Anxiously Happy

 I'm anxious. 

I'm happy. 

I'm everything in between. 

Being married for the second time has been anything but easy. Meshing my new husband with my three children has been painful a lot of days as they try to figure out how to bond. 

Even two years later, we are still trying to figure out how to blend together some days. But thank god, it is SO much better than it was summer of 2023 or Christmas of 2022. Those points in time are stuck in my memory and probably will be forever because my anxiety was high and I wasn't sure what to do or how to help the people in my family to get along and understand each other. We spoke of divorce a few times during those dark days because of how difficult it was to blend our family. 

Edward, my husband, has worked through so much in therapy over the past year. From feeling inadequate to learning how to be a more gentle parent with the kids, he has overcome so much. He was diagnosed with depression when we were dating and I started pointing out signs of his mental health not being as great as he thought it was. But when you're 32 and you have lived alone a lot of your adult life, you don't always recognize the times your depression shuts down your body. 

Enter a new girlfriend - that's me - and Edward started to recognize a lot of things he wanted to work on to start loving himself more. I'm so proud of him, even though our marriage has had so many rough spots. He has changed so much in the past year of parenting and continues to improve as a partner and father. 

In fact, in the near future, he will be adopting Cubby. Watching their relationship flourish over the past three years has been beautiful for me to witness. 

My oldest, Jane Darling, is 16 now - not the tiny 5-year-old she was when Peter left our family. She is a beautiful teenager and the biggest helper to her brothers and step-dad. 

Over the past two years, she has struggled with depression, self-harm, and trying to figure out her identity. Watching her struggle through her relationship with Peter, refusing to go a few weekends with him last year, and serial-dating new boys for a while because she was trying to fill a void left by her dad was so painful. 

She finally seems to be in a much better place and has a lot more confidence this year in high school. 

My middle son, Danny Darling, is 15 now - a stark contrast from the small 4-year-old boy who wasn't even in preschool when Peter moved out. He is now in high school and, between him and Edward, is probably the reason I am finding myself typing on this blog today. 

When Edward and I started dating, Danny begged to meet him and loved him instantly. When we got engaged, he asked permission to call Edward his dad and called him that name on and off after our wedding last year. 

But then came the summer of 2023, when everything between two people I love sort of blew up in my face. Edward has struggled to parent Danny and Danny has struggled to accept Edward as a father figure. On our family vacation to Disneyland last summer, they fought day and night. Danny pushed back on every single thing his step-dad would say to him and disrespect him any chance he got. 

We had a sort of "come to Jesus" moment when we got home, where Edward and I had to decide if being married was the best thing for Danny or if we should split because of the divide between the two of them. 

And we decided to stay together but Edward took major steps back from parenting Danny and that seemed to help a lot. 

My older kids have so much trauma about father figures in their lives. 

Just this past week, both of them had a high school choir concert and Peter PROMISED to be there but then during the concert, their step-mom let them know that he picked up a shift at work. Usually, this bothers Jane the most but this time, Danny cried through a good portion of the concert and then cried again when we got home. I don't often see him get like this with his dad but he was so hurt. 

To me, it's the same old thing and I'm used to it. Peter was never consistent and does not show up to watch them in their extracurricular activities more than maybe once a year for end-of-year concerts. 

The night of the choir concert, Jane called Edward "dad" for probably the second time in our three years of being together and I think she was testing it out because she was hurt that her biological father didn't show up but that her step-father never misses a concert or recital. 

We've never pushed them to call him dad and honestly, it seems foreign to me when they do because their dad is active enough in their lives but we also won't tell them NOT to call him dad if they choose to do so. I've left that entirely up to them over the years and will continue to do so. 

God, blending families is harder than I thought. 

I love Edward. I really do. But over the years, I have learned a softness with my kids that he hasn't grasped yet. He grew up in a very traditional and strict religious household, similar to me but different religions, and hasn't had years of growing with these kids like I have. So it's hard for him to not be so authoritarian with them. But compared to a year ago or two years ago, he has come a LONG way in parenting them softer. 

We've had so many changes over the years and more to come in 2025. Edward and I have been trying to expand our family but due to some health diagnoses for myself, that has been put on hold while I undergo a major surgery in February to take care of some health issues. 

We also both want to foster and open our home in that way but that will need to wait until we get my health settled. 

But all things considered, when I look back at my life five years ago and I look forward to now, our lives are beautiful and we are figuring this new life out, day by day. 

I am grateful for new beginnings and being able to start fresh every day to make our home a safe place for our kids. They deserve all of that and more. 

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 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.

"The Talk"

I knew this day was quickly approaching. 

In fact, I had been planning a date night with my daughter to discuss puberty and intimacy with her.

And then yesterday she came home from school and asked, "Mom, what does rape mean?"

{Damn. It. All. To. Heck.}

So instead of pushing it to a few weeks from now at some fancy restaurant like I had planned, I sat down with her and laid it all out.

And it turned out better than I had ever planned it in my mind. Because I think laying on my bed and having a deep discussion with no distractions was the best way to do it.

So thank you {except really NO thank you} to the child at school who tried to teach my daughter what rape is. damnhell 

I went to bed last night feeling really good. We had spent our afternoon cleaning and then making dinner as a family and ended with "the big scary talk" that ended up being not scary at all!

And when my daughter woke me up this morning, the very first thing she said to me was, "Hey, mom, thank you for talking with me last night. I love you." and then she skipped away to get ready for school.

I mean, wow. 

She's pretty much the best.

And I'm feeling like I can conquer the world today.

So happy Tuesday, friends! 

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.

Peter Pan

Peter.

This weekend was one of the worst weekends to date with Peter.

He refused to give me a time frame of when the kids would be home on Memorial Day and kept saying, “When we’re done…”

He then refused to drop them off to me while I was teaching dance so I asked him to keep them until I was done (Because, you know, if he wasn’t going to drop them off BEFORE I started teaching, he would need to keep them until AFTER…common sense…)

And again, he refused.

I got a text a while later stating he had dropped the kids off at my parents’ house.

What. The. Hell.

And by this point, I was going all sorts of crazy. They had been away for a few days and they were late 2 hours getting home and now I had to drive to my parents to get them?

And I lost it. Big time.

I called my mom and yelled at her for not questioning why he was randomly dropping the kids off to her. {Not her fault…}

I fought with my mom and dad when I got to their house because the kids were swimming and I JUST WANTED TO GO HOME. {Not their fault…}

It was horrible. I felt so horrible.

On the drive home that night, my 8-year-old said, “Mom, dad says you were mad at him today but it’s not his fault. He says Memorial Day was his this year and since you never give him extra time with us, he shouldn’t have to give you extra time with us.”

So after I put the kids down to bed, I wrote Peter an email with the new Parenting Plan contract I had written up {because it’s long overdue to be updated} and I told him how disappointed I was that he had brought our children into this mess and talked poorly about me to them.

And he wrote me back some confusing paragraph about how he will ‘review it and we can come to an agreement upon said plan after adequate time is allowed for assessment of the plan you are suggesting.’ {Seriously, the oddest email I’ve ever read before with a bunch of big words that DID NOT make sense together}

Why does it still surprise me that Peter acts the way he does?

I think that’s the most frustrating part for me---that his actions catch me off guard and I allow myself to burst with anger.

I should be used to this by now. I should be able to handle things like this without getting so angry.

My therapist gave me good advice on this because I absolutely HATE when my anger escalates to the point that it did on Memorial Day. I hate feeling guilty after because I want so badly to just love and understand people and be calm and compassionate but realistically, I make mistakes and sometimes I let my anger pour out on others.

I hate this about myself. I’m trying to give myself more grace but I seriously hate this about myself.

Because I hate hurting people.

I’d rather hurt than hurt others.

But sometimes I am the one doing the hurting and I’m trying to work on that. I’m trying to recognize the anger when it’s in the beginning stages so it doesn’t get out of control. 

I wish Peter would grow up.

I do. 

But I have to remind myself that I still have a lot of growing up to do. 

And that really is the only thing I have control over.

Face To Face

Finally. 

Face to face. 

It only took fourteen months. 

Fourteen months of hurtful comments and hateful looks. 

I took a trusted friend with me because I knew I needed someone to actually process and hear everything while my anxiety did it's work. 

And when we walked up to her, I felt this waive of relief that we were finally face to face after so long. 

And maybe I felt like I had missed her. 

Three hours of each of us explaining our side and trying to get the other person to understand. 

It felt like a divorce mediation. 

She said some things that later I realized were hurtful to me as I thought over them. And I think she knew that. 

I didn't need to know details. But because she had been hurt living through it all, she wanted me to know all of that pain. 

And the reason it was unnecessary is because the whole point of this meeting was supposed to be about moving forward and about telling her how ONLY in hindsight could I have prevented everything. 

The whole point was to convince her I wasn't ever malicious. 

She already knew that though. I know she did. Because she knows me---or at least she knew me. 

I am a completely different person after going through everything I've experienced these past fourteen months. 

So we met. 

And afterward, she asked if I wanted to keep talking and let my friend go home. Maybe her and I could go grab some lunch? 

But I said no. I wasn't ready for that yet. Or maybe ever. 

And when we got in the car to go home, my friend set me straight. 

She is still blaming you. 

What she said was manipulative. 

That felt fake. 

Don't go home and blame yourself all over again. 

And I was surprised because I felt so good. 

But my friend was right. 

Because later that night, I started to panic about all of those details. 

She had gotten to me again. 

Whether consciously or subconsciously, she had said things in a way that made me wonder if this was all my fault. 

Was I really to blame? 

Somewhere deep down, did I know what I was doing? 

And as I pondered these questions and allowed myself to go back to that dark place for a minute, I suddenly remembered back to those days and weeks. And I remembered my heart and how I did everything right in the moment---the best I knew how. 

I told the truth. And although that truth brought about more pain for a while, it was still the truth. 

And in that moment, I knew that meeting did not have the power to put our relationship back where it had been fifteen months ago. 

And I didn't want it to go back. 

Because I remembered how all of this hurt my family and made it so that I could not safely talk about my own children's pain and healing. 

I had been stifled because I had been blamed by someone who should've trusted me---who should've answered when I tried to call dozens of times---who should've come over to my house to talk face to face when everything happened---who should've trusted me instead of turning me into a villain. 

I was never able to talk about my own children being hurt because the times that I tried to, I received nasty comments about how this was all my fault anyway. 

 And I suddenly questioned how any of those people would've known the part about my own children. Because I had only told one person from their group. 

And so when months later, a comment was made on Facebook that said, "How sad that you are dealing with that on top of your son being molested", how did that person know? 

And I suddenly realized that the betrayal went much further than I had thought. I kept quiet about what had happened, not knowing that a large group of people were spreading around the fact that my son had been involved. 

My family was not kept safe in all of this. 

And none of them really seemed to care about that fact. Nobody stood up and said, "No matter the circumstances, we should NOT be gossiping about her children." 

Nobody did that for us.

So yes, we met face to face. And maybe it helped in little ways. 

But it will never be the same. Because the protection of my family is far more important than gaining a friend back who wasn't really a friend anyway. 

And I have so many people in my life who are capable of trusting me through really shitty times. 

So I'm glad it's over. And I will continue to move on and heal each and every day. 

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

PS: My children are bravely and beautifully doing well. They are warriors. And they are my greatest teachers. And I may never mention their part in this again. Or I might if it feels right. But I hope if you read this, you will respect the privacy of my children in all of this. 

Their Safe World

My children have been through so much in the past 3 years.
Often times, I've wished I could erase the pain and confusion they've felt as they've witnessed us navigating through divorce and co-parenting.

My youngest has been especially impacted by all of this. He has grown fearful of many things and often begs to just stay home with me instead of attending school. He holds his blankey tight and would suck his finger all day long if he could.

I know my son has ADHD. I know this. I have it and I see it in him. His therapist has mentioned it on many occasions.
And up until this point, I didn't think anything needed to be done about it. He's doing fine in school and I know how to parent him at home.

But the past few weeks, things have been getting worse. He gets kicked out of his dance classes almost every session. He has daytime accidents and cannot seem to remember many of the things I say to him.

Tonight I was at the end of my rope with him. I love him so dearly but it was an exhaustively frustrating day. I called Peter on our way home and told him I'm going through with the psychiatric evaluation to get our son the help he needs and he got angry and told me he doesn't want to medicate our son.

And a part of me gets that. A part of me thinks he's too young or that maybe I'm overreacting. But he gets in trouble all the time these days and he is starting to fight back and become more aggressive toward me when I discipline him.

Peter told me the solution is that I need to discipline more...

Can someone remind me why I even called for his advice? I should've known it was going to be asinine.  

I kept arguing and telling him that I discipline and he said, "No. You need to put the fear of God in that kid."
And my heart broke knowing that my son is parented that way at his dad's house.

I'm just not willing to parent that way. I don't want my children to be afraid of coming to me. I don't want them to grow up not trusting me with their hearts.

So tonight, I just sat and cried as I worry about the life my son will have, where he will have to struggle to pay attention or have friends because of the way his brain works.
I'm sad that this is a part of myself that I passed on to my son and now he will have to deal with his own set of challenges that come along with having ADHD.

I don't know how to help him right now or what I can do to protect him from feeling like a failure.
I'm not willing to give up on my little bubba just because his brain cannot physically connect to what I'm saying every time I tell him something.

I don't want him to grow up feeling like an outcast. My heart aches even considering that a possibility. I want him to be loved and accepted and understood.

I hate feeling lost as a mother. I hate feeling helpless and fearful about my children's futures.

I want the best for them. I want them to live in a safe world.

But they don't live in a safe world, do they?

Trauma:Trauma:Trauma

It's been a month since I've been here.

I'm sorry. 
Or maybe I'm not. 
I guess I don't need to be sorry. 
But I probably am sorry. 

Lately, the world has been turning too fast and I can't catch up. I feel such highs and such lows.

The waves have been changing with Peter and I.

The kids are in bi-monthly therapy sessions with one of the most amazing ladies I've ever met in my life.
During one of these sessions, my youngest little one told the therapist about some disturbing things happening at Peter's house. And although she reported them, nothing else could be done.
And then a few weeks later, my baby came home with more reports of violent behavior and as we talked it through with the therapist, she looked up at me and whispered, "Are you worried he is hurting the kids?"
And I shook my head---hesitantly.

Because the man I married would never hurt his children.
Or his wife.

But the man I married isn't the man my children currently have for a father.

It has been over a month since this started and I haven't had time to catch my breath. I've been too busy with work/school/parenting life.
Or maybe I just didn't want to deal with it.
Or maybe I didn't know this was my way of dealing with it.

Because as life is slowing down, I'm feeling waves of trauma hit me harder than they usually hit. I'm realizing just how scared I am and how worried I am.

These are my babies. My babies.

And whether the state classifies this as physical abuse or emotional abuse, it is still abuse.

And I can't even deal---truly, I can't. When I think about it, I stop functioning. When I think about it, it triggers some of my worst fears and I go to a very dark place.

I tried talking to my mom about it and it was so hard. Her eyes were staring at me widely and I felt like I was ruining her life by opening up to her.
But for so long, I've been carrying this burden on my own.

And I know I willingly chose that. I know it is my fault no one was there to support me.
Because I can endure trauma and pain and I will do my damndest to protect my children from it---but putting that burden on anyone else is too much.
It's too much.

I can handle this alone. Silently. {and with the help of the kids' professionals, of course}
I will protect these babies every chance I get.
And when they are gone, I will pray.
And when they come home, I will ask questions.

In my lowest times, I hate myself for allowing this to be my childrens' lives---for marrying their dad and putting them in these shitty situations.
I know it isn't my fault---at least there is a part of me that knows this---but I feel so helpless in this situation.
I feel like I'm failing the two people I care about most in this world.
And that alone sends me into a downward spiral faster than anything else.

But this isn't every day life---it doesn't consume my most prominent thoughts. Every professional I've spoken to tells me it is ok right now. And that helps me to handle life. But there are days where I realize just how traumatic this has been for me and I think, "It's no wonder I'm exhausted at the end of each day!". Because trauma is exhausting even if you don't know you're feeling it.
I've been there before. I did that with Peter for seven years. And although I couldn't recognize it then, I can recognize it now.

Right now, life needs to be taken day by day, sometimes hour by hour. Because I cannot handle much more than that.
I've been dropping the ball with friends and missing appointments. In fact, last week my visiting teachers had made an appointment with me TWO HOURS PRIOR TO COMING OVER and I still dropped the ball and wasn't home when I promised them I would be---because that is my life right now.
Trauma sucks because I feel like I disappoint people left and right. I haven't been volunteering at the kids' schools or making time for my friends or replying to all of the text messages and it isn't because I don't WANT to do any of those things. It's just that my brain isn't fully capable of handling so many things at once right now and it is taking up a lot of space worrying about my littles.

Exhausting.

Worth it---because they are worth it---but extremely exhausting.

But God---He is the only reason I'm still standing right now. I know it and I'm grasping onto that as tight as I possibly can. I know He can protect them. I know He is more powerful than I am and that all the worrying in the world is not going to do a damn thing.

But the biggest hope I have right now is teaching my children about His love for them and how to rely on Him when they are scared or feeling alone.

And for that, I am given ounces of hope.

Doing It Alone

I often feel alone, like no one can fully understand or wants to hear about what I'm feeling at every given moment.

Like I'm stuck inside this body that I hate with a spirit that is misunderstood by others.

Like no matter how much good I try to do, people will still point out the bad.

I stare at the people who love me and wonder why they love me and when they are going to realize how unworthy I am. When are they going to leave? When are they going to find a flaw they can't handle?

I feel alone as a mother. I feel like no one understands this difficult journey I am on to safely and bravely raise my children in a world filled with so many evils. I feel like everyone is judging me for worrying so much about my almost-kindergartner. But nobody knows him like I know him.

Nobody sees what I see.

The anxiety, the lack of listening skills, the daytime bathroom accidents, the OCD tendencies, the portrayal of ADHD in his little kid mind.

Everyone thinks I'm overreacting.

That is, everyone besides the babysitter who told me after one day of watching him that she could no longer do it because of how difficult he is.
I wasn't mad or offended---just sad. Sad for my little guy who needs love in different ways. Sad for my little guy who will probably be misunderstood in school and receive the label of "problem child" by teachers and classmates.

Sad for my little guy for potentially going through what his mom went through as a kid.

I feel like nobody understands our family, like we are outcasts no matter where we go.

We don't fit in at church. Church is hard. Everyone is nice but I still struggle with it. I still want to run away from it most days.

We don't fit in with our extended family. We are the only ones without a dad/husband at Sunday dinners. We are the only ones without a dad/husband for family vacations.

I'm worried we won't fit in at the new school. Or at the old school. Or anywhere.

I stood back as we watched my daughter walk in to her school building this morning and I felt alone. I felt like we were standing there and looking around at all of the families and I watched her worried little face turn away from me and walk into the school and I wanted to run after her and take her home.

Because mainly, that's my solution for all of this. I know I love my children and I know they love me and sometimes I just want to run away with them and stop worrying about all of the other things in life.

There are too many things.

What I really want is for my children to be more loved than I felt I was as a child. I want them to feel accepted and wanted. I don't want them to go through the things that I've been through.

And I wish other people understood that. I wish they could see that the choices I am trying to make for my children aren't just some obsolete worrying that I've made up in my head. These worries are valid and real.

If I'm going to be alone, I'll be alone. I'll deal with it and work through it. But not my children. I don't want their life to look like mine when they are adults. I want more for them.

I'd give them the whole world if I could. I'd do anything for them.

And I feel like I'm fighting for them by myself.

Because Peter has his own shit. He quit his job and started a new one and isn't doing the "dad" thing very well right now. It comes and goes. But right now, he only takes them 5 days a month and he told me with the new job that he can't see them in between his every other weekend (which is not what is on our parenting plan). And when I try to tell him how worried I am about our children, he yells at me because he assumes I'm blaming him.

And it's really frustrating. It's frustrating to make doctors appointments and therapy appointments and to not have him on the same page as me. It's frustrating to feel like they play with dad and do all the hard stuff with mom.

But this is divorce life. This is the life I chose to live when my addict-husband ran away. This is the life I get to live forever and ever.

And today I hate it. I hate how hard it is to feel alone when you're trying to make parenting decisions. I hate worrying about whether my children are going to be ok.

I hope they are. I will do everything it takes to make sure they are.

With or without Peter.

The Worst Day Of It All

Today was the worst day of it all.

Because although I haven't eaten in two days or gotten off the couch or changed my clothes, the ONE thing I wanted out of all this was for my kids to never be involved.

Today I found out they were involved.

Today feels like the darkest day of my entire life.

I hate myself today.
I hate everything today.

Except my kids.

I love my brave kids with all my heart.