Tag Archives: hurt

Healing: Raw & Ugly

Healing is raw and ugly…

August 12, 2018

Well, here I am. Have gotten through his filing, claiming that I was cruel and “intentionally caused him to lose his job”, which is laughable. As is his request for spousal support.

Now, I’m angry. I’m angry that next week, I will be sending my oldest to Kindergarten, alone. I’m angry that last week I celebrated him losing his first tooth, alone. I’m angry that God let this happen. Why?! What did I do?! I stuck by him and I prayed and I trusted that God would bring us through this, and now here I am. I am alone. I am overwhelmed with bills and with things that need to be taken care of. I feel abandoned, by God, by my husband, by my church. I feel utterly alone and forgotten and uncared for and tired.

And now, I am alone. I am so lonely and so f**cking exhausted and confused and sad and I know I shouldn’t wallow in this and I know I should be grateful for the many, many blessings I do have – I know there are momma’s out there who would give anything to send their child off to Kindergarten. I know that. But this is not how I pictured things. I imagined and planned on preparing our child for school together, to bear the load of all the new and exciting things together, to celebrate the missing teeth and the new things learned together. I imagined that we’d be a team in this. I don’t feel adequate to do it all myself. My kids deserve better. They did nothing to deserve this. I don’t know what I did to deserve this. I truly, truly believed that he and I would be together forever. That we’d have hard times, tough times, but we’d get through them. I never imagined this. Not for a second. Sometimes I torture myself and go through our old pictures together, our old memories. We looked so happy. That wasn’t fake, there’s no way. I know it wasn’t on my end, and I don’t think it was on his. We loved each other. I know we did. We had so many good, happy times. I don’t know what the hell happened. I don’t know what I did wrong or what I could have done better.”

I started writing things (in honesty … typing them – my handwriting is barely legible) a couple of months after we separated. It was a violent separation , literally and figuratively. I had to get the thoughts out, because I didn’t know what else to do, and I wanted to remember the feelings. I had hope that I’d be able to rise out of the suck and one day, look back and say “Look how far I’ve come”! I didn’t have any intention of letting other people read what I typed. BUT… I’ve been reading Brene Brown lately, and learning more about vulnerability. If what I was feeling – the rawness of it, can help someone else feel less alone, sharing is worth it.

At the time of writing my thoughts above, I was just starting to come to the realization that my commitment to our marriage was not reciprocated in any way. My ex-husband and I never worked the same shift or had the same days off in our ten years of marriage. I tried to find the positive in that – things were still new and fresh, seeing him was always exciting. However, it was dawning on me that he was able to maintain the front of being a doting husband for those few hours we had together, and that’s all it was to him. To me, those hours were precious; to him, an act to get through. (And, scene!)

If you read my last post, you know that there was a domestic violence incident and a whole lot of ugliness I subsequently discovered. The divorce was ugly. His attorney was one who would make scathing, disgusting accusations; probably to try and elicit some kind of reaction out of me (and oh, that temptation was REAL). My wounds were still fresh, and her words, baseless accusations, and complete unprofessionalism compounded the emotions and feelings, making a bad situation unimaginably difficult.

I am glad that I wrote my feelings as I was sitting in the suck, trying to navigate those dark moments. I remember how pervasive those feelings and emotions were, how deep the anger and sadness was. The level of betrayal is one that I still cannot find adequate wording for. I can sit here today and reflect on gratitude and the incredible blessings throughout the darkness, but when you’re in it… the good stuff isn’t so obvious.

Today, the darkness is a little lighter. As time goes on and you sit, experience the pain, and allow yourself to move through it, its sharpness lessens. I felt like I was stuck for a long time – I felt like I should be moving must faster, not wallowing in a never-ending pit. My faith and counseling helped me move forward, but the main thing is the willingness to work through it – not just cover it up with new romantic relationships, substances, or mindless activity. I and my kids deserve better. I have to understand how this happened, how I let it get so far, and my blind spots – this cannot happen again.

These days, I still struggle. But it’s not minute to minute so much anymore, and there are far more good days than bad. If you can relate to any of the words in the first few paragraphs, you are not alone. It is so, so hard and it can be incredibly unfair. But… you’ve done hard things before, and you will get through this difficulty. Don’t let what has happened to you define you – let it shape you into the resilient warrior that you are.

-Elaine

Hello Sadness , My Old Friend

Sadness comes. It is inevitable, as it is part of life. It is part of who we are as women living on this earth experiencing loss, upset, fear, change, etc. It comes from that place deep in our hearts where something matters. Where we believe so strongly about something, that being shaken rips at the core of our being. The tears that come, fall from that place behind our eyes that we sometimes cannot put to rest. Sadness may come slowly at times and other times it just jumps out at you when you least expect it and knocks you down. It may stay for a few moments or it may linger. AND ,It is what you do IN the sadness that will liberate you or drag you down.

You must dig deep. Deep into your strength. Deep into your file full of accomplishments, successes & worth. Dig deep to remind yourself what you’re made of & what you’re capable of doing & who you are. As your God-girl…I pray with the sadness. I reach out to my girlfriends and get support. I read my affirmations and look at my Vision Board. I make a new Vision Board. lol I open my Bible and read. I re-read a favorite book. I am reminded of my greatness and that this sadness is just a hiccup in the road of life. I BE with it, look at what is good, and pull myself up by my bootstraps.

Be with the sadness and remember to not let it get a grip of you. Remember to breath & breath & breath still, to trust once again, & to remember that you are strong and courageous and all WILL work out. Sadness just is. And as I’ve heard people say ….This Too Shall Pass”.

Your God Girl-

Tracy

I Am Not Broken

I am not broken.

This past holiday weekend a blow up with my daughter over me wanting to see what she was watching on her iPad resulted in her sharing she feels responsible for her Dad and I not getting along.

I meant to write about how happy I am it’s Spring and how much I love the beautiful weather and I am.

I can not adequately put into words how good it is for my soul to wear sandals and open windows and feel the breeze.

But as much as I want to celebrate the new season my heart hurts that my daughter feels any kind of responsibility for things between her Dad and I.

I think I did things backwards with G.

But let’s be honest, there is no guide when you get divorced. Maybe I did things just right and she’s just hitting the age where she can see it.

Or maybe after nine years I’m worn out from trying to hide it.

Either way my heart sank when she said she doesn’t like knowing her  Dad and I don’t like each other.

She feels like I’m hurt, broken.

I stopped her.

For starters while I’m not her Dad’s biggest fan. I don’t not like him. But he makes some not great choices and G usually tends to be in the vicinity when he does.

I also let her know she is my sun, my moon, and my stars. Being her Mom actually fixed me. Being her Mom is the best thing in the world. She is the best thing in my world.

Not being with her Dad, while it’s not where I’d thought I’d be.

I’m happy.

And Mommas my heart is sinking that she thinks me being alone, not getting along with her Dad means I’m not happy.

This would be about the time I throw in a fun quote or try to lighten the mood.

I’m tapped.

I’m alone on Easter.

The only store that’s open already put their Easter candy away, and somehow I have to get in my daughter’s head and heart absolutely nothing between her Dad and I is her fault.

I thought I had.

Aww Mommas… this is a toughie

<3 Caprise

Pass The Tissues, Please!

Pass the tissues, please!

Growing up I was quick to cry. As an adult frustration and anger can mean waterworks.

I’m not sure who invented waterproof mascara but they’re my hero.

It’s embarrassing how much and what makes me cry. Commercials. Certain stories on the news. Movies. TV.

Pass the tissues.

Honestly,I usually just have tissues stashed in a pocket. But I’m here to say… there is something to be said for a good cry.Sometimes you need it. I know it sounds odd I’m encouraging this. Hear me out. There is something about giving into that emotion, getting it out and moving on.It can be a reset button. We all need a rest sometimes.

There is no shame in that. Owning your feelings is hard. Admitting you hurt or are sad can feel almost impossible. So to suggest a good cry, seems outlandish.

I also tend to shut down when I’m hurting. I have a hard time letting people know I’m hurt. Silliness I know…

Quote for you:

Just because you have days where you feel really overwhelmed. Doesn’t mean you’re a bad Mom. It’s ok to cry & it’s ok to need a break. You’re doing an amazing job.

You really are.

First we grew a person. Some of you a couple.

Some of you work, go to school, are full time Moms.

Your lives are hectic! It’s not a cakewalk.

There are bumps and mountains.

It is ok to have to take a moment a hit that reset button.

I got some tissues in my pocket for you Mommas.

<3

Caprise

The Fixer of Broken Boys Part 11: The One That Should Have Never Been

The One That Should Have Never Been….

Full disclosure this is going to be hard for me to write. I started crying just thinking about writing this chapter.

I made another cup of coffee put on some John Mayer and am snuggled under some blankets…

I need to write this.  It’s important because good, bad or otherwise it shaped me.

If you’re in my life maybe after reading this you’ll understand why I can shamelessly share random facts about myself but giving anyone my heart is almost impossible.

“The woman with the highest walls have the deepest love.”

When I met him I was dating the sweetest man named Ben. He was a bit younger, rode a motorcycle and would pop up with unexpected presents… but I couldn’t get past the fact he was younger than me.

So incredibly stupid some of the rules you make for yourself when you’re dating.

I definitely should never write a dating advice book.

I was DJing at a bar and he was staying nearby for business. Instant chemistry. He was completely different than anyone I dated. Had a good job, close with his family, he had this way. Green eyes, dark hair, freckles and an accent to this day I can’t place. And I don’t want to.

I’m grateful I will never hear that voice again.

It did enough damage.

It was a whirlwind to say the least. I think we were living together after two weeks.

The minute he moved in red flags started flying. He always had a slick recovery. Fantastic used car salesmen. Most criminal psychopaths are.

I kept the secrets and concerns to myself, because I was the idiot friend who when they hear stories of acquaintances in horrible relationships yelled the loudest I would never put up with that.

It’s amazing what you’ll put up with when you’re in it and are led to believe it’s your fault.

I did try to tell a few people but it never came out. When I did share years later it felt like a blip that I should of kept to myself.

Pro tip if someone is suddenly jobless after they meet you… run.

If you never meet their family… better be a stunning reason as to why.

I am being a bit light hearted but it’s decades later and the shame I carry at letting someone like him in my life weighs me down.

He stole from me

He cheated on me

He used our apartment to run a business that is not legal in our state

There’s more…but I can’t. It’s done and I’m not crying so let’s keep going.

I know the neighbors knew but it wasn’t until the day I kicked him out that my next door neighbor came and sat with me until the cops showed up. He just kept apologizing while he held my hand.

I can’t give the One that Shouldn’t Have Been much more because he doesn’t deserve it. He did a ton of damage.

And to be blunt somethings are better left unsaid.

What I know is I got out. I made it.

I am not a victim, I’m not a survivor I’m just a lady who had enough.

The tipping point wasn’t all the horrible things he did to me but the threat he made one night after a terrible fight. He threatened to let my new kitten out, which he had done once and had resulted in her being temporarily blind.  I wouldn’t protect myself but… you get it.

Also,while I’ve had one cat since I’m a dog person…

But yes I’m incredibly guarded. I don’t trust very many people.

I’m a happy person with a heavy soul…sometimes it gets weird. *quote

Yup it does.

This relationship gifted me with a restraining order, a depleted record collection, horrible credit, and the promise to date “nice” guys.

I took a breather. I set some very strong boundaries. Then I met the nice guy but kinda like it seems to go… meh. Not really that nice…

~~Caprise

Single Mom of the amazing Dbl G
Teacher
Sometime DJ
T-shirt collector
Henry Rollins Middle Aged Punk Prom Date

Brick Wall

The wall around my heart was built over decades. It was built with tears of frustration from not knowing what I did wrong.   It was built in my own blood to try to stop the emotional pain. It was built in fits of anger to block your words.  It was built with fear to avoid more damage from attacks. It was built to keep in my feelings because so many said they weren’t important.  It was built by my demons who told me I was unworthy so you might as well hide. It has been built by my warrior to protect me and ensure my heart would not shatter into a million pieces.

The wall has served its purpose for so very long. The wall has blocked so many attacks from people who said they loved me. The wall has protected me from the storms of anger that in the end were not about me.The wall has deflected the punches that were meant to knock me out. The wall has stood strong in the face of the demons who wanted me to stay down. The wall has given my warrior a safe place to regain her strength when needed. The wall has served its purpose and now it is time to start removing those bricks.

It is time to tear it down. It is time to be free of those bricks with their painful memories. It is time stand on top of the smashed bricks and be proud of all I have overcome. It is time to stand in front of the it, because I know I have the strength to fight back if needed. It is time for the demons to know that I am no longer afraid of them. It is time for the warrior to take on the world. It is time to trust. It is time to let down my guard and maybe, just maybe fall in love with someone who deserves me.  It is time to be free from the confines of my brick wall. It is time.

 

~ Kellie

Working each day to be the warrior and leader I know is within me. You can follow me at https://wordpress.com/view/leaderofthepacks.blog

 

Depression…The High, The Hurt, The Shine, The Sting

Depression is like the ocean.  A riptide.  Dangerous currents that want to drag you under even when you can still see the shore.  That shore may be within swimming distance but it might as well be in another world.  That’s what depression is.

A couple weeks ago, we saw suicide hit the news again and I thought about blogging then.  It’s a subject that’s always close to me.  It’s my lifelong companion.  My truest friend.  I used to blog about funny things, though.  I used to be funny.  I didn’t want to blog sadness anymore.  I wanted to make you laugh.  So I didn’t blog.

I guess one thing that my children may never know is the hardest thing I have ever done is stay alive for them.  They have seen me work, sometimes more than one job at a time.  They have seen me prepare meals, wash their clothes, run around trying to find what they’ve lost.  They’ve seen me mourn, they’ve seen me struggle, they’ve seen me tired.

They’ve never seen me stare at a bottle of pills.  They’ve never seen me daydream about turning the wheel when I’m driving alone and the perfect drop off appears.  They don’t know that in my mind there is such a thing as the perfect drop off.

I don’t want to be this person.

I want to be happy.

I want to be carefree.

My happiest moments are with my babies.   But they are growing up.

My mom can no longer carry on a conversation with me.  My dad is dying.

I’m just so tired.

My ex and I briefly tried to get back together.  See, things were confusing.  It’s hard when that person is still your best friend, or supposed to be.  He was telling someone else everything he was telling me.  He was scheduling vacations and applying for jobs 1,000 miles away.  He was promising to move if only she would stay.  He was making plans that would effect our children and I was sitting here blindly letting our child think we were becoming a family again.

I don’t think that I can forgive myself for that.  I should have known better.

He will be so mad at me for saying that.  He never wanted me to air the dirty laundry.  I didn’t want to either but our reasons were different.  I wanted to be mature and also, I was embarrassed.  He didn’t want dark actions brought to light.

Depression is a black cloud.  It’s a swarm of bees.  It’s loud.  It gets in your ear and it just. won’t. stop.  It tells you that this is it.  This is all it will ever be.  You, always chasing things that fly away.  You, getting the courage to leave and those little mosquitos coming back for another round of blood.  You being everything.  The ripest peach that they can’t stop taking bites of and the bruised one that is no longer appealing.

Depression tells you that it’s okay if you finally just go to sleep.

What I really wanted to blog when suicide hit the news was different then.  I kept reading comments about how suicide is selfish.  I kept thinking that survivors were reading that and they were reading painful lies.

I’ll say again what I said before.  My children will never know that the hardest thing I have ever done for them is stay alive.

If someone you love lost their battle, that decision was gut wrenching and agonizing and not fully thought out.  That decision was coated in a dust of grief and pain and disillusion.  That decision would not have stood up in a court of law.  That decision was breathless.  That decision might have been a weakness but I can promise you that it was one out of a million moments of inhuman strength.

I added a new medication to my regimen in hopes of getting my fibromyalgia under control.  In doing so, I have noticed the suicidal thoughts creeping back in after months of sitting in the light.  I will be diligent in having my meds adjusted again until I’m back in my sweet spot.  I will do it for my kids.  I only wish that I was doing it for me.

“Depression is living in a body that fights to survive with a mind that tries to die.”  — unknown

Depression is your friendly, funny, 40 something soccer mom who loves Pinterest and Krogering.

Depression is someone just like me.

<3 LA

You can read more from LA at https://sweeterinthesouth.blog/

I Knew Then

I knew. I knew a thousand times over.

I promise myself that I will write this once. I will write and I will leave it. I won’t retouch it or second guess it. I will not apologize for it.

I won’t forget it but I will not live in it. I will not bathe in the sadness of it. The anguish of the emptiness that defines this part of my life.

This hollow part in my center.

I have not allowed myself to really feel despair to this point. The literal mourning to my core that makes me question, can I do this today? Can I do this life?

I spent years, ten of them married, making sure that someone else was OK. I lived for it. I lived to take care of someone else. I felt responsible. I never felt trapped or obligated. I never felt stuck or unsure.

If anything, I was sure. I was certain. I was certain that if I tirelessly loved this man without end I could make him better. I could make him love me the way that I loved him.

I could make him love being a father. I could make him love being a husband. I could make him love his life. I could wait him out. He would return to me.

I really did believe that.

But underneath, I knew.  If I replayed all the things he’s said or done to me that he’s long forgotten, or buried in shame, I knew a thousand times.

We stood outside all that.

I loved him relentlessly through everything.

I loved him through addiction. Recovery. Relapse. Unemployment. Bankruptcy. Home loss. Mental illness. Lying. Betrayal. Loneliness. I had such an uncompromising determination to believe that so much was out of his control to the point that no matter the amount of hurt it caused me, it suddenly occurred to me that it would never actually end.

I clung to small moments of happiness like a child clings to their lovey in their sleep. I carried them around like fragile pieces of glass, and they got me from minute to minute, month to month…year to year.

I know what it feels like to love someone so loyally and unconditionally that I overlooked and compartmentalized so much and so well that I literally drowned in my own care giving. I drowned out everything I ever wanted, everything I ever thought it would be, everything it should have been because I believed that somewhere, deep down, the man I married was inside.

But when the divide between two people in a queen bed is so wide that being in the same room literally gave me panic attacks, or when reaching for your lover’s hand and they don’t respond, or worse, pull away, you know. When they lie in the dark and whisper “You deserve better than I can give you” and roll over to the other side. When you glance in their direction across the room, and they look away…every time. When you send the kids for a sleepover so you can eat a meal that consists of something other than fish sticks or pancakes and make love all over the house, or dance in the kitchen, or get silly drunk on the deck or go for a walk and be quiet…and none of that actually happens and instead you end up on two different couches, in the dark, dying inside.

That is what the part before the end feels like.

I remember following him out to his car one morning before work. I didn’t have shoes on and the driveway needs repaving. The gravel hurt my feet. My insides hurt more.

I said “I just want you to see me. I just want to be seen. You look right past me.”

He said nothing. And left.

This is how countless conversations went. Words came out of my mouth and into the air and disappeared.

I disappeared. Figuratively, then literally.

I left him at a wedding.

I could not bear the thought of sitting quietly with a smile plastered to my face congratulating hopeful, joyful newlyweds, while my marriage made its final descent.

I wanted to scream my vows in his face until my voice was hoarse:

“Today I am certain.  I am certain that you are the man that I was meant to live my life beside.  I stand here and I see our lives before me.  I see lazy Sunday’s and crazy work weeks, love notes taped to doors and good night kisses, stolen covers, and missing socks.  I see family, and children, and laughter and a love between us that is too big to measure.  I look forward to a life full of the planned, but mostly the unexpected. My love for you finally leaves me speechless.  Undoubtedly, from this point forward, I give you my hand to hold, and my heart to keep.”

I left the hotel room and looked back only once. The space where I wished he was standing was empty.

And I knew. It was the final time that I knew.

I took a $93 taxi and an hour drive back to what was once our home and slipped my wedding rings into my purse. As many times as I had thought about that moment before, when it finally came, it hit me like a thousand violent waves.

It was the most freeing heartache of my life.

Jessica-Awesome Single Mama

An Open Letter To My Daughter

Daughter,

When I told you that your father and I were getting divorced it was probably the saddest thing I have ever had to do. We were in the bathroom. I sat on the closed toilet lid and you were across from me on a step stool. I don’t know why I chose that moment. Maybe because it was quiet, because you seemed like you were paying attention. I didn’t think about what I was going to say before the words escaped. I wasn’t prepared for the questions your 5-year old self would ask. I just dove in, head first into concrete, because I needed you to know. I needed you to know why we weren’t sleeping in our own beds and why your clothes were in a suitcase and why I would cry while I ate dinner, or dried my hair, or did just about anything. I needed you to know from me, from my words, that our life was never going to be the same, me and your Dad. Because telling you made it final. Telling you that I had failed, I had failed my one big job, was something I could never take back after I said it and I knew this. I knew that telling you would mean I would never turn back.

Then, I needed you just to know we weren’t going to be married anymore.

Now, I need you to know it wasn’t your fault.

And in the future, I will need you to know why.

You wept. You didn’t just cry. You threw yourself onto the cold, tiled floor, and yelled at me.

“But why, why can’t you just stay together? Why?”

I bit my lip and I thought carefully for a pause.

“Why can’t you just love each other? Why can’t we just be a family?”

How could I tell you that the reasons why I can’t stay are heavier than you, taller than you, bigger than you, older than you? They are heavier than I can carry alone, and I carry so much. I am tired.

You made it sound so simple and yet this decision, this life, is so complicated. I made myself believe, I convinced myself with such will, that this could be simple. It was simple to uphold vows and forgive.

But the cost, it was so high. I tried to tell him. I tried for so long and he would never hear me. Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t want to anymore.

You asked very grown up questions for a very little person.

You asked me if I was angry with him. You asked if I would always love him.

You have asked me this many times over, many nights later. My answer is always the same.

“No, I am not mad at Daddy. Yes, I will always love him.”

This is a truth; this is also a lie.

You see, I am not mad at your father. I am mad at the man that was supposed to be my husband. He let me down in small and large ways that cannot be undone. This is for me to hurt from. This is for me to learn from. This is for me to try and protect you from.

I will always love the man I once knew, the man that gave me you.

Without him, I would never know what tiny fingers wrapped around my necklace felt like. I would never know your big, contagious laugh or the sound of your off-key singing. I would never see your big, scrawled handwriting and doodles with hearts. I would never know that you think your eyes are the color of chocolate and mine are the color of blueberries. I would never know how to remove permanent marker from skin, or nail polish from carpet. I would never know clumsy hands braiding my hair, or stinky feet in my face in the middle of the night. I would never know what it felt like to love something more deeply and more naturally than I do you.

And to that end, without your father, I would never know just how badly it must hurt to know that the two people who were supposed to love each other as much as they loved you, shouldn’t stay together.

But, my little girl, know that I thought about this long and hard. And when I thought about leaving my marriage, the last person I thought about before I did…was you.

I thought about what I want for your life. I thought about the kind of man I want to love you, take care of you, hold you. I thought about the kind of smile I want you to have not just on your wedding day, but on an ordinary day. I thought about the unending respect and independence I want you to have for yourself; the inner strength to know the difference between enabling and empowerment. I thought about how much more I not only wanted, but expected for you and I realized that in order for you to recognize and chase these things, I had to want them, demand them, for myself.

And yes, I thought about what it would feel like to sit at your wedding and watch your father-daughter dance with a man who would no longer be my husband. The thought of disappointing you put a pit in my stomach. Disappointing you for expecting more for your life than I had mine. I feared what you would have thought of me twenty years from now, knowing I devoted my life to teaching you to be more than me, all the while expecting less than for myself.

Someday we will talk, woman to woman. But for now, know that this was not your fault. Know this. Hear this. Believe this.

I did my very best.

Know this.

Hear this.

Believe this.

I loved your father with a love that was more than love.

In the end, my love for him was not a reason to stay.

My love for myself was a reason to leave.

My love for you was a reason to keep moving.

Know this.

Hear this.

Believe this.

~Jessica-Awesome Single Mama

I Will Take It Minute By Minute

I Will Take It Minute by Minute…

A little history before you read this post. I wrote this shortly after my husband and I separated. We had a long and turbulent marriage. I was married for 12 years and we have 3 beautiful children. During those years I dealt with some physical abuse from my husband…infidelity on my husband’s part…drugs and drinking on my husband’s part…emotional abuse from my husband…the list goes on. That is not to say I was perfect but Lord how I tried to make it work.  It has been over a year now and I am happy to say that I am at a much better place!

The sadness I felt and often still feel is overwhelming. There is no other way to describe it.Some days takes everything I have to put one foot in front of the other. It takes every ounce of energy to get up…to get dressed…to eat…to be a mom…to care. I am not sure many people truly understand. After being married for so long…even though my children are with me…it is a very lonely feeling. Even though we had so many bad times, there were also good times. I just kept hoping the good times would win out. There are still just some days I feel like I am drowning with no way out.

Minute by Minute…

It is so hard to look at social media because my life is certainly not what I pictured it to be right now. My husband and I attended church together and I feel like I have been alienated by the church and community. I am in survival mode.

How can I do it all?

Only God knows how.

I am not going to make it without Him. I find myself turning to Him so much. God and my babies. Some days I am not sure how I get through them. I am not the person I want to be. I feel like I have never been good enough for my husband or his family. I feel abandoned by everyone. Am I that bad of a person that I don’t deserve something good? If it wasn’t for my children I don’t think I would even care. The hurt is just a lot. Lord help me climb out of whatever I am in.

There are so many questions about my future and my children’s future. So much uncertainty. So much fear of the future. I am so sad…so hurt. Still so hurt. Even though I made this decision (which I believe in my heart to be the right decision) it doesn’t make it any easier. Do I just feel too much? Can we fast forward to the easier part? Please oh please? Did I mean nothing to my husband? Does he not hurt? Does he not care? Did he ever care? He has hurt me so many times. What do I do? I pray…I get up every day and do it all again.

Minute by Minute…

I worry how this affects my kids. Will they be okay? I want something. I want someone to love me. To actually care about me. I want someone who wants to protect me instead of hurt me. Is that too much to ask for? Where will I be in a year? Where will I live? Will my kids understand why I did what I did? Will they blame me then like I feel they do now?

My reality is certainly not as bad as some…but it is my reality. Doesn’t make it any easier. Things could always be worse.

So here I am living on my faith…doing the best I can (trying) and waiting for the day things will get better. They will get better. Surviving the hard times is the hard part! Praying I can make it until then. Praying I will be worthy one day. Worthy as a Christian, as a mom, as a partner for someone who will be worthy of me!

Day by day is too much.

I will be taking it minute by minute.

~Ann~