Home.

Home.

Cliches annoy me. They roll too easy off the tongue and involve little thought. But they exist because they are mostly true.

They say that:

Home is where the heart is.

It’s like a stupid sign I would hang in the living room as a decoration. I had certainly bought into that idea without putting thought into. Like, yes my address where I live is also where my family lives.  And until the divorce the idea of “Home” was simply a structure with walls and roof. A home was a thing you paint and fill. Something you pay for and something you can sell. Continue reading “Home.”

My Worst Divorce Memory

My Worst Divorce Memory

Lately I’ve been thinking.

Thoughts I’ve buried. Thoughts I’ve deemed too difficult to process.

And mix it with thoughts that counteract the trauma. The “Look how far I’ve come now” kind of thoughts.

I remember driving in the car. We dropped the boy off with mom and dad and making our way home to pack for a quick weekend trip to Chicago. It was my “Hail Mary” to save our marriage. Continue reading “My Worst Divorce Memory”

2016. Please don’t be cruel.

2016. Please don’t be cruel.

Christmas was hard. Then I managed to get the flu, bronchitis and an ear infection. I spent New Years curled up on the couch with tea, a blanket and my J.

I let being sick break me a little. I missed those days when  in my old life I would have someone I know would take care of me. He would bring me medicine, a cupcake, soup and he knew what I needed. He would rub my back and ask me what else I needed. He would check in on me and be so sweet and kind. Obviously I am romanticizing and possibly inflating the reality. I just can’t remember the truth. Because when things got bad, when he changed that was my new reality. A year ago I was violently ill and he found me on the bathroom floor unable to move. He barked at me to get up and left me there to myself. Continue reading “2016. Please don’t be cruel.”