Tag Archives: family

We Should have been Eighty

I met my ex when I was twenty five years old through a mutual friend who thought that we would be the perfect couple. I don’t know if we were the perfect couple, but we were perfect for each other for the time we shared.

From the moment we met we were inseparable. We grew up together and most of our life experiences and mistakes were a team effort. I always knew that no matter what was happening outside the walls of our home, there was always a soft place I could fall back on.

I remember the first day I met him. I had just picked my two children up from daycare and had been waiting by the entrance of the school doors for my friend, Janet and her boyfriend John to give us a drive home.

I noticed him right away, as he stood there facing me. We made eye contact but neither of us said anything. He slowly slid down the wall, into a stooping position. He was cute and his eyes were intriguing.

My youngest son has always been a very sociable child from the moment he was born. I used to worry constantly about someone kidnapping him because he would go up to strangers and become their best friend. My son walked slowly over to this man that was standing there, and plopped himself on his lap. He began to touch his face and began a conversation.

I watched the exchange between the two new found friends and both seemed to disappear into their own world. This stranger and I exchanged a few friendly glances at each other.

Janet and John pulled up in the car outside. I told my son to say good bye to his friend and I grabbed both of my children’s hands and pushed the door open and headed to the car. As I looked back I saw this stranger following us to the car.

John got out of the car and he and the man, began to talk as me and the kids piled into the vehicle.  This stranger had been waiting for Janet and John to give him a ride home.

As the kids and I got out of the vehicle and said bye to everyone, I would never had imagined that I would fall in love with this man and spend the next sixteen years with him.

My friend Janet went to work on arranging a date for us the very next day.  She began to tell me about the man I had sat next to in the car the night before. He was an ex fire fighter and was new to town.  Finally, I told Janet that he was cute and that “he could put my fire out anytime.”

At break time, Janet went outside and I sat at my desk trying to catch up on my work since she had talked my ear off for about an hour. Janet returned from her break and plopped herself down next to me with a grin on her face.

She had told him what I had said to her earlier and I could hear the excitement in her voice. I turned to face her, with a twinge of irritation. I demanded to know why she would go tell him what I said. I told her I told her that as a joke and felt embarrassed.

Janet then told me that, “he thinks your cute too!” I looked at her for what seemed like hours and turned back to the computer I had been busy looking at. I thought about what she had just said to me with a little bit of relief, but still humiliated that I may have to run into him one day. I had no real dating experience or strong relationships with any man I had ever met. My children’s father was the only real boyfriend I had and I was twenty-five years old.

A week later I sat across the man I had met in the hallway of school waiting for a ride home.  We both looked at each other and said a silent hello.  He ate his fries and I sipped my pop.  We never knew that our journey would take us over close to two decades.

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Jane Street and Woolner Ave

I grew up in Toronto, Ontario Canada. For those who don’t know where Toronto is, it is located on the northwestern shore of Lake Ontario. It is the most multicultural city in Canada.  It is the provincial capital of Ontario. It’s where everything happens.

This is the place that I immigrated to at the age of 5 and left at the age of 29. It is the city that I am trying to desperately move back to.  My current community is not home anymore.

I grew up at Jane Street and Woolner Ave in a high-rise building. We lived on the fourteenth floor. As a child, I thought my street was the safety place in the world. The kids I hung out with and grew up with had tons of freedom. We would leave our apartments in the morning and not return until dinner time.  We got in tons of trouble.

The illusion that my street was safe changed when I was 12. The year I was raped by two men on my way home from the corner store. As soon as I could get away, I did. I never looked back.

As an adult, I found out that my street was a well-known area for dealing drugs. I was shocked because I never saw that part of my community. Now when I do look back at my childhood, I do recall things that were a bit….odd.

There were always guys hanging out at this one store, they were there everyday.  All day long. They never left to go to work or to go anywhere else.

Also, I recall coming home from vacation one summer to hear about a man who lived in my building who had killed himself, his wife and his child. He left another child alone in the apartment with the dead bodies. He jumped in front of a train. I am not sure if this was true or not.  But that was the rumour.

So, as I write this I am interested to know if anything has changed about my childhood community.  I haven’t been back since I was 18 and now I am in my forties.  I found out that:

“Jane and Woolner is home to many new immigrants from various backgrounds, this area was once ruled by drug and gang activity, but now is slowly emerging from its troubled past. The main gang inhabiting the area are the South Side Gatorz as well as their subset the Junior Gatorz, but members of transnational Hispanic gangs such as the Latin Kings as well as MS-13 have been known to frequent the Woolner Apartments as well.”  If you want to read more, click here.

I am shocked that there was gang activity. It’s funny how your world is so small when you’re a child, and you see what you want to see and nothing else.  Jane Street.  Woolner Ave.  I don’t think I will be going back there anytime soon.

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SISTER FRIENDS

Saturday was girl’s night out.  My friends and I decided that we were going to live it up in a small town.  It has been a while since we all went out dancing, laughing and spending time together.

The party started at a friend’s house.  She just purchased her first home and got a pretty good deal on a home that the bank foreclosed on.  She is only twenty years old.

The living room started off being divided by two very different and distinct generations. Seated on the couch were the Millennials, young women born between the early 1980’s and the early 2000’s.  Seated facing the young women were myself and my friends, women in their forties born between the early 1960’s and the 1980’s.

The Milliennials were all huddled together on the couch, with their wine glasses in front of them and their cell phones attached to the palm of their hands.   They still had lessons of life to learn.  Lessons about love, relationships, careers and heartbreaks.

Their silliness and kindness were fresh reminders of how much I had changed in the last few decades.  When I was their age I was already a mother with two small children and the opportunity to sit around with my friends would have been foreign to me.  I listened intently to their dreams and their plans for the future and remember that not so long ago, I too was a dreamer.

The other end of the room the women of my generation were sitting.  We all hoped we had learned the lessons that life had handed us.  We were raising our own children and made a few mistakes in our lives along the way.  We knew we could not go back and make any changes but we hoped that our younger friends would not make some of the mistakes we had.

All of us had failed relationships.  One had recently left her husband less than a month ago, one was still in court hoping to tie up the lose ends of her divorce, one was taking her ex husband back to court because he stopped financially supporting her and one had an ex partner who stopped loving her as quickly as he fell for her.

The older women vented about the men we once loved and the relationships they were now having or hoping to have as they forged a new unknown path.  The younger women giggled and would dance to a song that was playing in the background.  Two very different generations of women seated in the same room, having very different experiences of life.

There were words of wisdom passed to the younger women in the room about men and how not to get burned and how to show him the door if he doesn’t make her happy.  There were words of strength and empowerment on how to be a strong female and a strong individual.  These lessons were shared passionately between the two groups.  I think we all took something away with us that night.

The women drank wine, filled empty wine glasses for each other, played music, danced to new and old tunes and filled the home with love, encouragement and hope.

We spent the rest of the night, socializing with old friends and the new ones we met, protecting each other’s purses and each other’s hearts.  I realized on Sunday morning that I have wonderful sister friends I love who are not born of my bloodline nor my culture, but have shown me friendship and love that I definitely need as I pave a new life on my own.

Riding The Bitter Bus

I haven’t spoken to him in fifty days! It has been the longest that we have gone without contacting each other since we met in 1997.

The idea of texting him came into my head when one of the men I am conversing with asked me to be honest with him.  I don’t know how we came to the conversation, but he said, “I want you to be honest with me.  If he came back apologetic and was willing to work on the relationship.  Would you take him back?  No BS.”

I believe in honesty especially if you’re trying to develop a friendship of some sorts with people.  “Yes, I would.” I responded.  “But I don’t talk to him because of this reason.  Because he is no good for me.”

Then this sweet man said, “Then why are you not working on it? He will come back.  They always do.  I don’t even really know you, but I can tell you that they always come back.  Don’t kid yourself.”

I held my cell phone in my hand and thought about what this man had just said to me.  Could he be right?  Would he come back to me and my family would be back to together?  But at what cost? Could I trust him again?

I did not sleep well that night.  That morning, I spoke with another friend and told him about my conversation the night before.  He agreed and said my ex would be back.  We texted back and forth about how I could potentially test the waters while protecting my heart.  We decided that I could open the door of communication, by checking up to see how he was and to tell him the kids really missed him.

It took him hours to respond.  He said he wanted to see them.  It had been over fifty days since he saw our daughter.  This has been his new pattern ever since he started dating his new girlfriend.  The conversation was pleasant enough. Then out of the blue, he tells me he plans to move away and accused me of not giving him access to the kids.  Remember, he is a liar and a (cheating ***hole).  

It seemed nothing has changed with him.  Still the same old drama and ability to deflect his own shameful infidelity onto the person who he harmed.  I used to yearn for him to explain why he was the one who was so angry at our breakup when it was him who cheated, lied and destroyed our family. I was not sure what I was looking for in this explanation from him.  Maybe I wanted to know that he felt guilty for what he had done.

The wish for my (cheating ***hole) to understand and comprehend his behaviours and impact on people who love him is fruitless.  It is a complete waste of my time to argue or engage in anything he has to offer me at this time.  It is like the man, I fell in love with has died and has been replaced with a complete stranger that I want nothing to do with.

Over the last few days, he has been on my mind.  I feel sorry for him.  I feel sorry that he is wasting his life being angry at himself.  It is not me or anything that I have done that he is mad at.  I have come to the conclusion that he does realize what he has done and how much it has hurt someone else.

He has to face himself in the mirror everyday.  He has to live with the thoughts that he is not the great, wonderful and caring person that he wants to portray.  He is a bitter man and if he does not have it in him to forgive his transgressions he will forever live in agony.  It is up to him to make amends with himself in order to make amends with me and our children.  I feel so very sorry for him that this is how he will move forward into his middle age.

He is still the same.  I tried.  He is just not ready to change.

 

Come My Way

This is written for and to my potential publisher

I am sure you get many manuscripts that come across your desk everyday

But I have a brilliant idea, let me invite you to my humble abode for a day

I have been searching for something to say.  Something to grab your attention and sway your vision my way

I have a little book I wrote, filled with little things I had to say.  Things about love, relationships, kids and family.  Things about my struggles, my humour, my pain and life just getting in the way

I am what they call a single mother, the man I loved went away. He left me in charge of everything and I kinda like it this way

I can’t be mad at the path that I choose, it allowed me to put all my dreams to play

I want you to meet me outside of your office space, sit with me and my children and let me have my say

I don’t have a lot of money to invest in my dream.  I can barely pay all my bills, times are tough in this day

My kids need to know that some things can stay the same, things like shelter, food, clothes and all the little in between’s. Those things just need to stay the same

So come and meet me halfway, I have too much to say.  I have learned the hard way and I really want to share it all with you today

Just invest in this little dream,  put this single mother to the test. So come and sit with me and my kids, let’s pave the way for the rest

Times are tough and money is tight, but we can do this I just bet

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The Girl With The Pink Umbrella

I bought my daughter a pink umbrella last week.  The weather has been treating us better these days.  The snow is melting and having her wear snow pants is a bit of a hassle.  So off we go to our favourite Big Box Store- Walmart-  to pick up slush pants, rain boots and a rain coat.

I know my daughter has this thing for umbrella’s.  I spot them first and I am trying my best to keep her eyes from darting in the direction of seeing a bin filled with colourful umbrella’s.  Ones which are perfectly sized for her six year old hands.  I tried my best but she sees the umbrella’s.  Or maybe they see her.  However, the meeting of my daughter’s eyes and the umbrella’s handle happened, it was the moment, my heart screamed out, “NO!”

You may be wondering why, a mother would be screaming over a bin of umbrella’s in a Walmart.   Well, last year we went through the umbrella stage.  It was horrible, she brought that thing everywhere we went.  When the thing finally broke, I was both elated and defeated.  First, she screamed and cried over it for weeks.  Second, she screamed and cried over it for weeks. I wanted that umbrella back, just so the crying would stop.  I never did find another umbrella made for a little girl.  Well, I never tried hard enough.

So my daughter runs over to this bin and rumbles through it.  I stand back, with tears streaking down my face.  I am exaggerating, but I was scared again to go through this umbrella stage.  I knew what I was up against.

I watch her as she picks this one, no the other one, no this one, then finally chooses the right one.  They were all the same, colour, size and shape.  She spins around to face me, this eager crazy look on her face.  I was scared. I try to fight back, but I am too weak.  She demands to have this umbrella.  It’s spring time now, she will need it.  I try to speak up, to use my mommy voice, but she is not having any of that.  We are getting this umbrella, I just know it.

Her little smile on her face, tells me that this will make her happy.  After all, my job as a mother is to sacrifice my own happiness for hers.  She gets the pink umbrella.

We bring the umbrella home with us.  We did not get the slush pants or rain coat.  She didn’t care after she found the pink umbrella.  I didn’t look for the raincoat or the slush pants, she didn’t need them.  After all, she has the umbrella to protect her from getting wet.

This pink umbrella comes everywhere with us, on our walks, in the car, to school and to the grocery store.  It’s been a part of the family for five days.  I remind her everyday, make sure you don’t hurt anyone with that umbrella.  Make sure you listen to the teacher if she tells you to put it away.  You don’t need the umbrella, it’s not raining right now.  Get in the car, you don’t need to open the umbrella right now.

It has only rained for one day.  But wherever we go, this umbrella follows us.  I think we need to name it soon.  I think the pink umbrella knows we are at odds.

No relationship is all sunshine, but two people can share one umbrella and survive the storm together.

When I watch my daughter carry this umbrella around, I can’t for the life of me understand what is it about this umbrella that makes her so happy.  I watch as she slowly gets out of the vehicle, opens up the pink umbrella so very carefully, raise the umbrella above her head and gently bring it down with such grace.  Then she smiles, the biggest smile ever and walks very slowly, enjoying every step, every moment as her pink umbrella protects her.  We still only had one day of rain, but she proudly exclaims, “in case it rains, or snows, or there is too much sun!”

I stand back watching this love story unfold with my daughter and her pink umbrella.  I feel a bit jealous.  Does she feel the same way about me as she feels about this umbrella, does she enjoy every step with me, every moment that we share.  Does my daughter smile so proudly when she thinks about the time we spend together.

What am I thinking? It’s an umbrella, a pink umbrella, for a six year old.   I need to ask my mother if something happened to me with an umbrella when I was a kid, because for my sanity I need to know. Which umbrella messed with my head.  It’s only a pink umbrella.  I think it is growing on me.

We have only had one day of rain so far.  The pink umbrella is here to stay and my daughter is happy.

Oh, we got rain boots too!umbrella

 

DISPOSABLE RELATIONSHIPS

We live in a disposable society.  Everything can be replaced for the next big thing, something shinier, something newer and something better.  Now when something breaks we replace it.  It’s that simple. We break our cell phones, we just get a new one.  We get a new car, because we want to drive something newer and better. Our homes are not big enough, so we get something bigger.  Our jobs don’t pay enough, so we move on.

The grass is always greener on the other side.  People don’t believe in forever love anymore.  People don’t want to work at anything.  It seems our society has gotten lazy, if it takes effort then it isn’t worth it.  It seems to be the norm that relationships don’t last very long anymore.

When we see an older couple still together, we are in awe.  We want to know what is their secret of weathering the storm.  There are no secrets.  Things were different, if it broke you fixed it and you made due.  There was no money to hire and lawyer.  There was no starting over on your own.  They fought it out, stayed silent for a few days and fixed what broke.  It was that simple. People stuck together and they learned to fall back in love again.  They stayed committed.

People don’t want to work at anything that meant something important to them at one point in their lives.  Love, commitment and loyalty are words that anyone can say, but a few can do.  We are surrounded and bombarded by broken relationships and the easy task of walking away.

People and relationships should not be disposable.  Life is not easy, relationships are not simple and love is hard work.  But, we dispose of our relationships and the people in it too easily.  We maybe a disposable society today, but I guarantee you, we will become a society filled with people with regret.

Regretting the chances we didn’t take, the relationships we threw away and the things we could have fixed but didn’t.

 

 

 

Dear Mom

I wanted to write something tonight, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say.  As my daughter was brushing her teeth, I sat in the bathroom  checking out what everyone was up to on Facebook.  I came across a letter a young girl had written to her mother.  This letter hit home for me,  it was deep, emotional and inspiring.  Thank you young girl, everything I ever wanted to say to my mother, you just said it for me.  With her permission:

Dear Mom,

I wish you would stop trying to put labels on me. Like dad, I’m only an “adult” when its convenient to you. You know what, I’ve never used that word to describe myself. EVER. I’m only 16 and I take pride and joy in not having any kids or responsibilities that tie me down. So you’re damn right I’m not an adult. I’m still very much ‘just a kid’. I spend money on material things, food, things I’ll only use once and then forget about. I eat junk and fast food. I eat sugary cereal and watch cartoons. What you forget is that I had to be an “adult” very early in life because of the man (or lack there of) you chose to have kids with.

So every mistake, every opportunity, every experience I missed out on, I’m reliving! I’ve seen SO MANY miserable “adults” in these 16 years and I’ve always promised myself I wouldn’t be one of them. So I chose a career that I could never get bored with, MUSIC. Believe it or not I learned plenty from you and dad’s mistakes, stories, and lifetimes and I guess you both did your job because I’m stronger and wiser than the both of u were at 16. I don’t know everything, but I do know everything about ME. “Don’t grow up too fast” extends past people over age 7. Fuck society and it’s views of what an “adult” should be. Name me one “adult” you know that has followed that blueprint and is completely happy with their life.

I LOVE seeing old ladies with their hair dyed crazy colors, piercings, etc. To me, they are the epitomy of life, and what the enjoyment of life should look like. Maybe you should do some “childish” shit. I’m sure there’s some opportunities you missed out on as a kid. You’re only as old as you feel you are. I’m not an adult and I won’t be until I’m good and ready. As you and I both know, being an adult is a choice. I never thought I’d have to defend myself against you, as well as everyone else in the world, but because I love u here it goes.

I drink, I go out, I watch hella movies, I’ve had sex, I love being out late, I’m in love with warm weather, and I try to enjoy life the best way I know how. Of course this is all probably shocking to you, but let me explain… It’s extremely difficult to get through life as a HUMAN let alone being me…. sometimes I need to laugh. It doesn’t make me a bad kid. I drink, very rarely, but when I do it’s just for the fun of it. It doesn’t make me an alcoholic I watch movies because . . well fuck it I LIKE MOVIES! SHIT! It doesn’t make me anti-social I use to have sex because I loved the feeling of sharing my body with the one I felt connected to, it’s a lot more emotional and fun then I ever could’ve guessed. I doesn’t make me a whore or an addict.

I love being out late, because occasionally I like seeing actual stars, I like the way the wind blows at night, and I love late night energy. I’m in love with warm weather because it’s inspiring. Everything is always good with me when it’s warm. I feel grateful, loved, and blessed when it’s warm. I’m not a bad kid, I’m a lost teenager on a downward spiral. I’m incredibly difficult to understand. I feel like you just threw your hands up and stopped trying to understand. I try to take life in stride because I’m terrified of regret, terrified of dying, terrified of old age. Everything doesn’t always go according to my plans, but I do believe everything happens as it should. I can’t do this without you and I need you to accept me and understand…. Let Go & Live Young – Your Daughter.

 

ARE YOU THERE GOD?

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I haven’t always been a committed believer in God,  religion or a Higher Power.  It has been an on-again-off again relationship for most of my life and only in my worst days, moments and trials would I go to Him to vent my frustration of how unfair of a life He had given me.  I am a product of a disappointing childhood, miserable parents, traumatic experiences and an uncanny way of having bad luck follow me.  I would yell and scream towards this invisible presence in my life and ask  why He was making my existence so difficult and what life lessons did He want me to know.  But He never answered me. So I thought.

I was born in the Caribbean’s, a warm and enchanting climate where the ocean is blue, salty and inviting.  My memories of this enchantment are filled with horrible memories and right from the start, I felt that God had it out for me.  My father was an invisible man who had taken off to a Canada and left his family behind.  My mother was a strict parent who ruled with an iron fist and I try my best to forget those memories.  I was just a child, born without my own permission to a life that I felt I was never prepared for.

I grew up worshipping God with my mother and siblings, being forced to sit every Sunday beside her, standing, sitting and praying along with a congregation of women, who wore  funny hats.  I spent most of these Sunday’s counting hats and sipping tea with people who I judged to be pretentious. I did enjoy pleasant summers of going to bible camp, paid in full by this congregation.

I never felt comfortable in my childhood or in the church and as soon as I was mature unhappy enough, I rebelled like any confused young adult would.  I wanted nothing to do with any God that had made my life so difficult and horrifying.  I made sure, I told God my views on His life lessons, I was no longer interested in failing whatever tasks He had sent me.  I refused to acknowledge the small blessings He had given me such as  healthy children and street and book smarts.  I attributed all my wins in life to myself and my partner and I never thanked God for his hand in making anything good happen.

As a young mother, who was tired of struggling through life I wanted to teach my children to think for themselves and to make their own conclusions on what they believed. One day my then eight year old son came to me and said “Mom, I want to go to church.  I want to be baptized.”  He had been a student of a catholic education all his life, because I wanted him to have a fair  shot at making up his own mind.

So, began my journey back to God, church and religion.  I sat beside my son on our first Sunday at church and felt proud that he figured out on his own terms what he wanted in this life.  Our entire family, decided that we wanted to start our lives over and give it back to God.  So, in 2008 we all excepted God into our lives and we celebrated with our extended family this momentous step.

Our excitement over our new life, didn’t last long.  My children decided that they really didn’t want to sit among people and worship with them.  I didn’t want to force them to sit with me every Sunday  like my mother had done to me.  I wanted to enstill in them the right to decide for themselves and to find their own God on their terms.  I still hadn’t figured it out myself, so how could I expect them to.  I wanted to believe in something and I knew that there was something out there that was bigger than myself and I wanted to be a part of it.

“As a matter of fact, it is not a question of God’s intentions towards us; but it is a question of whether we see Him through the crowds, whether or not we see Him and say, “If I may but only touch the hem of His garment…” And so it is not about our capacity for goodness; but it is about our being able to simply see His intentions of goodness for us.” 
― C. JoyBell C. 

So, over the years I would venture to church at my lowest points with a heart that was still questioning but a mind that was open.  Then this summer, my family was shook to our knees, the forever dream that I had was a broken ruin.  My relationship ended in the most devastating way, the one person I thought I could count on to protect and love me, betrayed me in the most horrible way.  Through the tears stained on my cheeks and feelings of disbelief, I went searching for answers.

It was in this dark moment in my life, when I had nothing else to lose or to hold onto that God, showed  himself to me.  At first, His presence was small and at the time was not significant.  My friend invited me to church with her and I  went along for the ride, what else could I lose anyway.  The experience was like no other than I had seen before and the presence of the people was exactly what I needed. There were no hats to count and I was absolutely comfortable praying to God for once, to look down on me with an open heart and mind.  I wanted him to love me too, like he was loving  everyone else.

And the miracle happened and he sent me on a wild goose chase to save my life.  He refused to hand me anything on a silver platter and made me do most of the work.  He not only made me find who He was but most of all he made me see how much strength, love and tenacity I still had inside of me.  Don’t get me wrong, it was a difficult path, there were tears, joys and moments when I wanted to rebel and tell him, He was a fake and I was tired of suffering.

If you know God, then its pretty clear he doesn’t give up on anyone or  let you give in to being a victim of anything.  I found my God in the most horrible circumstance, after all these years of traumatic events, it took the falling apart after the loss of a relationship for me to realize that he has always been by my side.  G.O.D.(Gifts On Daily) basis has found his way back in my heart and my life.

 

Why I Blog

I  having been thinking the last few days that I wanted to come up with a way to close the chapter to my initial blogs.  After four months, I came back to WordPress to see what the community had been up to after my departure.  I read a few blogs from people I follow and from some that I hadn’t come across yet.  Life had gone on without me and the stories and creativity was overwhelming. I felt inspired by the honesty of being open, and I wanted to get back to what motivated me.  Writing.

Then I read my blog, every single post I had ever made to date.  That is when it hit me, I didn’t feel that way anymore.  I wasn’t sure, if I wanted to keep all that bitterness, angry and pain out there for the world to see.  I contemplated removing my posts, copying them and storing them somewhere else, that only I could have access to.  Was removing blogs cheating in the blogging world?

After some contemplation, I have decided to leave my posts up, as is in the rawest form.  They tell my story of what brought me online to share my pain with the world.  They have been a huge catalyst for the change I HAD to make in my life at a time, when I felt I did not know who I was and what I had to offer this world. I was a heart broken woman, a mother, a newly single parent and most of all a lost soul.

It’s been a great journey so far.  I have heard of people finding themselves at different points in their lives and that after a break up,  finding out who you are is even more important.  Whether you believe in God, the Universe, Universal Magic, the Field or whatever name you want to label it, I have found mine.  It’s taken many books for me to find my purpose of why I was here.  I have read God’s gonna make you laugh, Power of Intention, Bastard Husband, Why Men Love Bitches,  The Power of Now, Esquared…and many more which have helped me on my journey of self discovery.

I have developed some great friendships with people I met online and I plan to keep these friends for the rest of my life.  We have been through the highs and lows together.  They have kept me from falling apart, when at times it seemed like the only reasonable solution.  Although, we are now moving into different stages of our life and we have never met in person, our friendship has been the most important thing to me over the last few months.

I have stopped being angry at my ex for cheating on me.  I will never understand how anyone can do what he did to another human being.  I have learned it is not up to me to understand his choices, it’s his cross to bear and it is he who must look at himself in his own mirror.  I have learned that I may never trust him again in my life, the way I used to and unfortunately, I may never like the person he has become. If there is even an ounce of the man, I had met in 1997 left in him, I doubt he even likes the person he has become too.  But none of this matters, because he will have to face these demons on his own terms and at a time when he is ready to make changes.  I wish him luck on his own self discovery.

I haven’t forgiven him for some of the things he has done to me and to our family.  I know that to be totally free and to let go of what has happened,  I must forgive him completely. I still struggle with this idea, am I giving him justification for what he has done and would I be letting him off the hook?  I have forgiven some of the things he has done, but there are still some, hanging around, trying to tighten the noose around my neck.

I wish I could be free of him, but we shared a life and a family and we will always be a part of each other’s life. I plan to keep him at arms length…he doesn’t deserve my love or affection anymore.  We both deserve better than how things fell apart, but none of this matters anymore.  Or does it? I choose not to worry so much about it anymore, I have a train to catch and I have the most incredible ticket in my hand… the freedom to choose who gets to hurt me and who gets to feel my love.

I do wish things had worked out for us.  I wish we had been strong enough to talk to each other, to fight for each other and to not give up on each other.  But, nothing last forever anymore.  Divorce and separations are an  easy out these days, when life gets difficult.  It seems people are too weak or too scared to fight for each other, to love each other through the good times and the bad.  It’s a sad reality and a high statistic and I never imagined that my life would change so significantly and I would have to start over on my own.  I keep, our good memories in tack and I can laugh at some of the crazy things we had done together on good days.  I try to live as honestly as I can and honestly I miss my family as it was.  Oh well, it was good while it lasted.

I started this blog in darkness, trying to cope with a loss so huge and so devastating, that I wanted to share my pain with the world.  I will leave my initial blogs as they are, written in fear and uncertainty. As you read my story, you may come across some of my earliest pieces and it will remind you how fragile humanity can be.  Love each other deeply, but love in honesty!