Tag: emotions

life, travel

Supportive Moods

A Graceful Catastrophe

You all have been the most incredible and supportive followers a girl going through a difficult time could’ve ever hoped for. I appreciate each and every one of you for what you provided for me post catastrophe. You just have no clue what writing this blog did for me and how I was able to reflect and grow since March 2019.

I have grown incredibly throughout this time and have moved on to a different type of blogging – travel and photography blogging! I’m not quite yet doing much travel but get out and take photographs when I can. If you love pretty pictures and sweet stories, I’d love it if you followed me on that website https://www.craigsimpressions.com/ and on Insta @craigsimpressions.

I’ve written a blog about these two pictures, how for me, editing the same picture can change based on your mood and different mindsets, and how that’s precisely the outlet I need because it allows me to have certain creative liberties while also acknowledging the emotional atmosphere I’m living in in that moment.

I’ve come to notice that one picture has “cooler” tones while the other is distinctly “warmer.” My emotions ebbed and flowed and I followed along. You know why? Because we are always allowed to sway and perhaps even step off our current path completely – if the detour is safe, warm, and inviting. This new blog touches on experiencing a different kind of path altering Day 1 last November 16. Intrigued?

I’d love it if you checked out https://www.craigsimpressions.com/juxtaposing-moods! You can continue to follow my journey there and I truly hope to see you again! *smooches*

life

Unsettled

A Graceful Catastrophe

You know how some books have multiple parts? And, in between the chapters, when a new part is starting, there is a whole page, mostly blank, dedicated to that new beginning? And it says something like, Part 4 (or whatever) in big, bold font. But, then you have to actually turn the page to get to the new chapter?

That’s what I feel like right now. Today, actually. I’m in the “part page” of this incredible narrative that is my life. I know my previous chapter has fully ended. I have turned that page. And I thought the next page was taking me to a new chapter, but…it just doesn’t quite feel like it’s begun yet.

I feel a bit like I’m in limbo.

This new chapter does feel as though it is just about to begin. I have new endeavors beginning to blossom and wisps that were once merely ideas beginning to take shape. Possibly the proverbial “tomorrow” will bring it all more properly into focus.

Until then, I am trying hard to focus on today. On taking it all one day at a time. To be okay with just breathing in this moment. It’s so incredibly laughable, really. I’m literally sitting here, shaking my head at myself and chuckling. Just less than a year ago, I couldn’t even dream about thinking even one hour into the future. I was desperately treading water. Thrashing about, actually – and losing – as the waves crashed down upon me over and over, promising to drown me with the next one.

I had to concentrate wholly and completely on my breath…on this very moment. From one inhale…and then exhale, to the next breath in. While in survival mode, there was no opportunity to dream. All I saw in my future was a great, black abyss. My future couldn’t exist. And surely dreams were nothing I’d ever fathom of having again.

And then, one day, those great waves slowly settled from tsunami to rain storm to a gentle, rolling sea. The tides had turned. Life was filled with peace once again. And joy.

Which turned me back into a dreamer. I dreamed with enthusiasm once again. Freely. Well, for a while. But quite recently, it’s begun to feel wrong to dream without bound. Careless, even. Now, just before my dreams explode into the full color, high-def movie they once easily did, they seem to have a cloud shading them.

My dreams now come hesitantly. I begin to let my mind wander, hopeful about the future, lost in all the beauty that could be…and then I turn the corner and run smack into a wall filled with caution signs. I tell myself to slow down, to guard my heart, to proceed with great care. Because, as I’ve learned in previous chapters, there is significant pain as those dreams inevitably come to a very realistic end.

How can I turn the page into my newest chapter when the very fibers of my being are screaming at me to be wary?

For some time, I had to tell myself, deliberately and with tremendous focus, to fear less. I was quite scared of the world around me and fully believed I was incapable of facing all that was out there in this vast and wondrous world. With that intention, of purposefully fearing less, I became fearless. I stopped worrying what was around the corner because I knew, no matter what it was, that I could – and would – conquer it. I stopped behaving in a way where I had to prove to myself that I was enough because I just became enough. I knew I was capable. I knew I had the strength to conquer any challenge. I knew if I were defeated, it’d only be but for a moment, because I would rise again, more tenacious and determined than ever before.

I still know these things are true. I do not fear the pain when reality crumples up my dreams and spits them out.

I have started to understand, however, that to chase my dreams with such an open heart is rather foolish. I have prior knowledge that should not be dismissed. Previous chapters of this life have taught me some incredibly hard lessons. And I am finding that I cannot – should not – dream as I once did. Or live with such a pure and open heart anymore. It feels childish to do so.

And that is beyond frustrating to me. Because I’ve always been a free spirit. I don’t exactly want to live a guarded life. It’s just that right now, I feel that I’m supposed to.

Maybe this is why I felt compelled to write once again. Why I feel “in between” and unsettled. My story cannot continue to progress now because of these walls. They weren’t there before…I mean, I’d become fearless. But slowly but surely, these bricks are being cautiously laid, piled one on top of the other, cemented into place with the wisdom from my past that I’d been deliberately ignoring.

Which is another reason to focus, once again, on this breath. While I am no longer drowning, and the waves are no longer crashing violently upon me, I have the understanding that the only thing that is real is this very moment.

And don’t get me wrong, this moment is a lovely one, filled with opportunity. I am happy. I also have this great desire to take care of myself, to be cautiously optimistic, to dream…but to also see the clouds that hover ever ominously over those dreams.

There is always a storm I could get caught in, so why not just be ready and carry the umbrella?

Not terribly long ago, I thought that living at a distance from your self, walled behind protection from your true feelings, was living a disingenuous life. Living a lie. Now, though, I don’t quite agree with myself anymore. Perhaps that security is more wise than I used to think. Just like I wouldn’t drive without the safety of a seat belt, I think one can still live a fully authentic life and be guarded. The seat belt doesn’t prevent you from reaching your destination, it just provides an extra safety net to ensure you get there without great harm. It isn’t so much fearing the inevitable fall into the painful existence that accompanies shattered dreams, but being aware the fall could come and, therefore, preparing the landing a bit so you don’t get so hurt.

People all around me live carefully and have their guards properly in place. Perhaps it’s time I ought to, as well.

life, love

Nailing the Heck Out of Life

A Graceful Catastrophe

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

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

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

Until tonight, that is.

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

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

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

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

I no longer believe that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe that’s a much more valuable lesson?

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

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

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

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

She is thriving. And so am I.

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

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

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

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

life

Untangling Christmas Lights

A Graceful Catastrophe

Picture Christmas lights. You pull out a messy bundle that you thought you’d carefully wrapped up and put away the previous year. The first step is to plug them in, to see if they all light up. They don’t, of course. So then you have to start untangling them. At long last, after a stupid amount of agonizing minutes, the strand is free of tangles! You finally have a perfectly straight strand of lights. Yes! But where on earth is that one lousy bulb that’s making the whole blasted section short out?! Forget it! Rather than take the time to find the bloody thing, after you’ve just spent way too much time trying to straighten it all out, you just throw the whole strand away. It’s a lost cause.

That’s quite how I feel tonight. Trying to process my emotions right now feels like a lost cause. For the last hour or so, I just sat in silence, thinking. I was going nowhere with that, so I decided to grab my computer and just start writing.

I am doing my best to honor my emotions, to ride the wave and feel them all. On days like today, though, that is almost impossible. I want to bury them so that I can process my world logically. And then leave the emotions shoved in a box, buried deep in my soul. There are just too many to handle right now. And they’re all twisted together.

Like tangled, broken Christmas lights.

Perhaps there’s nothing wrong with honoring that? At least for a moment.

What do I know? I don’t have the answers. I’m just trying to live the best life that I can live, one moment at a time, now that I’m in the “after” portion of the catastrophe that upended my world.

But the truth of the matter is, there’s still a wave that I’m riding. Whether or not I tightly pack my emotions and bury them, they aren’t going away. I guess I just have to try to process them, so let’s take a minute and talk about today.

Today was…well, today was difficult. Those are the only words I have to describe today.

There is so much going on inside of me right now.

My mind is swirling.

My heart is racing. I can actually feel it hammering in my ears.

Today was my daughter’s birthday party to celebrate her 9th birthday. And it was a huge success. There was so much laughter and squealing from the kids, great conversation was taking place as I took a moment to quietly survey the party, and everyone seemed to be enjoying the food and drinks. The decorations were on point, the cake was incredibly decorated, and the bounce house was obviously a huge hit. With help from my parents, my (ex) husband and I threw another great party.

It’s what we do.

Wait…it’s what we did?

*sigh*

Moment. By. Moment.

I can’t live any other way right now.

I get lost when I try to.

I have a dear friend, rather like a soulmate, a sister, who checked in on me late tonight. She experienced probably the most significant loss a person could go through, went through such unimaginable pain, that she knew the significance on my emotions today would have. She could empathize with what exactly celebrating my daughter’s birthday would feel like for me. She just knew that today would be an incredibly difficult one.

So she sent me a message. Affirming me. Loving me. Reminding me that I am a great mom and that today was about making wonderful memories for my daughter. And together, my ex and I did exactly that. I gave nobody any clue that both last night and this morning sucked or that I was having an internal battle because of it – today wasn’t the time for that. Yet, she knew. She doesn’t even live in the same state that I do! And she knew. It was the most meaningful moment of the day for me.

I am well aware that milestones, even little ones, are going to be hard for a while. I’m thinking it is because those milestones are no longer going to occur the way I’d always envisioned them. Even when they seemingly do.

I’m tangled because today was so normal. Too normal. The party was flawless. Anyone who didn’t know what the last 7 weeks has looked like for me, for us, didn’t have any inkling that our marriage was broken. He hosted. I hosted. It’s just what we do. Today’s milestone was successfully – and normally – celebrated. But nothing is normal right now.

So, when everything seems perfectly happy and wonderful and normal, I find myself getting lost. Everything about living “normally” as a family takes monumental intention and discipline. Almost every move, every conversation, even every smile has to be calculated.

I am currently trying to live in a hyper-focused state because I’ve found that when I don’t, I don’t process my reality as well as I could. Everything gets messy and ridiculously tangled.

*Cue the purpose behind writing this tonight…*

But, as I sit here and write, I have to ask: is being hyper-focused a bad thing? Mindset is everything, right? I mean, we all know that. I constantly hear: “Embrace the moment!” Or people say, in some way or another, to enjoy living in a space where the only thing that matters is literally right now: “Live in the now.” “Be present.” Maybe it’s time to trust that the “hyper-focused” attitude is exactly the way I should’ve been living all along.

Huh.

You know, when I first began writing this blog, somewhere a little over 2 hours ago, I was feeling overwhelmed. I even had a physiological response to it, with my heart racing and thumping in my ears. Now, though, I think I’m beginning to get untangled.

And this is exactly why I write.

I am a verbal processor. I either have to talk through things in order to make sense of them, or write about them. I can’t just live inside my head – I get absolutely nowhere with “thinking.”

What about you? Do you have tangled Christmas light moments? Times where you just think to yourself how messed up it all is and it’s so overwhelming that it feels like a lost cause? How do you remind yourself that it’s not?

If you aren’t sure how you process intense emotions and deep thoughts, take a minute to analyze how you’ve worked through problems before. Do you talk about it? Do you journal? Do you mull it over inside your head while you go out for a run? It’s important to know because everyone needs a healthy outlet to help get their head right. Tonight, I went from spiraling down a rabbit hole of confusion to feeling pretty great again. All because I decided to grab my computer and write.

From start to finish, it’s going to take me well over 4 hours to write just this one blog. When I first sat down to write tonight, my thoughts started in the same place as I did with this one, but then went off in a completely different direction. I didn’t like where that was going, so I discarded it and began again. And then I edited this piece like crazy. The whole process helped me understand my thoughts and pinpoint why I was feeling the way I was. I dumped it all onto this beautifully simple blank page. Writing gave me the time to understand what I was thinking and helped me get my mindset back where it needed to be.

Life is confusing. No matter what you’re living through right this moment, your life is sure to take you on a journey. It’s supposed to. There aren’t many things you can count on with certainty, but experiencing ups and downs is a given. We are meant to grow, so we must experience discomfort. Here are some things I’ve learned in the last 7 weeks that continuously help me get through my discomfort, this catastrophe, with grace.

  • Choose to see the good in the people around you, because everybody has good in them.
  • Don’t worry about what may happen at some point down the road or what you should’ve done yesterday. Process the moments as they come and make sure to do so in a healthy way.
  • Count on others for help. We all inherently want to help the members in our community so you aren’t a burden. Don’t think for a second that you are.
  • Hyper-focus on the moments. Though, you may be in the middle of stepping in the mess that erupted after it hit the fan, look up. You don’t have to focus on the mess. When you see all that is in front of you, you’ll surely find something to make you smile.

You all do that for me, you know. While trying to side-step the mess that is my current chapter, you all help me look up. You make me smile. I’m grateful to you – for reading my blog, for commenting on it here and on social media, and especially for sharing it with others because you think it might help them process their world just a tiny bit better. You lift me up with your positive messages and with the stories you’ve shared. I know I’m not alone in this journey and I am thankful that I can lean on so many of you. Your presence in my life is a gift and I can only hope that I can be that gift for others, too.

So if you ever need help untangling Christmas lights, both figuratively and literally, I am here for you.

life

The Wave

A Graceful Catastrophe

Not even 2 hours before I started writing this, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I was pleasantly surprised when I saw a glimmer of happiness in my eyes, a speck of hope. As I walked past the mirror just now, before sitting down to write, I just saw pain and hurt staring back at me.

Depending on when you talk to me, I’m having a great day, an okay day, or a difficult day. And all three could occur (and have) in a matter of 20 minutes.

I think the most difficult part of where I currently am in this journey are the triggers – especially since I don’t know what they are or when they’ll hit.

Tonight, I came home from Target and we were both in the kitchen, making a snack. We talked about watching something together on T.V. I was in a great mood and so was he. And then he made a joke, which, while under “normal” circumstances would’ve been harmless, it wasn’t at all a joke to me. It triggered me and I began to quietly spiral.

For the next hour or so, I played this movie in my head, filled with imaginary scenes I concocted as thoughts of his indiscretions rained upon my brain in a sudden downpour. He must’ve noticed because he came over and asked if I wanted to talk, or yell, or stab him with the fork I was using (he likes to make jokes when he doesn’t know what else to do).

I told him, with pain and sadness dripping from my voice, that this was just part of the process. I ride the wave. If grief strikes, or anger, or loads of disgust, I try to feel every bit of it. I have to. I don’t dare stifle the emotions, or try to bury them, or else they’ll surely continue to haunt me, years into the future. And I definitely don’t want that to happen.

You see, I fully understand with my logical brain that I am on a roller coaster that has no end in sight. I feel like I have embraced this; I am on a journey at sea and am at the mercy of the waves. Sometimes the sea is calm and in those moments, I feel legitimately strong, hopeful, and happy. Other times, though…man! It’s like I’m riding through the craziest storm. I mean, we’re talking Cat 5 hurricane. And my poor boat is being rocked so hard that I don’t have a clue how I’m even holding on. How is it possible that I haven’t yet drowned?

I’m exhausted at times, so emotionally drained, just from hanging on.

And that is okay. I am perfectly fine being broken right now, picking up my pieces one by one and learning how they will now all fit back together. I will not be okay still struggling to find peace with all of this years down in the future. Now is the time to face it and deal with it, so I can move forward with a newfound strength I still don’t fully realize I have.

And so I workout. I write. Sometimes I talk. And a lot of times, I just process alone.

And I ride the wave.

*This was written at night on 4/22/2019, but then I fell asleep. *shrug*

life

Strength

A Graceful Catastrophe

You really have no idea how you’re going to respond to something until it happens to you. And even when it does happen to you, you still have no idea how to respond, your emotions are all over the place and change constantly.

So many people, almost everyone that I’ve told this story to, have commented on how strong I am to be handling it the way I am. On one hand, when I hear their words and read their comments, I am reminded that I am strong. I will survive this, of course. Coming out of this a stronger and wiser woman is the only option.

But then, just a half of a second later, I feel like such a fraud.

I mean, I lost my mind and punched a column in my kitchen so hard, or maybe it’s that it was so many times, that I displaced my pinky bone up and about a centimeter away from my knuckle. My doctor said that I broke it “worse than horrible,” (seriously, those were his words). Even after surgery, it’s still not lined up where it ought to be. The doc said it was just too broken to make it line up perfectly again. My pinky will never be quite right again. When people say I’m strong, I’m pretty sure this is not the strength they are referring to…

How can so many someones say I am strong, implying having emotional strength, when I do something like that?! That was a pure moment of weakness.

My life is filled with moments of weakness lately. Guys, I cry. I can be doing any random, mundane task and then find myself with tears running down my cheeks. I’m so tired but I cannot sleep. I struggle to have any motivation to do anything. I just want to lay down and forget my reality.

But I don’t.

I plaster a smile on my face until I believe it’s real. I go through the motions of living until they are exactly what I want to be doing.

Perhaps this is what people see; why it is they say that I’m strong.

But if I’m so strong, then why is it all still so confusing? I should know exactly how I feel about my (ex) husband. (What a dirtbag, right?)

Yet here I am, so very confused when it comes to him. We spent almost exactly 11 years together. We have a daughter together. We laughed so much together. Once upon a time, we had a beautiful and intense love for one another. I should hate him, but I don’t.

Our marriage was hard. And, as it turns out, he is someone that doesn’t do “hard.”
He’s a good person who did an atrociously disgusting thing the second he decided that to remain an active participant as a husband was just too much effort for him.

It’s easy to love when life is simple. When we met, life was one giant party. As time went on, our lives became more complicated, there were many obstacles to maneuver. We had a child. We moved to a different state. I became so sick that it severely impacted both my life and our marriage (though I hid the extent of it all from the outside world. Perhaps that is why I’m choosing to be so transparent now. I’m quite tired of hiding.). Some of these obstacles were willingly added into our lives. Others were not. Life was hard, and getting harder everyday. Loving one another became this thing that took so much effort. Nothing about our marriage felt easy. As the days passed, more and more moments seemed to take extra work. Until it became almost all of the moments taking effort. And a lot of it.

But why give up? What makes someone decide his marriage is too exhausting to keep trying to work on it? What is so horrible that makes his wife not valuable enough to fight for? That one hurts. So much. I was not valued. I wasn’t worth fighting for. You can tell me until you’re blue in the face that his infidelity has nothing to do with me. Logically, I know that. Yet, I still struggle with not being enough. If I were enough, in his eyes, we wouldn’t be here today.

So there it is. The great big, ugly truth. These thoughts are not strong.

Now, I can keep myself mostly together when I’m in public. I don’t really like to talk about these depths, to speak them out loud gives them more power than I’d like them to have. I know you mostly see the side I am desperately trying to be. But I also want you to know that the struggle is real.

So you see, I am no stronger than you. Any of you could handle this exact situation if you had to (boy, do I hope you never have to sift through these layers of emotion, though!) and you could do so in a manner that would also impress others.

When you see me, and you think I am being so strong, understand that this strength solely comes from keeping my eye on the prize – making sure my daughter is minimally impacted by this situation. My daughter needs a strong female influence. She needs to understand her value comes from within. I don’t ever want her to feel like she isn’t enough. I want her to know she is always “enough.” And by convincing her, I just may convince myself.

Most days, I don’t feel all that strong…but I’m trying to be. I’m taking this all moment by moment. I just wish those moments could not include him right now. Having him in the house is just about the hardest thing I think I’ve ever had to deal with on a pretty regular basis and I also know that having him there is making me grow at an exponential speed.

Seeing the man that I once loved and having him replaced by this stranger that caused me more pain than I realized I could take, day in and day out, is pretty awful. Some moments I can’t bear to look him in the eye and others, I long for him to just hold me close. I’m not entirely sure how long I can ride the roller coaster having him home takes me on. Or perhaps this will eventually become my new normal and all these emotions will calm down and fade. We’ll settle into a new routine that does not cause me such anguish.

Time will tell.

And in time, I will come to believe your words, your affirmations, your belief that I am strong. Just know, I am writing this to tell you it’s not easy and sometimes I feel like a fraud because I do not feel as strong as you think I am. That strength you see almost always has some emptiness behind it.

Even so, I appreciate the uplifting comments and feel free to keep them coming. They serve as reminders that I am strong. That I am enough. And I need all the reminders that I can get these days.

And just one last thing: don’t walk away just because it’s hard, whatever “it” is defined as for you. Decide it’s worth fighting for and go all in.

Love genuinely. Love hard. And think about this in all your difficult moments:

Love must mean so much more when it exists through the “hard.”

-Katrina

Someday, I’ll know this to be true.