Tag: love

life, love

Piece by Piece

A Graceful Catastrophe

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

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

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

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

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

Or, at least, that’s how it feels.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But at least I’m fighting.

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

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

Piece by piece.

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

life, love

Nailing the Heck Out of Life

A Graceful Catastrophe

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

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

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

Until tonight, that is.

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

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

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

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

I no longer believe that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe that’s a much more valuable lesson?

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

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

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

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

She is thriving. And so am I.

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

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

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

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

life, love

Onehundo

A Graceful Catastrophe

Okay. Not like I ever really sugar coat things, but this one is going to be pretty vulnerable. *sigh*

I just don’t get it. I felt so cheerful and optimistic when I wrote my last blog. I felt so high, so much like, “I’ve got this! This new life is amazing!! The world is my oyster!!!” And then, the last few days have felt so heavy. A quick nosedive into “bleh.” This roller-coaster is so not predictable. It sucks.

And I don’t really know why these emotions of mine tanked.

At the risk of sounding terribly cocky, I know I’m a gem. I know that I’m ambitious and smart and fit and pretty. I know that I’m a catch. I also know that my downfalls are that I’m stubborn and require a fair amount attention/validation. And when I’m not getting that validation, I end up having endless arguments within my head that I’m being ridiculous and I don’t need external validation. But I sure want it! And I repeat, over and over to myself, that I am wonderful. I’m a gem! And that I know I am wonderful so who cares if nobody else tells me that I’m wonderful?! And then the argument with myself ends because I either realize in that moment that yes, I am a badass or there’s no point in arguing anymore because I just can’t convince myself.

And then I have moments like this morning, where I still find myself crying at the gym. So many tears have been shed there!

15 minutes before this picture was taken, tears were freely falling. Here, we’re all smiles, ready to take on Round 2 of a killer workout at F45 and get those endorphins flowing. I’m super grateful for my gym bestie!!

Today, at the very end of my workout, new tears were shed because Rachel Platten’s “Fight Song” came on during the last station, when I’m in a plank, physically exhausted, and walloping my arms as hard as I can into a fake body thing. She sings, 

My power's turned on
Starting right now I'll be strong
I'll play my fight song
And I don't really care if nobody else believes
'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me

And I cry…because it makes me feel like a fraud. Because days like today I just don’t feel like I’m strong or that I have any fight left in me. So the tears flow.

Some days I feel so tenacious and determined. And I know the world is my oyster and yadda, yadda. But then there are days like the last couple where I can’t snap out of the funk and it all feels too heavy. And all I want is a partner to remind me of how amazing I am. And then I want to believe it.

How can I fully grasp that I am this wonderful being AND still struggle with needing validation?

Look, I am a logical person. So, I start to reflect and really wonder where this is coming from. Have I always been someone who requires validation? (Friends who’ve known me for most of my life, or even for a while, reach out to me and tell me, please.) Or is this part of the aftermath because my ex stopped choosing me? Stopped fighting for me? And ultimately made the decision to throw me away?

I know why he says he made those choices. Because I was a crappy wife. I know why I was a crappy wife. Because I was treated awfully.

It was a terrible cycle that just spiraled out of control.

And, at the end of it, his choices still caused me feel as though I wasn’t enough, I wasn’t worth anything.

But I had my epiphany, right? I know I’m enough now. And I honestly do believe it.

So why do I feel like such a fraud still?

It’s beyond frustrating.

While a friend was reading my blog from the other day, he wrote me and said the sweetest things, validating me. 

"You couldn't have said it any better. You are MORE than enough. Never let anyone tell you different. And I wouldn't call you a dime...more like a onehundo (that's slang for a one hundred dollar bill, people).

A dime can be easily lost, but losing a onehundo would feel like the end of the world."

Umm, yeah. That was so incredibly powerful to read. Especially the last line. My heart absolutely melted. It was exactly what I wanted, and perhaps even needed, to hear. I’ve read his words about 50 times, easily, in the last 2 days, to remind myself that what I feel is real.

I am the gem that I think I am. You should be sad if I’m not in your life. *shrug* While it’s hard to fully internalize it, I logically know that I am all these great and wonderful things. There are just some days where it’s a bit harder to fully own it, I guess.

It’s confusing and frustrating, though. How can you believe something about yourself and still argue with yourself that it’s real??? Why do I still feel like a complete fraud? I have to believe that this is a residual mess from the way my marriage ended.

Hmm, maybe that is it…

Perhaps it’s because actions speak louder than words. And in my reality, his actions were loudly and clearly that of someone who believed his wife wasn’t “enough.” So, while I know that I am enough, I also know that I wasn’t enough. At least, not as a partner. Not as a wife. Because if I had been, he would’ve fought for me, right?

Argh, even as I type that I know that to be untrue. I can’t absorb his fault. There’s never a good reason to do what he did.

But now that’s my baggage to carry, I guess. For the moment, at least. Until there’s a way to process this all out. It may take another opportunity to be in a relationship and see what kind of partner I can be. I’m not sure when or how I’ll let that baggage go, but I know I eventually will because my confidence is pretty great in all other facets of my life and I’m sure it’ll overpower these negative feelings eventually.

So maybe it’s not that I should feel like a fraud so much. Perhaps it’s more that I have yet to prove it to myself that I can be “enough” as a partner. Because no matter how much I logically understand that his choices during the last year of our marriage have very little to do with me, I still can’t help but internalize his words, that he’s repeated over and over, reminding me time and again, that it’s my fault.

But now, when those arguments inside my head happen, when I start absorbing the blame and questioning my abilities to be a worthy partner, I at least have the words quoted above, and of so many of my other friends, to fall back on. I keep saying that I’m going to write down each positive message that I’ve received from friends and stick them on a board or something, so I can see them every day and be reminded that plenty of other people think that I am enough.

So much weight shouldn’t be put on the actions from one person, especially when so many others negate it, except when that one person was someone you blindly loved and trusted with everything you had. The weight of that kind of betrayal, I’m finding, is quite challenging to fully dig out from. But I’m doing it, one pebble, one stone, one boulder at a time.

Because I am one incredibly resilient, beautiful badass. And I am enough – in all aspects. So I’ll keep smiling, keep living optimistically, authentically, and vulnerably, and I’ll remain open to possibilities and spontaneous adventure. And I know that one day down the road, someone will treasure me like the gem that I am. And, in turn, he will be adored.

Until then, I’ll keep fighting to stay strong. Because it is when I am strong that I remember that I am, in fact, a onehundo.

life, love

153 Days

A Graceful Catastrophe

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

153 Days.

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

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

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

I am stubborn.

And…

I do not quit.

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

Wow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I. Am. A. Dime.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am a dime. And now I know it.

life, love

That’s MY Remote

A Graceful Catastrophe

So, if you’ve been following my blog, this won’t come as a surprise to you.

I’m filled with rage.

But, it’s just sitting there, simmering, so it’s not always obviously present.

Until I get triggered.

My biggest trigger is when my ex says things like, “I would’ve never cheated if you’d been a better wife.”

Guys, I go from zero to a million. Like that. *snaps fingers*

When I went to see my therapist earlier this week, I asked for help to control my anger. I hate that I’m living with such a terrific loathing towards him. I also can’t stand that I give him the power to illicit such pure wrath towards him.

I need to figure it out. Perhaps I cannot forgive him…yet, but I can learn how to release my anger. I have to.

So, I have to learn how to take my power back.

I had absolutely no clue how to do that.

And then my therapist explained it to me. And things started to make sense.

I’ve already re-framed his betrayal as an opportunity for me, for a new and improved life. So, what does it matter that he blames me for cheating? He betrayed me, over and over, for almost a year. That is a fact. It led to our separation. Another fact. Which has led me to living fearlessly and with more raw honesty than ever before, while chasing down adventures, and being given occasion after occasion to explore the world around me.

I’m living my best life.

I’m meeting people I never would’ve met before.

I’m smiling genuine smiles and getting butterflies in my belly from excitement and anticipation.

Life is good.

So, as my therapist literally gave me the remote control back to hold, I realized I should no longer give him permission to push my buttons. Those are mine to hold onto. And I get to choose which buttons are pushed.

I’m holding the remote now.

The other thing he told me was to focus on something else, so it gives my cortisol a chance to lessen again. Well, that was easy. The mountains bring me peace. And so does music.

Do you remember the scene in the Sound of Music where Julie Andrews is dancing and twirling amongst the mountains and singing? Yep. That’s where my mind goes. Except it’s me, twirling and dancing around the open field near A-frame on the hike up Pike’s Peak. (It’s beautiful there.)

And I smile.

Okay, I don’t smile on my face, because I’m pretty sure that’d just make me look crazy when my ex is sitting there gaslighting the heck out of me. So, I smile in my head. As I spin and twirl and sing, “The hiiiilllllllls are alive, with the sound of muuuuuusiiic….”

So, I’m learning how to manage my anger. I had a wonderful opportunity just yesterday, on our daughter’s first day of school, as he sat next to me in the car (she’d asked us to ride together as a family to take her to school, so I, of course, obliged), raising his voice and making all sorts of demands.

One of the demands? He wants to censor my blog. That’s a tough one.

“The hiiiilllllllls are alive, with the sound of muuuuuusiiic….”

I should not be silenced.

But I digress.

So, the remote is in my hand. He doesn’t get to push my buttons anymore. My anger is dissipating and I keep remembering what a wonderful opportunity he has given me.

One day, I will be treasured by a man. Someone who sees my worth and lives in astonishment that I am his. And I will adore him right back. I know what love is – and what love isn’t. I will not fall victim to gaslighting or narcissism again. My eyes are open and my level of awareness is at an all-time peak. And I know what I want and I won’t settle for less.

The sense of freedom and weightlessness of this new life is incredible.

So, with all of these wonderful and exciting details in my life to live, why harbor such toxicity?

I shall not. And I will not. Because I own this remote and I’m never giving it to him again. (Or to anyone else.)

And when he tries to take it from me? I’ll smack his hand and start to sing at the top of my lungs, figuratively speaking, of course, because it’s really all in my head, “The hiiiilllllllls are alive, with the sound of muuuuuusiiic….”

life, love

Happy Anniversary

A Graceful Catastrophe

By the time I publish this post, it will be August 7, 2019. My 9th wedding anniversary. To the husband I am still legally tied to but for all intents and purposes, is very much my ex.

It’s weird. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this anniversary. I mean, this time last year, he’d already been cheating on me for months! And we went out to dinner and celebrated our marriage. What a joke! I mean, goodness, when I look back at that dinner and that night, my blood boils. What a betrayal…

You can see it in this second, forever frozen by the phone’s camera that night. Look at his eyes. How did I miss this…this…”lacking” towards me. It’s just empty – and looking nowhere near me. This is the face of someone celebrating his 8th year wedding anniversary while he had been cheating on me for the last 3 months – and would go on betraying me in a hundred different ways for the next 7. Captured forever in this still. Let’s be perfectly real, here. He probably even talked to some lovelies that very day!

I guess that’s why I’m not really emotional about tomorrow. At least year 9 is being done honestly. Last year should’ve never been celebrated and I’m glad tomorrow won’t be. It’ll be a normal, busy day, filled with the typical Wednesday activities.

For me, right now in this moment, that is the hardest part to process through. To look back at memories and realize exactly what a sham it all was. To realize your whole life for 10 months (at least) was a complete lie. I felt bad for being a crappy wife. I sought out suggestions from male friends in the hopes they could enlighten me so I could be better, and do better.

Because I’d been convinced it was me who needed to be better. To do better. And of course, I definitely was lacking as a wife. Considerably so. I also wasn’t being nurtured. Or treasured. God, how my heart was starving for love and affection. I just wanted him to like me…to be nice to me. It sounds so pathetic.

I was talking with a friend tonight about my “bar.” Be nice. That’s it. He said he’d like to find a princess. Wait, no…a Princess. He’s a bit younger. Never married. And he deserves a bar that high.

I just want someone to be kind to me. That’s my bar at this point in my life. *sigh*

In the meantime, though, the world is my oyster. Every single person I make eye contact with is a potential new connection, a chance to learn about someone else’s life. To hear their story. Every new experience I pursue is another opportunity to face my fears. To challenge who I once was and become someone better. My mentality as of late is a, “Who cares, why not?” mentality. And, boy! Is it working for me!

There’s something about my energy right now that is exciting. I literally feel like my world around me is buzzing. It makes my heart race. My Colorado bestie and I have some irons in the fire that excite me like a 6 year old on Christmas morning. The people I continue to meet, the conversations I have, the random chance encounters while climbing up or running down mountains, or because I just decided one day to send a direct message to a stranger on Instagram…I am open to it all. And the universe is responding beautifully. It all adds so much value to my life.

I have met the most incredible people! With some, well most, really, I feel this instant connection with – like they are my long lost people. We can talk about anything. And we do. I think maybe it’s because I’m blunt. I just put it all out there. I’m not shy about my thoughts, my feelings, my intentions. And I’m more honest than I’ve ever been in my life.

Because I have nothing left to lose.

And absolutely everything to gain.

So, this year I’m giving myself my 9-year-anniversary-of-our sham-joke-of-a-marriage gift.

The gift of binoculars. No, really, follow me here.

Just shy of a week ago, I was in a pretty dark place. It was only 6 days ago and the world felt like it was collapsing on top of me. I was in the middle of the darkest tunnel and couldn’t see the light.

Because I hadn’t given myself my gift yet.

So, this gift. Tell me, what function do a pair of binoculars serve? According to Azo Optics:

Two objective lenses are situated at each end of the binoculars. The purpose of the objective lens is to collect light from the object that the user is looking at and bringing the collected light into focus in the eyepiece lens, which creates a visible and magnified image.

And because this word is used, and details matter, the definition of objective, according to Google Dictionary: not influenced by personal feelings or opinions in considering and representing facts.

“Not influenced my personal feelings or opinions…”

So, here’s my gift: I have this theoretical tool, immediately at my disposal the second I require it, that will remain clear and logical in helping me to see what is, in fact, right in front of me. I’ve just been unable to focus in and see it. So, my binoculars will gather that light that I couldn’t find a week or so ago, and bring it right up close to me, so close that it is not only visible, but envelops me in the magnified, warm glow, allowing me to see all that is good around me, giving me no choice but to focus on that, instead.

What an incredible gift.

life, love

I Cannot Forgive

A Graceful Catastrophe

I fully understand that forgiveness is about me and not him. I get that concept.

I just cannot forgive.

And I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to.

I’m constantly triggered. His persistent and unrelenting need to validate his infidelity and his complete inability to grasp the magnitude of his betrayal strikes a fury within that burns hotter than what I’m assuming drinking pure hydrofluoric acid would feel like as it devours me from the inside out.

Which is why forgiveness is so important. Because this savage storm that, at best, is a windy, raging thunderstorm, lives within, ready to explode into a full-blown Cat 5 hurricane at a moment’s notice. It’s toxic. And I feel it eating away at me.

It’s been especially difficult lately because he’s been so smug. He hasn’t accepted any responsibility lately. At the beginning, when it first all happened, he was humble and apologetic. He understood what he did was wrong. He acted like a real man, owning up to his indiscretions.

Lately, though, as we get closer to finalizing the separation, and finally separating all our assets (ie, the house), he has become this self-righteous twit, attacking me with every text he sends.

Perhaps it’s because any semblance of control he thought he had is now ending. The papers have been signed and all that is left is the court’s judgement.

So, how do you forgive someone for not just one heinous act, but for revolting behavior that lasted for almost a year, when he doesn’t assume any responsibility for it. Not only that, he literally blames me, telling me if I’d been a better wife, he never would have had to cheat.

Literally, that was a text message I received. “…had to cheat.” What goes on in a person’s mind, how warped does it have to be when you genuinely believe that you “have to” cheat?! Now, I get how infidelity occurs. I understand how a person can even justify an act of infidelity. But to betray me for over 10 months with multiple “lovelies” around the country? And then come back home for the weekend to berate me and tell me how awful of a wife I am?

Yeah, that I can’t wrap my head around.

All the while, I am *trying* to maintain the house, raise our daughter, run a brand new business, run around like a maniac, take our daughter to all her things, just so he can travel as much as he can “for work” but really, it’s to sleep with more lovelies.

Yeah. I absolutely cannot forgive.

Not yet, at least.

So the storm rages on. The poison slowly erodes my patience, my kindness, my ability to respond with grace. Well, I haven’t been able to respond with grace for months now. The aggravation is just far too intense.

Which tells me that I must forgive. Because it’s for me and not for him.

But – oh. my. goodness, that just feels so impossible.

So maybe I can just give myself permission to hate him – for now. To understand that his behavior is harmful, venomous, even. And not worry about forgiveness just yet. The pressure I have put on myself to try to find a way to forgive him, to respond to him with grace, is just as emotionally taxing as it is to deal with him and all his abusive rants.

I know that it takes a remarkable inner strength to forgive and to respond with grace. I just don’t have that in me right now.

I read a post on Instagram that really hit home:

Closure doesn't come from another person. Closure comes from a peaceful acceptance and surrender that we have internally." 
- Vienna Pharaon

Yep. Nothing internal is peaceful right now.

I struggle with self-worth, with the concept of being valuable to a partner. I feel unloveable – romantically. I don’t believe I’m capable of being in a successful relationship. I don’t believe in my ability to fall for a man that truly loves, values, or respects me. I have allowed my ex to ruin that side of me – and now it has to be built up again.

And that will take time.

And, oof, so much inner strength.

So, I’d rather put my efforts into remembering that I could be an asset in somebody’s life, that just maybe someone could see my worth, that I could be treasured, rather than try to forgive someone who is unable to be a man and face what he actually did to his family. He didn’t just break one marriage vow. He didn’t simply “cheat.”

What he did was far more destructive than that. And incredibly multi-layered.

Which is why I cannot forgive. Not yet.

life, love

Only the Beginning

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

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

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

- Outnumbered
Dermot Kennedy

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

I am a hopeless romantic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

How long can I wait for the one I deserve?

A lifetime, if I have to.

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

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

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

And this is only the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One where I am free to be me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

life, love

Basking in the Shit

A Graceful Catastrophe

I’m not entirely sure how many times I cried yesterday but tears were shed here and there for the majority of the day. Insult to injury because I just got my lashes done and you’re not supposed to get them wet for 24 hours. *sigh* It’s 8:35 am and I’ve cried a handful of times already this morning.

Yesterday, the trigger was that my week with my girl was over, she had to go to “daddy’s house.” I have spent virtually every single day of her life with her and now I’m forced to experience 50% of her life now. *cue the rainfall of tears again*

This all just sucks. So bad. My heart hurts for a million different reasons… (Ugh, I can’t see what I’m typing through the blur of my tears.) I still can’t believe this is now my life. In two days it will have been 4 months since finding out about my ex’s infidelity. It’s been 120 days. And I think I feel worse than than I did that catastrophic day – at 6:08 pm, March 17. In fact, I’d say I definitely feel lower now than I have in any of the last 120 days.

But I think I know why it’s worse now. I’m actually feeling now. I’m finally facing it. I was numb, in complete shock at first. I didn’t feel anything. And then I actively escaped for a while, avoiding facing my real life because how in the world is it that this is my real life??? That lasted for a good 2 or 3 months.

And now? My house is empty. My heart is empty. I feel a giant void within. I don’t want to feel that. How can one feel so lonely when surrounded by so much love?

I’m so sick of hurting.

I’m so sick of being triggered randomly.

I still want to run away.

And maybe I will. I mean, I only have my daughter every other week. Perhaps I should run away. I’m thinking a Thanksgiving adventure is a must. July 4 was super challenging. I cried and felt the sting of every second all day long. I can’t imagine how I’m going to feel without my girl that whole week. A week that is supposed to symbolize gratitude and family and love. Yep. I’m out. I’ll need a giant distraction for that one…

Until then, though, I’m here, swimming in the shit that no longer feels like it could be fertilizer (read my blog: Grateful for My Ex for the reference). It just feels heavy and dark and really, really toxic.

On the other hand, at least I’m feeling it. I’m no longer avoiding the pain. I know I have to ride this wave, process these negative emotions. If I keep shoving them aside, I’ll get nowhere but bitter. So as hard as this is, it’s finally time to face my reality. It just might mean that I’m going to have a harder time smiling a genuine smile now – and for a while. And that’s okay. I guess. This is part of the wave, part of the grief. And it sure doesn’t help that these next weeks are some of the worst of the year.

So, if you see me, understand that it feels like someone cut a huge part of me out. I feel vacant and hollow. I feel the enormous weight of this new life pressing upon me as though it were physically there, sitting on my shoulders.

But…I feel it.

And I think that’s progress.

It’s a bizarre place to be, though – feeling. Little things randomly cause such enormous pain. Hearing a husband call his wife, “my girl” with so much love and affection caused a lump to form in my throat and tears fell the second that I could turn away. The sadness feels almost unbearable at times.

Almost.

So, I wrote everything until now this morning, before heading out to work and then getting my hair done. I contemplated not posting it, leaving it as a draft as I have for 7 other blogs I’ve written, because it’s just so dark.

But you know what? So many of us have been here. This place where the sadness is so overwhelming it feels as though you’re drowning and you kind of don’t really mind – you want it to swallow you whole so the hurting can stop.

That’s where I was yesterday and this morning.

That’s not where I am now.

It’s a wave. A constant, fluid drifting of emotions. And I’m feeling them all. This blog is meant to be raw and real and a place for me to process. It also is turning into a place where my words resonate with some of you. So, why filter now?

Yes, I was in a dark place. No, it doesn’t mean I literally wanted to die or take on any direct action to hurt myself. I was just intensely sad.

But I didn’t let it consume me. Sure, I ate some cookies yesterday and went to the bar, solo, for a couple of margaritas (where I became fast friends with an incredible couple, married 29 years!). I also practiced self-care by going to the gym and then (FINALLY) getting my hair colored.

I feel like I’ve got this again. Am I still sad? Of course. Am I drowning in my tears? Nope. I won’t allow these negative emotions to consume me. I refuse to live in the dark place. So, I change my mindset. I focus on the good. I force myself to take direct action that will make my heart happy.

I allow myself to redefine this suck that I’m living in – and embrace it.

And I decide to turn the shit into fertilizer once again. And bask (using Google dictionary’s 2nd definition here: revel in and make the most of) in it. Because I know I am growing leaps and bounds every single day. 

 Even on my weakest days, I get a little bit stronger .
- Sara Evans
life, love

One Breath at a Time

A Graceful Catastrophe

Since I’ve had teeth, I’ve bitten my nails. Years ago, I made the decision to finally stop biting my nails – for the 34,000 time of my life – and finally succeeded.

Recently, I started biting my nails again. When I’m feeling highly anxious, my fall back habit since childhood is to bite my nails. You know I’m struggling internally when the skin around my thumbs are wrecked and I no longer have long, beautiful nails. Last night, I looked down at my hands and realized that not only are my nails gone, the skin around most of my fingers is looking pretty raw. Great. That looks attractive and feminine. *rolls eyes*

I’m riddled with anxiety and a million difficult emotions. Obviously. It’s been less than 4 months since my ex’s lovely emailed me and broke the news of the double life. I’m still being randomly blindsided by new feelings of betrayal that slowly simmer into awareness.

But this next month just makes everything worse.

On July 7th, 9 years ago, our friends gathered the three of us at their place and proposed to us, telling us we were going to be married in exactly one month and every detail was either already planned or in the process of being arranged.

On July 12, 2002, I married my first husband. That relationship ended after being together for almost 10 years and the divorce finalized in August of 2008.

On July 21st, 2009, my ex’s birthday, he proposed to me – in the sweetest and most perfect of ways.

On August 7, 2009, I married my now ex in the most fantastic wedding ceremony a bride could dream of – our friends really pulled together an incredible celebration of love.

So, these last few days and the coming weeks are all just painfully awful reminders of failure. I have no clue how to have a successful marriage, how to love and be loved in the ways of fairy tales (which do exist because I see the evidence of fairy tale bliss in my friends’ marriages all around me), or how to be enough of everything necessary to maintain a successful (romantic) relationship.

I just want to run away and come back in September, when all of the pain isn’t magnified by the memory of these dates.

It’s funny. If you were to have seen me today, you wouldn’t have guessed that I was struggling. I put a smile on. I look out to the world with eyes that shine. Because what else am I to do? Allow myself to actually fall into the abyss? Never. I worry that it’d be far too much effort to climb back out. I worry that the grip of this great sadness and the weight of my failures would overtake me. So I fight it. Fake it ’till I make it. I absolutely refuse to allow this chapter of my life to take this smile off my face – even if it’s fake.

But, the truth of the matter, guys, is that, for the most part, it is fake. And it has been for the vast majority of the last 116 days. Sure, I get crazy happy with the “good” in my world but I think it’s because I’m so desperately craving good. No matter how minutely small, I feel it to my core and it absolutely thrills me. Those moments are real. They’re also fleeting.

I’m also fiercely desperate for validation. Logically, I know that I create my own worth. I validate myself and I am enough.

Logically.

Emotionally, the massive feeling of emptiness is breathtaking, really. The void that I’m trying to fill within is far greater than I think I can even begin to comprehend. I’m so grateful that I have an extraordinary therapist to help me work through all these tangled emotions because there is no way I could do this on my own.

And with his help, I hope to one day be able to answer these questions: How on earth do I come back from this? How do I repair the damage within? How in the world do I believe my heart if it tries telling me it’s in love? TWO failed marriages, my friends. And both husbands ended up being manipulative and verbally and emotionally abusive. I saw the warning signs in the first, but failed miserably to see them in the second. I truly suck at this game.

But…I want to be loved again. I just don’t think I’d ever trust myself of being capable of choosing correctly. But then again, I’ll never hurt like this again, so why overthink it all? And it’s not even been 4 full months, so it’s not like there’s anything to worry about in this moment. But I think about it anyway…

So then I fall further down this rabbit hole of over-analyzing everything in my world – do I want to be loved again because I am so hungry for validation? Because I ache for the day that I am enough for another? Because I fancy the fairy tale story, too?

Am I looking for love for all the wrong reasons? The precious little seed of love doomed before it even has a chance to blossom? Why on earth am I even looking?!

Goodness…sometimes it’s all just a bit too much. I know I want to run away. I also know that I cannot. Running would never be an option.

So, I feel it all. I try, in vain, to make sense of it all.

I am hopeful that I will look back on these days and understand they launched me into a wild and wonderful future. Until then, there’s nothing much else to do. So I plaster a smile on my face. And then I take my next breath.