Another December

Hi. It’s been a year. 

Did you miss me? Probably not. 😂 

I was reading through the last post on this blog and remembering what a year ago felt like—how frustrating it was to watch my son’s biological parents give up on fighting for him. 

The story pretty much ended there. After last December’s court hearing, Cubby’s bio mom never saw him again. 

Because of some mistakes made by the attorney, our adoption story took a little bit longer than planned but we adopted our boy in October of this year. 

I now have THREE children—and still no husband. 

Christmas can be such a lonely time. I definitely seem to struggle more around this holiday season. 

We made some huge changes this year that brought our family closer together. But I still go to bed and feel alone at night and wonder if I will ever be good enough for another man. I try really hard not to base my self-worth on whether I am in a relationship but it is really hard. 

Six years ago, I wasn’t the only one out of my friends whose relationship status changed from married to single. Not necessarily close friends, but friends/acquaintances nonetheless. And I often compare my life to their’s and wonder why I am the only one that has never been in a relationship since then. Is it because I’m not pretty enough? Skinny enough? Is it because I am a Mormon? or maybe it is because I am not a strong enough Mormon. Is it because of my personality? Gosh, what is it? 

It bothers me from time to time. I don’t think about it throughout each day and it definitely does not consume my life but that doesn’t mean I don’t think and wish my life looked different. 

I am a single mother. And yes, I adopted a baby on my own. And that doesn’t make sense to a lot of people. But even though I know it was right to adopt my son, I really wish he had a dad. I really wish I wasn’t embarking on a career while raising three young children on my own. It is so scary. The last of my college adventure starts in January, where I get to work a job for 14 weeks without getting paid a single penny. At the same time, I am expected to pay all of my bills and support three children on my own. At the same time, I am expected to be on time to pick my children up from school and day care and take them to their various activities.

That all starts in less than three weeks. And I am panicking. I am so damn scared that I am going to fall short as a mother, as a breadwinner, and as a freaking human being. What if I fail? What if I can’t do all of the things, all at once? 

My anxiety is high. Some days, I just wish I could run away with my children and not do these hard adulting things. I just want to be a mom. I just don’t want to fall short. 

I can’t voice all of these things to my closest friends and family because they don’t understand. I constantly feel like my life as a foster mom and adoptive mom doesn’t make sense because I am placing more stress on myself. But every time I pray about it, I get this overwhelming feeling like I’m supposed to be a foster mom. 

I am sure I sound crazy. What’s new? 

I miss my older kids right now. I am sure that is why my emotions are heightened. I hate sharing holidays. I hate sharing any time with their dad. I know they need him but I still selfishly want them with me all of the time. 

I need friends who are closer and more available. I don’t have that right now. I do have amazing friends but not ones that are close and available. I try really hard to mask some of the darkness that I feel because I watch other single moms and feel like somehow, they are just doing it better. They have their people. 

There is this part of me that believes I have my people. There is this part of me that tries to ask for help and reach out. And then there is this other part of me that doesn’t want to ask for help because I usually feel let down when person upon person upon person isn’t available to help. Belle moved away and I don’t have a relationship like that with anybody else. I don’t think anybody would understand what a huge loss that was. And then she made new friends and it all just feels so different. 

Sometimes I look back to three or four years ago, when the actual relationship between myself and Peter was a lot harder. And I wish we could go back to that because at least I had more people who saw me. I wish I could go back to that because back then, my relationship with religion was less complicated. 

I love my life and my children. But it is so hard. These nights, the nights where the demons come out in my brain, are so hard for me because there is no one I can reach out to and talk to. I’m just alone. 

My fear is that I will always be alone. 

Five Years Ago

The five year anniversary of my d-day happened two days ago.

And it's hard to put into words how I currently feel about that because it has been so good and so bad.

I felt so panicked leading up to the d-day anniversary. I took off work and kept Cubby home with me. I had lunch with my daughter at school and then my mom took me shopping at the mall and I tried on a bunch of clothes for her as if I was 16 again.

It was actually a really great way to spend my day and I came home that night, wondering if I would start to obsess over the anniversary or whether it would be ok and guess what?!!

I was ok! I was happy! I sat down and blogged on my non-anonymous blog and talked about how hard that day was 5 years ago and how I am so glad to be where I am now.

I talked about how I wouldn't trade those times for anything because they taught me so much.

I love who I am post-d-day. I truly do.

I know it won't ever be rainbows and butterflies. Divorce is such a hard thing. I am reminded of that almost daily.

But looking at my personal growth, I'd take who I am now vs. who I was then any day of the week.

It's miraculous to realize that only five years after my husband told me he no longer loved me, I am doing ok. I am still standing. I am thriving. I am close to ADOPTING A CHILD! {But that's for another post}

This life I'm living---it's beautiful. I am so grateful for all of the knowledge that has occurred in the past five years.

Belle

Some days, I just want to run away because I don't believe that I'll ever be good enough. I don't think I'll ever be doing all of the things I'm supposed to be doing to be an emotionally and physically and spiritually healthy person.

There is always some way in which I am failing and I am really good at recognizing that.

My therapist told me we are digging deeper into my feelings regarding Belle moving two hours away. Probably because I waited until five minutes before our session was over to start letting my emotions out and actually talk about it all. I do that a lot with harder topics. And Belle moving away has been a harder topic because it makes me feel stupid. I feel weak and stupid that a friend moving two hours away affects me this much.

This loss makes sense based on my past relationships. I definitely have abandonment issues. But it just makes me so angry that it all stems back to my abandonment trauma with Peter and I hate how everything in my life seems to stem back to that awful time in my life.

I lost Peter. I lost Alice. And now I lost Belle. This sounds like an incredibly stupid Disney movie gone bad.

But it is definitely NOT a Disney movie. Because in an actual Disney movie, I'd get those people back in the end. This would all wrap up with some amazing happily ever after. All relationships would heal and we would all sing and freaking birds would dance around in the air.

But that isn't how life works.

Instead of a happily ever after that magically wraps it all up, I am supposed to be in charge of my happily ever after. And although some days, I am doing that pretty damn well, other days, I feel like such a failure.

I know I didn't lose Belle in the same way. She is still my best friend. We still talk. But she isn't right down the street and I can't go see her any time I want.

In fact, I no longer have anyone like that around me. And that has been brutal the past few months.

Peter left me almost FIVE years ago. And here I am, still struggling to be alone. I immerse myself in teaching dance and doing homework and filling out job applications and taking care of my 4 month old (Oh, did I not mention I got a BABY on Easter Sunday who is now 4 months old?!) but when my kids are with their dad, I still go home and have no one to talk to. I take care of Cubby and that gives me a sense of purpose but unfortunately, 4-month-olds don't talk.

I haven't gone to church much since Belle moved. I feel more alone there than I have in a long time. I don't feel connected to my ward. I go because my kids need me to go. I go because I know it's the right thing to do. But I'd like to go because I want to go.

I just want to stop going through the motions. I want to try harder. But I feel so stuck in this pit of anxiety.

I feel like I'm struggling to find enough energy for self-care right now because all of my energy goes toward providing for everybody else. And I love that I get to be teaching dance and going to school and spending a lot of time with my babies---but I just need to find a better balance.

Shame Culture

What does therapy look like for you? 

Am I doing it right? Is there even a right way of doing it?

Do people tell their therapists everything---like absolutely everything? Is that the only way to truly heal or figure your stuff out?

There are certain things I could talk all day about. Not necessarily easy things but things that don't feel shameful.

Shame culture runs deep around here. It does. And I don't even know where that started. Is it a religious thing or have I just learned to beat myself up about anything and everything that I can?

I went to therapy yesterday with one rule for myself---don't talk about sex. Don't talk about missing it or wanting it or thinking about it. Just don't. Because shit will get uncomfortable and your therapist will think you are gross and you will not feel better.

One rule. 

But here's the thing---it's one of the main reasons I used to refuse a specialized eating disorder therapist---my therapist has been in my life for 5 years. She was there as a marriage therapist and she was there to watch me as I went through my divorce. She gets me.

So I usually get in to her office with my set of rules---taboo subjects that I'm NOT going to talk about---and somehow those are always the things that get brought up. Partly because I start to feel safe and decide to throw out a hint (that sounds way dumber than it feels when I'm there...). Partly because she knows me really well at this point and there isn't much I haven't told her. So she figures out what my taboo subject is and dives in.

And I cringe and feel uncomfortable and stress about whether her perception of me has changed. But when I leave, I feel like I accomplished something huge.

Merely surviving the conversations that feel so absolutely shameful is such a huge deal for me. And I like being pushed. In fact, I need to be pushed. Because if it were up to me alone, therapy would be about only showing my best attributes and laughing and pretending that life is always awesome. [I'm kind of an idiot, guys...] 

So it's a good thing I'm not running the show. It's a good thing she knows me.

But this week, that hasn't helped me to pull out of the shame spiral where just the fact that I miss having sex makes me feel like a bad person. Like there's something wrong with me. Like I'm gross. Like I'm not a "normal" female.

And I hate that. 

I hate that the shame I feel seems to have ANYTHING to do with my gender. Because---why? Why is it ok for boys to feel this way but not girls?

I'm working through it, I think. And if I'm not, I'm going to try and continue this conversation in therapy next week, even though I will hate it.

The hours where I hate therapy are usually the best hours. I always leave feeling better. Because there is just something about pushing past my comfort zone that makes me proud of myself.

Bravery, y'all. 

I Won

A few weeks ago, I put my story into words once again. I actually like how, each time I write it out, it sounds a little differently than the last time. I like that it captures different parts of the struggle and beauty from the past ten + years.

I entered my story into a Mother's Day contest and last night, I found out I won.

And so, I wanted to share this version here to have it saved.

Hi. 

My name is Wendy and although I am many things, warrior is certainly at the top of that list. 

I was a fairytale lover --- boy-obsessed from 1^st grade until I graduated from high school. Fairytales taught me that I needed a man to take care of me and I believed from a young age that if I was loved by a man, I would have infinite worth.

I was married at the age of 19 to a man who loved me. And the thing is, he truly did love me. That part was not a lie. But he loved me conditionally. He loved me for certain parts of who I was and began to tear down the parts of me he didn’t like.

Early on in our marriage (and unknown to me until after our divorce), my husband was viewing pornography and taking intimacy outside our marriage. I became a pawn in our marriage and learned that I was not the most important thing to him. But why? I couldn’t figure out what was more important.  I just knew things had shifted. He hardly ever wanted to be intimate with me and would stay up all night playing video games, claiming he had insomnia. I got used to marriage feeling mostly one-sided and found myself justifying the way he was treating me --- because at least he wasn’t physically abusing me. But I still wondered if the shift in our marriage was my fault.

I had given this man two beautiful children --- was it my body? Was I not sexy enough anymore?

For a girl who claimed to be strong and independent, I am surprised when I look back and realize how much I lost myself in my marriage. Then again, for a girl who claimed to be strong and independent, I had held the belief that my worth was dependent on a man for as long as I can remember.

Five years into my marriage, I was arguing with my husband one day when he told me he no longer believed in God and would not be attending church with us any longer. This shook me but I held my ground and poured myself into being a better wife and mother. I could fix this. I could mend this part of our world that felt bruised and broken. I felt our marriage falling apart but I wasn’t going to let it. I needed him and I felt he needed me too.

I found myself drowning while trying to save him. Often times, he came home from work angry and unresponsive and he would lock himself in our room or go outside to clean his guns or work on the car he was fixing up. The emotional abuse was weighing me down and I started to have panic attacks about seemingly normal things like what brand of food to buy.

And in the midst of me trying so hard to fix us, he abandoned our family in August of 2013, after seven years of marriage. Our children were only 5 and 4 years old and did not understand what was happening, so on top of being abandoned by my husband, I was left to tell my kids about the divorce by myself and deal with their heartache. And in turn, they knew I was their safe space and so they directed all of their anger toward me for months while begging me to bring their daddy back home. 

Throughout the 6 month process of separation and divorce, I found out that my husband was not the man he had claimed to be. He was addicted to pornography and was secretly numbing his feelings of guilt with alcohol. I tried so hard to stay afloat throughout this time but I began to drown in the form of an eating disorder and severe anxiety.

I felt so worthless. So used. So unloved.

And the thing is, my ex-husband is not a monster. We don’t always get along and he certainly makes some poor choices when it comes to his treatment of myself and our children but he isn’t a monster. He is an addict that struggles with knowing how to treat the people he loves most. He pushes us away in fear of us rejecting him. Does that lessen my pain? No. But it helps me to understand that I was not the problem. I could not have been prettier, smarter, or more subservient. This battle wasn’t mine to win or lose. It was, and is, his battle to fight and he chose to fight it without me by his side.

I’ve endured a lot since my divorce 4 ½ years ago. My ex-husband has crossed the line between discipline and abuse with our children. He has continued to treat me in a way that is disrespectful but about once a year for the first three years of divorce, he would come to me and tell me he loved me and wanted me back. He got remarried last year and immediately served me court papers for half custody, a battle that ultimately went to trial and ended up in my favor (and what is best for our children). He is there for us when it is convenient but the truth is, I am ok with that. Because I’ve got this.

I was forced to find myself when my husband abandoned me. That event, although extremely traumatic for me, has shaped me into a person that I very much like. I did not curl up in a corner and die --- I fought for myself and my children. I graduated from Arizona State University with a bachelor’s degree last summer. I am working two jobs to provide for my children. I got certified as a foster parent and was the mother of a sweet and sassy toddler for five months last year and last week, I was asked to take in a two-day-old baby boy and have been killin’ it in the motherhood department. My children are healthy and loved.

I still struggle with loneliness, especially when my kids go to their dad’s house but I know that my worth is not dependent on others. I will still live a beautiful life, even if I never remarry. I will continue to persevere when life slaps me in the face because I know for a fact that I can do hard things. 

Hope

I think my body must've known it'd been three years, even though my brain didn't know until a memory popped up on Facebook. 

The anxiety I've felt all weekend has been pretty severe---chest pains, numbing, considering giving up on everything I've worked for. 

I couldn't figure out why I felt that way. Was it a money issue? A friend issue? A parenting issue? A divorce issue? 

I still don't quite know. 

But what I do know is that yesterday marked three years since my deepest heartbreak as a single mom. 

So maybe that played a part. 

When I realized this, I thought back on the past three years and all of the changes and healing that have taken place. 

I lost support. 

I left the church. 

I cut a lot of ties. 

I made new, genuine friendships. 

I came back to church. 

And I realized just how seldom I think about that day anymore. 

A portion of the past three years was spent being kicked down, building myself back up, only to be kicked down again. 

But I've learned how to better dodge those kicks. 

You guys, the remarkable thing is that I'm grateful for everything I've been taught in the past three years. I'm grateful for my time away from my church and the time I've spent back there. I'm grateful for a God who very promptly put healing tools in place when I felt like suicide was the only way to break free from my heartache. I'm grateful for the atonement of Jesus Christ and the ability He gave me to forgive myself for "hindsight" and also the ability He gave me to forgive others for the pain they caused. 

I don't know if that is why my body is feeling so much anxiety right now and I hate that. I hate how anxiety since the court trial has become hard to identify. It comes and goes fiercely, often times without explanation or warning. 

But I know it won't always be this way. I know the effects of the court trial won't last forever, just as the pain and anxiety of three years ago eventually dissipated. 

So at least there is hope. 

Anxiety and Hating Change

This has been a hard week---probably my hardest since the week of trial.

I didn't refill my prescription in time and went three days without my anxiety medication. In the past, this never really did anything to my body. It used to take longer for me to notice the reaction of going off of meds.

But not this time. 

This time it took 24 hours before my first major panic attack. Sobbing, shaking, screaming, needing my friends to take over the situation and let me walk away for a while.

And in counseling, the question I HATE came up again. 

"Are you going to hurt yourself?"

Because it's an awkward question. And I hate giving either answer.

There's this part of me that wants to say yes but not because the correct answer is yes. Sometimes I want to say yes so that somehow it will reflect the turmoil my anxiety gives me.

But I always say no because that is the truth. 

My thoughts turned to suicide during almost every small conflict I endured while being off medication but they were never plans. There's a difference. At least, I'm learning there is a difference.

The good news is that each time those thoughts came to my mind, they startled me and I immediately knew they were irrational.

But I guess that's why I get so frustrated with my brain. Because if I want to live and thrive, why would my brain EVER consider the possibility of death as a means to an end for my anxiety?

Death is permanent. I don't want that. So why did I keep going there?

**************

I wrote all of that a week ago and never finished it.

I have been faithful with my medication and I'm handling my anxiety a little better.

But last night, I felt all of it crash down. I promised myself I wasn't going to go early to my daughter's dance practice since it's Peter's night with her and I don't teach until later on Wednesday evenings. As I was leaving work, I had a strong impression that I needed to go to the studio just in case she needed me.

And I'm so glad I listened to that impression.

I got to the dance studio and my baby girl was crying on and off in her class. I pulled her out and asked what was wrong and she told me she forgot her dance bag and her dad wouldn't drive back to the studio and bring it to her.

I was floored.

You guys, he lives three miles from her studio.

He also didn't send her any food and she dances for four hours on Wednesdays.

After feeding her some of my dinner and calming her down, she went back in to class and I broke down in front of all the other moms.

This Wednesday thing has been awful. I hate it. I know it's only one day of the week but the kids do not like going to Peter's house on school days. Our son cries every Wednesday morning and begs me to pick him up from school instead of his dad.

It breaks my heart that I have to send them somewhere they don't want to go.

I am so glad I get to take my kids out of town for Spring Break and have them for 9 days straight. We all need a break from this new custody schedule. It's been two months and the kids are still not used to it.

Luckily, our dance studio family is amazing and they cleaned out a drawer just for my girl so she can put extra dance clothes and snacks in there if she ever needs them.

But it is so hard to watch your kids hurting and not be able to protect them. That absolutely drives my anxiety over the edge.

All I wanna do is protect my babies.

I Want To Be Better

Another email came through containing a "Confidential Item" from the church.

They asked for a new letter because last year, Peter's temple clearance was not approved and he is applying for it again.

And I didn't lose my cool when the email came through! I sat down and wrote out my feelings and sent the letter within two days of the request.

Last year, I took 3.5 weeks to write the letter and it was six pages long. This time, my letter was three pages long.

And maybe I don't care if he gets sealed to her in the temple or maybe I kind of do. I know it's going to happen eventually. But I kind of wish it would've happened last year so I wouldn't have had to write another letter.

It's all going to be ok. 

I was listening to a conference talk at lunch about how our lives hardly ever turn out how we imagined they would and how we need to trust in God and allow Him to guide us through our storms.

This doesn't stop the pain from trials. But pulling closer to Him rather than pulling away from Him is the key here.

And I'm trying so hard to do that. 

I made a calendar of daily goals that include yoga and scripture study and journal writing, etc. I know I need to work harder to fight this anxious state I've been in since the court trial. I don't like the way I feel right now.

I want to be better. 

I want to give the control to God because when I try and control everything, I relapse with my eating disorder and I allow my OCD to make my decisions.

So as hard as it is right now, I'm going to try and give up the control I so desperately am holding onto.

Now I just need to figure out exactly how to do that...

Post-Trial Anxiety and Forgiving Others

I thought that the trial verdict would fix everything. I thought I would be able to breathe. But that hasn't happened.

I think my body realizes it's safe to feel all of those traumatic feelings from the past nine months and it's all just been building inside of me while I tried to stay strong throughout the duration of the trial.

I doubled my Zoloft dose and I'm going back to my therapist this week. I'm trying to use the tools I've learned to combat my anxiety.

And most of the time, it absolutely works! Because most of the time, I have my children at my side.

But when they aren't by my side, my anxiety comes on strong---it no longer creeps in like it used to. It just hits me in the chest and I worry about my children and their future and whether they're safe and whether their father is manipulating them into hating me. And then I start worrying about whether I left a curling iron on and the house will burn down or whether I'll get in a car accident or maybe someone will kidnap my kids or maybe someone will break into our home.

Irrational fears? Yes. But anxiety is almost always full of irrational fears.

I chose to sit alone at church on Sunday because my goal is to soak up the gospel this year. I wasn't sitting alone to be sad or reclusive. I wanted to focus on every word from every speaker. So I chose my own bench, just for me.

And last night, after dinner at my sister's house, I opened up my brand new LDS Addiction Recovery manual that I ordered online a week ago.

I have faith that working through this book will help me calm my anxiety from this past year. And even more importantly, I am working the 12-steps to find forgiveness for my ex-husband and a former group of friends.

I've realized that although I've worked through a lot of forgiveness over the years, I am still holding onto that last little bit---mostly because I am scared that if I completely forgive, it negates all of the pain I have experienced.

I want to be free of the anger and feelings of betrayal. I want to understand as much as I can and then forgive them.

And then I want to focus on forgiving myself for not knowing then what I know now.

Hindsight sucks. But it's also beautiful.

I've learned so much through the eyes of "hindsight".

And I feel this responsibility to myself and my children to use what I've learned in hindsight to protect our future as best I can. Although that won't keep bad things from happening, it will help me to know that I've tried to learn and grow the best I can in the situations I've been given.

Anxiety is one of the worst things I've dealt with these past 5-6 years because not everyone understands the reality of a person with an anxiety disorder. It absolutely affects my every day life and most of the time when I'm acting happy and cheerful, my brain is sending signals of panic and fear.

And then when other people doubt me or betray me, it just reinforces the idea that I should be worried or anxious all of the time.


So I'm anxious and excited for therapy and working the 12-step program and growing even more.

My life is so full of beauty and I do not want to miss the beauty because I'm too busy worrying or feeling anger.

The Verdict Is In

Well, the "up to 60 days" took 24 hours.

That's it.

And on Friday, I got an email from my lawyer with the verdict.

And I shook while reading the first three pages because it almost seemed like they were going to change our custody to 50/50.

But then I read the very last paragraph before the judge stated our new parenting time order and in it, he said, "The court does not have faith that father will follow through with his promised arrangement based on the past." And I immediately began to cry because I knew they weren't giving him 50/50.

Miracles beyond miracles.

They gave him one week night on top of the every other weekend he had. That's it.

The new parenting plan states NO ONE is allowed to use corporeal punishment on our children. Major blessing since it truly affects our son's anxiety.

And I am feeling so heard and loved by my Heavenly Father who knew what would be best for our children.


2018, you are going to be a great year.

Today We Went To Court

Today I woke up and got ready for one of the biggest days of my life.

Today I dropped my children off to a babysitter and picked up my best friend.

Today I did not eat a single thing before 7:00pm.

Today I walked into a court room followed closely by my lawyer, my parents, two of my sisters, and two of my best friends.

Today I endured an hour and a half of anxiety as I listened to Peter lie to his lawyer, my lawyer, and the judge.

Today I thought my anxiety might literally cause a heart attack because of the pain I felt in my chest.

Today I was called to the stand and found myself barely able to walk because of the shaking occurring in my knees.

Today I took a seat on the stand and gave the court my full name, the whole time trying to keep my lips from quivering.

Today my lawyer asked me questions and I felt the Holy Spirit fill my soul and cause my anxiety to dissipate.

Today I answered questions with confidence and instead of trying hard not to cry, I was focusing on not smiling at the people there to support me.

Today I defended myself and my beliefs firmly while my ex-husband's lawyer tried to put words in my mouth and accuse me of being selfish and manipulative.

Today I fought hard for my children.

Today I walked out of the court house, knowing I had done everything I could do to show that judge what is best for my children.

Today I was the definition of warrior. The absolute definition.

And tonight, although my anxiety has returned while I wait "up to 60 days" for a verdict from the judge, I feel this beautiful, sacred gratitude for my family and friends and especially for my Heavenly Father.

Today He was there for me on an extremely hard day. And He showed me how the Priesthood can work intricately in my life.

Today was filled with more beauty than I ever could've imagined. 

I Hate Him

My lawyer sent a settlement offer to Peter's lawyer.

Trial had been set for January 3rd of this next year and I told my lawyer I wanted to avoid that if we can.

Because why would any of us waste our time on trial when the mediator's report clearly stated that Peter's work schedule would not allow him to have 50/50 custody?!

Doesn't he understand how this was just a colossal waste of time and money for both of us?

I think he does. But I think he also believes he will somehow get more custody and that will lower his child support---therefore 'saving' him money.

I hate that this is all about money for him.

Oh how I wish he would just move on and try to create a more positive life with his new wife.

*************

Today we received the counter proposal back from his lawyer's office. And instead of there being a compromise, he changed MORE and it was worse than the first proposal sent to me in June of this year.

I hate him today.

I hate him so much.

And I feel frozen with anxiety at the thought of him raising our children more and picking them up from school.

They don't want that. They absolutely do not want that!

If he wins, I feel like our future will be ruined.

And because I don't agree with his counter proposal, we will go to trial. And after I've spent $5,000 on lawyer fees as a single mom working two jobs, I will have to find another $5,000 or more for trial.

Merry effin' Christmas. 

And I'm scared. I'm so, so scared. I can't stop crying and my whole body is numb.

I don't know how to deal with all of this today. I don't know how this is supposed to resolve.

I hate Peter so much. And I hate his new wife.

And I just want to raise my children and love them and care for them.

Next Right Step

I spoke in church a few weeks ago. 

They didn't give me much direction so I gave them my life story. 

I didn't tell them about addiction but I told them about divorce.

I didn't tell them about the custody battle but I did tell them that I struggle to attend church because I feel like our family is broken.


My testimony still goes between "this is exactly where I'm supposed to be" and "I never want to step foot in this place again".

Someone please tell me that's normal. 


I believe the church needs my messy self in it. I truly do. Even when I don't feel like I fit in, or maybe especially when I feel like I don't fit in, I feel like I'm doing the right thing.

The church is full of messy people. 

I see it so much more now than I ever did growing up.

There is so much more grey than I ever used to think there was.

But I think grey is what makes us, us.

If everything was black and white, it'd probably look more like Satan's plan.

But because we get to choose for ourselves and because God made us individuals with different views and opinions, our world is full of grey.

I like that thought. I really do. 

I like the grey. Because it makes us unique.

And I like being unique because it makes me feel more needed on earth---like my specific personality and opinions and ideas are helpful to others on this earth.

I think that's why I take it so hard when my people get hurt---and even harder when I feel responsible for that hurt.

It is pretty important to me that I'm helpful, that I'm looking for ways to help others feel good about themselves. In fact, that very last phrase is in my patriarchal blessing.

It is a testament to how well my Heavenly Father knows me. He knows I am capable of lifting others and that lifting others helps me lift myself too.

So even though I'm a messy person and I sometimes want to run away, I am not going to.

I am not going anywhere. 

I have been active in the LDS church for a YEAR now. An entire year! 

My prayers were answered a week after Thanksgiving in 2016. 

Because last Thanksgiving, after hearing about my kids spending the holiday with (in my daughter's words) "their possible new mom", I completely broke. And I cried for days and allowed myself to sink so low.

And it was at this low point that I was finally able to listen and hear what God was saying. I went to Him with absolute humility {and a dash of anger} and told Him I would do anything and be anything and say anything---I just needed Him to tell me what the next right step was. 

This past year, I've lived by that "next right step" rule and it has gotten me through some of the ugliest moments of 2017.

And I'm realizing there are always going to be ugly moments. 

But if I keep my focus on my Heavenly Father, I will never fall short of that next right step.

Don't. Give. Up.

I tried to compromise.

I tried to give up more than I was willing so that this would just be over.

I want it to stop---and I do not want to go to trial.

But my compromises weren't good enough because Peter only wanted 50/50. There was nothing else I could offer that he would agree to.

Even when the mediator told him that 50/50 was not possible with his work schedule. Even when she tried to show him that he was being unreasonable.

He would not back down.

And now we are going to trial.

Four years after divorce, I am now headed into a court battle for the very first time.

I wish he cared about how much this hurts everyone involved. Everyone. Including himself.
It hurts all of our relationships because trial means we dig into each other's lives.

I wish I could just talk to him but, you know, lawyers are the ones who talk when you're this far into a custody battle.

I wish I could protect our kids and I wish that what they want mattered in all of this.

2017---I hate you. 
I hate you like I did 2013 and 2015.
Except I really don't hate you. 
Because if I erased this one piece---their marriage and the request to change custody---everything else has been beautiful.

But that one little thing has bled into so many other things---my plans to continue foster care, the children's extracurricular activities, school, etc.

That one little thing isn't quite so little. 

No.

In fact, today it feels quite big. 

Parenting Alone

I never thought our divorced relationship would be this way.

I always envision us working together for the good of our family, striving to do what is best for the kids.

But this is nothing like that vision in my head.

I ask Peter to help out extra days or nights and most of the time, he's "too busy". He currently sees the kids 5 days a month and he is too busy to take any extra time with them.

Having his girlfriend around has only aggravated this problem. He chooses her over the kids constantly. He ignores them for long periods of time but then when he wants to pay attention to them, they run straight back into his arms because he is their dad and they want his approval.

But from the outside looking in, it's hard on me to just sit back and watch as he manipulates them left and right. It's hard to see how hard they take it when he doesn't show up and how happy they get when it's finally time to see him again.

It's one of the worst things to witness as a mother because their emotions are being played with constantly.

I resent Peter for the time he spends away from them. I resent him when he says he can't help me tag team a Saturday where one kid has dance and the other has a basketball game at the exact same time.

When I chose to become a parent, I did not sign up to do it alone. But here I am, doing it alone most of the time.

I'm so angry with Peter. So, so angry. And I just needed to get that out tonight.

The Other Woman

I spent Thanksgiving without my kids this year. It went better than most of the other holidays I've spent without my kids and I'd like to think that means I'm healing and getting more used to sharing my children part of the time.

It felt good until my kids got home and my daughter said, "We got to spend Thanksgiving with dad's new girlfriend! She's the best! I love her so much. She says she will paint my nails and do my hair. She is my best friend."

In that moment, it felt anything but good. 

I could barely catch my breath. 

Wait a minute, Peter has a serious girlfriend and she spent a five day holiday weekend with my kids?

It felt like the world was spinning around me but I wasn't able to move or speak or even blink my eyes. I tried so hard not to lose it in front of them.

But it's been six days since then and I've lost it every night. I've cried myself to sleep every single night. I've had panic attacks every single day.

It's hard to even explain my reasoning for reacting this way. 

Peter said he hated being married and I always expected him not to get into another relationship, at least not for a very long time.
I was the one who wanted to date right away. I was the one who still believed in relationships and marriage.
And now Peter gets to have that. Peter has 26 nights a month that he could spend with his girlfriend but he is choosing to spend the ONLY 4 nights a month that he has our kids with his girlfriend too.
You'd think that'd be a good thing but last night, the kids told me that they had to go in the basement and watch movies so dad could have alone time with his girlfriend.

And then there's my eating disorder. I'm an overeating, purging mess over here because I'm just not handling this news well at all.
My thoughts turned to, "Is she skinnier and more beautiful than me? Did he find someone with a model-like body that hasn't been covered in stretch marks from pregnancy?" 

Today I met her. 
I was only given six days of knowing he had a girlfriend before I met her.
Because she was at my daughter's dance recital tonight.
And while there, my son ignored me and snuggled on her lap. My boy. My cuddly, momma's boy. He refused to sit with anybody besides her.
And while there, my daughter gave her a short hug and she said, "Really, that's all I get is a one-handed hug? I feel so unloved!" in a joking voice that grated on my last nerve because she's known my daughter for like four days now.

And I should be happy that my kids love her. But it hurts so much right now. 

It hurts so much. 

I want to write it all down, all of the pain and sadness I'm feeling, but honestly, I don't have the energy because it's all being used just to function these days.

All I can think about is how they're together and I'm here all alone, struggling to find worth within myself and raising two children who are beautiful and hard and amazing and active.

And because he only has to be their dad 4 days a month, he gets to date and have time for another adult and have physical and emotional connection.

It really, truly hurts. 

And I'm just not dealing with it well. 

It hurts that he can treat me as horribly as he does while treating another woman like she's the most important person in the world.

That used to be me. I used to be the most important person in the world to him. I used to be the one who would lay on his shoulder while we would listen to music late at night on the couch. I used to be his everything.

And although I don't want him back, it tears my heart to know that he---the man who left our family and hurt all of us so much---gets to have the very thing I've wanted for a long time.

I'm so angry that he is in a relationship and that I'm not. I'm so angry that he gets to ignore his kids the majority of the time but then they prefer him over me if we're all together. I'm so angry that my kids think she might be "their new mom".

He's already taken so much from me. He has already ruined so much. 

WHY is this even happening the way that it is? Am I really that horrible of a person that I cannot find a boyfriend? Am I really that horrible of a mother that my kids prefer their dad, the guy who is emotionally abusive to them, over me?

It all just feels like too much right now, like I'm never going to get past this phase of heartache.

It Hurts

*******************

The majority of the reactions included:

It was bound to happen eventually.

Good for him. He’s moving on.

You had to know this was going to happen.

So why are you acting so upset?

******************

They say it shouldn’t hurt because it isn’t happening to them, because the person they loved for 8 years wasn’t now in a relationship with another woman.

They say it shouldn’t hurt because they didn’t feel the hurt I felt when he walked away.

They say it shouldn’t hurt because they haven’t gone three years fighting extremely lonely thoughts and struggling to learn how to find a relationship worth trusting and then finding out that he gets to have the very thing they have wanted.

They say it shouldn’t hurt because they don’t see the day-to-day life of ‘single mom pouring her life into her children’ while he has 25 days a month to be a bachelor.

They say it shouldn’t hurt---but they are wrong.

Because it should hurt and it does.

I didn’t know how I would react when this eventually happened. Honestly, I think I figured it would be me in a relationship first so I wouldn’t react as poorly as I have.

My daughter got in the car on Sunday and almost immediately stated, “Guess what? We might be getting a new mom because I saw dad kissing a girl out on the front porch.”

And I should’ve handled it better. The tears that started pouring down my face surprised even me. And then my sweet baby girl felt like she had done something wrong. And I felt like a complete mom-failure. I should’ve been able to keep it together for her sake.

But. It. Just. Felt. So. Horrible.

So. Horrible.

So shockingly, devastatingly, painfully horrible.

And all of my feelings of loneliness were intensified.

I can usually keep them together but not this week.

This week, the tears seem to pour out of the corners of my eyes with the tiniest little thing.

And although yesterday was horrible because I was extremely sick and threw up 7 effing times, I think I needed that day in my bed, to hide from life a little bit. Because now that I’m back living life again today, I’m trying to deal with it a little better.

And it is extremely difficult.

And really, that is all I have today. Because my beautiful life is clouded right now by some really shitty feelings. 

I Hate Today

It's just that I hated today in so many ways.

This whole weekend, actually. 

And I keep letting dumb shit get in the way of my happiness.

I'm frustrated and anxious and possibly depressed and trying to fight but not really fighting at all.

I hate August. 
I hate change.
I hate so many of my shifting relationships right now. 
And I hate how the old ones changed and were ruined and have left me with a deep pit of anxiety that seems to bleed on the new relationships.

Relationships suck sometimes. 
People suck sometimes. 

And some days I just feel like there's no one who understands me.
Like my situation is too unique and the things I've gone through have intertwined too many elements for anyone to understand exactly how I'm feeling.

Some days, I'm still angry about the past 18 months of my life. Or maybe the past 3 years. Or maybe the past 28 years.

Some days, I am angry that I'm alone and that my support group shifted so drastically and that the majority of my closest friends are in seemingly 'easy' relationships with comfortable lives.

People don't understand. And if I try to explain it, it's not going to come out right.
Because sometimes, even when people are trying to be kind, they end up being hurtful.
Like that time last week when my sister said that I should be grateful because there are some easier things about being a single mom of older {as in 'non-baby' age} kids. And I just felt pissed and hurt and totally invalidated.

Because although I do it every day of my life right now {mostly because I literally don't have another choice unless I want to just give up---which I don't}, being a single mom is not an easy thing. Even without the work and school and other things, being a single mom would still be hard.

I would give up the every other weekend breaks for having a partner who was here at night.

So I hate today. And I really hope I don't wake up hating tomorrow.

But I've decided to let these feelings sit and not to fight them off.

It's ok that I hate today. That doesn't make me a bad person and it doesn't make me ungrateful.

Three Years

The odd thing is that I thought this was going to be the 4 year anniversary.

I don’t know why I was adding an extra year on there. Probably because it feels like I’ve been on my own for much longer than three years.

I knew August was creeping up on me. I could feel it even without looking at a calendar.

There’s just something about August, about school starting and schedules changing.

And the night before school, I’m lying in bed and praying for my kids and thinking about another year alone.

Another year where I go to parent-teacher conferences and schedule extra meetings to make sure my son with ADHD is getting the schooling he needs alone.

Another year where I help with homework and book reports and reciting poems alone.

The irony is that Peter left me just 3 weeks into our oldest child’s Kindergarten year so I’ve never really known what it’d feel like to have a spouse more involved with those school activities.

So I don’t know why it always hits me hard in August.

I’ve been doing this all alone since the very beginning.

But this anniversary always hits me the hardest---because it is my D-day. Three years ago, I was in a relationship and since then, I haven’t been.

In fact, I can count on ONE hand the number of dates I’ve been on in the past three years.

I’ve tried. I’ve done the online dating thing a few times and it’ll seem to be working for a week or two and then all of a sudden, one guy will ruin it for the rest by texting me something dirty or I’ll read the profile of a guy who says extremely provocative things in his bio and I take ten thousand steps back and think to myself, “Oh my gosh, being single forever would be better than this!”

Because at least if I’m single, I won’t be getting my heart hurt by the extremely douchey guys that seem to exist in this world.

Another thing that really triggers me about online dating is the fact that 90% of the profiles say they’re interested in someone “slim and slender” or “athletic and toned”. And any time I see that on a profile, I feel like I’m reminded of why I’m single.

And then I have a hard time not listening to ED because it seems like he’s telling me the truth.

It’s just one big ball of frustrations and disappointments and there are days I consider just getting back together with Peter because, you know, he still loves me and maybe he is the only guy who ever will---because am I even loveable? 

I realize how irrational this is. 
Or maybe I don't. 
But I want to realize how irrational this is. 

It's just that dating with an eating disorder is not easy.
I'm pretty sure dating in general isn't easy either though.

So I tell myself most days that I'm ok being alone because, most days, I am.

But some days, it just hits me that it's been 3 years since I've been in a relationship and had another adult living in this home with me.

August is a messy month for so many reasons. 
Six years ago, tomorrow, I was diagnosed with infertility.
Four years ago this month, Peter left the church we were both attending and I felt so scared.
Three years ago this month, Peter walked out on me.
Two years ago this month, I had to stop being a stay-at-home mom and went back to work.
Last year this month, I was dealing with some after shocks of some traumatic events earlier that year. I also started telling others that I was questioning my faith and wanted to attend a Christian church.

August is my messy month and every year, I brace myself for what is to come.

And this year, I found myself quitting my job recently and dealing with some after shock and anxiety from that.

I'm not doing well right now. I'm hanging in there because I know it will get better but I've not been handling life well.

Because my body just senses the unsafety of August and every day feels unsure. 

Thankfully, I've got my tribe of people who are patient with me while I struggle through the shittyness of August.

Thankfully, thankfully, thankfully. 

He Still Loves Me

Peter told me he still loved me on Sunday.

It was one of those moments where that tween phrase “I can’t even!” seems to fit perfectly.

He said it was hard to be around me because often times, he still has strong feelings for me. And I just sat there and wondered what that even means to me.

Because it DOESN’T mean I want to date him or marry him.

And it DOESN’T mean things are fixed.

He also said that his feelings for me are often the reason he doesn’t treat me well “because it’s so hard and confusing to be around me so he can’t control his feelings.”

Umm…

I asked him how that was MY fault---that he gets to treat me like shit because he likes me? How does that even make sense?

My mind went to the stories of little girls getting their hair pulled by the boy who had a crush on them---stories that SCREAM rape culture.

Stories of inequality for women---because if he’s mean to you, that means pay attention to him because he likes you.

Barf.

So much barf.

I’m still trying to process these feelings---and honestly, I don’t even know what it means to process these feelings. I don’t know what that looks like or feels like. I don’t know how to do it.

I’m just so frustrated. With myself. With Peter. With this entire situation of divorce and everything that has tail-spun out of control since then.

I don’t want to go back to “back then” but I’m angry about where we are right now also.

I think summer is just hitting me really hard. It’s easier to be a working mom when my kids are in school because I don’t feel like I’m missing out on as many things with them.

I hate the stress of getting babysitters and my kids complaining that we aren’t doing much this summer because mom has to work.

I remember the summers when I stayed home, when we would do swim team and water parks and vacations and the Harkins summer movie passes.

We no longer do those things---because mom works.

And I resent Peter for that. Because if he loved me, WHY THE HELL are we in this situation right now?!

Back then, I told him I would fight for him and he didn’t believe me.

And now this is our life.

This is our life because of addiction and lies and secrecy.