How Do I Make You Remember Me?

I’ve been so convinced for so long that if I could just get him to remember who I am, he’d snap out of it. Talking myself into the fact that everything that was broken could be mended.

And the kids would have a dad again.

And I would have my beautiful life back.

And she would not exist in our world.

And I would wake up with the starlight back in my eyes.

Pretty fantasy. Inconceivable goals. Not going to happen.

No, not because he won’t remember me.

But because I finally understand. I don’t need him to remember me.

I need to remember me.

The sadness is still heavy, but I’m shouldering it…and truly getting ready to lay my burden down. I’ve been chipping away at the shackles holding my wings and I can feel them starting to beat in the wind again. I am breaking the concrete that has encased me for so long and watching the tender sprouts shoot through the fresh soil. The air filling my lungs is sweet and thick with nourishment. The sunlight feels warm against my skin and the food I eat continues to reveal a new flavor each day.

I am starting to live again.

I wish I could tell you how I began to understand the need to readjust the pronouns in that sentence. To look at who I was actually speaking to. To hold up a mirror. But I’m pretty sure there is no trick to it. And no short cut, either. Sorry. It comes down to is time. It is patience. It is perseverance. It is forgiveness. And it is focusing on gratitude. That is what eventually propels us forward.

It is that difficult and that simple all at once. I know it’s frustrating to hear, but don’t stop. The finish line is there amongst the pain, somewhere. And it will blindside you as completely as the starting line did. There is no warning. One day you will look around and be there. All you have to do is keep moving.

And life won’t be perfect…but life never is.

And the children will have the dad he chooses to be. And the dad they choose to accept.

And I will have my beautiful life back. My life is beautiful because I choose to make it so.

And she will exist forever and always in “our” world…even if he came walking back through that door. But she doesn’t have to exist in MY world.

And I am beginning to wake up with starlight in my eyes…looking for the joy in each new day, because it is a gift that I choose not to ignore.

And, he will wake up someday. He will snap out of it. He will remember me.

But I am the one who is a pretty fantasy. An inconceivable goal. Not going to happen.

Because I have chosen to forget who he was. And remember who he is.

Because I finally remember who I am.

And he’s not good enough for me.



On My Own

Tonight all of the children are with their father. They are spending the night.

This is only the second time since he left that he’s kept them all at the same time (or overnight). Only the second time I’ve been alone.

Am I lonely?

Not really. It’s more of a curious feeling. I wonder if empty nesters feel this way. I know my children are out there, only a phone call away, and they are presumably safe.

It’s more that I miss them. Something fierce.

And I feel sad because my son did not want to go. My husband had to peel him off of me and pick him up to keep him from following me. I walked away and didn’t look back, because…well, I couldn’t.

But I did it. I left.

And I am seeing a movie tonight. And I’m meeting up with my sister for lunch tomorrow. I may even be ready to get that manicure. Not sure yet, we’ll see how I feel tomorrow.

And then they’ll be home.

And life will continue to move forward. Because it does that whether we are ready or not.

I prefer to embrace it and be ready.

Awesome Is As Awesome Does

In my old life, my children played sports every day of the week. They either had games or practice and my husband coached. He coached every single game of every single sport every single one of my children played.

We spend weekends at tournaments or meets. We spent weeknights at ball field and gyms.

And when he wasn’t coaching or watching, he was playing.

To say that I am athletic would be an overstatement of the facts.

In fact, I am short and somewhat squishy.

To say that our life had balance would be a joke.

It was pretty much all sports all the time.

And I was not always happy about it. I did complain. I asked to do other things. I would like to go hike. Or to the theater. Or anything other than, say, sports.

It didn’t work out that way. We did sports all the time.

And, then he left. Because we “had nothing in common”. (Um, okay, 20 years and three children plus a lifetime of memories and shared experiences…right, nothing in common. Whatever you need to say to make this okay in your brain man. Whatever you need to say.)

And now, in my new life, my kids still have sports…and I still spend my weekends and evenings supporting them. And I do it, not because I love sports, but because I love my kids. And I will support them until the day I die.

And, now I do it alone.

After working all day. And keeping the house together. And making sure everyone is fed. And clothed. And cuddled. And where they need to be. And loved. And feeling secure. And trying to heal them and myself in the midst of it all.


And my husband is out hiking and going to the theater and doing all the things I asked to do with someone else.

I’m kind of angry about that.

And it’s an odd feeling because the majority of my feelings up until this point have revolved around sadness.

I have to say, I don’t like feeling angry. Even though it’s a normal emotion, it is an uncomfortable feeling for me. It is strange to say, but it’s actually easier being sad. Weird.

So, where does that leave me?

Is the situation unfair? Yes.

Is there anything I can do about it? No.

That’s a lie. There is something I can do about it.

I can choose to let it go. And I’m trying to do that.

Don’t confuse letting go with approval of the situation. I am accepting that I can do nothing about it and I am choosing myself over the anger. It’s the difference between healing and hurting yourself. And, I don’t know about you, but I have been hurt enough.