Today is a stormy day. All those smart weatherpeople use fancy words to describe what’s happening, but the gist of it is this: “This is a dark time. Things are gonna get ugly. Stuff is gonna get broken.”
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My Broken Heart, One Year Later…
On November 20, 2011, I was happily coupled with my best friend and one of the greatest loves of my life. We lived in a house that we’d chosen together to be Our Home. I enjoyed positive and/or close relationships with his parents and his sons. Our family was my highest priority.
Late on the evening of November 21, we had a disagreement that grew into an argument and then exploded into a full-blown fight. The episode reached its climax when Ex-BF confessed that he’d been unfaithful to me a few years earlier. He went on to explain that the Other Woman had recently come back into his life and was pressuring him to pick up where they left off.
Continue readingWhere To Put The Love?
Raise your hand if you’ve seen the movie, Magnolia. (Just kidding, I can’t see your hands anyway.) It’s been several years since I’ve seen the flick, yet it remains one of my all-time favorites. Call me crazy, I really like exquisitely sad movies that expose the raw, real, messed-upedness of our humanity. It’s a beautiful thing. One of my favorite scenes is this one…
Continue readingGina’s Diary: Dad’s Girlfriend
I’ve read that men typically recouple first in the aftermath of a divorce. That was true in my case, after my parents split up…
My dad was the one who told me about his girlfriend, after I answered the phone and heard a strange female voice asking for him. I remember feeling slightly shocked by the news. It was only a month or two after my dad moved out and I was still adjusting to the new living arrangements. I didn’t expect my parents to start dating so quickly. I’m not sure if I expected them to start dating at all.
Continue readingMy Book Is Born: Meet The D-Word
A few times over the past couple years, I’ve let it slip around these circles that I wrote a book. It started on an unsuspecting day in July 2010. Suddenly, there were words in my head that begged to be set free, and so I started typing. For the next few months I sat at the keyboard and allowed the text to pour from my fingertips. When I was finished, I’d written the story of a divorce from the perspective of a twelve-year-old girl named Gina (I posted an excerpt from her diary earlier this week).
At first, I thought I was writing for young adults in Gina’s situation. It was several pages— possibly several days— before I realized that, more than anything, I wanted adults to read Gina’s story.
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