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. 

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. 

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.

What Is Normal?

Therapy was good-hard again. Two weeks in a row of that is a good sign.

It means I'm growing. It means she's pushing me. 

I've let so much go this week---not in a positive way. No anxiety meds. An incredibly disorganized house. Being late to work every day. Putting off my homework as long as possible.

End of the school year is crazy. Dance recitals are creeping up. And then Company tryouts. And then Nationals in California.

And in the midst of everything, I'm applying for jobs and wondering if I'm ever really going to be successful. I'm much better at failing, right? 

I'm pouring myself into everything I can and acting like I'm handling it all fine but inside, I'm just about ready to jump ship. My brain is scattered and my anxiety is high.

I saw a cockroach run past me at work and immediately---chest pains from anxiety. Over a damn cockroach.

My best friend gave me the date for their move and it's in two weeks. 

Two. Weeks. 

How am I going to live without her being only two streets away?

I want to NOT avoid her until then. I'm trying not to. I spent the afternoon over there on Monday and it felt a little foreign. I went over on Sunday for five minutes just to say hi and immediately began to cry.

Each time I leave her home, we hug and it feels different. It feels like a goodbye hug. And that feels painful.

I'm trying to feel normal but I don't really know how to anymore. 

My foster baby could leave at any time. So---anxiety all of the time. Because he truly feels like he's mine and even though I know he isn't, I am so scared to lose him.

Summers are hard. Getting babysitters is stressful. Leading up to the anniversary of D-day starts looming.

Not having sex is hard. Feeling alone is hard. Being the main financial provider for my children is hard. Thinking about dating is hard. Co-parenting is the absolute worst.


Peter and I were doing so well and the past few days, we've had stupid arguments.

So what is normal? How do I feel normal when I don't even know what normal is anymore?

I did kneel down and pray this week---once---so that's a start, right? I need that to mean something right now. I need it to show that I'm trying. Because I'm trying to try.

And that's better than giving up or ignoring the fact that everything is shifting right now. 

I'm trying so hard to face the scary things right now. And therapy is helping me do that.

I just need to keep from drowning. Because eventually, I'll get used to the big changes that are happening.

Right? 

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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.

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. 

I Quit My Job

You know that post about being selfish last month?

I had to be selfish this past week and make a decision that I did not want to make.

I had to quit my job teaching dance.

It was weird how much anxiety I was feeling when it came to making this decision and then how much peace I felt after it was done.

I’ve been burned so many times. Too many times. And this time, I was done being burned. I was done spending my days with anxiety over how my boss felt about me and spending nights teaching dance and feeling the anxiety dissipate because dancing is such great therapy for me. It was an absolutely unhealthy rollercoaster.

A month ago, I loved that job more than any other paying job I’ve ever had.

But as it has been before with my life, there were red flags regarding my boss and her personality. I knew she could flip a switch quickly but as it has been before with my life, I believed she wouldn’t do that to me. How could she not like me? My classes had the highest numbers of students. The parents loved me. I loved all of them.

And when something switched in her, I asked to have a meeting with her to go over why she was calling me a liar and accusing me of going behind her back. I decided the right thing to do would be to sit down face-to-face and explain why I had been misunderstood.

The confusing part is that meeting went really well---or maybe that’s not the confusing part. Maybe I’ve been through this multiple times in my life with different people.

Things were better for a few weeks until last Friday.

Last Friday, I got a text saying she was cutting my classes in half.

Ok. That sucks. It doesn’t really make sense. But ok.

And then lower down in the text, she began accusing my son of inappropriate behavior in the studio and she used the phrases “I’m thinking it’s happened a lot of times but other kids haven’t said anything” and “Kids with problems like this”, among other assumptions.

And it took everything I had in me not to say “EFF YOU!” back to her text.

Not only because I have given so much to that studio but also because my son is six and ONE time of him showing the character print on his damn underwear to his friend does not make him a ‘predator’---in fact, although we’ve talked about not doing that ever again, it’s absolutely normal six year old behavior---and he’s SIX!

And I just knew in that moment that I had to quit to protect my son and myself.

Because it wasn’t the first time and somehow, I knew it wouldn’t be the last.

Somehow I knew this wasn’t going to end and that if I continued just for the mere fact that I love teaching dance, the fallout was going to be so much worse.

And although it’s been an emotionally hard weekend and my daughter was caught in the crossfire and had to lose her spot on their competitive dance team, we are already picking up the pieces.

She starts at a new studio this week and I’ve even noticed a little bit of excitement in her voice.

I’m proud of the decision I made to be selfish in favor of my family. I’m proud of the lessons I learned and the way I handled everything.

I may not be anywhere near perfect but I am learning and growing from my experiences.

And I guess if life is going to keep throwing sticky situations my way, at least I’m learning how to handle them better than I used to. 

Stressed Out

“Wish we could turn back time, to the good ol' days,

When our momma sang us to sleep but now we're stressed out.”

I think about those two phrases whenever this song comes on the radio. Because I often wish I could turn back time to the days when I wasn’t stressed out as much.

To the days when addiction and betrayal and honesty and my eating disorder and dating and parenting didn’t stress me out.

To the days when the biggest mistake I made was wearing the red shirt to school instead of the blue one. Or hitting my sister and my parents recognizing that although I needed a consequence, I was a 5 year old and I was still learning.

How come people don’t give you as much grace as you get older and find yourself in new learning situations where you end up making the wrong choice unintentionally?

Is it because people expect adults to ‘have it all together’?

Because I don’t think I know a single adult who has it ALL together. 

I've been struggling fiercely lately---mostly since Thursday afternoon. I didn't get permission by the right person at one of my jobs and although I thought I was asking the right department for permission before going ahead with what I was doing, my boss found out and was angry that I hadn't gone to her.
And she said some really hurtful things to me in the process.

Like I don't even know how to process the things that were said, they hurt me so deeply.

And ever since then, I feel like I've been in this fog where I dislike going to work (at a job that three days ago, was my favorite place to be) and I'm not sure how to feel better about it all.

I get that she thought I was going over her head. I even tried to explain myself and why I was sorry for not asking her instead of asking for permission from the person that I thought was in charge of this special project.

I think the thing that worried me the most was how low I felt on Thursday night. People have said hurtful things to me many times in my life and this wasn't even the worst but I found myself bawling and shaking and feeling utterly hopeless. I was up half the night crying and I woke up on Friday with a massive headache. I wouldn't have even gotten out of bed if the kids' therapist wasn't coming over at 8:30am (Why did I even schedule a session that early?!).

And since then, I've had this hangover feeling, this gray, foggy, messy, anxious feeling.

So I don't know where I'm going from here or what is going to help me work through these hurt feelings I'm experiencing.

But I do know that with time, it will get better. It always does. Sometimes quickly and sometimes it takes years but eventually, I'll feel better and this will be a small blip in the history of my life. 

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.

I'm Afraid

Sometimes I'm afraid.

And as I try to pinpoint what I'm most afraid of, there doesn't seem to be just one underlying thing. In fact, when I try to pinpoint what I'm afraid of, I usually end up anxious when I realize just how big my fears seem.

Right now, I'm living in this limbo and I'm afraid to make a step in any one direction. Every single direction has downfalls.

In the past two years, my faith has wavered more than I thought possible. At times, it has been stronger and at other times, it is dwindling.

Minuscule.

Almost non-existent.

Shit happened this year---too much of it---and although at first it seemed like I was pulling through, I've been left with so many fears. More fears than ever before.

I've questioned how God could allow so much ugliness in our world---in my world. I've looked at where I am and where I want to be and I don't feel like my church is allowing the happiness and peace I am looking for.
I don't feel comfortable with the way things are set up---and the male dominance of my church gives me anxiety.
I don't need the Priesthood for women. I am not a feminist. But point blank, I don't agree with the sexual sins of a woman being confessed to a man alone in a room.

I experienced this in high school when my parents made me confess my sins to the bishop when they found out I had been making out with my boyfriend {This is not a joke...}. I remember how uncomfortable I was in that room alone with the bishop, speaking about teenage feelings and interaction. I hated it. And my children won't be doing that without their father or I in the room.

Ever.

 And after attending a non-denominational Christian church a few weeks ago and feeling so very emotional and peaceful, I started having really conflicting feelings. Because I'm a Mormon---and Mormons don't believe that other churches have the full truth. Mormons get upset when people leave the church, not because they hate them but out of love. And although that seems endearing to have people care so much about me that they'd push for me to keep going to church, I feel like I need this to be my decision without other voices in my head.

I'm worried that I'll lose all of my friends---or at least a lot of them---and after the year I've had where so many people believed ugliness about me in the midst of some circumstances that were out of my control, losing friends now would be devastating. I'm honestly still dealing with the after effects of what happened in March. I still feel like so many people hate me and judge me and blame me. And if they don't hate me, they sure aren't reaching out to make sure I'm ok---those kinds of friends have been few and far between.
So losing the people I DO have would be inexplicably heartbreaking.

I'm scared of what people will think of me if I leave. I'm scared of what Peter will think--because when he left the church 3 years ago, I freaked. I was scared for our relationship and how our children could be raised in that situation. I was so scared and if he found out I left the church now, he'd shove it back in my face and I'd feel stupid for fighting for the kids on Sundays and fighting for their baptisms into our church to be a part of our divorce decree.

I fought for something that I won---and now I might be giving it up.

I don't quite know what it is I'm searching for yet but I haven't found it within my church.

And I'm scared.

Because after questioning this deeply on my own for weeks, I told a friend...and then another friend...and then my best friend's husband who is my home teacher...

...and he told our bishop.

And I am meeting with our bishop on Sunday which feels ironic because if he asks, I am going to have to tell him that some of my questions involving the church are directly related to his calling.
My people-pleaser personality wants me to go in and stuff all of my feelings and doubts down and tell him everything is ok. In fact, as open as I am about my life, this subject has been extremely hard to open up about. I think I've spoken to 5 people about it.
But if I don't tell him the truth, I'd be a liar and I wouldn't be representing the kind of person I strive to be.

So I'm trying really hard to open up about my doubts little by little. I'm trying to trust myself and shut out the outside voices. I'm making small plans so that during this 'trial run' of leaving my church, my kids won't be affected.
I plan on going with them every other week and spending the week they're with their dad on my own, figuring out what I want in life and what is going to make me happy.

My belief that "one church fits all" seems to be changing. I don't hate my church and I wouldn't want to actively lead anyone else away from it.
But maybe it isn't for me. Maybe God knows I'll thrive more somewhere else.

And maybe in the end, I'll find myself coming back and realizing that my current church is, in fact, a healthy place for me.

I don't know how or when I'll tell my family or if I'll announce it to my larger groups of friends. I don't know how to feel safe in this situation that feels so vulnerable and scary.

But right now, I don't know what I believe. And I plan on figuring that out somewhere along the way.

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.

Neverland

I used to feel like Peter Pan was our story because of my husband's choice to leave his family and never grow up.

But maybe it isn't.

Because today all I want to do is fly away to Neverland and never return.
I feel like I'm good at making other people happy. I try to serve others. I do my best to be a good mom.

But what about me? When do I stop feeling so alone?

Sometimes I feel like Neverland would be an easier road than the one I'm currently on. If I stopped going to church and I stopped going to school and I moved away from all of the people who have brought immense pain into my life---if I did all of that, would life be better?

If I stopped eating and I ran miles every day and became a better looking me, would life be better?

If I skipped back in time and made different choices, would life be better?

Because tonight I'm obsessing over "back then" again. But so many different "back then"'s. There are way too many.

I wish I wouldn't have married Peter. I should've just gone to college and stayed single longer like most normal human beings.
I wish I wouldn't have been so stupid in regards to Peter's addiction. If I could've caught him or confronted him, maybe we would be married and he would be in recovery and we would have an amazing life together.
I wish I wouldn't have found out about Peter's porn addiction after our marriage ended. If I could've just stayed in denial and thought he was just an idiot who left because his wife didn't cook/clean enough, maybe I wouldn't feel so traumatized about pornography and how effing stupid and life-ruining it is.
I wish I could go back. If I rewound some of these events, MANY of the hurtful events that have happened these past few years would be non-existent.

And tonight ALL I want them to be is non-existent.

I hate men tonight. All of them. Ok, maybe not ALL of them but most of them. I feel so much anxiety when I think about relationships. I hate them. I hate relationships tonight. I want to run away and ugly-cry and punch things until my knuckles bleed and I'm too worn out to keep going.


I believe Neverland is whatever we want it to be. So for me, Neverland is a place where pain does not exist, where people are incapable of telling lies, where bad memories are erased forever.
I want to fly away to Neverland and forget all of the hurt feelings.

I want the fear to go away.

It's hard, living life and being naturally optimistic when you're going through things that make you want to scream and plead insanity. I feel like my deepest, darkest fear is life---fear of whatever is coming next. Because there is always something. It never seems to take too long before the next huge-ass trial is punching me in the face.

Right now, I'm coming out of one of those cycles and it isn't good. It isn't pretty. Because instead of being thankful that life seems to be getting better and maybe, just maybe, I'm getting stronger again, I am just fearing the next time life will send me a debilitating trial.

Because my experiences have taught me that it will happen and I HATE that I am not able to just enjoy the peace for a little while. Instead I'm just fearing the next thing.

I am so sick of "overcoming" shit.

Tonight I want to run away to Neverland, where none of my fears exist.

It's All A Bit Tragic

I don't get it.

I don't understand taking sides when you've only heard one side.

How is that even considered taking sides?

It's all a bit tragic, really. The way things ended and the trickle effects of things that continue to happen. I'm trying to breathe and let it go and move on but that isn't as easy as it might sound.

This was my life. Those were my friends.

And it took seconds for it all to be over but it seems to be taking forever to move on. It seems like it'll be years before the effects have stopped, before I feel like I'm not being ganged up on.

This tragedy---it is between two people but somehow it became much bigger. Somehow it became about all of us.

Somehow it turned into a group effort, a war between myself and a group---and I don't find that fair.
Believe what you want, it isn't right or fair to single out one person for a mistake that they've made. It just isn't.

If I jumped back to a little over a year ago, I wouldn't have even known any of these people and as sad as that makes me feel, maybe that would've been easier.
Maybe...but not really.

Not really. 

It's all a bit tragic but it isn't the end of the world---for any of us.

For any of us. 

I wish that mattered the most.
I wish the unimaginable heartache that we have all experienced together and helped each other through was worth more than a mistake---a mistake made without vengeance or deceitful intent.

What our husbands have done to those of us who have married addicts is messy. It is deceitful and dishonorable.
I wish this wasn't categorized in the same way.

It's all a bit tragic, the way things went down. It's all painful and I'm sad that I misread the type of people I was becoming close to. I'm sad that I trusted when I shouldn't have.

And isn't that the story of my life, of most of our lives? 

It's so hard to trust others. It's scary. Quite honestly, it's one of my biggest fears. But once in a while, I do it. And even less times than that, I do it wholeheartedly. I give every ounce I can to the people whom I trust with my heart.

And sometimes, I get hurt. I get burned and my heart aches and I stop believing that trusting anyone is safe.

It ruins me for a while---not forever---but for a while. It's painful and I replay everything I've done for those people that should've counteracted any of the mistakes or the messes.

But burns happen. We don't get to choose who trusts us, even if we choose to trust them.

I hate that it happens but there is really nothing we can do about it. We can't control others.

Tonight I'm sad that I received more news of some after-effect retaliation. I'm sad that very few people seem to understand or give me a chance to explain. I'm sad that my heart aches as I try to move on to a place where I stop caring so much about people who have hurt me.

I wish it was a switch I could just turn off. Oh how I wish there was a switch.