Archive for the ‘hope’ Category

One Year.

Three hundred and sixty five days. That’s how long it’s been since my entire life, our entire life, changed forever.

I’m not certain when things started to go wrong. I’ve searched in my memories, in old journals and blog posts and conversations with close friends, and there doesn’t seem to be a definitive time of “THAT! Yes, that. That is when you should have left him.”

Regardless, one year has brought us to an entirely different place. A different state, a different relationship, a different and deeper love for someone else. A different heart, a different mindset. My child is different, and sometimes I wonder what she would have turned out to be had her father been the one to be by my side for the rest of her life to raise her. If my someone and I eventually married, she still would have a different life than what I had planned for her. How will this affect who she becomes?

How has it affected who I’ve become? I’m certainly nowhere near the same person I was. I love my child deeper, but it’s taken a lot longer to trust my someone the way he deserves. Somedays, I still question. I’ve tried to push him away again and again. But he loves me, wholeheartedly, baggage and all.

I had absolutely  no intentions of getting into a relationship for months, possibly years after my husband and I split up. But this incredible person, this heart-shaped gem, this rare gift, found me. Chose me. Loved me. Inspired me to be better, to get better, and to continue getting better. I still have a long way to go, but with his guidance and support, as well as the love of the God I know in my heart, and the incredible friends I have in real-life and in the online world, I will not just survive: my daughter and I will thrive and be something, do something great.


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The First Part of Our Story

Loving someone is being strong when they aren’t.


I wish I wasn’t so broken; that there weren’t pieces of me that I constantly have to glue back together to get through each day, each hour, each moment. He deserves someone whole.


There is someone. My “someone”. He knew me when I was an 11 year old awkward little girl, with fluffy bangs and scrunched down socks. I walked up to him one day in school, and said, “Hi! A, right?” without an ounce of fear or apprehension in my voice. We held each others’ hands and touched each others’ hearts, each going through a tumultuous home life of which we did not really share with each other until over a decade later. We had no idea that we brought such strength to the other, that when we truly thought there was no joy in sight, we would continue to find it the next day in a simple smile and “hello”.

Nights brought fights and tears. Mornings brought school and each other. It was simply a matter of getting through to the next day.

My someone spent that Christmas, 1995, with me and my family. I recall it stronger than most other Christmases because of not only his presence, but of the presence of my biological father. A first, and a last, holiday spent with me. (We have no relationship to this day.)  It was a sweet, curious day. A brought me a Coca-Cola Christmas bear with “1995” emblazoned on its foot, knowing full well my affinity for teddy bears, and a coloring book and crayons for my three year old sister.

The year passed in a frightening school, full of memories of watching my best friend get her head slammed against the cement floor after lunch one day, after daring to accidentally push a much bigger girl in line. That was the last year I spent in that school district.

The fall came and brought with it my new school on the opposite side of town. A and I drifted apart. Our last conversation came when we were approaching the teen years, over the phone. We didn’t see each other or speak again until this fall.


We’ve found each other again. We’ve held each other’s hands, and hearts, again. We’re starting over from scratch, and yet I still wonder what he sees in this broken woman. He swears that “I saved him” when we were kids, and after hearing his story of what really was happening in his life, I know Who’s responsible for that, and it’s not me. But I swear, I think the same thing of him.

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