Tag: pain

life

365 Days

A Graceful Catastrophe

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

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

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

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

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

So why have these days been so hard?

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

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

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

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

But today…today is hard. I feel inadequate.

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

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

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

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

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

But it pays off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And what I saw surprised me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

365 days later. What. A. Year!

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

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

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

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

life, love

The Demons from My Past

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

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

21 Years

A Graceful Catastrophe

It feels like a lifetime ago, and I suppose in many ways, it was. It feels like it was so long ago that it simply shouldn’t matter anymore.

Yet, it does.

After 21 years of life, a person undergoes an incredibly substantial transformation. A person goes from the rather incomprehensible and mind boggling transition from tiny bundle emerging from the womb to adult human, capable of making such important decisions as, which shot am I going to take as my birthday shot.

21 years is a lifetime.

Last night, in the wee hours of the morning, marked 21 years since an event occurred that fundamentally changed who I was. I thought I was “me” again. I thought that I had mostly healed and returned to the woman I knew I once was, when the light came back on – both literally and figuratively, about 11 years ago.

That is, until last night.

Last night was the first August 1st that I have spent alone since that night in 1998. When that hit me, it kind of shattered me all over again. Last year, the 20th “anniversary,” was difficult in its own way because, while my husband at the time was indeed laying by my side, I felt lonely. I wrote my first blog that night and it felt really good; I felt exceptionally strong, though undeniably lonely, despite his warmth next to me.

This year, I, thankfully, did not feel lonely, as I was texting with a friend that lives out of state. Our conversation brought many smiles to my face and I am so grateful I had that. He has no clue of the gift that his presence and insightful conversation provided me.

But I was still alone.

For the first time, in 21 years, I spent that night all by myself.

I don’t know why that fact affects me so – but it does. I suppose, perhaps, it’s because I didn’t have the option of a shoulder to lean on, someone to hold me, and remind me that I am safe, if I wanted one. And I did want one.

But that’s my job and mine alone now. I remind myself that I am strong. It’s up to me to wrap my arms around myself and tell myself how resilient and fierce I am. I just have to believe it.

Sure, I have friends that do the same, but on a night like last night, I just would’ve appreciated something a bit more. And I no longer have that, because I no longer have my husband. Truth be told, I didn’t have him last year either, but at least then I wasn’t alone.

So if wrapping my own self in love and self-care is now my reality, then I shall embrace it.

I just don’t want to today.

Dealing with the reminder of the date, the event that occurred, compounded with my current reality, makes today one where I’d rather just crawl under a rock.

Luckily, it has been a busy day, and I’ve smiled and done my best to put on my game face while I worked. But make absolutely no mistake about it, my heart has been heavy all day and tears were shed in between clients.

Hell, tears are falling now.

The swirling of pain just seems to get worse. And then, I guess there are moments that are better. It’s an ebb and flow, I get it. Today, though, everything is mashing together in a way that has taken me completely by surprise.

Everything about August 1st has always been heavy. Its weight is barely endurable this year. And the absence of someone to lean on, for someone to hold me and give me the love and respect that I didn’t receive that night, makes today suck a whole lot more than it has in a long time.

I have nothing uplifting today. No words of inspiration to end with. Just the somber reflections of a burdensome past coupled with a really shitty current reality and writing it all down gets it out of my head, at least.

So, thank you for reading. And maybe even for embracing me from afar. And I have to tell you, I am so grateful that August 1st only comes but once a year.

life

The Puddle and the Pause

A Graceful Catastrophe

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

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

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

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

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

Huh. Whoa. Okay.

I was blindsided by that response.

And then, duh! It hit me!

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

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

Uhhh, wow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

life, love

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

This is Real Life

A Graceful Catastrophe

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

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

I am okay. I will be okay.

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

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

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

The following draft was written 4 days ago:

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

I sighed contentedly all day long. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wonder when it will all stop feeling so heavy.

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

Our daughter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

I no longer know what to do. 

I'm sick of living in the dark.

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

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

Like I did yesterday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I just have to remember to turn it on.

life, love

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.