I saw the nuptials, the blending of families and the extension of our own. I saw the mornings where we prepped each other’s coffee, and the evenings where we held each other tightly. I saw the beginning and the ending of our days with clarity. I saw not just me, not only you, but an us.

Love, passion and intensity were present, but regrettably so were a multitude of fears, coupled with negative thoughts, lack of trust and anger. Our history included 19 years where we saw each other’s successes and failures; where we showcased our true selves unmasked. These years should have bound us, but instead might have singed us because as the disagreements were had, we knew how to fire the bullets, and thereafter, our recovery time became lengthier and lengthier.

I tried. I genuinely tried and became tired of trying to shut off your unwarranted fears and negative thoughts, as nothing I did could lessen them despite our history. And while your insecurities, through my actions, should have been fully removed, or at the very least should have lessened tremendously, I was even unable to overturn those. I realize now that your demons from your past were not mine to silence, but I was truly willing to walk alongside you to make them become voiceless; as it was to be us against the world.

I have loved you as I have loved no one. I have sacrificed for you the most, more than many would ever know, and I honestly wanted my transformation to appease you faster than my reality allowed. My growth was intimidating, as you admitted, and my new-found independence was threatening, as was my ability to finally take a stand for me. I was willing to increase my dependence, but not fully become dependent, as I was willing to bite my tongue, but not become fully speechless, and that all should have been okay. For while with you, I should still be me.

Timing has always been our issue, as has patience, and it seems where we are today is a repeat of where we were. This time, though, as we were so much closer to our dreams, the pain is deeper, the cries are longer, and the heartache is heavier. We were right there seeing the finish line (or our true start line) right before us, but the vile, not validated accusations you casted my way, I could not continue to ignore, and therefore I had to part. No one faithful should ever be accused of unfaithfulness. No one committed should ever be accused of being the contrary. No one’s minimal past should ever be blown up to make them feel flawed. How.dare.you.

You offered me and could provide me the world, I saw snippets of such, but all I wholeheartedly wanted was to be believed that I see and love only you. If only you had full trust in me, I would have given you the world in return with loyalty and true love as a guarantee. I have asked myself on repeat (because I never wanted this to end): Could I have been a little more patient? Could I have let that snide comment be swept under the rug? Could I have allowed my independence to fall a bit more swiftly? Could I have been stronger amid your personal transitions? But as I ask myself these questions I reply with, But how much longer would I have needed to do the above? We were not strangers. We had a history. So why was I feeling I had to prove myself as if we were and as if we hadn’t?

Like you, I am just a person that wants to be loved, protected and held onto forever, and now I am trying to process why this happened to you and to me amid our connection, amid how when happy, we were untouchable. I know you truly love me, as I so truly love you, but I also know this to be true: Love is not contradictory. Love is not accusatory. Love is not threatening. Love is not controlling. Love is consistent. Love is complimentary. Love is calming. Love is compromising.

To have lost and to lose again has me trying to peel myself off of the floor, as I wished for an entirely different outcome. The true love was there, everyone commented on it, but unresolved damage was present, too. The healing has to begin, although the beautiful memories I assure you are here to stay. For those, those are forever engrained. It’s the unhealthy memories that I now have to mindfully erase.

Here is reflection, mending and further introspection. For I have been weakened, but I cannot be wrecked. I have been made to feel paralyzed, but I cannot feel powerless. Just as before, I will eventually find my balance, and I will stand back up. In fact, I will stand up tall; yes, tall and pretty. I will remind myself along the way that I am solid and true, and the falsities voiced by you that bruised me most definitely do not define me. For I finally know who I am and what I bring. This, yes, this, if nothing else, is what 2020 has thankfully taught me.

I know myself, love myself, and I cannot, shall not and will not think less of who I am. I have risen up from low self esteem, and that was the ultimate change you saw in me. I no longer give others power over who I want to be. I hold that key…finally.

Rushing into the ER to get the status of what is going on with my father, is never an easy drive. The way-too-frequent phone call of, “I’ve had to be admitted into the hospital,” always gets my emotions at its highest in a millisecond. My father, a man that as I’ve gotten older my fondness for him is less concealable, has had a rough medical run in his later years. Never had I seen this coming.

Growing up my memories of my father consist of simple ones; swimming together in the pool where we either raced, played basketball, or I was being taught how to dive, watching The Cutting Edge for the hundredth time, to smelling his lingering cologne hours in the home way after he left for his early work shift, and him arriving home hours later in his still finely-pressed, long-sleeve, button-down work shirt and tie, asking one of us girls to step on his back, as he laid on the cold tile floor. His work days were long and hectic, and sometimes you saw the weariness from the day still present on his face when he arrived, or you felt his energy high, as the intensity of the workday couldn’t simmer during his commute back home. My father, a man that I’ve always found simple, was a man that (just like my mother) has worked hard his whole life to provide for us children. My dad has always been a man that truly never took too many chances in life (and this is where I get my trait from), but rather his priorities were to stay in his lane and just make do. Although, the one time he took a gamble, which shocked me to the core, is when he left corporate America and found some solace in working for himself, but regretfully that was short-lived due to his family needing more.

Through the years we all enjoyed the weekly (commonly a Saturday) dessert after dinner, usually a pie with some ice cream on top, and we went on our merry way, unaffected, unconcerned. Yet, dealing with the repercussions, as my father is now a diabetic, hasn’t been an easy run. Diabetes is a common diagnosis nowadays, and unfortunately is a demon for my paternal family line. Combine diabetes with my father having to battle cancer, and maybe not in that order, has left me terrified way too many times that I will lose my dad sooner than later.

Every time that I have visited my father in the hospital bed, I shook my head, reminding him that he’s promised to be there for my daughter’s wedding day, which is easily now a decade away. I have had sympathy for my dad, as he’s laid in the hospital bed, realizing some of these visits have been out of his control. Whereas, other times I have sat there beside him disappointed, knowing this admittance could have been avoided.

As children, we know the reality of life is our parents will get older. It’s just the process of having to see our parent fight for his or her life that we’re never truly ready to face; I know I’m certainly not. The image of a tube in my father’s neck to feed him immediate antibiotics is still a vivid sight, despite the lapse of time. Being told dialysis is needed or else your dad will flatline on the surgery table are words that I still have yet to shake.

I will never forget reading that the first thing you miss when someone passes is the most bizarre act of that loved one. Having to fret that I will never get to hear what should be my dad’s patented phrase of, “Time to wake up!” barely after the sun rises, is something I have been deeply afraid of missing. Thankfully, my dad has pulled through all of the medical scenarios life has thrown in the last eight years, and they surely have been some lengthy eight years for him and for my family. But, truth be told, it’s his fight for life and my fear of losing him that has taught me our lifespan here on Earth is far too short and far too precious.

I refuse to take for granted the daily phone call my dad makes just to check up on me, even if made at not the most convenient time, or the breakfast dates just him and I share. My father is not perfect, oh, no, he is not, but he is loved, and he is so loved by me. As a father he has never faltered in being a phone call away. He has listened, guided and reassured me way too many times that my life will be okay. He’s even gone as far as stating, “You will always have me, if no other man in your life.”

As a daughter there is a different bond you develop with your father. You look to them, even subconsciously, as the model that you are to have for your future partner; even if not fully identical, close to it, or the admirable traits, at least. Needless to say, I will never be ready to lose my teddy bear, my dad, and in my heart I am holding him to his word (even though it sounds foolish to admit because it is an impossible promise for him to keep) that I will always have him. Nor will I ever be ready to not hear my daughter utter the reference “Papa” and have their comical, endless banter before me. So if you’re a parent reading this, this is my plea to you: Realize the pain your child or children endure when you lose sight of the bigger picture, because as a parent you are our foundation, and we realistically need you more today than yesterday; and if you’re a child that can relate to my story, know that I’m crying with you.

We are given one father and one mother, and like you I want to hold onto each of them for a lifetime; their attributes and flaws, yes, all of it. This is why my motto is: Savor the good memories, push through the tough ones, and create sweeter ones in the present. For we all know we can’t change the hands of time, but what we can do is create the time. Make it worthwhile for you and the ones you love, as we would never want to say, “I wish I did…” when, with permanency, one day we no longer can…

They say living is about learning. With choices, there’s paths that lead you to great destinations and others that lead you to heartache. With my life choices, I have received both, combined with a handful of regrets. Yet, to wallow in my regrets is something I refuse. Rather, I seek to allow them to serve as cues for what I cannot repeat.

A collection of my regrets are as follows: Always having a timeline of rigidness, rushing to grow up, staying in a profession at the expense of my happiness, silencing my voice, staying in a marriage longer than I should have, never taking chances, ignoring my gut, suppressing my true desires, holding onto friendships that caused me more distress than joy, staying stationary. These regrets are ones that sting when I admit them, but my ultimate, most personal regret that causes me major heartache to date is almost losing my gay sister.

I regret that she believed that I would shun her because of the religious beliefs I was implementing in my life at the time she needed me the most. I regret being so consumed with my world, living in my bubble, that I didn’t see the pain my sister was battling right before my eyes. My one-eye open persona almost cost me my greatest childhood gift; my sibling. Every time I belly laugh with her, vacation with her, observe her stepping up and going beyond the aunt role to my girl, I’m immediately reminded of how close I was to missing out on this; on her. While this regret is aching, it reminds me of this: I solely dictate who to love.

Growing up I never saw the gray areas in life. In fact, they were nonexistent. Religiously speaking, things were either right or wrong; allowed or prohibited. Exceptions were never noted. If I kept my beliefs, it would have been expected of me to bond with those likeminded and repel my flesh and blood due to her attraction to women. Casting such judgment, even subconsciously, almost cost me a chunk of my world.

To be judged by family, friends, or even strangers for being honest, raw and vulnerable of how you are is shame on the judgers, not shame on the truth blowers. Those stepping up, admitting their loves, interests or desires while knowing they will be shunned or scoffed at have something to teach us: rise up and just be you. I failed my sister in the past for the mere fact that she didn’t feel I would support her if I knew her truth. That’s shame on me, not shame on her. This is where I strongly encourage to express your love and relentless support to those you cherish. That reassurance, despite how little you might view it, just might be lifesaving to the recipient.

For you, you may disagree with her homosexuality. You may stare and snicker, but I stand beside her. My sister is in her own class, not due to sexuality, but due to personality. To have been narrowminded would have limited the love, support and value my life has been enhanced exclusively because of hers. Yes, she is younger, but her existence has made me become a student and her a teacher, and for that I am humbled.

As for my regrets, I state this: You have molded me. I rejoice in what you have taught me. You are a constant reminder of what I don’t want to repeat, and if I do, it’s shame on me. The regret I have regarding my sister has made me commit to this: The love for her will never, ever be anything but blinding, so much so she can never have a doubt if I will stand beside her. Bluntly stated, she will know that’s guaranteed. I will not close my heart off to loving her because of whom she chooses to love. Instead, my heart is patiently awaiting to embrace the woman she chooses as her partner.

This world, yes, that includes you and I, have so much to learn from gorgeous souls like my sister. Accept and embrace. Expand your heart and open your mind. Allow a regret to turn into a reminder. Cease the judgement (even the unspoken ones); Continue to love…

Undressing and dressing in the dark was my pattern.  If I wanted to slightly change the redundancy of such a secretive act, I’d opt to undress and dress with my back towards the mirror. When I wanted to be brave, those few times of bravery, where I faced the mirror front on and smiled, I detested my reflection.  Naturally darkened circles under my eyes.  Crooked teeth.  Acne scars.  Fine lines.  That’s what I saw.  As I lowered my gaze, the view became more horrifying.  Breasts that were just there.  No lift.  No umph.  A waist that expanded with a side order of love handles, ending with the combination of stretch marks, cellulite and varicose veins as the grand finale.  I cried, ugly cried, at the sight I saw before me.  Almost daily I’d hit my stomach, pinch my love handles, and smooth out the skin on my legs to wish the flaws I saw were nonexistent.  Externally, in the real world, outside of my four-walled bedroom, I personified false confidence through conceit and false security through togetherness with my overall appearance.  Yet, the moment I walked into my bedroom, my confidence and security, both deceptive tactics, would fall to the wayside as rapidly as I unhinged my bra single handedly.

These days are so real, so close in time, despite the reality that years have passed since, but I can vividly see myself having these damaging thoughts and creating detestable facial reactions to my reflection.  If I could speak to myself years ago while I was self loathing, dissecting every part of my body, I would remind myself of this: “Your darkened circles are your genetics.  Your crooked teeth, while not perfection to you, still doesn’t take away from the beauty of your smile.  Your acne scars are your marks of puberty.  Your fine lines memorialize times of sorrow and joyousness.  Your breasts fed a child, as you brought a human being into this universe, and with that your stomach lost its tightness, and now regarding your stretch marks, they too symbolize that you brought life into this world.  Yet, this, all of this, is beautiful.  Embrace each aspect of what your body has evolved to.  You are a woman, an alluring woman, whose physical presence is unique from head to toe.”

We tend to severely tear ourselves apart due to what we, yes we, view as flaws, and this is where I ask us all to stop.  Stop being critical of ourselves.  Stop being critical of others.  Don’t convince yourself that your reflection isn’t beauty.  Similarly, don’t tell others what will make them more beautiful.  See yourself and tell yourself you are unique, and what you see in your reflection is character, and then see the same in others.

Let’s be free, free from our mental nitpicks, to where we see ourselves looking back at us, and we can only smile with captivation, knowing we are unique and gorgeous as we are.  Show gentleness and compassion to the person that looks back at you; yes, to your reflection.  In fact, cherish the view.  Granted, you are not like so-and-so, and that’s why you’re perfect.  For you are perfectly you.  Your face, your body, your overall look, adds flavor to this world and a testament to your individuality, so stop stripping and sabotaging your ability to love you; to love all of you. Marvel at the image you see before the mirror.  For you, in your entirety, add goodness to this not-so-kind world as we know it.

I am honored you are here with me, even if I haven’t met you, as I believe due to your existence my world is enhanced; for you add character and diversity to the world I live in.  So here is a vow I’ve made to myself, and I ask the same of you now: Admire yourself before admiring others and love all of you, as all of you deserves to be loved.  Remember that you are perfectly imperfect, and remind yourself to never want it any other way.  Forever.fully.love.you.

 

“We’ll communicate by sending notes to each other in our daughter’s backpack,” were the first words uttered to me when I separated from my then husband.  I was bewildered.  How did we go from speaking every day, endless texting and phone calls, to now stuffing a message as our form of communication in our kindergartner’s polka dot backpack?  I refused my ex’s suggestion.  I firmly believed my daughter’s role was to be a child, that’s it, not be the guardian of messages.

Just like there isn’t an error-free manual on how to raise children, there certainly isn’t one on how to co-parent, but I did know this from the get go; I desired to be cordial and hopefully friends with my daughter’s father.  I’ll never forget how opening up my intentions of being friends with my ex was taken as such a ridiculous statement by my family.  Yet, my perspective from Day 1 was this: My daughter was not the cause of our breakup, so why should she be more affected due to our separation?

Not coming from a quote, unquote broken family (a phrase I’m not personally fond of), I knew I could not relate to the hurt my girl was experiencing.  One day she had her father beside her daily.  Per his request, now she had her father two to three times a week.  I had to swallow my pride and personal pain to move forward and attempt to be friends with the man that turned his back on me.  I owed this not to anyone else but my daughter.  I owed her the opportunity of having less pain by seeing her parents get along. But, boy, did I not realize how daunting of a task it would be to be friends with the man that betrayed me.

I will admit that my desire to move ahead, put things on the back burner, expedited the healing process non-organically.  I numbed my feelings to strive to give my child the peace that she deserved.  Never has my daughter had to see her parents not sit beside each other at an event of hers.  Never has my daughter had to miss an opportunity with vacationing with either parent because it meant missing a scheduled day with her mother or father.  Never has my daughter attended an appointment for herself where both her parents could not be in the same room and make a decision on her behalf.

It’s these compromises, these standards that I vowed I would adhere to for the benefit of my child, that I am proud of.  Did I slap the hand of my wrongdoer amid all that he caused?  Yes.  Have I been falsely accused of still being in love with my ex because of my perspective?  Yes.  Despite such, I would take the same stand I took eight years ago regarding co-parenting because unlike my daughter, I have never had to pack a bag and split my time between my parents, so if I could slightly ease up the burden my daughter carries by befriending her father, then so be it.

It doesn’t go without saying that through the years there have been many times I have lost my verbal temper, was bent out of shape mentally, and cried like there was no tomorrow because it seemed like I was verbalizing my requests to an unaffected, unconcerned human being, but then I’ve caught myself.  Who is getting more harmed by these actions?  First and foremost, the most innocent party through it all, my child.  Then, myself.  My philosophy here is: He stole a lot from us already, so why allow him to steal my health and joy.  Why allow him to steal our girl’s peace at her home; my home.

Addressing the needs of our daughter is essential, and doing so with compromise is almost inevitable.  Yes, I do feel I do more of the compromising and, yes, it frustrates me, but then I hear the words that my teenager voluntarily states, “Thank you, Mommy.  I know you’re doing this for me.” “I know it’s you that I will always be able to rely on and trust.” These sentiments, these non-coerced sentiments, makes all my sacrifices worthwhile.  I so love my daughter that I will bend at every angle to ease her life, and her heartfelt sentiments solidifies that I made the right decision for her.

If there is anything that I have learned, it is this: You set the example in every aspect for your child or children.  They’re grasping all that’s taking place, mentally notating who is doing what.  Make your child proud by being that “better person,” meaning take your stand, but do so with dignity and class.  It takes a lot more effort to berate, antagonize, and stay stubborn than to articulate your feelings in a reasonable and respectful way.  There’s a proud moment behind the latter action that nobody can steal.

Co-parenting is not about keeping score.  It’s about making decisions for the betterment of your child and doing so with respect, mutuality, and maturity.  It’s about letting go of the built-up anger and pursuing a life of peacefulness for yourself and your children for today and tomorrow.  Let the past be the past.  If your ex stole your initial normalcy, don’t allow him or her to steal your new norm.  Co-parenting is a struggle.  It’s a beast all on it’s own.  Why feed that beast by intentionally complicating co-parenting?

Friendship with your ex, the father or mother of your child or children, is possible.  Was I on that path?  I truly believe so.  The friendship I had hoped for was getting established, but that friendship derailed due to my ex’s remarriage.  While what I had originally hoped for, for the sake of our daughter, hasn’t come about, I’ll take the second best option; living our own lives, without interference from the other, but coming together to make decisions for our firstborn.

As I look at my teenager, I do see a child well adjusted; a thriving girl that has confidence and peace.  She is fully aware and shown that she has two parents and their families that love her, that is supported, and only when there is a moment of hypocrisy or unfairness is when I will speak up on her behalf.

Relationships fail, but I’m here to state that co-parenting doesn’t have to follow suit.  You truly have more control in this aspect than you believe.  Don’t harp on issues.  Rather, compromise to harmonize and see your child’s burdens get lifted.  It’s the best visual you see unfold, and it’s the best gift you can give as a parent.  Remember, your child’s normalcy might have been compromised, but with successful co-parenting, his or her happiness doesn’t have to be.

Some days I wake up in a fog.  Other days I wake up enthusiastically to achieve.  It’s puzzling how some of life’s punches majorly affect and others don’t even scratch the surface.  Why is it that some disappointments can easily get shrugged off, yet others last for days, weeks, or even months?

Lately my biggest disappointment is hearing individuals speak falsehood; stating sentiments with no truth behind them.  Why is it acceptable to speak false pleasantries versus being wholeheartedly honest?  Why is it acceptable to pour your heart out and then recant?  This is why walls are built.  This is why we as individuals don’t trust.

As an over thinker and a person that wears her heart on her sleeve, I believe gentle directness will always outweigh muted truth.  Honestly think to yourself how much time could be regained and how much grief could be removed if those around you spoke their true intentions.  The whole concept of reading between the lines wouldn’t exist, but who would realistically miss that concept to begin with?

Words spoken are powerful.  And in my belief, unspoken words of truth hold the same effect.  Why?  Because the person listening to your every word is holding onto something, and that “something” might be false hope for them; a false hope for a future, or a false hope for a friendship, and both are just damaging.  Don’t utter untruth just to appear kind.  Because ask yourself, Is it really kindness to mislead another person?  Is it really kindness to be uncertain with your feelings but speak as if you are certain with them?

Time is precious.  Time is a gift.  To steal or waste someone’s time is mere selfishness.  Those hours texting, chatting, and meeting cannot be restored.  They are lost.  More importantly, hope, a false hope that you created for someone else, is now a vision they have to let go of, and who’s to say the one having to let go won’t forever be scarred, guarded or believe they are just someone to be toyed with.

I have believed in false words, and due to that, I have given valuable time that I cannot retrieve.  I have emotionally supported ones that have forgotten me.  Imagine that; to be viewed as special one moment, and then the next you’re nonexistent.  Why is it deemed okay to make another soul feel they no longer exist?  Why does anybody have that liberty?  Why is this behavior even accepted? It shouldn’t be. It’s been tolerated because we don’t take a stand for ourselves; we don’t put the wrongdoer in their place.

But I’m here to state this:  I am not a victim.  I’m just no longer voiceless, and I refuse to give up my precious time foolishly.  Speak to me with inconsistencies, and I cannot be silent.  I am worth more.  Yet, speak to me with truth, and you will have my loyalty for a lifetime.  That, I promise.

Thought no one: At 40 I’m going to be single, a mother of a teenager, leave an elite profession of 19 years to become a receptionist and feel more alive than I’ve felt in a really long time.  Yet, this is me.

Never had I thought happiness could be derived with such circumstances.  From a young age, I had the mentality that happiness was one path; where you found your prince charming, married off into the sunset, worked in a prestigious field, built a family that consisted of two children, preferably a boy and a girl, all residing in a single-family home with a picket white fence so the dog, Buster, could roam freely.

Yes, those were my thoughts, and the reality is, by having them, I just boxed myself in.  I falsely told myself that my happiness was contingent only if all of those aspects of my life came to fruition.  Without one aspect being fulfilled, happiness couldn’t be had, or so I thought.

No wonder when my marriage broke, I was a mother of one gorgeous girl versus two children, living in a condo versus a single-family home, wrecked my mental state.  I believed I failed.  I believed my happiness couldn’t be had.  Why?  Because in my eyes, happiness only had one appearance.  It was not multifaceted.  It only looked and felt one way.

The moment you dilute, shred and disregard false beliefs of what happiness looks like, THEN you find it.  You open yourself up to stop feeling restricted, exhausted, and obligated to settle.  You truly start to live versus living to check off boxes.

Goals are essential.  Dreams are magical.  Desires are paramount.  It’s the moment that you seek a societal facade as being happiness that is dangerous.  And, yet, this is what I did.  I had lived to check off the boxes that society portrays as winning.  I had a self-inflicted timeline that I had to meet.  Then today I ask myself, did working in a high-demand profession bring me happiness?  No.  It brought me stress and remorse.  Did just being married bring me happiness?  No.  I allowed myself to lose a sense of me, and I was filled with resentment.

By the box being broken for me, which started with my marriage ending, I then realized I have to continue tearing apart the box that I put myself in.  Life is already challenging, so why am I inflicting perceptions onto myself?

The moment you rise up for you, start pursuing endeavors you’ve dreamt of, freeness becomes immediate.  A sense of self is guaranteed.  These feelings, THAT is happiness.

Of course I would enjoy a partner, but not just to have a partner to have one.  Of course I would love at least another child, but not just to state I have two children.  But just because these circumstances haven’t arisen for me, cannot steal my joy.  If they fall upon my lap, they will add to my happiness, not be the epitome of it.  Why?  Because happiness with self is where true happiness is found, and that, I’ve learned, is winning.

Escape being boxed in.  Expand your horizons.  Free your spirit by being you to the fullest versus shrinking back to live a mediocre life.  Don’t settle by saying you’re okay.  Strive to say you are happy.

Cast away the beliefs of what your life is supposed to be and start living the life that’s already yours, and create the avenues you want to seek.  Pursue and fully understand you, and voila, your happiness will be acquired.  This takes leaps to accomplish, but my god, when you get there, it’s the truest form of freedom, love and euphoria.  Ask yourself, Don’t I deserve to experience this?  Then immediately respond with,  I most certainly do.

I don’t have all the answers.  Yet, I know for myself the moment I chose to make unapologetic movements for me, I internally blossomed uncontrollably, and the same will be for you. Hiding from yourself is never the answer.  Creating for yourself always is.

Be the wild flower that grows amid the weeds.  For when you do, this is when you evolve into your trueness, and we all have to admit, trueness is just undeniably beautiful.  Reflect.  Change.  Then set free your radiant, true, authentic self, and within a blink of an eye you will become a beacon to the universe.  Then just shine on.  Shine on, beautiful one…

It would be an untruth if I attributed my growth to only reading books, journaling daily, seeking a therapist and relying on my family.  It also involved removing unhealthy relationships to allow new ones to enter.  When you go through something dramatic or traumatic, you just try to survive, and survival means doing what is best for you, not appeasing others.  Insult will be taken, but in order for you to endure, you have to be honest with yourself and only surround your soul with ones that are uplifting.

I received such beautiful, unexpected support after my separation from friendships that were silent while I was married and new ones that surfaced out of nowhere.  And this is where the universe sheds its magic.  You release the toxic, and then you’re served with what you actually need.  Sometimes we take these connections for granted and cast them off as coincidences, but due to the value they add to your life, I believe otherwise.

Granted, these individuals might only be in your life for a designated time, despite your longing to keep them for a lifetime.  My greatest connection was lost due to circumstances, yet the way he enriched my life has left a permanent marking.  I will wholeheartedly admit that a bulk of my personal growth and transformation is attributable to him.  So much so that when you look at me, you will see glimpses of his lasting effects.

Evolvement comes with open mindedness, and sometimes it takes a special someone to show you just how untrue to yourself you have been.  Your untruth gets exposed, you realize you want a change, and now you have another strong supporting hand to encourage and embrace your metamorphosis.  This is what he did for me, and individuals like him are angels on Earth.

Life throws lots of uncertainties, yet I’ve learned that it also provides you with timely love.  This love can come through family, friends, or a partner, and it can be temporary or permanent.  Whatever the case may be, accept the love that is healthy for you with no expectations.  Enjoy every single moment you are given proper love that raises you up.  Let it serve you.  Let it heal you.  For these ones providing you this love were planted in your life to provoke and promote you to blossom.

While I wish I could hold onto the angel that I lost, I will forever know my strides would have been just mere steps without him.  I will forever marvel and hold dear to what he’s taught me.  I will also forever view him as a soulmate, and I would like to believe that in another dimension our timelines are in our favor.  His impact on my life didn’t lessen just because circumstances became what they were.  Just like we each leave a footprint in this world, he’s left a forever mark in my heart.

I could be bitter that I have loved and lost again, but I have chosen not to be.  Yes, at times I have felt the universe dangled a carrot in my face, teased me with placing this angel in my life to then not allow us to be, and from that, anger did ensue.  But the reality is I’d rather have had him in my life for as long as I did than never have had him in my life at all.

Love, cherish, and remember always the individual or individuals that didn’t have to be there for you in your darkest of times but willingly were.  Thank them spontaneously because they had a helping hand in genuinely saving you, and sometimes we just don’t know how much saving we really need, especially from ourselves, until someone patiently, lovingly, and selflessly shows us the way.

I am forever thankful for the angel that came into my life in the summer of 2001 and didn’t give up on me in my hardest of times from 2012 forward, but rather he held my hand tightly, guiding me and showing me that not everything goes as planned, but the universe did us right by at least making sure we met.

Codependent personality, that’s what I was diagnosed as possessing in my therapy session after my divorce.  It didn’t take many sessions before the stack of papers describing the traits of what a codependent personality was were handed to me to overlook, study and try to see where I could change certain aspects of myself.

I literally checked off each and every box on that checklist in front of me.  Anxiety, check. Low self esteem, check.  Unable to make personal decisions, check.  High insecurities, check.  The list went on, and I checked off each and every description.  Yes, each.and.every.one.  Codependent; check, check, check.

Upon hearing the news, I sat there, directly across from my therapist, bawling.  To me, being labeled codependent was equivalent to admitting to myself that I saw myself as insufficient.  How did I, a young, vibrant, happy-go-lucky cheerleader as a child transition into this highly anxious, doubtful, insecure woman that believed my existence was only valid if I had a partner?

My mother only exhibited strength.  In fact, she is the epitome of a strong woman.  With that being the situation, I can’t even state that I shadowed what I saw in my childhood environment.  I went from living under my parents’ roof to getting married.  Yes, I went from having my father take care of me to a husband taking on the responsibility to nurture, provide, protect and love me.  Could that be the culprit of how I became codependent; the lack of having to fend for myself because of easily having a male I could run to?  Honestly, I’m unsure, but it is probable.  Whatever the situation (whether self inflicted or what I had experienced), it led me to this place where I had to acknowledge that adjustments needed to be made.  Major adjustments, at that.

I no longer wanted to have moments where I was so distraught with loneliness that I would cry uncontrollably on the floor during and after a shower.  I no longer wanted to play Russian roulette with my life while jogging, intentionally not looking before crossing into lanes of travel in hopes I would get struck by a vehicle.  Point blank: I no longer wanted to feel less than because I didn’t have a partner.  In fact, I wanted to be self reliant, self sufficient and motivated.  But how do you accomplish such a task when you’ve never been in this role?  How do you build upon yourself when all you’ve known is to build with someone else?

Lots of self reflection and correction on repeat.  You have to believe that you are not powerless simply because you are partnerless, that reliance on self is stunning, that independence is not a flaw, but it is a strength, and having personal opinions, goals and desires is becoming, not off putting.

Codependency stripped these beliefs away from me.  I had lost my voice, my worth, and my individuality, but by reading lots of books, writing in journals, releasing deep emotions in a powerful, yet healthy way, has brought impactful insight and meaningful healing.  This takes time, but aren’t you worth it?

Your personal worth will blind you if you just put in the same energy and time in yourself that you would to please another individual.  You will stand tall, realizing you alone have way too much to offer yourself, and that you owe it to yourself to always be authentically you.  Yes, I used to mistakenly believe that morphing yourself to fit another person’s checklist was beautiful, but the reality is that doing such only takes away from whom you are at heart.

Today, I know the way I love, and I love with trueness to self and wholeheartedly.  Through soul searching, I’ve learned that being an individual while being in a partnership does not equate you to loving the other person any less.  Rather, you’re loving yourself equally.  You’re refusing to lose a sense of you.  This is healthy love and, well, that’s the best kind of love there is, and the only kind of love I aim to forever pursue.

Codependency, what you have stolen from me, I have regained.  I will forever remember that what I am is valuable regardless of my relationship status.  That dependency on myself is essential for growth, maturity and for a healthy relationship personally and eventually one I will cultivate with someone else.  No longer will I check off another trait off of your checklist.  For you are my past, and you will not follow me into my future.  Farewell codependency.  Farewell.

We all have those sour moments in our lives where we wish they were diluted or never experienced in the first place. My unpleasantries might be far different than yours, or we can relate to each other.  But according to statistics, my story might be regrettably relatable by many.

In a nutshell, I was married, for 10 years, in fact, separated shortly thereafter, and three years later I instantly became divorced and a single mother of an eight-year-old when I signed on the dotted black line. How did my life get to this point? That was a question that played on loop years before this day. But I signed the divorce decree, and I did so with confidence and determination.  I was confident in knowing I didn’t give up on my marriage (rather, I was adhering to his request), and I was determined to not be the stereotypical divorcee that would live a life of bitterness.

What happened, happened. No longer did I have a husband or my townhome that housed my family of three and my two dogs. Instead, my new norm consisted of a condo that I shared with my daughter and younger sister, and my daughter’s puppy. For years I would wake up asking the most bizarre question, “Is this my life now?” I’d ask that question every day with the same shock as the first day I uttered it.

When I’d reflect, I told myself not too much had technically changed except I no longer was someone’s wife, and I lost my best friend. Marriages end. I was aware of this before I said “I do.” Friendships break up. I learned this early on in my childhood. Yet, the state of embarrassment, feeling lost and being dumbfounded weighed heavily.

I was married to my first boyfriend, first love, and first lover. We had the same moral values, were a part of the same religion, and as he was my first in everything, I was his. So what happened? Infidelity happened.

How did I miss the clues? I didn’t. I chose to ignore them. This is denial at its best. My ex started to work out constantly, bring home home-baked cupcakes from work in honor of his birthday, play phone games with her, and he eventually lost his sexual desire for me. If the latter isn’t numbing, coupled with mortifying, I’m unsure what is. Being viewed as undesirable to the one person you’ve given yourself to sexually is mentally crippling.

As I’ve been told, and I do agree in part, a marriage breaks due to both parties. Now, to the depth of breakage is a different story. I did have resentment that came out during arguments. I showed a side of anger that spewed unfiltered remarks, which I never want to exhibit again. I resented never feeling accepted or defended; always being told to “turn the other cheek” when a disagreement arose between me and a member of his family. I resented never feeling good enough. I just never fully had that partner. You know, the partner that battled the wars with you, not allowing ones to stab you unarmed because he was holding down your sword to your side. This ensued lots of emotions that I couldn’t maturely express without going for the jugular. That is my fault. It always will be, and I acknowledge such.

But I will never believe that justifies the final act he took. Deception, manipulation, and  unfaithfulness are tough actions to accept. Nor should anyone have to accept them. Yet, I did, four long months, but the final words of, “I’m in love with her,” was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Being cheated on leads to numerous insecurities. You can easily view yourself as unworthy, unattractive, unlovable. We can choose to stay in the situation because of guilt with our own actions (mine being my speech), obligations to our child or children, not knowing your worth, or not wanting to be a statistic. Community, friends, family-you are viewed so differently when the truth comes out.

I hid my marital (or lack thereof) state from my extended family. As it was, my friends and religious community already got wind of my new situation, and the embarrassment was overwhelming. Despite not being the ultimate wrongdoer, I felt judged. If I wasn’t being judged, I was given high-level sympathy. Both made the feelings of embarrassment and sadness come to a new height for me. I was beyond grateful for the sympathy, but the sad eyes brought more sad tears to my own.

Divisions began. Friends chose sides. His family members showed me sympathy. Yet, through time, your situation becomes forgotten.

People go on with their own lives, and you have to still figure out this “new norm” that’s upon you. I began to drift away from friends. I didn’t want to hear about their problems; believing mine was more devastating, so hearing about a quarrel that took place between my friend and her husband didn’t seem to be a “true problem” in my eyes. Yes, I will admit, my thought process was self absorbed, immature, inconsiderate, very cold, and demeaning. I just couldn’t relate to my couple friends anymore. I was no longer a “couple” with anyone. Divorced. Single. Those were my societal labels. And what I would give to have a partner…to be a couple.

Through the years (it’s been eight years since my separation and divorce) a lot of emotions have been had. Feelings of sadness, anger, frustration, loneliness, confusion, regret, hopelessness, self doubt, empowerment, determination, joyousness, carefreeness, hopefulness, positivity and pride have been experienced. Sometimes I’d feel more of the positive emotions versus the negative, or other times vice versa. The mood could easily shift from one extreme to another in a matter of minutes.

Life happens, that’s the popular slogan of many. It’s true. Life does happen, but does it have to affect us in the most negative way, or are we capable of bouncing back with more force, more confidence, more gusto than before? Of course. Of course the bouncing back is possible. What’s probable is we’ll get in our heads so early on that we stop the development of getting stronger, not seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, which isn’t as far away as we might imagine.

So this, this is where we personally have a choice. Do we sweeten our life’s lemonade or allow it to be sour? And this is where I enthusiastically reply with, “sugar, please!”