Not Graduated...

Tonight I submitted my last assignment of the semester.

It was always calculated out that I would graduate in May of 2017. Always. My mind has always been set on this time frame because it was the fourth year of schooling and even though the school counselor told me most people do their bachelors in five years now, I knew that wouldn't be me.

I was going to do it.

And, you guys, I almost did it.

Almost.

I worked so hard for so many years. I stayed up late and wrote papers, denied my kids time with their mom while I took online tests and replied to discussion boards.

I read numerous textbooks, all of which were extremely difficult for a person with ADHD.
My brain has had to work extra hard to concentrate on my classes and actually retain the information I was learning about.

And in the end, I fell short by one class.

One stupid class.

And this last semester, I tried to take 5 classes instead of 4 so that I wouldn't ruin my chances at a May 2017 graduation but that was too much for me and I failed 1 of the 5 classes.

It was a hard pill to swallow.

But the truth is that June 26th is not that far past May. It won't make a difference as to whether I'm able to start my teaching program on time.

All it changes is whether I get to participate in a graduation ceremony.

Sure, I guess I could wait to participate in the December graduation but by then, I'll be a semester into my teaching program and I think the hype will have worn off by then.

So I won't get to walk with the other students graduating. That doesn't make this any less of an accomplishment.

I might be a little frustrated with myself.
If I would've just spent a few extra hours studying...
If I would've just been more organized...
If I would've concentrated more on the material...

But the truth is that I can't go back to the beginning of the semester and change any of it.

All I can do is move forward with the realization that I am going to be DONE at ASU in only two months! Two months from now, I will have finished that last class and will be able to call myself a Sun Devil graduate like my father and so many others on his side of the family.

Two more months.

I can wait two more months.

I've already waited and worked for four years.

Two months will fly by.

She Swears

Swear words. 

You either love them or you hate them, amiright? 

In high school, I used swear words in every day conversation. They felt so powerful---probably for reasons relating to my last post on being stubborn and wanting to go against the grain.

But then I got married...in the LDS temple...to a guy who had just come home from a 2 year LDS mission...and I quickly had babies...and somewhere along the way, my mouth cleaned up considerably.

When my kids were really little, I found myself reprimanding them for words like 'butt' or 'stupid'---maybe because it just seemed like the right mom-thing to do.

But I didn't really care---I just thought I should care. Because that's what the good moms do, right?

And then, you guys, I got divorced. 

*huge gasp*

You didn't see that one coming, did you? 

Technically, neither did I...Ha...ha...ha......................................ha. 

So my husband moved out. Just, like, left one day. Goodbye. See ya.
Yeah. That happened for real. 
It wasn't a dream. It wasn't something I made up. It just happened on a seemingly normal day.

And right then and there, my whole world changed---not only because of the obvious reasons but because I realized just how quickly you can go from trusting someone to losing a huge portion of the life you thought you'd always have.

I realized nothing is predictable. You cannot rely on others. 
You just cannot. 

You might think you can. They might promise they'll always be there. But then one day, you'll make a mistake or they'll blame you for things out of your control and they'll leave.

They always have the option to leave. 

{I know---super negative tonight...}

But it's the damn truth! You cannot force people to stay. 

Like last year, during a time when I was working a job that I loved and all of a sudden, my boss started to dislike me. And I had not done anything to warrant that. Like at all. But I ended up quitting and walking away because you just don't know when people will turn on you and you've got to learn to fight for YOU and not stay in an unhealthy relationship of any kind. (Life lessons I've learned along the way...)

Even in an unhealthy relationship because you love your job.
Nope.
Nothing is worth that kind of anxiety.

So back to the point---wait, is there a point? 

Oh yeah, I got divorced. People that promised to always be there deserted me. Blah blah blah.

So somewhere in the middle of all this, I was in a therapy session (because therapy is the best invention in the history of ever---and so are anxiety meds, yo) and I kept saying things like, "I'm just so effing angry" and "All of the effing things in my life that are stressing me out" and "Divorce is so effing hard" and my therapist said,

"Suzanne, do you ever actually say the F word?" 

And Mormon little me was like, "Umm, no, because that is the worst word in the whole world and I would never let that gaping black hole of death come out of my mouth. Ever."

And she said, "Maybe you should try it." 

And, you guys, if you're paying someone to give you advice, you should probably take their advice, right?

So if my mom reads this and is gasping that the black hole of death came out of my mouth, my therapist told me to do it...

Needless to say, I went home that night and I wrote a letter to my ex-husband. A three-page letter of mostly F bombs and other profanities. And then I ripped it out of my journal, crumpled it into a ball, took it out onto the back porch, and set it on fire until only a few tiny ashes were left.

And I realized that the ugliest of words was being used to describe the ugliest of things in my life perfectly.

That ugly four-letter word was the most appropriate word in describing how I felt about divorce, losing friendships, being cyber-bullied, and dealing with so many other really difficult things.

Maybe swear words are just words. Maybe the power of them is something I've made up in my head.

But they help. They describe the feelings I often have a difficult time describing.

Sometimes Most of the time, they make me laugh.
Sometimes they make me cry.

But I'm pretty sure swear words were put on this Earth just for me. 

That's a rational thought, right? 

I no longer feel bad for swearing. 
In fact, I'm pretty sure if I didn't swear, I'd be darn near perfection so swearing keeps me humble and puts a healthy dose of sin on my record.
Because that's how that works, right? 

So when things get hard and I get angry at the world, instead of lashing out at others, I'll just keep writing down my swear words and burning them up. And saying them out loud. And writing them down without burning them up. And texting them to my friends. And yelling them in my car.

Because I can, damnit. 

And swearing is my therapy. 

I'm Ignoring You

I imagine I was stubborn, even as a baby. I think I've just always been that way. 

In fact, for most of my life, my opinions often take their own course instead of following a particular crowd.

Like how I registered as a Republican when I turned 18 but I'm not really, truly a Republican or a Democrat. 

A lot of my stubbornness has been good---making it so I don't often quit the things I'm passionate about---but being stubborn has also held me back at times.

Being stubborn caused me not to be the best wife I was capable of being. There were times I would stand my ground and yell until I was blue in the face that I was right(!) but there were also times where being stubborn caused me to fight harder to save my marriage. {Although we've witnessed how well that worked out. Just kidding...kind of.} 

Being stubborn causes me to not always be the best mom I know I can be. There have been times where I am absolutely out of line when reprimanding my kids but being stubborn has also caused me to fight as hard as I can to give my kids a beautiful life.

It's a quality I love and a quality I hate. 

Being stubborn brought a tattoo and a lot of extra piercings, some of them as a direct result of knowing I was being told NOT to get them.

And being stubborn made it so that no one could convince me NOT to leave the LDS church in 2015.

No one. 

And really, that's going to be my main topic today because it's been on my mind a lot and that's kind of how this whole blog thing works.

When I left the LDS church and started attending a Christian church, everyone had opinions.
They always do. 
So depending on who I was talking to, I was either making the greatest or the worst decision of my life.

I distinctly remember feeling like my head was spinning because I hated how contrasting everyone's opinions were.
And I distinctly remember when the thought came into my mind, "Suzanne, you're stubborn! Stop listening to everyone else and start listening to yourself!" 

And so that is what I promised myself I would do. 

I spent a lot of the past 2 years ignoring people---all of the people.
In fact, you were probably ignored by me somewhere in there. 
I think the hashtag #sorrynotsorry would be appropriate right here. 

That being said, I'm kind of still ignoring you. All of you.
Because that promise to myself is still true today.

I made a decision to go back to the LDS church on my own. It wasn't because of something someone said to me. It wasn't because I like Mormon people more than I like Christian people. It wasn't because I was running away from something bad or running back to something familiar.

I came back because I had a conversation with God. It's pretty simple. 

And since coming back, the same things have been happening that were happening a year ago. Some of you are telling me I'm making the best decision of my life while others have reached out because they are worried about my salvation.

And just as true as it was a year ago, I find myself hearing what you're saying and thinking, "Wow. It's incredible how many people love and care about my family!"

But simply put, I'm still going to ignore what you're saying. 

Because I know---undoubtedly I know---that I am in the best place at the best time for my family.

I left the LDS church because I felt God closer somewhere else. And now, I can sit here today and tell you that since returning to the LDS church, I feel God closer to me now more than I have in the past 29 years of my life.

I appreciate your concerns and your praise---you know, depending on which side you're on.
I love knowing how loved we are by you. 

But this decision has not ruined my salvation.
This decision is what is saving me. 

On the days where I feel bombarded by people telling me I'm headed down Satan's path, I get a little discouraged and just wish we could all build each other up instead of pointing fingers and telling each other what we are doing wrong.

But then I try and remind myself that each of you are following a path you wholeheartedly believe in. You have faith in your God and in your church beliefs. And you are all trying to help.

But I guess I just want you to know that you don't have to tell me that I'm right or that I'm wrong.

Because I know I'm doing the right thing. And my right thing doesn't have to match your right thing.

My right thing is only mine. 

So thank you for loving me. Thank you for caring about what happens to myself and my family. Thank you for sharing your faith in God with me.

But I'll take it from here. 
I've got this. :) 

I Hear You, I See You, I Love You

It's no secret that I've been struggling lately. 

I've never been able to keep secrets very well anyway. 

I've had a week to think about what I want to say in this post and how I want it to be portrayed---a week where every night, I cry myself to sleep and tears stream down my face at work and the anxiety is a knot in my throat. 

I haven't been eating well. I feel nauseous a lot of the time and can't get through full meals. And when I don't feel nauseous, I eat all of the things at once. 

Why?

Because life is hard. 

Because life doesn't always turn out how we plan it in our head. 

Because life seems so unfair sometimes. 

Last week, I was given the news that I'd have to write a letter to the First Presidency of our church, telling my point of view of my marriage, divorce, and life since then. 

THIS is a semi-outdated-but-best-I-could-do-for-tonight explanation of why I was asked to write my letter. 

Yeah.

It's been a long time since I've had a panic attack so great I thought I might not be able to physically take another breath. 

The heartache I've been dealing with since that day has surprised me. I don't know what I was expecting but I surely did not expect to feel this way. 

But instead of just focusing on my pain, I wanted to turn this story in a different direction. 

You see, for weeks I've been asking for understanding and faith and peace. And...nothing. 

And then on Sunday, I got this news and was like, "You've got to be kidding me, God! I've been praying and trying so hard to trust you and without a significant answer to my prayers, I get this phone call?! You knew this was about to happen so why didn't You send me comfort yesterday so I would've been better equipped to deal with this?" 

And...God did not answer. 

So all night on Sunday, I was a crying, shaking mess. 

I asked my dad for a Priesthood blessing and went home to get rest before work the next day. 

And when I woke up, it started. 

It started with a text early Monday morning from my foster care intake coordinator. "Your license was approved!" 

An early Monday morning reminder that God is aware of me. I have been working for six months to do everything required to get my foster care license. It has not always been easy. I have been frustrated at times. I have done hours of interviews and classes, organized and baby-proofed my home, etc. in anticipation for this and after a hard night, God knew I needed to hear that in that exact moment. 

Suzanne, I hear you. I see you. And I love you. 

On Tuesday, I decided to tour daycare centers because I had the afternoon free and knew I'd need to get things in order. I was worried I wouldn't find a center that would be DCS approved and have an opening. 

I got to the first center for a tour and within ten minutes, found out it met all of my requirements and had openings right away. I immediately felt peace. 

I hear you. I see you. And I love you. 

Wednesday, I decided to spend my evening at the Gilbert temple. I spent 3.5 hours crying and praying and reading scriptures and as I asked God to help me through this and bring me clarity, He did. 

He reminded me that He knows the plans of my life and can see the bigger picture. He reminded me that I need to have faith in Him and trust that He will carry me through my heartache. 

I hear you. I see you. And I love you. 

On Thursday, my mother came over after work. She brought me a home cooked meal and helped clean my house for two hours. We spent that time talking and/or blasting music while we worked to get my house in order before the kids came home from their dad's house. 

I hear you. I see you. And I love you. 

Friday, I had to drive to Tucson to pick up my daughter because she had dance pictures that evening. Although I've taken that drive many times in the past 5-6 years, I was not looking forward to doing it alone and also spending my one day off in the car. 

Out of the blue, a close friend of mine found out I would be taking that drive and offered to ride with me so I wouldn't be alone. 

She turned what could've been a hard afternoon into a really fun memory. 

I hear you. I see you. And I love you. 

Saturday came and I had experienced a week of miracles. I tried so hard to recognize the many beautiful events from the week to counteract how my heart was feeling but there was still so much weighing on my chest and I prayed for guidance to get through another day. 

Hayley had been begging to go out to breakfast so I took her to IHOP. 

And an hour later, I posted this on Facebook: 

"My precious girl and I went to breakfast this morning and after sitting down, a lady was seated at the table right next to us. She was by herself and kept looking over and smiling at us. 

When our food came, I began to cut up Hayley's pancakes when the lady leaned over and said to her, "You must have the best mom in the whole world. Never forget how amazing she is." She then told me she had a daughter who is now 49 and lives all the way in Baltimore.

She told us her name is Mary and we gave her our names. Throughout the meal, we would have little conversations but mostly, she seemed to just be observing my relationship with my daughter and smiling at us.

When we went up front to pay for our food, Mary had already left but waiting for us was the news that she had paid for our food and left us a sweet note on the receipt.

"Thank you for sharing your mother day and daughter day with me. Mary."

As I sat in that restaurant and began to cry, it hit me so hard how much God is aware of us.
Mary doesn't know I'm a single mother of two. She doesn't know how difficult this week has been for me. She doesn't know my anxieties and insecurities and how much I pray to not feel so lonely. But God knows. And today, Mary listened to that prompting and was able to be our angel, to remind us how loved we are.

So thank you, Mary. You have made such a difference in my life with your kindness." 

Saturday was my long-awaited turning point. It was the day I could no longer excuse the hand of God in every measure of my life throughout the week. It was the day I came home and just wept that He had shown me grace in such a significant way. 

Although I've asked him to take away my heartache and He hasn't, God has shown me that His love is neverending and that I just need to keep my focus on Him and not on the millions of outside worries I have. 

This week has been incredible in so many ways. 

In fact, it's kind of an odd feeling because I feel like I'm still fighting to remember God and not go to a very dark place while at the same time, I feel like I've recognized God more than ever before in my life. 

The miracles I've witnessed have not completely dissipated the anxiety or the heartache or even the anger I've been struggling with. But they have made it so I don't stay down for as long as I normally would. 

I feel like I'm screaming like a five year old, "IT'S NOT FAIR!!!" And then I hear my dad's voice saying, "Well, life isn't fair, Suzanne." 

(Solid parenting advice---I use those same words on my kids almost daily)

I've been trying to catch myself as I start to fall into that pit of "It's not fair" or "I'm doing the job of two and am all alone at the end of the day" or "I didn't do anything to deserve this and now I'm the one suffering" and bring myself out because what I've found is that at the bottom of that pit is nothing but misery. 

And when I'm able to pull myself out of that pit, I find a much brighter world filled with thoughts like "I have almost put myself through school as a single mother" or "My children are doing such amazing things in their lives" or "I am HAPPY and ACTIVE at church these days" or "I have so many people in my life who love me" or "I get to be with my kids so much of the time right now" or a million other positive thoughts about how my life is so blessed and I am so loved and God is so good. 

My days are so up and down right now but I am trying. 

I am fighting and learning and trying so hard to be the best possible me when I walk out the door each day. 

And I think that's what matters most, especially right now. I think it's ok to not be overly peppy or serving others or smiling like I might do on a more normal basis. 

I'm doing the best I can right now. 

God knows it and I know it. 

And for me, in this moment, that is the biggest miracle of all. 

PS: If you're wondering about my encounter with our angel, Mary, our story has been shared  over 1000 times and has been liked over 23 thousand times on the Love What Matters Facebook page and has now been written in 6-7 articles that I've found when I google myself. It certainly has been a whirlwind of a week and I feel very blessed to witness all of these miracles firsthand. 

Here are a few of the articles:

Refinery 29

Babble

Huffington Post UK 

Eating Disorder Awareness 2017

I kind of cannot believe that it is 2017---that I am now participating in National Eating Disorder Awareness (NEDA) week for the FOURTH time.

I remember the first year I spoke about NEDA week in 2014, it wasn't the full story. I wasn't yet ready for that. I wrote about my past history with an eating disorder here but I wasn't ready to speak up about how my struggle had not only come back but, this time, with a vengeance.

I was so afraid of what people would think about me.

Eating disorders seemed like a taboo subject if you were talking about current life events. 

In July of 2014, I started to open up a little more about my eating disorder struggle being a current event and not just a past life event. You can read about that here.

But one of my favorites, one of my most cherished memories is the night I hit my rock bottom. Instead of being in control, my eating disorder was now controlling me. 
And that night, while sobbing on my kitchen floor, my little red-headed boy poked his head around the corner and brought me a pillow and a blanket and just laid there, stroking my hair while I cried.
You can read that beautiful post here.

The thing is, I've talked about this subject a lot since then. I've been up and I've been down. I've felt like a fraud and I've felt like a warrior.

And this year is a time where I genuinely don't feel like a fraud. 

I have fought so hard for this. 

I don't need to retell my story. You can read that post here.
Instead, we are going to go back in time, back to when things weren't always so rosy.

And I made this decision to share some personal journal entries with you because I want you to be aware of the power of eating disorders.

These words are all mine from various times throughout the past three and a half years. 

Oh, also, I swear a lot in my journals and I didn't change any of the words here so...you know...you've been warned in advance.


"I broke down yesterday.
It was one of those moments were, on the inside, I had completely lost my shit, but on the outside, I was acting totally fine.
I was fighting within myself---eating disorders are good, no they're bad, no they're good, no, no, no, no, no---*brain explodes*.
And I'm pissed. Because I have so many reasons to be happy. In fact, there are so many reasons why I AM happy.
But on the inside, when I allow my thoughts to turn to body image, I lose control. I cannot handle it. I fail at every recovery measure I've tried. I hate my body. I get angry at it for not being perfect.
Recovery tells me that my body has birthed two children, that it can dance and still do incredible things.
Ed tells me none of those things are good enough, that I'd be worth something if I'd just stop eating.
Stop. Eating.
I tell myself this daily. And then when I do eat, I hate myself for making such a bad life decision.
Because even though my life is so beautiful, it'd be even better if I was beautiful. My body doesn't match the life I'm living. It isn't beautiful.
I want to be beautiful.
And the only reason I'm still fighting is because I've heard stories of the damage and the heartache. In fact, I've been those stories. I've been ruined before. But if it weren't for journals, I wouldn't remember those broken stories because right now, when I look back, all I remember is feeling so strong and accomplished and worthy.
And I want to feel those things all of the time.
A part of me still feels like fighting is the right choice. And the other part of me feels like fighting isn't worth it.
So badly, I wish this wasn't my life. You have no idea how much I wish this wasn't my life.
To feel happy with your life while fighting or not fighting inner demons, that just doesn't seem fair.
I want to feel happy without hearing so many hurtful things being said about me inside of my brain.That girl in there, she is mean. She is cruel. She has extreme standards. Not for everyone, just for me.
Sometimes I don't get how I can be her, how I can be so concerned with loving and accepting others without being that way with myself.
Sometimes I feel absolutely crazy." 

"Fighting is hard.
I feel this sense of pressure that I'm supposed to be fighting for myself every day and a lot of times, it's too much. It is too damn much.
People say I'm strong. I even say I'm strong. But at night, when I think back on the day and the amount of times I gave in to my eating disorder, I realize just how weak I am.
I don't know if the trauma from the past month has made it worse but I feel like crap all of the time these days---obsessing over my food intake, purging many times a day, looking in the mirror and seeing fat fat fat fat fat fat fat and a whole lot of ugliness, weighing myself in the morning and wanting to throw the scale out the effing window.
I act like I'm fine. Am I fine? I feel fine. I feel like this is who I'm supposed to be. I feel like if I can just lose weight, I'll be happier than ever before. I believe that. I remember last March/April when I was going to the gym daily and starving myself or obsessively purging. I was beginning to look better. I was beginning to feel in control while simultaneously getting out of control---irony? Sure.
I think that's the thing I hate most about eating disorders. I crave the control but after a while, I lose control. But in a weird twisted way, the loss of control also feels good because my brain is saying, "This is what you've wanted! This is total commitment and you will love yourself soon.".
Soon?
When does "soon" happen? Does it end with the specific amount of weight I've dubbed as "worthy" of my approval? Or will the number just get lower each time I reach a goal?"

"There is so much fear involved with an eating disorder. Recovery and addiction both involve fear. Neither seems 100% free of it.  
I was sick this weekend and unwillingly threw up a few times. I went to church today still feeling a bit nauseous so I didn't eat beforehand and I slept in and missed an hour of church.
As I walked the halls, I was getting stopped over and over again by women asking me how I've lost so much weight. At first, I felt awkward. Would they like to know what my real secret has been? But after the first two stops, I started to feel good. I felt a little more confident and a lot more beautiful. I felt the attention and I soaked it in. 
And I couldn't bring myself to keep food down the rest of the day. 
So tonight I tried to reel in my safety nets by reading my journal and as I read a few key entries, I remembered.
I remembered the night I blacked out in my own bathroom and all I could do was crawl into my bed and hope I'd be awake the next morning. 
I remembered the times I would be running at the gym and my vision would blur as I pushed my body beyond what it should've been capable of doing." 

"Ed tells me a lot of heavy things when I compare myself to the people around me. He tells me that if I lose 20 more pounds, I'll suddenly feel "good enough". He tells me that I am a horrible mother and that I am the reason my spouse was addicted to pornography. He tells me that I should be more self-conscious than I currently am. When I start to feel any amount of confidence in myself, he laughs in my face and tells me the people who say nice things about me are doing so because they feel sorry for me. It's so hard to believe that people say things because they truly mean them. It is so scary to trust people.
At church today, a woman asked me how I'm getting so skinny. I looked at her with bewilderment. Me? Skinny? Ha! But I told her a friend had referred to this as the "divorce diet" because I just don't have an appetite right now because of stress. It was a lie. I hate lying. I wanted to tell her how I'm struggling with an eating disorder---and not just "an eating disorder" but bulimia, an eating disorder that doesn't come with loss of appetite very often. I wanted to tell her how I hate the girl I see in the mirror. But I have no idea what to say in these situations. I am not ready to just be "the girl with the eating disorder" or "the girl with the eating disorder because her husband left her". I want more of an identity than that and I'm afraid if I tell my real story in the middle of my struggle, I will get lost somewhere in there. When I'm stronger and have the confidence to help others with all of this, I know I will be able to tell my story and still be me."

"Today I tried hard. I mapped out my safe foods and put each of them around a meal time and I've been doing good so far. Only a few times have I had to talk myself out of unhealthy habits. 
I've been putting off this fight because I was afraid of it. I was afraid of weight gain and I was afraid I would feel more out of control again. 
All morning, I've had visions of taking a hammer to my scale. Seriously. I haven't been brave enough to do it because I cannot fathom NOT having my scale. 
But I ate breakfast and lunch. They were very small meals but they felt ok. I wasn't afraid. I didn't panic. I wanted so badly to fight. And I did it.

And then tonight I did it. I knew it needed to be done. I grabbed a hammer and my scale and I smashed it on my back porch. I smashed it over and over with the hammer and when that didn't do the job well enough, I grabbed the shovel and annihilated it. I'm sure my neighbors think I've lost my mind. It felt so completely liberating and scary and amazing, all at the same time. Now that I'm sitting here, without a scale in my bathroom, I feel like maybe I can fight this. I feel a lot of anxiety but mixed in, there is a sense of peace."

The majority of these are from 2014, back when I was pretty engulfed in my eating disorder.

How thankful I am to NOT be in that place today---but instead to be in a place where I choose recovery every single day of my life now.

And the truth is that it is a constant effort and choice on my part. I could go back there at any time---but I don't want to.

I like where I'm at right now. 

And the fact that I have been able to eat healthier lately without restricting or eating everything in my kitchen late in the evenings is a testament to how well my brain is doing.

You guys, my brain is healing! 

I haven't felt this way in a very long time and it is worth every moment where I've fought and failed and gotten back up again.

Friends, eating disorders are real and they're not all that fun to talk about. But they're also not all that fun to live with.

Because of that, I tell my story.
Because of that, every February/March I support eating disorder awareness week.

It's time to talk about it. 

It's time to stop ignoring the signs because it feels too uncomfortable to talk about it.

If you or someone you know is showing signs of an eating disorder, please reach out for help.

Please. 

1,095 Days

February 18th.  

This is a weird day for me to remember---the day I received finalized divorce paperwork in the mail.

Because there were positive and negative feelings that accompanied that paperwork. 

The months leading up to this day held some really important decisions---decisions that caused me to feel like I was drowning.

But in the end, when I look back on those months, they actually went pretty smoothly. 

We took one morning in late November of 2013 where we sat in a room and screamed and cried and laughed and yelled with/at each other and settled on a parenting plan. We finished our divorce paperwork and split up our assets. It was done. All in one single morning.

That was a hard time for me because I felt like I was losing a piece of myself---not only with the loss of my husband but moreso in realizing I'd be without my children every other weekend and possibly losing my "stay at home mom" title.

Our divorce affected motherhood and for me, that was the lowest blow. Because now, instead of having a cohesive unit of parents who work together for them, our children have two parents with two different opinions of how they should be raised.

*picture taken two months into our separation*

I never expected it to be like this. 

In the beginning, I always expected that we would remain friends and find a new normal. I always envisioned us doing activities together---because even though we didn't love each other, we loved our two precious children.

But it isn't all rainbows and butterflies like I thought {Go figure!}. There have been major bumps in the road for our family.

I couldn't have anticipated the things that have happened. They've surprised me each and every time.

The frustrations have been at boiling points way more often than I ever expected. 

*picture taken a week after our divorce papers came in the mail*

And one of the weirdest things about divorce, for me, is growing apart from someone who had made the commitment of eternity with me.

Maybe that's why it's harder now than it was in those first 6 months. Maybe it's because we no longer know each other.

Like how he came to pick them up one day and he was wearing glasses. Or how I've been straightening my teeth with Invisalign.

It's these weird, unimportant, little things that catch me by surprise every once in a while. Because when we were married, we knew so much about each other.

And now he's just my kids' dad. 

Three years have passed since I walked through the doors of that courthouse and filed the paperwork.

We have grown up so much in that time.

I have grown up so much.

I can remember when he left, how I was so incredibly surprised and heartbroken but also how I put my armor on and quickly learned how to fight for myself and my kids.

I remember how scared I was to live alone but how I adapted to it so quickly.

More than anything, I remember how my people rallied around me.
The night I got that paperwork, I sent out a group text with some joke about being able to go on dates now (which is more of a joke now that it was even then).
But I remember as the days went on and I let it sink in, how painful it started to feel that I was divorced.

The D word. 

The word we promised never to even bring up in our marriage---because it wasn't an option.


The truth is that it was always an option. 

And when things got hard in our marriage, it seemed that one of us would fling the word out into the universe to see how it tasted.
And each time, it tasted bitter. 

Now I know why. 

Now I know why the thought of losing my husband was so bitter.

Because in the past three years, there have been more bitter moments than I can count.
There has been so much hurt and so many accusations.

Because we don't know each other anymore. 

And I think knowing each other is what used to get us through our rougher patches.

But even though a lot of it has felt bitter, the sweet has been equally outpouring. In fact, I think I'll change the word 'equally' to 'more' because I cannot see my life different than it is right now.

I mean, a husband would be nice for so many practical reasons but I have been pushed and have grown so much over the past three years.

As painful as it's been, I just don't think I would change it. Because even though we aren't friends and my visions of our divorced life did not come true, my story isn't over. And I have faith that it won't always be like this, that someday the pain and heartache will dissipate and that I'll look back and see the beautiful moments outshining any of the low moments we've had.

Relief: Part One

 Relief: alleviation, ease, or deliverance through the removal of pain, distress, oppression, etc.

I have prayed for relief in many of my life's storms. 
Lately, my prayers have been geared toward loneliness and lack of companionship.

It really is hard being single and watching your friends go on Valentine's dates together and doing other things as couples.
My heart feels like it's ripping apart each time. 
It's never gotten easier---if anything, it's gotten harder. 

I've blogged about my dating woes in the past and each time, it seems like I'm met with a "you just need to be patient" or "your main focus should be your children" or some other response about how I shouldn't be focusing on these feelings.

And you know what? I'm sick of those answers. I'm absolutely sick of them.
Because they are completely apathetic and dismiss feelings that are very real for me.

Heart-achingly real. 

In six days, I 'celebrate' the anniversary of the day my marriage was severed legally.
It's been three years now. 
Three years---and I've gone on four dates since then.
And although it seems like I'm doing quite well---I'd even say that myself most days---the loneliness I experience has become a dark cloud that I have to fight each and every day.

I am so angry tonight, a feeling that I do not like at all. But anger sets in occasionally and I scream out to my Heavenly Father when life seems so unfair. And tonight, it seems extremely unfair. 

I spend my weeks giving everything I have to my children and often forget about myself.
My self-care involves choosing to relax instead of clean the house which then backfires because the house turns into a disaster and then I'm too overwhelmed to know where to start cleaning.

I keep thinking I've got the single mom thing down completely but then I look around at the messes and realize I am not taking care of everything like I should.
I am failing at so many things right now.

So many things. 

And I know you'll tell me I'm not---I'd genuinely tell you the same thing about your own life---but it often feels that way.

It feels like I'll never measure up to the expectations men have. Our culture depicts thinness as one of the most important factors when looking for a potential relationship and oh my gosh, it is so damn frustrating.
So even if I am comfortable with my body, which most of the time these days I am, it doesn't make a huge difference.
There have been times in my single life where I've thought to myself, "All I need to do is lose 50 pounds and then I'll be date-able", and that thinking is so backwards.
It's so sad that my brain even thinks that way on occasion.

But the truth is that it does. 

And I'm just trying to be truthful with you, as hard as that may be for me right now.

I have been in such a good place the past few weeks but tonight, I'm not.

Tonight I absolutely hate that I sit in this house alone each night.
I absolutely hate that every other weekend, my heart physically hurts pretty much all of Sunday but more specifically during church and at dinnertime because my two littles are gone.
I absolutely hate that the time I have to spend on dating and singles activities and relationships is almost non-existent and that their dad gets the thing I want so badly because he has 25 kidless days a month.
Tonight, I hate all of it.

And although I wouldn't change it because my kids are such an important part of my life, it is so incredibly hard.
And I'm not going to sugarcoat that because I believe it is important to talk about the crappiest of things and be open so that I'm not shutting myself off from the world and closing my heart to the beauty that does currently exist in my life.

So this is me not shutting down---even though it completely feels like me shutting down.