infidelity – A Graceful Catastrophe

731 Days

March 17, 2021 A Graceful Catastrophe

731 days. That’s a big number. That’s a whole lot of time. 17,544 hours.

2 years.

It’s been 2 years since I found out that my ex had cheated on me. Some of you may be thinking to yourself, “Oh, my goodness, get over it already.”

But you see, I am. That is not the point of this blog. This is an anniversary date. One that will always be remembered, but there is no more pain, hurt, or grief attached to it. This is merely a moment I am using to pause and to reflect.

Just like I would on my birthday. Or any other milestone anniversary.

You’d think that a lot of lessons could be learned in over a million minutes. 1,052,640 minutes to be exact.

And it’s true. I have learned a lot. And at the same time, I have been just as naïve as ever. I believed what was told to me…which I am learning is just about the dumbest thing. Nobody tells the truth. Nobody is completely raw, vulnerable, or truly authentic. We are human and we will always protect ourselves first. And people always have something to hide, thoughts they are unwilling to voice.

Today, a song lyric popped into my head.

"...the day the music died."

That’s today.

The music died today. Today I realized that “truth” is a figment of my imagination. “Truth” is only as valid as the belief system of the person delivering it. It’s all to be taken with a grain of salt. It’s all based on perspective. One person’s “truth” is based on how s/he perceives the world. There is no such thing as “truth,” really. How naïve of me to have believed that people are able to ever be fully honest with others – especially if they cannot be fully honest with themselves. Some pain is too devastating to face. So you lie to be able to live.

Then, in some rare flashes, when a truth is screaming to surface, it becomes impossible to stifle even a moment longer. It’s funny what comes to light after being suppressed for so long. It’s funny how people lie to themselves in order to live in this imaginary world they’ve convinced themselves is reality.

It’s funny how I’ve continuously lied to myself in order to live in a world I desperately wanted to believe in.

But life is no fairytale. I know this better than I wish I did. I have been continuously lying to myself to construct a world I hoped existed. I convinced myself it did. I truly believed it did.

I listened to the song (it’s American Pie by Don McLean, if you didn’t recognize the lyric earlier) on my drive home – twice. It’s a long song, about 7.5 minutes. Another lyric popped out, “Do you recall what was revealed the day the music died?”

A lot was revealed 2 years ago. A great deal more was revealed today. Actually, today probably symbolizes more to me now than that moment I received the email 2 years ago.

All I can do is continue to reflect, continue making the difficult choice to grow. Though, my perspective today is vastly different than it was even yesterday. Experiences change us. Time does, too.

I’m finally beginning to see the world as it is, rather than as I’d hoped it was.

I’m at the point, after 2 years of growth and reflection and experiences and pain and trauma, of just truly abandoning anything I believed to be a self-truth, and simply breathing in and out and being. Nothing really matters – and I don’t say this with sadness, but with logic. In the long run, nothing really has the weight on it that we initially perceived.

Edward Zander’s quote has been my mantra for the last 2 years. “It’s never as good as it feels, and it’s never as bad as it seems.”

2 years ago, I learned the back half of that quote. Now, I’m learning the first half.

In the end, it never feels good for very long. It doesn’t feel terrible for very long either. It just is.

Over a million minutes gone and so much time spent reflecting and growing. As we all know, there is no comfort in growth. And as I know, I’ve been uncomfortable for far too much of my life. I’m ready for comfort. I am ready to be comforted.

And I hate St. Patrick’s Day, it is truly the most uncomfortable of all days.

life

365 Days

March 15, 2020March 17, 2020 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

She Fell in Love in Greece

November 18, 2019 A Graceful Catastrophe

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

November 9, 2019November 9, 2019 A Graceful Catastrophe

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

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

Here’s an interesting story for you.

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

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

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

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

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

I stood by his side. I helped him rebuild.

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

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

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

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

That was his focus. And I supported him.

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

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

And then, another new day started – again.

Where everything was repeated.

This happened for years and years.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He never worked on us.

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

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

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

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

We were together for almost 11 years.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he’s showing me that again.

I am not valued.

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

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

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

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

I could.

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

So I won’t.

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

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

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

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

life, love

Eating Crow

October 21, 2019 A Graceful Catastrophe

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

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

I lacked intention.

I lacked compassion and grace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or so I thought.

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

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

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

He felt it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goodness, how wrong that thinking is!

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

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

But, in a lot of ways, they were.

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

Ouch.

Time for this incredibly inconsiderate person to eat crow.

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

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

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

Again…ouch.

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

Not anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

Crow has never tasted so good.

life

Chaos and Noise

October 17, 2019October 18, 2019 A Graceful Catastrophe

Lately it’s been hard to feel fully present in my personal life. Professionally, I’m solid. Those kids have every ounce of my attention.

But personally…I don’t know. I feel tired. I’m so busy and all I do is run, it feels like. I run from one thing to another to another with everything scheduled right down to the minute.

And there’s so much noise in my head.

My thoughts are running full tilt. I want to live truly authentically, but damn, that’s really hard. I want to fully embrace Maya Angelou’s quote, “When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.”

But what if I don’t want to believe them? What if I want to see what I want to see? What if I know I’m making 34,000 excuses for them and their behavior?

Excuses. We all have them…

Goodness! It’s just So.Much.Noise.

It feels chaotic inside right now. I hear myself arguing with myself. I have contradictory thoughts all day long.

Sometimes I literally shake my head to try to clear it. No, really. I just did.

It doesn’t work.

I’m so tired.

I’ve been binge eating. And then I am left feeling simply dreadful.

And I feel so unsettled.

I need something to change things up…to give me a figurative shake. Nothing earth shattering like what happened 7 months ago now – oh, goodness, please nothing like that!

But… I do leave for Greece in 28 27 days. So there’s that.

I need that time. I’m craving this solo adventure more than ever.

I have hope that it will help to center me again. Because I need that. Desperately, at this point.

I feel like I’m sacrificing a piece of myself for an illusion of happiness. And…I just want to feel genuine happiness.

*sigh*

More importantly, I want to feel genuine.

It takes so much effort to be strong. Some of you know this all to well. It takes a ton of effort just to stay afloat. And then to run my business. Or to be a present and engaging mom.

Sometimes it feels as though I cannot breathe. So, all of this, and for so much more, I honestly can’t wait until I can run away. Just momentarily, though. I’ll be back, of course. My daughter is my world. My business fills my heart with joy. I just need a break.

Because…have I mentioned how loud it is in my head? It’s constant, guys. I feel at odds with myself, my actions, my thoughts…

This is not living authentically.

I feel like I’m barely hanging on right now.

~~Last night~~ Two nights ago, I received a barrage of texts from my ex, blasting me for no reason, other than his own anger. It was completely unprovoked.

I’m still on edge from it.

Then it happened again tonight. Except this time, he decided to threaten both me and a friend of mine. It’s been 7 months. Seven months today, actually. When will his abuse stop?

And then there’s the big court date one week from ~~today~~ yesterday. We will stand before a judge for about 20 minutes and then become legally separated. Finally. 7 long months later. To be quite honest, I can’t wait for a judge to tell me that I can start putting this all behind me.

For now, though, I feel myself disconnecting. Retreating. Everything takes so much out of me. Friends call and I ignore their calls. I just can’t bring myself to engage in any lengthy conversation. Or try to summarize my thoughts. It’s just too much right now.

I wish I could fast forward to 10 years from now and take just a little peek at who I am. Who my daughter is. Man, I hope that she continues down this path that seems so incredible and bright.

I hope I don’t ruin her.

I know this sounds…umm, bleak, I suppose. I know it’s just part of the wave. I’m riding it – still. Perhaps I always will.

And guys, I still smile. It still reaches my eyes. I get excited and re-energized when I get to work with my kids. I am in love with my professional life and am grateful this is how I earn my living. My clients are nothing short of the best.

I have incredible people in my life who make me feel incredible things.

Overall, I am lucky.

Overall, the energy I put out is beautiful and, therefore, my life is beautiful.

And…I still have my days. I am still human. I still deal with threats and verbal and emotional abuse.

So, some days are exhausting.

And loud.

And oh, so terribly chaotic.

I suppose that’s the thing – life is noisy for all of us. But we all walk around, putting our best foot forward, showing our strongest side to the world. And because of that, nobody is vulnerable. So you feel devastatingly alone. The feeling of isolation is intense.

I know because that’s where I’ve been lately. I’ve been quiet, not writing in ages. Because, I guess, maybe for a while, I felt uncomfortable being so raw, so vulnerable. I was starting to drown again and to write about it made it too real. And I thought I was alone, in feeling like this.

I shared this (unfinished) blog with two people before I decided to finish it up tonight and publish it. They both said it resonated with them.

So, to write about it shows me that I am not alone in how I feel. Some of you also have a lot of noise in your heads that feels impossible to quiet. Some of you lead sharply scheduled lives, just like I do, running (literally) from “important thing” to “important thing.”

But are they all truly that important?

For a while, I got lost in the motions. There’s a song that a longtime friend shared with me a while ago and I can’t help but think of it now. It’s the song “Living,” by Dierks Bentley and the most impactful part of the song, to me is,

And it hit me
It’s a beautiful world sometimes I don’t see so clear

Some days you just breathe in
Just try to break even
Sometimes your heart’s poundin’ out of your chest
Sometimes it’s just beatin’
Some days you just forget
What all you’ve been given
Some days you just get by
And some days you’re just alive

That’s it. Lately, I feel like I’ve just been getting by. I’m alive. I’m breathing. But I’m running through the motions.

Therefore, I am not satisfied. Not really. Deep down something feels off. So I go back to what I said earlier – I think I am not living authentically.

So what’s the first step? There’s so much chaos, I don’t really know where to begin! Do I take the time to create a process so that I can hire somebody and start expanding my business? Do I stare the fear of failure in its face and begin writing the first words of my book? And what do I do with the barrage of texts from my ex that hit me like a gut punch at random times when I least expect it?

I guess I just keep breathing. And remember this part of the same song,

Some days you start singin’
And you don’t need a reason
Sometimes the world’s just right
Your clear eyes ain’t even blinkin’
Got a heart full of grateful
For all you’ve been given
Some days you just get by
Yeah some days you’re just alive
Some days you’re livin’

Livin’ like you’ll never die
Blue’s a little bluer up in the sky
You’re high’s a little high
You feel that fire you’ve been missin’
Some days you’re living

So, that’s where I end for today, I suppose. Focusing on gratitude. Because overall, life is pretty incredible. And I’m more than grateful for this journey, for placing me exactly where I am today.

Through the chaos and noise, I’m going to try to refocus my energy so that I can feel that fire that I’ve been missing lately.

Today, right now, I’m choosing to truly live. Again. I’m chasing that fire and am in hot pursuit of authenticity. Because living disingenuously just sucks way too much life out of me.

I’m done being merely alive. Today, I’m living. Who’s with me?!

life, love

A Musical Journey

October 2, 2019October 2, 2019 A Graceful Catastrophe

Today’s writing is more of a musical journey – a glimpse into one of the many tools I’ve used to process, reflect, and grow since March. I’ve relied heavily on music to help me feel sane and less isolated over the last half a year and these songs have evoked incredible emotional responses, from breaking out in chills all over, to ugly crying, to fist pumping and cheering because I really am a strong woman, like the song’s lyrics tell me.

Lately I’ve wondered where my life would be without music. I don’t think there are many things in this world that offer the truly magnificent power that music does. It can calm the mind, make you smile and laugh, make you cry out of sadness or happiness, recall old loves and other such memories you’d thought were long forgotten, and it can make you feel as though you are able to accomplish absolutely anything.

Playing my piano is my “go-to” move when I’m stressed. I sit there and play until I can breathe properly again. When I’m driving, in the shower, exercising, hiking, or relaxing, I have my music on. But it’s not just any music lately. The songs I listen to are the ones I deeply connect with…the ones that align with where my mind, heart, and soul are in this moment.

You see, some friends recommended that I make a playlist way back at the beginning of this journey, which started over 6 months ago now. And how it has morphed over time is quite fascinating! The first several songs that were added to the playlist were pretty angry and bitter (think “Figures” by fellow Colombiana, Jessie Reyez, “God Damn Liar” by Dirty Heads, and “I Don’t F**k with You, by Big Sean and E-40).

Now, the playlist is beginning to fill with songs that reassure me of a great deal of things. Through songs like, “Outnumbered” by Dermot Kennedy, I am now convinced that love like I’ve never felt before could, in fact, exist and someone is out there that will make me feel adored, empowered, valued, and worthy of that incredible love through his actions. And with songs like “Hero” by Christina Perri, I am reminded that even if that’s not in my cards, I am now a strong woman who doesn’t need it in order to feel happy.

And I am. I am a strong woman now. Stronger than I ever was before. I feel myself getting stronger every single day. And for, I think, the very first time in my life, I truly love myself.

Goodness, that’s both so powerful – and so difficult – for me to write. It makes me cry to actually put it down in black and white for you to read.

Up until quite recently, I didn’t love myself. Hell, a good portion of the time, I didn’t even like myself. If you could’ve heard the way I spoke to myself in my own head, I’m sure you would’ve been shocked. I was insecure and sad and looked upon myself with unkind eyes. I tried, oftentimes quite successfully, to portray a strong, independent woman. But I was not living in public how I felt in my head. There was a lot of “fake it ’till you make it” going on. I was really good at playing the part I thought I was supposed to – and it was exhausting. I felt like a fraud.

So these tears? They’re hard earned. And they are made with a mixture of both great sadness and pure joy. It makes me terribly sad that I’ve lost so many years beating myself up and believing the negativity that was spewed at me. And I’m also thrilled that I’ve figured it out – I finally see that I am worthy of all things wonderful and beautiful. I understand that other people’s actions and reactions have little (or nothing) to do with me. Do you know just how freeing that is?! It is an incredibly impressive feeling, to truly love oneself, this whole perfectly imperfect wonderful being that I am.

So what does it look like to genuinely have love for yourself? I’ll tell you what it means to me… Loving myself is:

to feel secure and confident enough that I am free to be vulnerable,
to have a complete disregard for any potential pain or sadness, simply because I’d rather experience the joy in this moment that I know I deserve, and am comfortable enough to know that I can overcome that pain/sadness if it does come around,
to live entirely authentically, because I now know that I am strong enough, and I finally value myself enough, that I can, and will, overcome any hurt that might come my way,
to be so fearless and empowered that I am taking a solo trip to the other side of the world, destroying the idea in my head that I am not strong enough or capable enough to travel alone, because I now know that I am plenty enough of both of those things,
to have a defined bar and understanding of how I want to be treated in a relationship and to come to the conclusion that I’d rather be single, surrounded by my incredible community of friends, than to ever settle for feeling less than I deserve, because I now know that I am worth it and more than enough, and have no problems walking away if my partner doesn’t see that,
to finally, and wholeheartedly, believe that I am enough.

I heard a song the other day, called “Worth It” by Danielle Bradbery that spoke to that last point. Her song, these lyrics…it’s just everything to me right now. I needed this reminder, especially today.

‘Cause I’m worth it
You’re crazy baby if you think that I don’t know it
I ain’t afraid to walk away if you can’t see it, believe it
And give me the love I’m deserving
‘Cause I know I’m worth it

There’s nothing like having the epiphany that I am enough and then shortly thereafter hearing a song that validates my thoughts and reassures me that that is exactly how I should be thinking.

Music really is so remarkable…and so influential.

I mentioned “Hero” earlier. It’s a recent addition that came recommended by an incredible friend, a strong woman who has been dragged through the mud and is now rising above, more tenacious and determined than ever before. When she played this song for me, the physical reaction to the words was incredibly intense – instant chills and tears (guys, I’m a crier, what can I say? *shrug*).

Just listen to this song and read these specific lyrics while you picture a broken soul, who never, ever thought she was enough, because she came to believe every nasty word that had been thrown into her face over the years. Then picture that same shattered woman, pieces picked up and taped, glued, stitched, and cemented back together. She has her head held high, wearing a smile that she’s been told can light up a room, and she’s filled with a radiant love that glows from the inside out, because she has finally realized she’s a pretty cool person after all. If you can picture all of that, you’ll understand my reaction to this song.

…But I found I’m powerless with you
Now I don’t need your wings to fly
No, I don’t need a hand to hold in mine this time
You held me down, but I broke free
I found the love inside of me
Now I don’t need a hero to survive
‘Cause I already saved my life

And I really did. I saved my life. Not alone, of course. I am fortunate enough that I had the help and support from so many incredible people, and it was through their unconditional love that I found the love inside of me. Don’t get me wrong. Some days are still hard. Sometimes, even with the slightest, most minor of rejections, those old thoughts of unworthiness tiptoe, ever so carefully, back into my head, swirling around so quietly that I don’t even realize what is happening. I just feel low and the old thought patterns start cycling through my mind, but more out of habit than actual belief.

And that’s the difference.

Before, when I would have my dark moments, those moments would spiral into days, and sometimes consume an entire week. I wouldn’t be able to create a different internal dialogue because I genuinely believed the negative thoughts playing on repeat.

Now, when I start to have that negative self-talk, when I turn to beating myself up and internalizing it all, and I start thinking once again that I am not worthy or “enough,” I simply play that song. And I remember who I am today.

I am no longer powerless. I am no longer held hostage by the voices of others who feel it necessary to bring me down and tear me apart with their words. Because I have a deep love for myself now.

Love is powerful. Everyone seems to understand that. But self love? Holy smokes, it’s other worldly! I almost feel as though it’s a superpower. By genuinely loving myself, it gives me a sense of freedom and fearlessness that I’ve never possessed. It’s quite intensely beautiful, actually. And so far from who I once was.

It’s crazy to look back to last March, to reflect on who I was and how I initially handled my imploding world. I was an entirely different person then. It truly fascinates me! While I now try hard to live in the moment, to focus on this breath that I’m taking and enjoy what is directly in front of me, there’s nothing like taking a glance into my past to offer a bit of perspective and see just how far I’ve come.

Which brings me to another song on my playlist – “30,000 Feet” by Ben Rector. From the first time I heard it, it does its job in reminding me to take a step back and look at the bigger picture.

I’ve walked into harder times, I’ve walked out the other side
It seems like you end up getting what you need
Yeah looking down from 30, 000 feet
Life’s been good to me

In the grand scheme of things, life has been very good to me. Yeah, sure, my ex cheated on me with random women for damn near a year before I found out (thanks to one of those women who decided to reach out to me after my ex insulted her one too many times). And yep, that sucked terribly. But now, looking back with peace in my heart, our marriage really should’ve ended long ago. We weren’t a good fit. We didn’t lift each other up. We became the couple that brought out the worst in one another. We had no tolerance for each other. So, his multitude of betrayals was really a gift. I see that now. When I reflect for a moment and see the woman I was, compared to the woman I am today, I am grateful for that gift he gave me. It was an incredibly difficult lesson to go through but now that I’m here on the other side, I am stronger because of it.

I now move forward in a different direction. One where I have the opportunity to be loved and feel love in ways I’ve never imagined. In ways that I thought only existed in fairy tales. Or, I have the opportunity to move forward confidently alone, rocking out this life with my incredible community and my amazing daughter. I welcome either path. Because I am lucky to have the life I currently do, that is already filled with an abundance of love that is truly unconditional.

So, yes, life’s been good to me.

It is worth it to take a bird’s eye view of my life every now and then. When I’m in the thick of it, my view is far too narrow to see the bigger picture. But as I’m driving along from client’s home to client’s home throughout the day, and 30,000 feet comes on, it forces me to take a moment to look back. And with that gain in perspective, I can’t help but smile.

Because where I am today feels right. It feels good. I love that I am here, in this space, with all the life I’ve already gone through. Pink’s song, “I Am Here,” is filled with lyrics that explain this:

 I wanna be lost, so lost that I'm found ...
 I am here, I am here
I've already seen the bottom, so there's nothing to fear ...
 May the light be upon me
May I feel in my bones that I am enough ...
 My heart it is racing, but afraid I am not
Afraid I am not ...

184 Days

September 18, 2019 A Graceful Catastrophe

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

Well, it’s here.

And it only took 6 months.

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

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

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

I was living a lie. And it was exhausting.

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

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

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

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

I do dance.

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

I do bring the dance moves.

Such a simple moment, with such profound results.

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

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

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

But why?

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

So, the external onslaught became my internal dialogue.

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

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

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

Okay…where was I?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And where did that lead me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Things just are.

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

This is what is working for me.

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

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

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

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

184. This might be my new lucky number.

Because life is so good today.

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

life, love

The Demons from My Past

August 29, 2019 A Graceful Catastrophe

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

*sigh*

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

Darkness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                -KKC

That same night, I also wrote this one:

You

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

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

                                                    -KKC

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

Undeniably, it shows in my poetry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They waited out the storm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I finally, truly, believe it will be.

life, love

Piece by Piece

August 27, 2019August 27, 2019 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.