“Last year things suddenly changed. Choices were made. Choices that hurt. Choices that left us hundreds of miles apart. Choices that felt very similar to the pain of my own divorce.”
Read MoreI don’t know why he doesn’t feel permission to emote when big things happen, but I know it’s my job as his parent to guide him to a healthy, safe place where he can sort it all out… and shaming him for having emotions won’t get the job done. I realized I needed to give him some tools to help get him out of the pit he was in. I was grasping at a way to gain access to this kid who I sometimes struggle to understand.
Read MoreAfter my divorce, I was told by well-meaning friends and family, “You’re going to have men beating down your door to date you.” LIES!!! This has absolutely not been my experience. Not that I would even want this to happen anyway. Honestly, that sounds like a lot of drama and stress.
Over the past three years my dating life has consisted of one confusing night out. (ONE!)
[Insert cricket noises here]
Enter: “The Story”
Read MoreI was recently sitting in a meeting at work and as things were winding down everyone was asked about their plans for the upcoming holiday. Some were hosting family, others were going out of town, some were even making several stops in one day (like Jay and I used to do). Then it was my turn. I opened my mouth to reply, but my throat clenched shut and tears welled up in my eyes. I knew I was sad, but I didn’t realize how sad until that moment. Three years ago I said goodbye to holidays with my in-laws and pumpkin pie for breakfast. This year, I say goodbye to a Boston accent, hilarious stories told from across the pond, and the smell of my mom’s famous sourdough rolls. Every few years our Thanksgiving table gets smaller and smaller. I didn’t realize how much I was still grieving the loss of these traditions until I was sitting in a meeting trying to choke back tears.
Read MoreBecause of our unhealthy family culture it is assumed any major disagreement will result in a line being drawn through your name. My fight reflex is wee bit over-exercised and, recently, that scrappy ol’ broad came out ready to swing during an intense conversation with my mom. I held her back as best I could. (My inner Bon Qui Qui… not my mom.) But, despite my efforts, I let my emotions win and my words were cutting.
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