Tag Archives: Divorce

Margins and Bullet Points – My Messy Beautiful

How could I not do this?  A simple request from someone who I have never met, but has given me so much.  I will probably never meet her (I missed my chance when she came to CT for a book signing, but it was farther away and I had to work) and that is one of my regrets.  Glennon, over at Momastery.com, invited us to say hello, to share our stories, and not just any stories.  Our messy stories.  The ones that hide deep in us, that we may be ashamed of.  I was intrigued when I saw the rumblings on the page, I stared when it went live. I wanted to write it all out so badly, but I was scared.  I was scared to show my messy.  I don’t know why this post, more so than others, really scares me.  I have written about divorce, eating disorders, troubled families.  This shouldn’t.  So I am showing up, world.  I am showing up for Glennon, and for you, dearest reader, and for me.  It’s time to not be scared.  Maybe it is time to be scared, but do it anyways.  Monumental things happen when you face your fears.

So, now that I am here, I don’t know where to begin.  It would be easier to write about what isn’t messy, because I can’t think of one aspect of my life that isn’t.  So I will start with something that made it all make sense and go from there.

I got the sweetest comment on one of my old posts.  Girl1’s friend (and my soul son) discovered my blog and had commented on one particular feelsy post about how he was happy that he found my blog.  To him, it was nice that someone who was close to him had these same feelings, who have gone through similar things, someone gets it.  It almost brought me to tears, because my heart overflowed with love and hope.  That someone found my words and it comforted them.  The way so many other’s words do for me.

So onto my messy.  I am a single parent of 3.  That’s pretty messy.  I have a job I mostly enjoy with people I adore.  And my ex husband is there too, a stone throw away.  That’s rather messy, but it is my messy and I deal.  I have battled eating disorders, have Celiac’s, Chrones, more allergies than I can tell you.  That’s pretty messy.  How do you fit all of that into one post?  You don’t.  Instead I will just tell you about today, because today was very messy.

I woke up to a text from the ex asking if he could come over.  Within 5 minutes he was there and the arguing ensued.  I knew it was coming, and even what it was about.  I had been waiting for this argument for a few days, actually.  It was the same song and dance, and although I could spill the details here, I won’t, because it isn’t just my messy.  The hard part wasn’t as much the subject, but that it was happening within 5 minutes of my waking up.  Then when we left the house for work (separately – he finally got his own car), I went to get my morning coffee and my card was declined.  It happens when you are a single parent, raising three kids, and going from a 2 income to 1 income household.  It’s the truth, and sometimes it means you don’t get the coffee because your bills got paid on auto draft and you forgot which day it was.

I made 4 different resumes in one and a half hours.  I was told 4 different times it wasn’t good enough.  Once because it wasn’t bullet pointed.  Once because some of the margins were off.  Once because I didn’t sell myself enough.  The last because I wrote too much. I wanted to take the word doc and erase everything and put one bullet in.  That one bullet would say:

  • I woke up this morning and fought with my ex-husband for 45 minutes, drove in my car, was denied coffee, still showed up.  
  • The last bullet should sum it up.

Okay, so maybe two bullets.  

I work long days.  9:30 AM to 8 PM days.  I sometimes come home and I am lucky if my children aren’t in bed yet.  My youngest, I only get her for 3.5 days a week, because we are all about equality.

This is my truth.  This is my messy.  This is also my beautiful.

I have three beautiful children.  I have a job.  I have the money to pay my rent and bills (mostly).  I have a best friend who sits with me and loves me and lets me do what I need to do.  She isn’t just my best friend; she is my soul sister.  I have other best friends who will drive long drives to play games with me and my children and who will listen.  I have someone who loves me who is on another continent.  He doesn’t even get to see me daily, but daily he is there in some form.  I am lucky that he lets me love him too.

I feel everything, too much sometimes, but I can feel.  I can take it all in, and just love the hell out of it.  I can connect with people, with my surroundings, with my life.  I have enough, more than enough even, because there is so much love.  I love the things I didn’t even know I love yet, but it is there waiting.

I always made my choices, knowing some of them would be harder than others, and there would be struggles at times.  I am not giving up.  I just woke up.  My life may not have the right margins, or it may not be able to be stuck neatly into bullet points, but it is mine.  I wouldn’t change my messy beautiful for the world.








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Processing Emotions

Hello, friends!  I had a blog post planned out for today about another special person, and while this one will still be about someone special, it isn’t what I originally had in mind.  Isn’t that how life happens?  You plan for one thing, and then something happens that makes you say, “Nope.  Today I have to talk about this.”  So here we go, and you will get the other post somewhat soonish, if my crazy chaotic schedule decides to cooperate.  

I had Girl2 my normal days this week, and on Thursday when we were going to bed, she had a meltdown.  She started to cry because she missed her father and she wanted to see him.  It’s hard in these situations to not feel bad for many reasons.  She has done this before, and it internally upsets me, because you feel like you aren’t good enough, or maybe they love the other person more than you. One can easily become a little bitter at these times, and it can be really, really, hard to deal with this impartially.

Growing up, I was told not to cry a lot.  The message I got was, “It’s a tough world, Sweetheart, and crying shows weakness.  We don’t cry for things.”  Sometimes it was, “If you want to cry, I will give you a reason to cry.”  I learned, crying is not something you do freely, it is shameful most of the time, and a very negative thing.  

In the span of about a minute, my mind raced. I knew a lot depended on how I reacted in this moment.  I thought about her, and her situation, rather than myself.  I thought about how it could feel to be 5 and have everything I knew change so drastically.  At 5 years old, one is not equipped to understand adult relationships.  One does not know how a marriage could fall apart.  One does not know how or why these things happen, they only understand how it changes them.

And that is okay.

So in that minute, I did what I thought I could do, and that was just understand.  I told her it was okay to cry.  In fact, I invited her to let it all out.  I explained to her that she is very loved, by myself, her father, and anyone lucky enough to know her.  I told her I understood that she missed him and that this must be very hard on her.  I held her in my arms while she cried and we talked about how I felt when my mom went through a divorce and how confusing it was.  She asked me to read her a story, and I did.  She asked me to sing to her, and I sang “You are my Sunshine.”  She came in at the end (we just don’t sing one verse; we have them all down) and sang back to me in a teary voice and went to sleep, cuddling her stuff animal and telling me she loved me.

I think to this date, with all of my three children, this was most likely my best parenting moment.  I hate the situation it stemmed from.  I hate that in order to feel to better myself I had to cause her tears.  In that moment, I had a choice.  I had the choice to give her the message of “It’s a tough world, Sweetheart.  Toughen up.” or “You have emotions, and sometimes it is a tough world, and it’s okay to react to those moments and do what you need to do to get through them.  Tomorrow will be another day, hopefully a better one.”  I chose the latter, and that made all the difference,

I know it’s a tough world.  She will know it’s a tough world.  She will now also know she can come to me, express her feelings and tears.  I will hug her, sing her a song, and just listen.  I will relate.  I will love, even when sometimes that love hurts my heart to make me want to cry myself.

Maybe the world would be a bit nicer if we just had someone to sing us a song when we are sad.


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You’re Only a Day Away

Tomorrow is it.  It is the day that I will walk through some metal detectors and shuffle through the line of other people; most likely all doing some variation of what I am doing.  

It’s hard.  Even though I am the one who did it,  I am the one who planned my future and admitted I wasn’t happy.  I was the one that started conversations, stopped ongoing circle conversations and then just stopped having them.  It was me.  I think if it wasn’t me, I could tell you exactly what would go on tonight in my house down to the conversation because it was all the same.  Always the same, with no changes, no smiles, no laughter.

Two nights ago, while Lena was doing her Lena thing, and Nick doing his Nick thing, Kuna doing her thing, and me mine, we all just sand Disney songs on Pandora.  Really loudly.  We didn’t care about anything else but singing Mulan, Aladdin, Lion King.  I told them the story how when I was younger I would dance around the kitchen, with the broom, singing the song from Sleeping Beauty.  

Tomorrow, if things go as they will, I will lose half my last name.

I am going to do what needs to be done because everyone in this story, this life story that I lead, deserves better.  We all deserve just happiness.  We should not be held hostage by ourselves.  We have to have conversations, circle conversations, and then we just need to do something to stop having those circle conversations.

I miss having Julie all the time.  I miss her face, her smile, her everything.  It breaks my heart when I go home and all my children are not there.  I love hearing about Nick’s day, and watching Lena on her Chromebook, but tomorrow will legally put in writing I will get her 50% of the time.  50% my heart can be full.

I am so grateful for the people who have supported me on this road.  It has not been easy, and each milestone has come with me usually curled up in a ball somewhere.  I suspect tomorrow will be no different.  I told my medicine man, the one who just keeps giving me more things that I don’t take, that I thought tomorrow would be very hard. 

Thank you to Lena and Nick, thank you both so much.  Lena for going out and getting me ice cream on move out day.  Nick for telling ridiculous stories, and babysitting Julia on my nights so that I can come home to all of my children.  

Kuna, thank you for being there for me and with me.  Thank you for knowing when I just need to cry and for letting me do it at you.  I love you so hard, Sister.  Thank you for reminding me to eat and making sure I do, and playing Star Wars Pinballs with me.

Ryan, you know I love you.  Even far away, you can calm me down quite easily when you aren’t getting me all puffy.  I am so happy we reconnected again, and are ridiculous together.  Thank you for everything; the advice, the help, the playing WoW even if I am worst player ever.

Heather and Kim, you two amazing women who do amazing things everyday.  I feel so mundane, and you both are heros to me.  Thank you for supporting me, sending me kind messages, and just loving me.  I feel it.

Emily – Thank you for being my crazy DM, and what a crazy year it was.  Thank you for reminding me that there is a time I can forget it all.  Thank you for letting me cry at you as well.

I think I am done here for tonight.  I just needed to get something out; this anxiety I feel.  I’m scared friends.  I am scared and nervous because I don’t know what’s coming and part of this is like a death for me.  With one ending comes new adventures and stories.  I know this and I just need to keep reminding myself along the way.



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Time and Holding Space

It’s been a while, dear friends.  I don’t even know how long it has been, but I don’t want to look because then I will feel ashamed that I have been away as long as I have.  I would feel guilty for not posting things sooner, even if I didn’t really have anything to post.  Maybe it wasn’t that I didn’t have anything to post, but I just didn’t have the right words for it.  I figured I had posted enough of the dark recesses of my heart and mind (and really who wants to read that).

Since I don’t even know where I left off in my life last, and I didn’t want to go back to see where it was, I figure I will start fresh and slow.  Sort of ease my way back into it, into the world that I was trying to deny but life just won’t let me anymore.  M moved out, months ago now, actually.  The divorce is next Thursday.  

I have been seeing a Doctor who just wants me to take more meds,  but really, they just pile up in my medicine cabinet.  Maybe I am waiting for the Zombie apocalypse to come before I take them.  I look at them, the bottles with my name on it, and I feel like if I take them daily as I should (in the morning with food), it is admitting that I am not okay.  The fact that they are sitting there with me not taking them is a sign probably that I am not okay.

It’s hard.  Life if hard.  There are easy times, really good times, where I am so happy to breathe, and live, and see trees.  Playing cards, or Star Wars pinballs, or other pinballs, they help me.  I can’t do it forever though, and then when I go to bed alone, usually medicated on sleeping pills (those I do take.  I can fully acknowledge that I have problems sleeping), it just washes over me.  Then there are the other times.  The times that aren’t so easy.  Coming home from work at 8 before Girl 1 and 2 go to bed, and I have about an hour before they do so.  Girl 1 usually very interested in what is online as 15 year olds can do, and the Boy playing a game or watching Star Trek.  Absent is Girl 2, since even when she is here, getting home at 8 really doesn’t provide a lot of time, and weekends are split between two working parents.  I feel it, her not being here.  I feel a bit empty, and to cover that up I do what I can to fill it, like play Star Wars pinballs, or stare at the Facebooks, and push myself to knowing that she will be back.  Sometimes I just want to stay in my footy pajamas all day, or go to bed as soon as I get up.  I don’t do this, but I know I want to.

My life has changed so radically in the last few months, some in ways I expected and some in ways you just can’t plan for no matter what.  The past month alone has provided me with a loss I won’t share here, but didn’t help me get back on that feeling great train.  I am very thankful for my girl K, who has just let me cry, even if I can’t provide a reason for it.  She just lets me be sad, and to borrow a phrase from Momastery, she holds space for me.  FFAC listens to me as well, and provides me with the pick me ups that I need to know that it will eventually be okay.

In general, I am a positive person.  I feel the world provides for you and gives you what you give to it.  You have to go through things to get to the end of the tunnel.  These last few weeks have been particularly hard with the upcoming holidays.  I don’t know how to share my children.  It isn’t something I have ever had to do.  Going through a Thanksgiving, or Christmas Eve, or Christmas day even without it being what it has my entire life makes me sad.  

Today I have off and I have done absolutely nothing other than sit here.  I haven’t picked up anything, or done the dishes.  I haven’t gone through my coupons, or removed the plates/glasses from the living room.  I did take a shower, so that is a plus.  I did call the doctor to tell him that I really am having anxiety issues at work (how can you not when the person you are divorcing sits two feet away from you), and that yesterday the word “lemons” threw me into a downward spiral, which resulted in me having to breathe deeply and cry.  He was on vacation, but the Doctor who called me back told me to take more pills.  I still haven’t.  I guess I am still in my denial there.

So, I guess what this all equates to is that presently, I may not be in the best space, but I am alive.  Sometimes I seem to be incapable of doing normal things, like phone calls, emails, or a blog post, but I am still here, going through my days.  I am thankful for what I have in my life, and I know that there are great things to come, but I just have to push through this time and get there.  I just hope my girl K doesn’t get upset that I didn’t do anything today.  

Hold some space for me, friends.   


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Why I cry

What started out as a pretty good day besides my falling out of a pool (yes, I have the innate ability to not only fall into pools, but also out of them) has ended rather somberly. After our required presence at M’s mom’s gathering, M pulled me upstairs to discuss our status.  He plans on moving out when Girl2 is out of school, which is less than two weeks away.

I don’t blame him.  Goodness knows, I must not have been the nicest person to him over the last couple of months.  Partly due to my needing to be free, and also because I felt like it was too much all at once.  I needed space to process and there wasn’t any to be found.  

This is the road I chose.  This is the path I asked for.  I don’t think I factored in the hurt that comes with the ending of something that was 8 years.  For 8 years, I have had a partner in everything, who raised two children that were not his.  I had someone who would take care of things for me if I was sick, or who drive me to the hospital whenever I needed my yearly surgery on whatever body part wanted to crap out on me.  At one point we were great friends.  I understand that things changed, I understand I initiated this process, but the thought of now doing it alone terrifies me to no end.  

I think the lack of anger hurts as well.  Just the quiet acceptance, and just raw pain for both is worse.  Anger is such a active emotion, one that can motivate you to do things.  This acceptance and raw pain makes me want to curl in a ball.  A slightly twisted ball since my ovaries kind of hurt right now.

I talked with my girl K, well she sat there while I cried and then would force a sentence out of my mouth.  I couldn’t understand why this was difficult and she told me an ending is an ending.  As strange as this may sound, I am not certain I know how to sleep by myself.  I haven’t for so long, and though the marriage bed has not been used as such for a long time, there is still a security knowing someone is there.  I hope I can learn posthaste, though I have had many issues sleeping under the best of conditions.

I was telling FFAC I don’t deal with change well.  When the 9th Doctor became the 10th Doctor, I was pretty upset.  I ended up loving the 10th Doctor, and Rose, and when she left I didn’t think I would like Martha.  I actually didn’t like Martha.  When the 10th became the 11th, I wasn’t very keen.  I don’t love him as much as 10, but he did grow on me.  I’m just not good with change.  I don’t think this change is one I am meant to be good at though.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

“The Road Not Taken” ~ Robert Frost

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Wall of Love

So, I am getting my papers ready for the inevitable.  I typed up everything I knew how, names, dates, addresses.  Soon we’ll be having the final talk, everything in hand, so there are no real surprises later.  There were murmurs of trying, but you can only fit a square peg in a round hole for so long before you just realize that it isn’t going to happen.  So, I did that this morning.  The certificate is in, and the irony doesn’t escape me of needed the certificate to finalize everything else.

It’s easy to feel alone when you are doing this.  Easy to feel like no one can truly understand what this is like, not even myself.  I have never been here, or done anything like this on this level.  I have never had to go to a court and stand in front of someone telling them how things just fell apart.  Justify why they can’t be fixed.  I’m still scared.  I’m scared he’ll have a lawyer and I won’t.  I’m scared that I’ll lose one of the things most important to me in the world.  When I started this train of thought a couple of years ago, I was scared of many more things.  I was scared of being single with three kids.  I was scared of living on my own with only my income.  I was scared of who I would turn to when I just needed to turn to someone.  I was scared of the backlash from everyone.  As time goes on, I am becoming less and less scared, and more able to know what the right course of action is.  I am taking the steps I need to better myself.  When your boy looks at you and says all they want is for you to be happy, you know you are more transparent rather than not.

Here’s where I turn it around and make this into a love post, because this really is about love.  Love, like plants, need to be nurtured to grow.  They need certain things or they just wither and die.  Moving forward this is for the people who are currently nurturing me.

Growing up, we were poor.  Get this – I had no idea.  My mom, being a single mom at the age of 17, managed to have her own place and provided for me everything I needed so I never knew we weren’t living above the poverty line.  I had government cheese growing up, the big block that came in the cardboard box.  My mom would dress me up and do my hair in pigtails that felt so tight I thought my eyes were bulging, and we would walk to go get it.  Mom didn’t have a car, and I didn’t think that was not normal either.  On the way back we would stop at the fountain in front of the City Hall and I would be mesmerized.  I remember once I made a wish that I would get a white frilly dress with strawberries.  I must have spoken aloud, because soon after my Mom gifted me with a white frilly dress with strawberries that she made.

The thing is, my mom was single, but my grandmother lived in the same apartment building, my grandfather was there, and my great grandmother had her own place there too.  Out of the six family apartment building, three were my family  We all worked together, and they all provided me with maybe what was the happiest years of my life.  I never knew how hard she must have struggled, or how tired she must have been after working third shift and me waking her up to color with me; my great grandmother stopping what she was doing when I knocked on her door so I could go through her books; my grandfather watching daytime Soaps with me or my grandmother letting me help her put together her Avon bags.  None of us were alone.

I still have my mom.  My wonderful mom who will drive to another town to pick up Girl1 at the mall because she didn’t want to walk home, or stop over when I am sick to bring me something gluten free.  She will pick me up to play Bingo every Wednesday even though she has homework to do and wouldn’t normally stay.  I think she likes spending the time as much as I do.

I have my lovely girl K, who maybe thinks I did her a favor by letting her come to us when she needed it, but really she saved me and my household.  She brings an air of love, creativity, understanding, to us all.  She listens when I just need to vent, and on nights where she knows I must really need it makes me a full chicken meal so it’s ready when I come in after my 10 hour days.  She never sighs at me when I forget exactly how to end or start my crochet line and tells me my blankets are beautiful even if they look like tree skirts.

I have my group of friends new, and newer, who have come into my life and for a few hours allow me to be someone else.  They provide me with a fantasy world where I can be anyone I want, and have adventures.  They will pass a bottle, help me clean off a chair, and purposely look for gluten free snacks even though I am the only one who has this requirement.

I have my FB friends who like my statuses and help me feel less alone.  They leave me nice words, uplifting thoughts, and just silent strength so I know I can continue on my path.  They send me messages, attempt to make plans with me (I’m hard to tie down, but know I would love to see each of you).  They make me feel not alone.

I have my children, who love me something fierce.  They will come over and hug me when I need it and stay away when I don’t.  They will tell me a funny story, or talk in a funny voice to see me smile. 

I have my worldly friends, and FFAC, who was willing to get on a plane twice, and put me on one once to show me the world.  He never lets me doubt my worth for a moment, and when I start to tells me to knock it off.  He continually finds ways to make me smile, to make me feel valued, even if he is across the world.  He listens to me complain then asks me how I can fix it.  He helps me brainstorm ideas to fix it. 

I also have my new blogging friends as well, who have liked and commented, and shared their views.  I have put my heart out on some of these posts, and been terrified to come clean about a lot of the things I hide.  You have all been supportive and wonderful.  The reason I will throw these real life posts in here is to not feel alone, and also so maybe someone out there doesn’t have to feel alone either.  We aren’t alone.  It may feel like that at times, but out there, we all have someone who understands.

Thank you all, who have been with me, and will continue to walk this journey with me.  Thank you to ones I have mentioned, for feeding my soul and myself.  I really am so lucky that during this time I have such a wonderful wall of love surrounding me.

Until next time, lovies.  Go hug someone.


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