’s because it’s the purest of emotions? Perhaps it’s because it hasn’t even been a year since finding out about my ex’s infidelity? Perhaps it’s because I hear so many people tell me that I can’t, shouldn’t, they wouldn’t…the list goes on. *sigh*

Yet, here I am, my heart racing with nerves as I write this, because love is probably the most intense topic I’ve written about to date. For me, it really is the hardest.

So, thank you. Thank you for reading, for supporting, for commenting, and encouraging, because I’m finally ready to write about love.

I gave my heart to a truly a wonderful man. A man who also happened to be completely emotionally unavailable for me. It was always going to be a dead-end relationship. Dead-end for many reasons.

But…you know what I realized this morning when I woke up?

I fell in love with this guy before I fell in love with myself.

That doesn’t work. It just doesn’t.

You can’t expect someone else to fill your bucket when it’s riddled with holes. I had that epiphany while in Greece and immediately went to work, patching up my holes.

And when I came back from Greece, my path had cleared. He’d fallen for someone else while I was away. It was always going to end and the timing felt right. I’d felt him pulling away for at least the last month we were “together,” so I knew it was coming.

And you know what? I’m happy for him. That’s how I know it was really love that I felt for him. His happiness, his ability to pursue his dreams and settle into the life he’d always imagined, that’s all more important than my momentary sadness at it ending. And since we’re both mature adults, we ended on excellent terms.

Plus…I had this, umm, I don’t even know what to call it other than a magical experience at Byzantino. This is the jewelry store I referenced in my blog: Today is Thursday and where I bought my ring made of old watch parts.

So, quick summary in case you missed that one… While I was in Greece, I went to a super special jewelry store. The women there were beautiful beings, filled with love that they projected onto me. We spent a fair amount of time chatting with one another and I shared my story with them. This was my last day in Greece and I had already undergone an incredible transformation. While we were chatting, one of the women told me things that she saw for my future. My daughter’s, as well. The energy in that little store was so intense while she was speaking and you could literally feel the power behind every word she spoke. It was a moment that has become etched into my very soul.

After purchasing my things, and before I walked out of the store, this same woman approached me with a gift. It was a glass blown heart pendant. As the other woman that worked there was placing it around my neck, she looked me straight in the eyes and began to speak to me about love. She told me that I was going to be blessed with love greater than I had ever experienced before, love that I barely could imagine exists, love that I had ceased to believe was real.

As she spoke these words, I felt my hair go up and had chills all over my body. It was an incredibly intense moment for me where…can you guess what happened? Of course. I cried. It was so intense for me because, with every cell in my being, I believed her. And I knew she wasn’t talking about anyone that was currently in my life.

Somebody else was out there for me. Hoping to feel love like he’d never been loved before. Looking up at the same stars and wishing for the same things as me. A fellow hopeless romantic who would yearn to understand me – all of me. Somebody who would want to hear my stories, feel my history, and use that to understand why I am who I am today. And, more importantly, (now here’s the kicker…) somebody who will choose to make time in his life for me.

My ex didn’t. He couldn’t put his phone down and couldn’t even pretend to care about anything I had to say. And the guy I was seeing, well, in his defense, his career is intense. He rarely has his phone on him during the day. Even so, there were ways he could’ve shown me that I was valued, had he chosen to try, rather than be satisfied having me as a mere convenience in his life. But he chose not to try.

And because of who I was then, because of the lack of love I had for myself, I allowed that type of treatment. I’ve said it before: how could I expect another to value me more than I valued myself?

But in Greece, I shifted. My path shifted. My whole universe shifted, guys! I felt it. Literally. Physically. I can’t even begin to explain the feeling, but people have told me, since coming home, that I look different. And I feel it. My whole aura is bright and light. So, yeah, there’s somebody out there who will match so perfectly with that, that when our paths align, I wouldn’t have to guess my importance in his life. Or hope for it. It’d just be. Effortless. But in the best of ways.

In that moment, in Athens, as I walked out of that jewelry store, my whole world was this new, magical place to live. As I left the little store that was the final piece to my soul’s puzzle, smiling and practically floating along, I fully opened my soul to the universe. My energy was changed. My heart was fully opened. I had learned in the previous month or two that I was capable of loving another. That was a pleasant surprise. I also had learned what made me feel uncomfortable in a relationship. What bags I could help carry and what ones I’d let the other unpack before deciding to join him on his journey. For weeks, I had been thinking I should let the guy go that I was seeing…and then he let me go.

“Trust the journey.” That’s what I kept telling myself in those early days. Over and over. I came home from Greece 3 weeks ago yesterday and, boy, did I struggle with getting my mindset right. It was a fight to be present – I didn’t want to be here. I wanted, desperately, to be back in Greece. So, one night, when I was feeling particularly melancholy, I wrote my photographer friend on Instagram – the one I’d just spent 6 days with in Greece. We’d talked a lot, both before my trip and also so much during my trip. He knew me well by this point and was quite familiar with my story. Here’s a bit of our conversation:

Me: B, I just want to experience all of Earth’s beauty. Greece opened my eyes to so much… And when I say “Greece” opened my eyes, a great deal of that was you. You are such a caring person. Genuine. I want someone in my life who cares like you do. And, man, did we laugh so easily! I want that, too. You set a bar, for a future relationship of how I want to be treated. You opened my eyes to so much more than photography. I’m really grateful for you, for the whole trip, for all the laughter…for everything.
B: No! This is normal. If you respect yourself, you respect others in the same way and I’m pretty sure that you’ll find someone who will care about you… I mean, for real this time. Believe it or not, everyone takes what he/she deserves to have in this life. It’s up to you to live the life that you want. Nothing beats a strong mindset. Everything else is just the result of this.

He repeated exactly what I’d been telling myself. Someone is only going to value, love, respect, (you fill in the blank) me as much as I do myself. I’ll get exactly what I think I deserve and nothing more. I know this now. And I know me now. And I love me! And I just know that somebody is going to see this light that I’m projecting like it’s a damn lighthouse and want to see what it’s all about.

The lady in the jewelry store was absolutely right. I will be loved again. And it’s going to feel out of this world incredible. And I know I deserve that. Because not only am I in a space that is open to being emotionally vulnerable, I also respect and value myself in such a beautiful way now. I’m comfortable being alone. Actually, I rather enjoy it. And I can find comfort in being uncomfortable. And the best feeling? I no longer rely on any outsider to define my worth. I define it.

So, when my path aligns with another, it will be as a sweet addition to my life, not a necessary one. I’ve never been in a position where I’ve felt that to be true. Goodness, it feels amazing.

It’s all quite delightful…this journey I am on. My path has never been clearer. I’ve never felt lighter or more sure of who I am. There’s 15 more days until my birthday and 16 until the last day of this decade. I’m ready to close it down and happily bid it farewell. A lot of incredible things happened in this decade. I’m quite honestly grateful for it all. Even March 17th, 2019. Maybe even especially March 17th, 2019.

And I’m so hopeful for what is to come.

life, love

She Fell in Love in Greece

People say it all the time, the past creates the future, which is why we study history, right? So we, as a society, do not repeat the same mistakes of our ancestors.

But why don’t we choose to study our own histories? Like, dig in and really do some research, as though we’re trying to get our PhD in life. Because it’s hard? Come on…nothing worth it is ever easy or fast. Maybe it’s because we don’t know better.

I didn’t know better.

I feel like I’m now well on my way to earning that PhD, though. I’m exhausted. And oddly energized at the same time. I only have a Master’s Degree, but can fully recall the exhaustion and exhilaration of presenting my thesis. I can only imagine what it’s like to defend a dissertation…

Why am I exhausted and oddly energized? Well, if you’ve been reading from the beginning, you know that my life today is far different than it was 8 months ago. (And if you’re new here, feel free to go check it out. It’s been a wild ride!) So, where was I? Yes, 8 months ago, and a few hours ago, actually. At 6:08 pm on March 17, 2019, the world I knew ceased to exist. And, as it turns out, that’s a wonderful thing.

That catastrophic moment when I opened the email from one of the Ashley Madison lovelies my ex had been having an affair with forced me to spiral completely out of control and then, finally, to make a choice. Do I continue to allow my life to spiral or should I, at long last, face my reality.

I finally decided to face my reality and it has not been an easy journey. For months, this journey was anything but graceful. Though it has been priceless.

I am no longer the same woman I once was…not even close. So, who was I? Those truths are mine, for now. But I will tell you this – after some incredible amount of determination to improve my mental space, I traveled back in time to childhood and began my healing there.

What I discovered was that my childhood wounds were never taken care of properly. And then new wounds layered on top. And that continued for years. Decades, really.

All that strain and stress to my emotional self caused gaping holes that were never patched. I suppose I never quite realized they were even there to be patched. But those wounds shaped me moving forward. I was married the first time at 21 (was it really 21?!). After about a 4 month separation, I was in another committed relationship, this time with husband number 2.

Let’s take a moment to envision my emotional self as a bucket. I kept, up until, like, last week, expecting others to fill my bucket for me. Some tried. The problem, however, is that bucket was riddled with gaping holes, wounds from my past. So, any love I received, any good intention given, filled my bucket and then seeped right on out. I kept waiting for someone else to fill my bucket! Why couldn’t they make me feel as though I was enough? Why wasn’t I worthy of being treated with respect? Both husband #1 and husband #2 were verbally abusive. Both beat me down with their words. I never had any physical scars, but the emotional ones created more holes in my bucket.

If you have something that you view as garbage, how do you treat it? How do you expect others to treat it? For a very long time, for far too long, I looked at myself as garbage. I wasn’t good enough. I battled an eating disorder on and off for a decade and tried to control what I could because there were far too many disappointing aspects of myself that I couldn’t control. I was not fond of myself. I treated myself like garbage with my thoughts and internal dialogue.

Yet, I expected others to treat me differently?! Ridiculous. If I think something is garbage, it’s quite unlikely that anyone else will see any value in it. Ugh, it feels so obvious now. *facepalm*

So, there I was, with a leaky bucket, all wounded and hoping others would come along with a patch kit for me. And now here I am, a month and a half away from 39, and I finally get it.

I have to put on my own patches, radiant and sturdy ones, to plug all of those holes. But first, I have to take the time to carefully find each and every single hole. So, with so much work on myself, I am finding them, one at a time, and I am lovingly patching over my broken bucket.

I feel, now, that I’ve covered most of my holes. Let me be completely clear about this, though. It has been 8 months of losing my mind to find this space within. I’m pretty much constantly in a state of emotional exhaustion. Self-reflection, intensely studying my history, asking myself the hard questions and then journaling about it, doing all the things that has felt right for me, has been emotionally taxing. And fabulously liberating.

With so much self-love and care, my holes are mostly patched and I’m beginning to fill my own bucket. I am not garbage. I am strong. I am capable. And I am enough. I know that. I’ve proven it to myself and, as they say, the proof is in the pudding.

I traveled abroad, by myself, to meet 2 strangers I met on Instagram. They are incredible photographers, which is how I stumbled across one of their pages, and then decided to send him a message. To my utter surprise, he answered. And we began communicating with frequency. I mean, really, it was practically daily. His passion for photography was contagious and his knowledge vast. Just 12 days after I first reached out to him, I decided to go on a private photography tour with him and his business partner and I think it was that day that I booked my tickets to Greece. I don’t quite remember – it all happened very fast.

That moment that I purchased the tickets, in and of itself, was HUGE! I remember feeling pure, boundless joy. In my head, I placed a lot of weight on this trip. It was to be the symbol of my soul’s restoration to peace. A reawakening. A message to myself (and my daughter) that I can, in fact, do whatever I want to do. I am fully capable of doing all things without a man by my side.

The day I left for this epic journey, I was a mess. I should’ve cancelled my morning, as living like a proper adult was rather difficult while in that head space. But, I am an adult and there were things that needed to be done. So, I rushed about to do them. And promptly got a speeding ticket.

When I got to work, the mom and daughter opened the door, and then I immediately started to cry. They were standing there, waiting for me, with gifts to celebrate my one year anniversary of working for them. I spent most of my session crying to these beautiful people.

And then I talked both ears off my dear friend, who’d offered to drive me to the airport. It’s at least an hour and 20 minute drive. I think she maybe said 2 sentences.

Once I was all checked in, I had time to squeeze in one margarita. As I took my first sip, I smiled, and the sighed, contentedly. The woman sitting next to me noticed and made a comment. We both laughed and shortly, were engaged in conversation. I explained to her where I was going – and why. And cried again, of course.

There was a married business man sitting next to me. He had no choice but to listen to my story as I chatted with the sweet lady next to me, as he finished up both his meal and what appeared to be some work. As he got up to leave, he looked me in the eye and said, simply, “Feel better,” and after I said thank you, he left. When I finished my margarita, I went to pay the bill. The bartender told me that it’d been paid for by the gentleman sitting to my right. The “feel better” guy. I completely lost my shit right then and there. Like, full on ugly cried. I was sobbing in a bar at the airport.

This is how I started my trip to Greece.

My head was scattered. Emotional. Anxious. I was a complete and utter wreck. I was doing something unlike anything I’d done for myself before. Alone. Could I do this on my own? No, wait… How could I do this on my own?!

But I did. I made it on my flight and settled in my seat. I made my two connections, landed in Athens, and waited for the cab that was supposed to get me. I found myself in the wrong part of the airport and a kind Greek gentleman told me where I was supposed to go. I contacted my photographer friend I came to Greece to meet and do the tour with and he spoke with my cab driver, making sure he knew where to take me. I got to the bus station, bought my bus fare, ate a Greek pastry, and made it on the right bus. I rode that bus for what seemed like forever, but it was only about 4 hours, then got in a taxi to take me to my hotel, where I checked in and made my way to my room. I contacted my photographer friend that I was there, safely.

I did all of that. Yes, with the help of others, but on my own. I made it from Denver to Athens safely and with nothing lost or left behind (though I did almost forget my suitcase on the bus… *eyeroll*). I am so used to someone double checking things for me that I wasn’t sure I’d be capable of any of this on my own.

Yet, I’m here. I’m still in Greece, in the middle of my photography tour, with 2 of the most wonderful humans I could’ve ever connected with. And they started as random strangers that I met through pretty pictures on instagram. (** Side note. Picture this. I wrote to one of them and told him that his pictures made me want to go there and see it all in person. Today, I saw through his lens, literally and figuratively, as I took my own pictures in the exact locations his pictures portrayed. Actively live life and things will happen that will blow your mind! **)

I took a risk. Somehow, I was able to force myself to take that risk, realizing I’d never prove to myself that I was “enough” of anything until I actually did something of some great magnitude. And now it’s paying off in ways I probably still don’t even realize. I have been in Greece for only 3 full days. I still have 4 full days to go.

And I’ve already fallen in love. Completely. Madly. Wildly.

I’ve fallen in love in Greece…with myself.

My bucket’s patches are holding strong – for now. Of course it’s a patch job, so there will be leaks and cracks that are bound to occur. Which is why this, proper self-care, is now a lifelong act. I cannot ever expect anyone else to make me feel as though I am enough. I have to believe it first for myself. I have to see my worth. I have to know that I am priceless.

And I do. Every single day is magical. Every day I have a choice to talk to myself rather than to simply listen to the old messages. Well, those messages? They’re being erased and replaced with a mantra I now tell myself throughout the day. The words are positive and reflect strength. They are superbly healing. My conversations within are filled with light and love for myself. When I begin to doubt, or self-criticize, or feel unworthy, I switch to my mantra and repeat it until I feel it burning true in my soul.

I am strong. I am capable. I am enough.

The more I say it, the more I believe it to be true. The more it becomes my internal message during times of doubt, stress, and hurt. No longer do I need to seek the attention from others to make me feel good and valued. It isn’t anyone else’s job to do that. Sure, do I like it when others make me feel good? Of course! Genuine compliments are beautiful and they make me smile. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy.

But I no longer depend on them. I see me. I see my worth. And you know what that means?

I am free. And I am happy. More so than I think I have ever felt in my entire adult life. The love and radiance in my heart and soul is pure bliss. So much, that I frequently find myself with a little smile on my face and then I sigh contentedly (much to one of my photographer’s unease *hehehe*).

All is good in this world of mine. And it just keeps on getting better. I am, quite honestly, now looking forward to this journey. Life is nothing but an adventure and I’m finally strong enough to see it that way.

So, if you find yourself struggling with your own self-worth, I would highly recommend you push out of your comfort zone – whatever that means to you. See what you’re actually capable of that you never thought you could do. Safely, obviously. Perhaps it’s sitting alone at a restaurant, enjoying a meal with only your own thoughts to keep you company. Perhaps it’s going to Target alone after dark. Those were both things I started with, both rather benign activities to some but that made my heart race and palms sweaty. Safely, with calculation, push yourself out of your comfort zone. Start small. Be smart about it. And then watch yourself grow and see where it leads.

I can promise you this, though: there is no better feeling than unconditionally loving yourself. You’ll be amazed with what follows when that finally happens. Tonight, I am sending my love to you all. May you feel it, understand how to create it from within, and go fall in love with yourself. And then keep doing so, throughout every moment of this marvelous life of yours.

You are strong. You are capable. You are enough. ❤️

Photo Credit: Chris Nanos www.theatlasroamers.com
life

My Ex is Dead

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

153 Days

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

153 Days.

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

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

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

I am stubborn.

And…

I do not quit.

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

Wow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I. Am. A. Dime.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am a dime. And now I know it.