Tiny Purple Devil Fruit

This week is going to be full of some not nice feelings for me. And some irony. Because as I sit here writing about being intentional about what I put in my body my mouth is full and I just took a swig of Coke Zero to wash down the previous bite of breakfast…

So here it is. Week 5 – aka being intentional about my body – aka the talk I have with myself EVERY. SINGLE. MONDAY.

Let’s set the stage. I am not one of those women who fell into weight struggles later in life because babies and college and whatever. I have struggled with weight as long as I can remember. I was one of the most active kids you ever met and I looked at a Cheeto and gained 5 pounds. So I am no stranger to dieting and exercise.

I have actually been quite successful at it at times during my life. Those times were before I got home from work/kids at 9pm every night too exhausted to do anything but drool on myself. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to be successful. Every Monday, pretty much without fail I set out to be better. And typically by dinner that night I’ve fallen off the wagon. By Tuesday I have pushed the wagon down the hill after setting it on fire.

And why is that? I can wake up after failing my kids or failing at work or failing with friends and go about being better the next day. But something about THIS aspect is an all or nothing thing for me. “Well, I didn’t exercise today so I guess I’ll wait to start until next Monday.” That was January. Sigh. Or “Well, I didn’t eat well yesterday so I might as well eat nachos for breakfast” ß That was literally my thought process last Friday. In my defense they were leftovers and I didn’t have time for my traditional egg breakfast (hello, rationalize much??).

And I know me. I know I can’t do all the things all at once. Because there are A LOT of habits I’d like to change about my body. I can’t quit carbs, and Coke Zeros, and alcohol, and create a gym regimen all in the same week. So I try to start small.

Last week I determined that this week was the week I ate better. In order to do that I HAVE to meal prep. Have to. So I bought all the things to make that happen. Including an eggplant. Now, I like eggplant. I’ve cooked it several times before. This eggplant came with some sort of mental block. Like it sat on my counter for 5 days. And when I’d pass by it I would think mean things about it. “You are not nachos. You sit there and think about what you’ve become.”  or "You are a tiny purple fruit made by the devil." I finally cooked it because I really can’t stand to waste food and now those bad feelings are carrying over into the eating of the eggplant. But I ate it. Yesterday for lunch I had the weirdest combination of food you’ll probably ever have (think eggplant balsamic thing covered in alfredo sauce and red pepper wrapped in a tortilla and covered in Frank’s hot sauce. I told you it was weird!) And last night, because I had failed to plan, I had Burger King.

But I will say that maybe I am making baby steps. Because instead of feeling defeated this morning I packed my breakfast of a duck egg and some watermelon and am happily consuming as I write this.

So this week in terms of being intentional about my life, I haven’t mapped out a game plan. I am still trying to find the one that fits with our lifestyle and schedule and that I can honestly stick to. Because I really do feel better when I put the good things in my body, but short of hiring a personal chef, it isn’t going to be easy. I think for me small changes are the way to go. Maybe one new one per week. So for next week I shall add fruit to every meal. I like fruit and as long as I can get to the store to buy it I’ll be fine. Week 1 goal in the bag.  And no fast food. Fruit and no fast food. I’m already feeling like next week may be the week…

Report Card

Ok, so this is blog #4 since my whole “my goal is to be intentional in all the things”, so I thought it was a good time to touch base.

So right off the bat, I’m going to admit a failure. My goal had been to be intentional about writing. In order to do that I set a goal of writing once per week for 52 weeks. I made it three weeks. Technically less than that, because I didn’t set the goal before I began. Last week was a short week at work, coming off a mini vacation, and I had a huge project due on Friday. That last sentence seems like an excuse, or a rationalization even. But it wasn’t. It was the reason. And knowing the difference between a reason and an excuse I think can help me be more successful in the long run. I felt myself starting to get stressed last week about finding the time to write a blog. But a) when I’m stressed the creativity doesn’t exactly flow, so I didn’t even have an idea and b) if writing is cathartic, then why am I allowing it to stress me out.

So guess what… I gave myself a break. A hall pass. A get over it and don’t feel guilty card. And guess what, I did. It’s such a slippery slope when you are the one holding yourself accountable to things because one week turns into 3 that turn into a lifetime of never achieving what you wanted. But at the same time a reason for missing a goal can absolutely be a good one and sometimes you have to cut yourself some slack. So I did. And guess what, I’m back at it this week =)

So, intentional item #1, working through a failure. Item #2 – be intentional about who I put in my life. Well, I’m pleased to say this is going well on my end (I’ll circle back to an observation later). The first path to success for me on this was looking around and deciding who I want in my life. Do I take the vacation with the drinking buddy (not that having those is a bad thing) or the godly woman from church that I admire?  Do I jump back into the dating pool even though it seems to get shallower ever time I visit? Do I call up old friends that I may have lost touch with because life gets busy and I’m not always the friend I should be?

So once I was able to define what that looked like for me, the path got easier. Notice I did not say easy. Being intentional about who you put in your life requires effort. Every day. I try every single day to reach out to someone that I consider a friend that I may not have spoken to in a while. It might be a text just to say they’ve been on my mind. Sometimes those go unanswered. But it is me making an effort. When I know my friends are going through something difficult, I reach out. And not just once, over and over so they know they aren’t alone. And I pray for them, often. But that still didn’t necessarily put the right people in my life.

So I’ve become intentional about creating meaningful relationships with other women. I struggle sometimes at work because this is a man’s world and it is easy for a woman manager to get lost in that. So I called a woman that I admire and asked her for advice. I even went further than that, I told her I needed a mentor. So now that door is open anytime I need it to be. Which just knowing that the door is there makes things seem much easier to tackle. I am also super excited about my “not a book club” gathering that will start next week. I’ve reached out to three girlfriends and asked for an hour of their time each week. We will be reading a book, but we’ll also be sharing thoughts and ideas and forming bonds with women who are not like us. The only common thread they all have is me. And I’ve asked them to bring someone I don’t know. It could turn out to be a total disaster, but I hope not. I’m really excited about it!

Ok, to circle back around, it has been eye opening, almost to the point of discouraging how many people say they’ll make plans and then never do. And this is not an accusation. I totally used to be guilty of this. “Hey great to see you, let’s have lunch soon.” “Ok” and then no one ever lunches. I have counted 5 (yes 5!!!) people in the past 7 days that I have reached out to to try and schedule lunch with who all say “yes that’s a great idea” and then zero follow through. And I’m even the one texting them saying “hey, send me some dates that work for lunch” and nothing. I don’t think it is me personally (I mean it could be, but I hope not). I think that is just the culture we live in today. But my challenge to you this week if you take anything away from reading this would be to answer that text. Make the lunch plans. And show up. I’m pretty sure you’ll be glad you did.

So finally, goal number 3… being intentional with my kids. For me, this is the hardest one. I’m not going to rehash the why, but y’all, I’m tired. All the time. And I love my children, but I could not care less about their house in RoadBlox (I’m pretty sure I spelled that wrong) or who is managing the pizza parlour that day. And since sometimes victories are about gaining the inch and not the mile I have not chosen to care about their make believe houses and jobs yet.

What I have done is create an environment where we are all present together, and I don’t mean necessarily just physically. All electronic devices are kept in my room until the weekends. That means when we are home we can do things together, and not the whole “each in their own corner” mentality. Amelia has started reading to me every night as a part of her school work. She used to read in her room, but this is 15 minutes that she and I get to share something together. Braden and I still spend time in the kitchen each week, so forward progress is being made.

So I guess in terms of a grade, I hit 2 of the 3, 66.67%. If I’m grading on a curve I’d bump that up 10-15% since really I missed a goal on issue 1, but did not give up. So I’m sitting at a solid C right now. I can live with that. It is certainly not failure, but it gives me something to continue to improve on. Which is 100% where I see life right now. I’m happy. And I’m busy. Sometimes I’m so busy I can’t see straight. But I’m fulfilled. And that is what happens when you are intentional, your bucket gets filled.

Riding along in my automobile...intentionally

As we've discussed, the theme of my new focus is being intentional. I want to be intentional about who I put into my life. Because without that we end up trapped in something causing us pain that we don’t even know we are trapped in. Got it?

But the intentional part doesn’t stop there. Once you have people in your life, what do you do with them? In theory if you’ve selected the right type of people, then you’re all cruising along being awesome together. And maybe that is a post for another day. What if the people are family? The kind that have to be there? Like the tiny humans…? How intentional are my interactions with them?

Yes, yes, I intentionally interact with them every day. I chose to be a part of their lives. I make them breakfast (ok technically they make their own now, but you get the point), drive them places, watch them blossom into tiny humans who can do things like make their own breakfasts. And I love every moment (ok, that is a lie, mom life is hard sometimes… but I love most of the moments).

But recently I have found us busier than ever (cue the “I told you so” from parents with children older than mine…) . Like eat in the car, shower only when extremely necessary kind of busy. I mean I looked up and this summer was GONE. Don’t get me wrong, I love watching my kids do things they love. I will always be their biggest cheerleader and supporter, but lately I’ve felt a lot more like a chauffer than a raiser of tiny humans.

So, I want to be more intentional in my interactions with my kiddos. And y’all… that is HARD! I mean, sometimes all I want to do when I get home from a long day turned even longer by soccer/dance/gymnastics/theater is sit on the couch and stare at a wall. Maybe eat. Maybe not. Naps would be great. But that isn’t what is best for my kids. Yes, one of those days where we all veg on the couch while eating tv watching a show is ok. But it can’t turn into the norm. Last night my 7 year old daughter took it upon herself to heat up some mac n cheese and set the table for everyone so that we would sit down at the table and share a meal together. While my heart was humbled at the fact that she wanted to do this, it was also a little sad because I couldn’t remember the last time we’d shared a meal together at our table.

As a part of keeping me honest, I’m going to share with you guys my plan for being more intentional with my kids. Please hold me to it.

Step 1) We each set a weekly goal on Sunday night. It should be something we can accomplish in 7 days. It can be about school, or work, or friends, or self care, but we have a goal. We write that goal down and post it on the fridge. We have daily check ins and reminders about the goals. That is causing us to have bigger conversations than “How was school?” ”Fine”. (Although remind me to tell you guys about the “where do babies come from conversation” with Braden two weeks ago… one of the funniest, yet most terrifying moments of my life). So we set and talk about goals. I won’t share the kids, because that is theirs to share, but mine this week was to find a mentor. And as soon as I set the goal I knew exactly how to set about finding one, so made a phone call (I know that seems counter productive to my “be more present” goal, but if I have a mentor then I stress less about work, allowing me more time to spend with the kiddos). Yay goals!

Step 2) Create time and stress less. Now you will never once hear me say that being late is acceptable. Not once, not ever. But I have started stressing less about it if it happens to occur. Old Lauren would stew in the car, afraid that the world would no longer accept us because we were 3 minutes late to a practice. So, starting now I won’t stress and I’ll be more present in the car. Because honestly we spend a lot of time in the car. So no more zoning out. Be present, have the conversations.

Step 3) Take time for family. Over the past 12 or so years I have worked so hard to try and get our family into the same geographical area. Now it’s happened so I need to make sure we are taking advantage of it. All of us! Last week I booked a weekend get away with my brother’s family in October. Because spending time with my cousins was one of my favorite parts of childhood!

Step 4) This one is the hardest, yet it seems so simple. Just be present. Going at this pace often leaves my brain friend by 7pm. I just want to sit for a moment and relax. But I have to do better. I’m not saying to give up my “me” time, I’m saying I need to slow down enough so that the me time can wait. When my kids are home and awake, I need to be in a state of mind to give them my attention. Again, I’m not saying all the time. Playing alone is something that every child needs to learn to do, but there has to be equal time when we do things together, and not just watch tv. So one thing I’ve started doing is having Amelia read to me at night, instead of in her room. I was so good about doing this with Braden, but #secondkidproblems have kicked into full gear. Braden and I take a lot of time lately in the kitchen. I am being present with them in whatever small ways I can find. No matter how tired I am.

Stay tuned. Life is a delicate balance of raising them right and letting them fly. Most days I feel like I’m doing ok, but some days it feels like I’m barely treading water with them. At the end of their childhoods I want most importantly for them to look back and know they were loved.

Every Pain has a purpose...

So my best friend had a “stern” talk with me the other day that ended with “just take some time to do you for a while”. As much as I would have loved to have denied the fact that I’m not that girl that seems to always been in some sort of relationship, I couldn’t. I tend to seek something to replace what I’m missing when something ends. Replace that first “Good morning” text and the last “Good night” each day. That’s how I ended up here. I had ended a relationship and I missed him all the time, so I found something that would help take my mind off of things. I never expect these “replacements” to last too long, but then they do. Because apparently I am a relationship person.

And because I haven’t been very intentional about these things I typically end up in messes. Messes that I think will get better, or are going fine, but are they’re really not. Like a small blemish on your body that you refuse to go to the doctor for because it will get better. I mean it’s really not that bad. It will get better on its own if I just do the things I know are right. Then three years later you have an 8 pound tumor growing.

And the thing is, as much as I try to rationalize that things are going well, there are usually signs. Not like someone is being mean to me (although I have done that relationship a few times…), but signs that I’m not happy. But in true adult fashion I rationalize and shove all the feelings down deep. Because I love this person. I love the life I share with this person. I love the things I share with them that I don’t share with anyone else. Plus typically in any sort of good relationship, this person becomes a friend. So not only are you losing a plus one, you’re losing a friend. And that is scary, and painful, more so because the person you would typically lament to is the person you just lost. So rather than ending things, because that will bring pain, I stay because that pain seems like the lesser of two evils at the time.

Unfortunately all this does is prolong the inevitable. Because the things that I rationalize and shove deep down don’t go away. When left untreated they grow. So that now instead of a small pain, it has grown… to an 8 pound tumor. It has ruined all chances of good feelings, reconciliation, friendship. All the things you wanted to hold so close to avoid pain.

So what I have come to realize is that every pain has a purpose. And I need to stop ignoring those pains. That doesn’t mean that at the first sign of trouble I should head for the hills. But on the big stuff, the things I shouldn’t compromise on, I need to heed that pain. I need to rip the band aid and feel all the feels because prolonging the inevitable doesn’t make it go away. It makes it grow.

Thanks to a recent (super awkward, but that is another story entirely!!) trip to the movies, I’ve decided that I need to be more intentional about who I put into my life. What purpose do they serve? I want to go out and intentionally seek friendships that allow me to grow and feel loved by amazing women. Women who see things the same as me and women who see things differently than me. Women that love Jesus, and their children, and their dogs, and their husbands (or some combination of any of those things). I want to find godly men to surround myself with that make me laugh. Men that are friends with no other expectations. People that love me for the strong person I am, but aren’t afraid to challenge me when I’m wrong.  I won’t be able to stop pain in the future, because let’s face it, my “picker of men” function won’t be magically cured overnight. So there will be more pain in the future. But my hope is that as I continue to be intentional about the type of people in my life, that I will trust them and grow as a person to recognize and admit those signs earlier.

And that’s the other thing. Admitting when I’m wrong is probably the thing in this life I am the least good at (Ask my mother…for real…she’s got some stories!). So admitting that I was wrong in picking a person that was supposed to be my person is not easy for me. So I think that sometimes I try to make things work so that I don’t have to admit to failing. (I legitimately can’t believe I actually just admitted that on paper.) Because let’s face it, 99% of all relationships don’t fail because of one person. Each person is at fault. So there is that, plus having to admit that I picked yet another thing that didn’t work out. Then in this town you have all the nay-sayers to begin with, so you want so badly for something to work just to prove them wrong. Because clearly that is the basis of a good relationship. Proving people wrong. No wonder I ended up with an 8 pound tumor…

I digress. Even with the pain, and the failures, and all of the things, I learn something each time. I realize things about myself that I don’t like when I look in the mirror. I’ve done a lot of growing over the past year. A lot. I’ve lost friends over it. I’ve had some come back. But what I have come to realize is that I still have so far to go. But I am on a path, to feel the pain, know it’s purpose, and be intentional about surrounding myself with the right people to help me do that. 

One last note... I'm also going to be more intentional about writing. Writing is so cathartic for me and has been a lot of how I uncovered these feelings above. So if you see me out and about, feel free to hold me to it. I promise not all of my stuff will have references to Gray's Anatomy =) 

What Gray’s Anatomy taught me about relationships…

Just rip the dress

In one of the earlier seasons of Gray’s Anatomy, Christina was going to marry to Preston Burke. And then she didn’t. He left her at the alter. And at the end of that episode there is a scene where Meredith cuts Christina out of her wedding dress as Christina sobs. You think it is because she feels so sad, but she mutters that she is relieved. I remember the first time (and all subsequent times) that I’ve seen that episode wondering how you get to a point of feeling so relieved that it is over. Why not just end it?

I ended something Saturday night. Something that has existed in my life as a relationship of some type or another since last June. It has taken many ups and downs and sideways turns, but at the root there was a lot of love. But underneath all of that was this truth that I was living the relationship that he wanted for us, not one I envisioned for myself. Although I’ve acknowledged that to friends and family over the past 15 months, there was always this fear that in addition to losing a relationship (and all of the feelings of failure that come with that), if I ended things I would also be losing a friend.

That last statement is SOOOO me. I’m a stayer! I stay way too long because I rationalize all of the things that make me unhappy in a relationship. And I think I do that because I often confuse that rationalization with compromise. We are supposed to compromise, right? That’s the basis of any good relationship is compromise. It’s Relationship 101. But all of us have (or should have) these sticking points. Things we aren’t willing to compromise on. I do, and at the beginning of every relationship I am so resolute in them. Then I fall in love and that resolution begins to fade into rationalization. “Well, I can do this because I love him and he loves me and it’s not like he explicitly asked me to do this, it’s just something I have to do if we want to be together…” When I say it like that I seem kind of like someone I would hate. One of those women who doesn’t have the guts to do what is right for herself. **Sigh**

BUT… this man had grown to become my person. We talked every day throughout most of the day. We shared in each other’s joys and successes and failures. And I wasn’t sure I was ready to give that up.  I was scared. Because honestly what relationship doesn’t also end up with that person being one of your best friends? Losing your partner and your friend in one decision is SCARY! So I chose to compromise what I wanted on one end of the spectrum to get something I thought I needed on the other. And then came my moment.

Ok, I’m not actually sure it was just one moment. I think maybe it was several tiny moments. But if I’ve learned anything from Gray’s Anatomy it is that even the smallest bleeds can be catastrophic if not caught in time. I didn’t want to continue to put band aids on something that we both knew will never heal.

And I expected for it to wreck me. Don’t get me wrong, that night I called a friend and she listened while I cried. But the next morning I woke up expecting to feel that gut wrenching pain that comes with no longer getting to love someone, and I didn’t. The tears didn’t come. Instead I sat up and felt relief. Not relief in that this was a terrible relationship or that he was a bad person, but relief that I knew I no longer had to put what I wanted and needed aside for someone else. It was as if someone had cut me out of the dress and I could finally breath again.

Tiny Humans and Baby Sisters

The thing no one tells you about when you’re a single parent that dates another single parent, is that when things don’t work out, you don’t get visitation. And that is tough. I spent over a year of my life loving that little girl, helping to raise that little girl, and just like that she is out of my life.

No, she is out of our lives.

You see, I’m a grown up. With lots of experience in areas of the heart. That experience has brought lots of love and laughter, but also lots of heartache. And with each heartache, comes a void. I’ve learned as time has passed to take that void and put it in a little box. And as a coping mechanism, that little box doesn’t get opened very often. So while I still love and miss that little girl, I don’t think about it too much. It is too painful.

But my babies, the tiny humans, they aren’t grown ups. They’ve also experience a lot of love and laughter, and also a lot of heartache. But unlike me, they aren’t calloused. They wear their heartache right on their sleeve for the world to see. And like me, they lost two people during that breakup. Amelia lost the only father figure she’s ever known, and she lost her little sister.

Because you see in this relationship we weren’t just playing. We were building a family and a future together. Olivia was her little sister. We both told my kids how important it was to teach Olivia the right things because they were her big brother and big sister. And they loved her as such. And silly me, I thought both kids were ok when Olivia was gone from their lives. I thought because I put my feelings in a box, and because they didn’t sit down and cry each night, that they were ok.

But you see, they aren’t. Their lives got ripped apart. Our family went from 5 to 3 in a single day. They never even got to say goodbye to her. And unlike when a marriage ends, my kids don’t get visitation. They don’t get to see the man they considered to be a father. They don’t get to see their little sister. And at least for Amelia, it is breaking her heart.

For the past 6 weeks Amelia has asked me daily if I was ever going to get married again. My response is typically that I don’t know. She then follows up with the question of whether or not I’m going to have another baby. To which I typically and emphatically answer No. (As an amusing aside to this story, I once accidentally told her we could get a puppy instead, which she has totally run with. She now tells everyone she’s getting a puppy even though I meant to tell her we could get a fish. She’s basically laid down the ultimatum that we either get a baby sister or a puppy. She’s holding my uterus hostage!!!) And then one day I thought to ask her if she wanted me to have another baby. She said “yes, because I want to be a big sister again”. It finally dawned on me that she doesn’t really want a new baby sister. She wants her old baby sister back. These questions are her trying to understand this loss in her life. Trying to understand why they aren’t coming back. Trying to understand how a man that told her he loved her and tucked her in at night, just disappeared one day, and took her baby sister with him. 

And y’all, it’s tough to explain to your kids why relationships don’t work out. But it is even tougher to explain to them that they lost their family and probably won’t ever see them again. There is a lot of judgement going on in my head. I’m judging me because I put my kids in that situation. I told them to love her because family is forever. I judge him because now he isn’t the father he promised them he would be. But through all of that judgement, the hurt and loss that my kids feel is still there. There is no resolution because our relationship ended for a reason. But how do you tell your kids that you chose to end their relationships, too?

For now I’m dealing with their pain through trips to Space Camp and the beach, through sno cones and cheese dip, through lots of love and laughter of our own. We go on grand adventures on the weekends because we miss her less when we aren’t at home. I realize that is not an entirely healthy attitude about loss, but for now it is the only way I know how to help them. Because I can assure you that Amelia is not getting another little sister. Or a puppy. I can barely commit to a fish… I swear it’s like animals come to our house to die, and more loss is really just not in the cards right now. Did I tell you that their cat ran away the same weekend that Mike left?

Yes, life is hard some days. This is hard. And I pray daily for God to take my anger and guilt away about this. But so far peace hasn’t come. And so tonight I write. And tomorrow will be a new day. 

Princess of my own castle

Breakups are hard. Period. I remember when my first boyfriend and I broke up in junior high. It seemed like the world would end. I remember crying to my mom in the gym during a basketball game and thinking that my world would never be right again. That I would never “love” anyone like I had “loved” him.

Well, 20 years later and breakups are still hard. I’m still crying to my mom, only this time it is from the driveway of my house and not a high school gym. And although it is like a gut punch, I know my world will not end. But man going through a breakup as an adult comes with so many added complications.

Like the stuff. We were, how should I say it… Shacking up…? So now there comes the dividing of the things. What is his, what is mine, what was ours and who gets it now? Now, 3 days post break up was my worst day so far. I was fine one minute and a sobbing mess on the floor the next, and it would come out of nowhere. But during one of my ok moments, I felt like that would be a good time to start the packing of the things. Man was I wrong. Yet another heaping, sobbing mess. But little by little the things are being sorted and packed.

Post breakup Day 4 was a good day. I didn’t cry once. There is always an underlying sadness, but no tears. Fast forward to post breakup Day 5 and complication number 2. The pictures. Since we had integrated our lives together in a day where not too many days go by without photos being taken, there is a ton of photographic evidence lying around. I went through my phone, and for some reason I just couldn’t erase all of the pictures. Some were easy. Delete. Gone. Like the life we had planned. But others are still there. I just can’t do it. They serve as a grim reminder of the things we did together when we were in love. And don’t get me started on the pictures in the house. Taking his picture off my office desk was almost my undoing. And it’s more than just pictures. It’s dividing a life. Things you wouldn’t think about in a million years. Like the DVR. Last night I erased all of his shows. Because last night it wasn’t hard. But I don’t want to happen upon one in 6 months when I’m having a randomly sad day and have a meltdown. So part of breaking up is going into detective mode and figuring out all the places your lives are intertwined and unraveling those strings. Ugh. Dagger to the heart. These small, inconsequential actions somehow make it all too real.

Now don’t get me wrong. This breakup was my idea. For a million reasons that I won’t name here. But it doesn’t make it any easier. I know this next statement will make zero sense to all of you people out there who live with your head leading the way, and not your heart, but sometimes you can’t help who you love. Turns out, my sixteen year old self was wrong. I would come to love someone even deeper than I had loved my first boyfriend. And this guy was the one who took the prize. We’ve spent almost 3 years of our lives together, and for those of you tracking, that’s almost 1/10^th of my life. That’s insane. But for all the reasons my head told me that this guy wasn’t right for me, there were a hundred reasons that my heart told me to keep him. I have never loved anyone as truly and deeply as I loved this man, but sometimes love is just not enough. Even though we never stood up in front of God and our friends and took vows, we promised a life to each other. A life together. A life raising our children side by side. A life filled with all the reasons that I choose to wake up and love him every day. And now I don’t get to do that anymore.

Which brings in complication number 3. The kids. I told them on post breakup Day 2. Mainly because I was afraid they would see me randomly break down into tears and think I was insane. (Amusingly enough that happened Post Break Up Day 1 at a dance competition and now I’m pretty sure all of the other moms think I’m insane.) They of course, took it better than I did. Go figure. But then this morning Amelia asked if Olivia would always be her little sister? How do you answer that? Avoidance. That’s how I dealt with it this morning. But I know it will come up again, so I’m busy trying to figure out how to explain to my five year old that not only has she lost the only father figure she’s ever known, but she’s also lost her little sister. Now don’t get me totally wrong, Amelia is super stoked to have her entire room back to herself, but she is grieving, too.

Each day seems to be better, for the most part. But I think I’ve realized that a part of me is clinging to the hope that this isn’t the end. Which is totally unhealthy. Clinging to a life that only happens if someone else changes is a hopeless dream. But sometimes the reality that there will not be another ballgame, another kiss, another night be the fire is just too much to handle. So I think for now I’m clinging to this hope that it really isn’t the end.

And that is due to complication #4. As a teenager you have nothing but free time. No kids, no real responsibilities. Which leaves plenty of time for staying in bed and sobbing uncontrollably for hours at a time. Not so much as an adult. I am forcing myself to feel this only in small doses, because I can’t afford to fall apart. I have these pesky things called bills, which require payment, which requires a job, which does not allow me to stay in bed sobbing uncontrollably for days on end. And then the nerve of the kids. Expecting me to get up to take them to school and dance class and soccer…. All joking aside, being an adult is hard enough to begin with. It’s even harder when you’re sad and all you want to do is curl up and have yourself a good cry. When you’re sixteen, your friends have nothing but free time to call and console you. Not so much as an adult… Not that my friends haven’t been there for me. Because they have. But we’re squeezing in therapy time between toddlers falling off slides and work meetings. And then there are the innocent ones that casually ask “Are you doing ok?” Apparently “No” is not an acceptable answer to that question. I get lots of uncomfortable pauses and people cautiously taking steps backwards. But that is the truth. For now, I’m not ok, but I will be and some days that has to be enough.

So for this day I’ll have to give up the dreams of a life I planned. But as I have so often discovered, life often does not go according to plan. I have faith, and for now that is enough for me. Well, that and the fact that my happily ever after might just be me being the Princess of my own castle, doing things on my own, while raising my tiny minion army of 2….