Wednesday, October 2, 2013

"Mawmm, Can Daddy Hold Me?"

I hear his music before I hear the car door slam.
This is how I know he's home.
He has come back.
For us.
I run down the driveway, and meet him halfway to the house.
I jump in his arms and he picks me up.
As I wrap my legs around his waist and kiss his neck,
I breathe in his smell and run my hands up the back of his freshly cut hair.
I'm home.
Adaline comes running up behind me.
"Mawwwm what are you doing, Mawmm? Oh Daddy. My Daddy is home!! My Daddy came to my house to see me, aww I love you Daddy! Mawmm can Daddy hold me? Get down!"
My feet touch the ground, but I feel like I'm flying still.
He bends and picks up our girl.
I see the man who owns every piece of my soul hold the life we made together...
Equal parts me. Equal parts him...
In his strong callous covered hands.
He pulls me in.
Holding both of his girls.
All three of us are crying and kissing.
I am HOME...



And then I wake up.

Alone.

Wet from tears and sweat.
Heart racing.

Alone.

It has been one whole year since he held his girls in his arms.
One whole year since he kissed us good bye with out a second thought.
And I am still shattered.
Living inside of my dreams and fantasies because reality hurts too much.
The reality is, my husband lives with another woman.
And I am for all intents and purposes a single mother.
Who still walks every day with her husbands name tattooed on her like a scarlet letter.
A reminder every day of what she never really had.
A reminder of every memory she holds in her soul.

Life is g r e a t.
I have a beautiful, smart, healthy three year old daughter.
Her curls are getting longer and longer,
It seems every day her eyes get brighter,
and her lashes get longer like her Daddy's.
She walks with a bounce just like he does.
She sings and dances just like he used to.
It has been One whole year, and 17 days since she was in his arms..
and somehow she still has so much of him in her.
I am so lucky I get to see the good parts, my favorite parts of him, in her.

I have more friends, yah know the real kind..the kind that are family, than I have ever had.
I have crossfit which fills me with passion and strength I never knew I had.
I am moving in a positive direction every day.
More into the woman I was supposed to be.
Less of the woman I became when I was with him.
And if you were to run into me at the market while we were shopping for produce...
And you were to ask me "how are you doing?"
I would tell you "I'm great. Happy. Really happy."
And I would mean it.
I would really mean it.
I am happy.

BUT when I let it, there's a hole.
And it hurts me.
And I miss him.

Everynight as I sit cross legged on the floor reading to Adaline, I sniff her little head and she laughs.
She smells so much like him, it's the strangest thing ever.
I never want to forget that smell.
That is the smell of home.


I just want to wrap my legs around his waist, and breate in his smell.
We could do it.
We could all be home.




Tuesday, September 10, 2013

"You were dwelling on being a victim instead of reveling in being a survivor."

Today it's been a year since the car was packed and we started our journey home.
I don't even know that girl who looked out the window with tears in her eyes as we passed through the city.

My story has become my identity.
Being a woman who was abused and left was who I let myself be.
But now a year later I am so much more than that.

I don't want to won't tell that part of my story anymore.
I want to will live and relish in the opportunity for a new start.
I want to will take advantage of being strong enough to take my life back.
I want to will be the woman I know I was always meant to be.

Today is the first day of the second year of my divorce.
The last year has been for healing, this year will be for building.



Monday, August 26, 2013

never win the war



Sometimes we expect betrayal when it happens. Other times it takes us completely by surprise. When I found out Adam's girlfriend was invited to one of my Arkansas friends baby shower...that was a surprise. I had never honestly felt more betrayed in my whole life than in that moment. How could they welcome her into their home knowing full well what she took from me, what she took from Addy. How could HE allow that to even happen? And then I realized, honestly it didn't even matter.

We haven't spoke in over a week, and I intend for it to stay that way. There is no reason for there to be further conversation. The horse is dead, and though I am not flying my white flag, quite the opposite really, I am done. Resigned. Giving up.

The fact of the matter is my life, who I am, who I have become is more of myself now then ever before when I was with Adam. For the first time in my entire life I truly am okay with who I have become. I trust my decisions, and I know my own strength.

Every step of the way, from the first time he hit me, to when I found out about his cheating, to when I found out about his girlfriend...finding about her visting my home, then weeks later moving in. When he didn't pay me money he was supposed to, every time he pays less child support then we agreed on...every single time I've let it surprise me. Disappoint me. I've left my life open to him to hurt me, to hate me, to punish me. What's he punishing me for? I don't know, his own guilt probably. If he even has the capacity to feel that emotion.

Reguardless. I'm done.
I have no more words about him.
For him.
Positive or negative.
It just is.
He was my husnand.
He was Adaline's Dad.
Now he's not.
Life goes on.
One day the nightmares and cold sweats will stop.
One day I will stop crying, stop hurting.
And for now I think the only thing I can do is cut him off.
He may win the battles, but he will never win the war.

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Four eyes.
Two Hazel.
Two green.
Four arms.
Two brown.
Two ivory.
Four feet.
Dancing.
His lips pressed to my ear singing to me as he twirls me around the kitchen.

My sweet boy.
The boy I made a family with.
The boy I wanted to grow old with.

He was mine and I was his.
I was his dream.
His world.
And he reminded me every single day.

Then he went away and became a soldier.
He was mean and distant.
When I was upset or being stubborn he didn't grab me and drag me across the floor anymore...singing in my ear.

He was the only one who touched me.
Even if they were hateful touches.
It made it better later when he kissed away the pain.

I survived for the last 5 years on memories of MY sweet boy.

It has been eleven months since he held me for the last time.
Since he made love to me.
Since he held me and we cried.
Since he kissed me on the forehead, said to me "I will always love you Al." and then said "Goodbye"

When he walked out of that door in his uniform and went back to work, his expression didn't change.
His composure didn't waiver.
He wasn't my sweet boy anymore.
There was nothing about him that I recognised, besides those deep sad hazel eyes,
and those sweet little lips that used to sing to me.

It has been eleven months since I have let anyone touch me.
Not my family.
Not my friends.
Even when my Adaline touches me I flinch.
I can't look in anyone's eyes...
Any touch, any compliment, any attention makes me nervous.
Shut down.

Who was I?
What did he do to me that made me this person?
I am so happy, my life is so full.
But I am so guarded.

Why did he break down all my walls, just to build his own and walk away.
I'm left broken, and he's there, being her sweet boy.
Spending weekends with her and OUR friends.
People I shared our darkest secrets with.
People I trusted.
The betrayal never ends.
I just want it to end.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

I'd still choose you.

Your hands can heal,
Your hands can bruise.
I don't have a choice,
But I'd still choose you.
I don't love you,
But I always will...

No truer words ever existed.
In so many ways I am a better person, I'm happier, my life is full.
Emotionally I feel fulfilled, something I never felt in my marriage.
I am starting to remember all the reasons I absolutely despised Adam & the way I never trusted him.
The way when something went wrong I always turned to my Dad and then fixed it myself.
Adam was never the head of our household, physically, mentally or spiritually.
For years I pushed him away and wines that I wanted to go home.
How could he not stray from our marriage?
He knew I hated him, but he also knew I was too loyal to ever leave!
So he did what he had to to make me go.
He tried yelling, that didn't work.
He tried hitting, that didn't work.
Then he admitted to cheating, even that almost didn't work.
It wasn't until the day I looked in Addy's eyes as he held me against the wall that I knew it was time to go.
I hate him so much.
He failed us.
He isn't a man.
...why does my soul still ache for him?
...why deep in my gut do I feel like calling him in the middle of the night when I wake up from a bad dream, or when addy does something exciting?
....why.

Monday, August 19, 2013

Letting the Bad Thing Catch Me...

"Hello
It's me again
A whole lot's changed
Since I left and
I don't know I guess
I felt like checking in
Surprise
You let it ring
Well it's your turn to
Leave me hanging
I don't care
I know you love it
When you see me call
I wonder who you're loving now
I'm guessing we won't work things out
You know what they say
You can't have it so you want it back
I'm way past that
Believe me
If you could be in my life
Like you've been on my mind
It'd be so easy
Hello
It's me again
It's three days now
That you've been in my dreams
And I don't know, I guess
You've just been on my mind
I don't know, I guess
I think about you all the time
I wonder if she's much like me
I wonder if she's what you need"



We avoid it for only so long before the bad thing we are running from catches us.
The Past.
Him.
He is my dark thing.
And he always catches me...
Wether it's through a memory, a nightmare, or hearing his sleepy voice on a Saturday morning through the phone from 1,500 miles away.


Sometimes I wonder if I do it to myself on purpose, allow him in.
And sometimes I'm pretty sure he does do it on purpose, allows me to.

We celebrated Adaline's third birthday this past weekend. Her birthday was in June, but my Nana passed the weekend before her party, so we cancled it. Saturday morning as I was trying to get us ready to go to the grocery store he called. His sleepy little voice wanted to talk to Addy. Instead I argued. I screamed. I cried. I shook. I threw myself around.

I could just see his bare chest, and his hand in the waist band of his navy blue nike shorts while he paced around the room and looked out the window talking to me. Listening to me allow him to take me to that place...again. I think that is the hardest part about these moments, I know that man better than I know myself. And it absolutely kills me knowing that she was there, in the kitchen making his eggs, wearing one of his t-shirts, and they were getting ready for a day together. When he's home, when he's with her...he is so mean, his words break my heart in two. Especially when just a few days ago, while he was on a trip he spoke to me like he used to. We shared a memory for a second...it made my heart skip a little. Then he went home to her, and it made those few moments, and the memory of the dresser with my legs wrapped around his waist, my nails running up his strong back, absolutely irrelevant.

I cried most of the morning, I let it chase me, and catch me.
I surrendered to the dark thing.


Being surrounded by people is something that I love. I love to cook for everyone. I love to have everyone come into a clean house. To see all my hard work and to laugh and smile and drink and be happy. We used to have parties every weekend in Arkansas. It made it feel like home, like we were all a real family, eventhough all of us were miles and miles from our real homes. Our real families.

This weekend, Addy's birthday was the first party I have hosted not in my own home. It was the first time I had made pasta salad and not put it in my matching serve ware. It was the first time I had cut up all the veggies, not on my bamboo cutting board with my Henkel knives. It was the first time I made corn bread with out my kitchen aid stand mixer. In my kitchen. On my stove. In my home. And it was more then I could handle. I let it catch me again. I stood and chooped and cried and cried and cried.

I've had nightmares every night this past week.
Dreams of him.
The bad thing caught me, even in my sleep.

Some days are harder then others. Some days I can hate him and mean it. I can hate him for all he gave us, then took away. I can hate him for the fact that he would never be where he is today if it weren't for me, yet he is a disrespectful little rat who says things like "you're not my family anymore" "you'll never be half the woman she is Al" "you never finish anything you do Al" "you aren't going to win, I won't give up this fight al" AL AL AL! I hate when he calls me Al. I hate that I don't hate him. I hate that when I close my eyes he is all that I see. I hate that I cannot escape him. I try and try and try.

But the truth is, I love my husband. I am in love with my husband. Still.
And it is absolutely destroying me.
I want him to just come home.
To feel my skin, and remember.
To look at Adaline and know we are a family.
And I know that is exactly why he hasn't come home.
Hurt people, Hurt people.
My voice on a Saturday morning does exactly the same thing to him as his does to me.
I hear it every time he says Al, even if it's in hate.
He has to say those things, for what, for her? For himself?
The truth is I never did anything to hurt that man. I have never done anything but give him every bit of me that I had to give and then some.
I just don't want to be his ghost anymore.
I'm sick of the bad thing catching me.
How much longer can this possibly take?
It's been a year, he is trying to fool his heart into believe he has moved on...
And I am drowing.
Some days are great, I love being with out him...
And then the darkness catches me, and all I want is him to come home and save us.



Friday, August 16, 2013

Rising every time we fall...

"Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but rising everytime we fall."

twenty two weeks.




That's how long ago I started crossfit.
Twenty weeks ago my heart was in pieces.
I was 40 pounds heavier.
I was lonley.
And I had absolutely no idea who I was anymore now that I wasn't "Adam's Wife"
All my best friends were 1500 miles away.
I was miserable, and lost, and I felt like a failure.

In the last twenty two weeks I have started to put myself together agian.
Crossfit gave me confidence, strength, taught me to love myself again.
Crossfit gave me a family.
Crossfit has made me a better Mother, a more patient person.
Crossfit has taught me how strong I really am.
Crossfit has given me the strength to tell Adam to go to hell, and actually mean it.
Crossfit has given me a place to escape...to work out all my emotions.

Every bit of work I put into crossfit, I get back.
Something I did not get from my marriage.




Being a single, divorced, young mother is something that I was ashamed of.
Now I know it shows how strong I am.
I made a choice to leave a bad situation, to protect my baby and myself.
To not settle for something that no longer made me happy.
I didn't "run" away from my marriage.
I didn't "quit" my marriage because it was hard.
I left because I was getting less then I deserved.

In those last weeks I found strength somewhere inside of myself...
As soon as I got home, I lost it.

The day I walked into crossfit I found it again.

I had a bad week this week, I let myself get frustrated, I QUIT my first WOD ever...
I cried and freaked out because I failed at something.
Crossfit girls don't do that.
I don't do that.Adam used to always say to me "You never finish anything you start..."
He knew that would cut deeper than anything he could have ever said.
He was always so good with words that way.
But it wasn't true then, and it isn't true now.
On Wednesday as I sat on the loading dock and cried all I heard was Adam...
"You never finish anything to start"
Over and Over and Over.


Wednesday I talked to my girlfriends that I crossfit with, they reminded me how far I have come and encouraged me.
Wednesday Izz's dad followed me out of the gym to see what was wrong...
Because I don't quit but that night I did.
He talked to me for a good twenty minutes, and I felt so much better when I left.
This morning Izz texted me to ask if I was alright, told me to come back Monday stronger.
Reminded me that everyone has an off day, that we fail so that we are stronger in life.
Afterall it's how we rise from the fall that defines us, not the fall itself.

The most valuable thing Crossfit has given me is a family.
Not the kind of family I had with Adam, the kind where you give everything...
And in return get torn down.
NO.
Crossfit has given me the kind of family that builds eachother up, and encourages eachother.
When one of us falls we pick eachother up.
That is the kind of family I am proud to be part of.


Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Body Image

"A woman is often measured by the things she cannot control..She is measured by the way her body curves or doesn't curve. By where she us flat or straight or round. She is measured by 36-24-36 and inches and ages and numbers. By all the outside things that don't ever add up to who she is on the inside. And so if a woman is to be measured, let her be measured by the things that she can control, by who she is trying to become. Because every woman knows measurements are just statistics, and statistics LIE."


Body Image
(noun): a subjective picture of one's own physical appearance established both by self-observation and by noting the reactions of others.

From the time we are old enough to think for ourselves we are constantly and painfully aware of what our bodies look like at any given moment. We are aware of what we are putting or not putting into our bodies and how that will make us look. We are sitting uncomfortably in our chairs so that we don't have that roll going over our jeans. We are killing ourselves with hours at the gym, or starving our bodies of the nutrition they so desperately crave. We are picking at our skin, plucking at our eyebrows, putting on makeup. As children we are comparing ourselves to the kids on the playground, the kids sitting next to us in class. As teenagers we are looking in the mirror comparing our bodies to the girls on tv and in the magazines we read. As women we are constantly comparing ourselves to other women, other moms, our friends and even ourselves. In our pubecent years, before our hips got wide and our crows feet reared their ugly heads...when we were little girls we wanted to be grown women with the curves that came with it...now we are grown women who think we are all fat and want to loose 10, 15, 20 pounds so that we can look like those little girls we once were. We spend countless dollars on personal trainers, the latest diet fad...my drawers are filled with cast away skin care products that didn't fufill their promise to make my pores look fifteen again, or make my dark circles magically disappear over night. Are yours?

What does beautiful mean to you? What do you admire most about your body? Right now think about that for a second, give yourself a minimum of five compliments...go ahead, I'll wait.


...Do you feel better now? You should. You know yourself better then anyone, inside and out. Your oponion of your body, of yourself holds more weight then that of anyone...as it should.

Men take note, we do not need your oponions of our body. EVER. Unless it's positive, seriously keep it to yourself. I can remember word for word things boys said to me when I was 9, those same things played through my head at 13 when I skipped a meal and lived off of papaya flavored high fructose corn syrup. Seriously. The girl who has changed her life for the better, deserves to be praised for that. She does NOT, I repeat DOES NOT need you to tell her your oponion of her body. Your mind is small and your oponion is irrelevant. But don't think for a second that it doesn't hurt her, that it doesn't bother her...because it does. She will think about it now in the back of her head when she looks in the mirror.

As women we are so often praised, and praise eachother for the way we look. I used to love people telling me "oh wow you look so skinny"...now it kind of annoys me. I'd much prefer someone see that through my weight loss I have become a stronger woman. Through crossfit I have found more confidence. Through countless drops of sweat, and sometimes even tears I have found a power inside my soul I never, EVER expected to find....But I did. I'm more proud of who I have become than any number on the scale or a smaller pair of jeans.

We are all beautiful beyond measure.
Stronger then we could have ever imagined.
I believe that each of us is fearfully and wonderfuly made by GOD our father.
You are perfect.
...Just the way you are.
Not because you fit in your pre-baby jeans, or because your new face cream and spray tan make you look 18 again...
But because you are YOU.
Love yourself, and remind yourself how wonderful you are every day.
Let us remind eachother of how strong we are, and let's not let other people distroy our sense of self.
You are exactly who and what you are supposed to be in this moment, at this time.

Monday, August 12, 2013

Goals Of Motherhood...


Now it's no secret that thus far motherhood hasn't exactly gone how I always hoped it would go. As a young girl I dreamed of being a pharmacist one week, a youth pastor the next, or a physical therapist the next..one commonality was being a mother. I always knew above all I wanted to be a mother.

The first two and a half years of Adaline's life I was a stay at home mom, and even now I am able to work a part time job and be with her most of the time. I got to be the one there for her first steps, her first words, I got to breastfeed her for the first year...I don't miss much of Adaline's life, thankfully I have my mom, her Memmay, there whenever I am not.

What I had never planned on was being a single mother. When Adaline's father and I decided to get pregnant, she was a child I prayed for, a little life we planned for. I never thought he would leave us, leave her, but he did.



I am thankful for so many reasons for my sweet girl. There have been really dark days in her three short years, and even when she was in my belly where her smile has saved me. Her hiccups and sharp kicks to let me know she was still alive were the only thing that day that made me smile.



In the past year since we became a pair, a different kind of "family" then the one I had always dreamed of I have found myself looking at motherhood in a whole new light. I have re-evaluated my goals, my hopes, my dreams for my life with my sweet girl.


First and foremost as a mother I want Addy to look back on her life and be proud to have had a mother like me. I want her to know pieces of what happened between her father and I, and I want her to thank me, not forsake me for leaving. I want her to know that when she was made she was made in love. I want her to know that she IS Adam and my love, she is the most amazing perfect representation of who we once were...in the flesh. Every time her little heart beats it's beating with half of me and half of him. She is us, she is perfect. I never want her to question if she is loved.


Secondly I want her to grow up embracing and praising herself for the physical strength her body is capable of. I do not want her to spend her teenage years battling an eating disorder like I did. I want her to be sure of herself, and confident. I want to use the mistakes I made to keep her from hurting the way I did. Crossfit has obviously been a huge factor in my learning that, and I want her to know the beauty in that strength as well.

I want her to know GOD. I spent my adolesence knowing him, loving him, knowing he loved me. I felt what it was like to raise my hands in the air and worship him, I want her to feel that too. I don't want her to ever feel alone, though I know she will. I want her to know in those moments to pray. To turn to her father and share her day with him, thank him for all the things that are beautiful, and know that there is always a purpose for everything. everything.



I want to be more patient
. Don't we all? I am a type A personality, my beautiful blue eyed girl is not. I'm a hurrier, a planner, I like to be early for everything. She makes me slow down, stop and smell the roses...look at the ducks, savor every last sprinkle of my ice cream cone instead of rush and eat it before it melts. Because really whats the harm in a little melted ice-cream. Adaline has always done everything in her own time, from her birth...which was a few days late, and ended in a c-section after 14 hours of labor. I knew that day I had met my match. I was going to have to learn to float through life, stopping to enjoy all it's pleasures along the way, because my Adaline, she wasn't going to rush for anyone.

I want to teach her how to express herself, and her feelings. Believe it or not, this isn't something I'm very good at. I have an "it is what it is" attitude about most anything. I can take or leave just about anything, or at least that's how it appears, on the inside I'm usually in agony obsessing. Blogging has been my outlet. I love you is hard for me to say, appreciation is hard for me to show. For example I love my parents more then words could every express, yet still I can't tell you the last time I touched either of them, especially Daddy, I cry even thinking about how I used to walk up to him and put my head between his shoulder blades...I needed to touch him. And how now I am afraid to do that, to show my love, because of Adam and what he did to me. I want to learn how to show my love, and express myself physically and verbally so that Adaline learns to do the same. I don't want her to be hurt by my way of self-preservation.


I want to be her bestfriend. I want her to want to be with me. To remember rolling in the grass, and flipping tires with her mom when she is older. I want her to always feel like it's safe to come to me with anything. I want to always be her soft place to land. I don't want her to ever feel like she has to hide things from me.

I don't know that I necessarily believe in "parenting" a child. Not in the way that I am the superior one, and she is to be treated like she is beneath me. My parents always treated us like equals growing up, and now they are my two best friends. There is very little they don't know about my life, I never felt like I needed to hide anything from them, and in turn also didn't want to disappoint them. I never really was punished, because I never did anything wrong. They stood next to me and guided me, helped me up when I fell, let me learn my own lessons as long as I wasn't hurting anyone else or myself, and then they helped me work through things. That style of parenting helped my mature faster and become a very well rounded adult. I appreciate them for that, and I am glad that they will be the ones helping me raise my Adaline.

Something that I don't talk about very much is wanting to give her a family. I had a great Dad, the kind of man I want to raise Adaline is a man like my father, not like her father. I want to show her that I can do this on my own and I want her to be proud of me. I want to protect her from the man that fathered her, in our nearly seven years together he has done nothing but hurt me, that is a pain I will keep her from forever and for always. I want her to grow up knowing everything I do I do for her. She is the axsis that my world spins on...she is my world and I am the sun orbiting around her. Adaline is...Addy is my everything. I want her to always know that.

I want to preserve her innosence for as long as possible, I know I won't be able to protect her from everything, but I'm certainly going to try. I was given the most wonderful thing the day I brought her into this world. God gave me the privlidge of seeing his love for me through my love for my own child. I want to give Addy lot's of brothers and sisters one day, for her to love the way I love mine. I want her to always know that no one could ever be what she was to me...we are a team. Since the beginning it's always been just her and I against the world. And no matter what I will be right there standing behind her watching her grow, protecting her with all that I have to give, praying over her with ever ounce of love in my heart.

I want her to know she is loved.

Keep it to Yourself...

While I'm writing this today I'm listening to "Keep it to Yourself" by Kacey Musgraves. Go ahead and listen to that song, then come back to read.

"You heard from your friends
That I'm doing okay
And you're thinking, maybe you made a mistake
And you want me to know
But I don't wanna know
How you're feeling
Keep it to yourself
If you think that you still love me
Put it on a shelf"

I recieved a text this morning in response to an email I had send Adam last night. He told me he was flying and he would talk to me about the email later. Then he felt the need to tell me he had spent the weekend in Lackland...



Immediately I was in the Laquinta with my bare butt on the dresser and my dress pushed up around my hips.
Immediately I was standing at the coin ceremony waiting to see my husband for the first time in eight long weeks.
Immediately I was smelling his skin and feeling his new muscles.
Immediately I was remembering the pride I felt when he pinned my spouse pin on me.
He looked so cute in his uniform, it was the first time I had seen him in his dress blues.
They still are my favorite uniform.
So handsome.
Immediately I was standing in the croud at the flag pole run waiting to see my man in his squadron t-shirt.
Immediately I was in the shower, his hands in my hair, rinsing out the conditioner.
I was laying on the floor, and he was playing with my new belly button ring.
Immediately I was on the river walk, loving MY man.
Immediately I was looking at his locker, and he was showing me all of our love letters.
Immediately I was at the Laquinta making texas shaped waffels.
...for a minute I was remembering what our happy looked like.



But this time was different.
I didn't let myself stay there.
I cried.
I texted my Lyshie, and my Sarah.
They reminiced with me.
I didn't reminice with him.
I didn't let him have the privlidge of sharing those texas shaped waffel memories with me.



This time, it didn't give me hope that he was coming home to us when he sent me the smiley face.
I know that infact he is going home to 263 Creek View drive...
And it's not Adddy and I there waiting with his favorite dinner made, brownies in the oven, house spotless.
It won't be me unpacking his flight bag and doing all his wash tonight.
It won't be me upagainst the wall as he shows me how much he missed me.
It will be her.

But it also won't be me that missed him and is excited to share some family time on his extra day off...
While he complains about being tired...
Because he is hung over and spent the last four days in the same cycle of going out all night getting black out drunk, sleeping a few hours then going to work...
It won't be me that's getting yelled at when he still didn't unpack his travel cosmetic bag and can't find his deoderant Wednesday morning at 5am when he's getting ready to go back to work...
It won't be me getting screamed at because he needs sleep and it's 10 am and I'm running the vacuum and the baby is being too noisy...
It won't be my heart breaking when he looks at me, and lies, because he spent a night with someone else...
In some shitty bar...
He "forgot" to wear his ring...
He "can't help it, he's attractive, women come up to him"...
It won't be me.
It will be her.


Instead I get to look forward to going home to MY baby, the baby we talked about making on that Lackland trip...
I get to feel her arms around me, and know that I am home.
I get to go to crossfit, and if even just for an hour I get to pretend I'm not body's soon to be ex-wife...
I get to take those memories, and the way my heart is broken right now, and I get to throw a tire around and cry instead.
I get to go home to a house where everyone loves me...
Where no one yells at me...
Where I don't cry..
Where I'm not disappointed...
Where bruises don't appear...
And voices aren't raised.


I am not that little girl in Lackland anymore.
I am a strong woman.
Inspite of him and all the pain he gave me, I have become someone I never thought I could be.
Weak.That's how he likes me.
That's how he wants me to be.
But I'm not.
And I hope it kills him.

I won't give you the satisfaction of reminicing with you. I remember every second, taste every kiss, feel every touch. But I won't go there with you, you can go there by yourself. Keep it to yourself, because we are doing okay. Go home to her with those memories fresh in your head, look at her and know that she will never give you what I gave you. You will never have what we had. You'll chase it forever, you'll lie to yourself. Bit I'll be here, and you'll be in some bar, not wearing your ring looking at pictures of MY baby...knowing in the deapest part of your core you made the worst mistake of your life. You lost us. We are g o n e....






Friday, August 9, 2013

Never Satisfied.


When I started blogging last July I was wearing size 18 shorts. I remember they were so tight that I had to squat in them when I put them on so my thighs didn't look like little vienna sausages squeezed into casing that was a little lot too tight. Then, all I could think of were my size 10 Abercrombie jeans I wore on my very first date with him. If I could just fit into those jeans, THEN I would be happy. Don't we all feel like that? Do you step on the scale and feel amazing if you "lost" a pound over night, or is your day ruined if god forbid you gained a pound?

I had been working out, and actually lost some weight to fit into those 18's. Today I fit in those size 10 jeans that I put so much focus on for so long. In fact I have fit in them for a few weeks now. But I'm not happy yet...WHY!?!

I was warming up last night at crossfit and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I had the bar over my head doing a push press, my belly was peaking out the bottom of my size medium tank top, that is now quite loose, I had on shorts that once fit like underwear but are now falling off when I WOD...I saw definition in my shoulders, my arms, my quads, even my belly is starting to show the signs of abs peaking through...My hair was in my favorite pigtail braids, I was wearing my favorite lululemon headband...I looked in that mirror and didn't recognize myself at all. I was happy, I was strong, I was focused, I was free.

Seeing myself that way really made me realize how far I have come.
When we look in the mirror do we really see ourselves?
Or do we see what we think we look like?

At 287 pounds I was in denial.
I looked in the mirror and didn't see a size 22 figure.
I saw someone much, much, MUCH smaller.
Even now when I see pictures of myself along the way I am in shock.
I just don't remember looking like that AT ALL.

The first thing I wanted to loose was that lovely flap of skin all of us c-section mom's get.
Particularly the ones that gain 100 pounds during pregnancy.
Now I've lost it.
My skin on my belly is tight, dispite the stretch marks that cover it, I'm proud of my stomach.
Except now I want abs, and won't be happy till I have them.
I don't have that flap of skin to jiggle around in the mirror, instead I pinch the bits of fat that cover my abdominal muscles and dream of it being gone one day soon.

When I started loosing weight I had a BMI of 38%...
Then all I wanted was to get between 25%-29% which is considered "normal"...
Today my BMI is 24.6% and all I can think about is getting it down between 15%-18%.
Why can't I just be happy, be proud?

Why aren't we ever happy with ourselves?
No matter how much progress we make we can always find something we want to improve on.
I think we set goals for ourselves that we think are reasonable, attainable.
Never at 38% did I EVER think I could possibly get down to 24%...let alone one day see 18% in my future.

When you see people for the first time after loosing weight you get compliments all the time..."you look great" is often the first thing out of everyone's mouth. Then they get used to seeing you at this size, and they stop saying it. OR when they do, it just doesn't give you that same excitement it gave you before.

This past week I saw someone I hadn't seen in a while. Since the last time I saw him in May I have probably lost another 15-20 pounds.
He didn't say anything about my body.
You know what he did say though "You seemed happier, more confident and relaxed tonight. Definitely a good thing :)"
Those words meant more to me than anyone saying "you look great, how much weight have you lost"

With crossfit, and with this weight loss...AND the loss of a 160 pound man child in a keep calm and chive on shirt I have become a better version of myself.
I AM more confident.
I look in the mirror and don't recognize myself.
I do see changes I want to make, but they don't define my life like they used to
...not the numbers at least.
I just want to be happy, strong and comfortable.
And a size 6.
Do I think that 16% body fat will give me that, honestly no I don't.
There was a time that I thought a size 10 would give me that...and now I see that it wasn't ever the jeans that needed to change.
It was the woman wearing them.

There will always be something about your body you would like to change.
Once we get to that "place" we will find another "place" we want to go.
Setting goals isn't a bad thing, letting them control your life IS!
You change your body, you change your soul, you change yourself.
THEN and only then will you be happy.



Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Not now, not ever.

I know not a word of what I just said mattered even the slightest bit, but I needed to say it, and I needed to do it for me. For Addy. For us. Not for you.


"When you see yourself as the glorious exception to every rule in life, eventually you will declare your wife is not the right fit or not enough or too much or just a great mom to your children or she expected too much from you or her time with you has run it's course or she is horibly imperfect. These divorce cliches are narcassism at it's best. And you will do it again to the woman you cheated with because within you lies the problem--UNFIXED."


In the beginning it was perfect.
In the middle it was a struggle.
In the end it was so bad I wanted to die.

It has taken nearly twelve months, hell it's taken seven years for me to finally see Adam for what he is. Today when he texted for the first time I can remember "How is Addy today?" at 8am...I suddenly channeled my inner ghettobabymamma "Awwe Hell Naw."

I texted him back and asked him to call me.
Surprisingly within the hour the call came.

I cannot even remember everything I said, but one thing I did ask him is if he remembered what it felt like as a toddler, and into his teenage years as he sat on the front step on Saturdays with his backpack on waiting and waiting and waiting for his father to come pick him up. His father never came. He would call and say he wanted to see Adam then never follow through.

For so long Adam expressed that feeling to be a defining moment in his life, and promised that he would do everything in his power to be a great dad DESPITE the deadbeat his father was. He has failed.

I have been sending pictures and little summaries of our week, texting him everytime Adaline reached a milestone...and gotten no response, not a single text back. Not a thank you. Not a wow she's awesome. Not even a go to hell you bitch. Nadda.

This week he didn't get any pictures or stories. So in order to have control of the situation HE texted me this morning.

Not going to fly anymore.
Adaline is three years old.
He has had the last year of our separtion to prove himself as a Dad and failed.
Hell, he has had the last three years of her life...
And even before that as she was in my belly, as he kicked me, yelled at me, and refused to feel her kicks or hickups.

Adaline is the greatest gift God ever blessed me with.
I wouldn't let a stranger treat her as an option.
So I sure as hell am not going to let her father treat her that way.

I know he has it in him to fight, and to love.
Even if those feelings are lies, he still knows HOW to act like they're the truth.
He has so much work to do to be allowed in Addy's life.
But as of today I am no longer going to hold my hand on my ass waiting for it.

He has replace me.
He never loved me.
He just mirriored my emotions and used my own words on me.
He is a narcassistic, abusive, selfish, dangerous man.
He will NOT hurt my baby.

Go to hell King, my daughter will never feel what you made me feel every day. I am not afraid of you, or what the courts will say. You already signed over all custody and visitation once, they won't overlook that when the time comes to make the final decisions. There is nothing you can do to me now, you can't hurt me. You've already taken everything...what you failed to realize is that the "everything" you took was nothing but a false facade on which our life was built. I have with me the only good, holy, truthful thing that ever came from you. MY ADALINE. You will never, ever, ever take her from me. Never.


I will no longer live in fear of him. I am reborn. I have seen the truth. I have proved again and again that I CAN and will survive with out him. I've been waiting months for this fire to finally start inside of my heart...it has & nothing is ever going to put it out. Certainly not him. Not now, not ever!

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Transformation: Sometimes you have to fight to find it

“When a man makes war on his own weaknesses he engages in the holiest war that mortals ever wage. The reward that comes from victory in this struggle is the most enduring, most satisfying, and the most exquisite that man ever experiences. In no other conflict is there so much at stake. In no other struggle are the values so precious and the results so compensating and so comforting."



I think often we have a hard time separating out things we want to change in our lives and looking at them for the individual issues they are. Instead we look at the whole pile of junk, and it overwhelms us. I'm guilty of this...I am not just a procrastinator, I am THE procrastinator. Just ask my mother

Things take time. Try your best to live a well balanced life. Choose one thing to conquer, give that your energy and time...and grind away. Don't try to run before you've even learned to walk...

Through the hell that was my marriage I lost myself. I turned to wine, prescription anxiety medicine, both often mixed together in inappropriate amounts, and food to help numb the pain of my heart breaking. Let's be real here, I got fat. I tried for a year or so to try to loose the weight, but I was lying to myself. I would push Addy's overpriced jogging stroller around the neighborhood at night while Stella, our monstrous black lab puppy, pulled against me. Sometimes I would even do the fat girl bounce run. But then I would get home. Put Addy to bed. Then I would sit and drink. And drink. And drink. Until there was nothing left in my White Tail EXTRA LARGE bottle. That way when the King arrived home a few hours later and decided to put his steel toe boot through the bedroom door, busting it out of it's frame, because the laundry wasn't folded...it would hurt less and be easier for me to cuddle up to him when he finally got in bed and try to love away his anger. 

I was absolutely miserable. I honestly can not tell you the amount of times I cried in my big jetted tub thinking about how easy it would be if I could just die right there. Literally. How would he feel if he found me in a tub of my own blood, would he understand then what he was doing to me. That he was KILLING me.

It took my leaving him to really find myself again. 

I found myself the day I walked into crossfit. 

I can still remember exactly what we did that day...slam balls, air squats, kettle bells and pushups. Slam balls are still my favorite because they remind me of the day I discovered myself again. For the last five months I have put everything into that hour a day. I have found another way to cope with my heart break outside of alcohol & xanax. The best part is I don't wake up with a headache dreading doing it all over again....I don't want to fall asleep and never wake up. I wake up in the morning with purpose, I walk out of that box every night reborn. 

I wanted to transform my body. I have done that. In the last year I have lost 60 pounds. My three year old weighs 31 pounds...In the last, what is now nearly twelve months, since Adam kicked us out I have lost TWO Three year old children. When I think of how difficult it would have been to do a burpee with Addy and one of her friends strapped to me, I laugh at how difficult that would be. I did it though. Nothing could stop me...that high was one I began to feverishly chase. For one hour nothing else in the whole world matters, the world is at peace, my heart and my brain are not at war...the only thing that matters is walking up to the bar and throwing some heavy weight around.

Left: End of July 2012                                                               Right:Early June 2013


So take this away with you today, identify a goal. Put everything you have into fighting your way to the other side of that...and CRUSH IT. The happiness, wholeness, and utter bliss you will find on the other side is something I can not even put into words. Don't even think about quitting. It may seem impossible now, believe me 130 pounds ago I could never imagined I would be wearing my high school jeans again. I would try them on every day, there was a time they wouldn't even come up over my knees, now they fall off! Start walking toward that light, before you know it you'll be running across the finish line. Grind away, don't ever stop, not for a second. The potential inside you is greater then you can imagine, sometimes you just have to fight to find it!


Monday, August 5, 2013

Instead I feel reborn...

death/dɛθ/ Show Spelled [deth] noun
1. the act of dying; the end of life; the total and permanent cessation of all the vital functions of an organism.
2. the state of being dead: to lie still in death.
3. extinction; destruction: It will mean the death of our hopes.

di·vorce (d-vôrs, -vrs)n.
1. The legal dissolution of a marriage.
2. A complete or radical severance of closely connected things.

You often will hear people to compare a divorce to death. In a way it is. One chapter coming to an end, another beginning. A relationship ending, the life you shared with another no longer exsists. It's dead.

When someone we love dies it's kind of similar. Life goes on with them, the sun still rises in the morning and sets at night. For a while we cry, but we greive and move on. You see things that remind you of the deceased, sometimes you feel that void in your life where that person used to be. Divorce feels the same way. All you have now are the memories, life moves forward, children grow, you fall in an out of love...you feel the void and survive on the memories of what once was.

Yesterday when I was driving in the car I was looking at Adaline in the rearview mirror at a stop light. I found myself trying to think of another reason besides her that I loved my husband. I can honestly say I could think of none. As the light turned green and I turned the radio louder and accelerated to the speed limit I realized how free I felt.

First of all I was listening to MY music, instead of his stupid rap music. Adaline and I were jamming to Florence and the Machine, she was dancing in her car seat while she was playing a game on the Ipad and I was singing with out having to worry about someone else hearing me. Hearing me and telling me I sang a word wrong, or changing the song so I would stop.

Last night during my usualy weekly texting conversations with my Sarah she mentioned that she always kind of noticed something was wrong, but just never pushed the issue because I said everything was fine. She brought up the way I changed when Adam would come home if the girls were still there for our weekly play group. How I would stand right up and walk over to him, take Addy out of his arms so he could go on to do whatever he was doing with out any distractions and tell him I would make his lunch soon. Until the girls left I would hold my breath...worrying about what was to come after they were all gone. The house would be a mess, that would upset him, he would be hungry and that would REALLY upset him...I would have to listen to him shout. The freedom I felt sitting in the backyard with my other mommy friends watching our kids play together was gone.

Now I realize freedom is something I regularly feel now. I don't owe anyone an explanation, I am free to do and live as I please. I was playing with a baby at a bridal shower yesterday and I found myself making this cooing noise I used to always make to Addy when she was little that always made her laugh. Instantly I stopped myself, because I remember the way Adam used to tell me he hated that noise and it was the most annoying, stupid thing he ever heard me do. It didn't matter that it made our Addy laugh, I stopped doing it...because it made him upset. Yesterday when I made that noise and Ava smiled, I almost wanted to cry because my stomach dropped thinking "Adam hates this noise, can't do it again" and then I realized HE ISN'T HERE TO YELL AT ME!! And I did it again...Ava smiled.

As I fall more in love with my girl every single day...I realize how much joy was taken from her early years. The way I didn't do a lot of what I wanted to do because I was worried about it upsetting HIM. Would I have cuddled her longer in our bed if it hadn't bothered him? Would I have breastfed her longer then eight months had he not expressed his feelings that it was time to stop? Would I have let her shower with me more often had he not told me he thought it was weird? Would I have held her while she slept instead of rushing out of her room if he had not told me she would become spoiled if I did?

Yesterday I cooed at Ava,and she smiled. I took a shower with Adaline in the afternoon, and we had so much fun splashing together. I listened to a band I loved, and relished in the joy of the way the lyrics touched my heart. I held Adaline while she slept, and it made my heart swell with love. Yesterday I did what I wanted to do. And I enjoyed those things...would you believe that Adaline didn't wake up a different child this morning because I held her last night, she certainly didn't turn into a spoiled brat...and can you imagine that she was perfectly fine today even after she showered with me yesterday afternoon...

I lived in fear for so long. Walking on eggshells to keep him happy, to keep the monster at bay.

Today nearly a year after I drove out of that drive way for the last time, I don't think of my divorce as a death anymore. Instead I feel reborn.

Friday, August 2, 2013

I did what I could with what you gave me...

"As you can see, I'm not gonna beg and plead
As you can see, I'm not your worst enemy

And I did what I could with what you gave to me
And one door is all the way out
Did what I could and now it's off of me
And I'll leave it all to you to make good"


Peaceful.

That is what I feel today. For the last month that Mr.King has ignored Adaline and I, I've tortured myself. Everynight I have gone to sleep with tears in my eyes, and woke up in a cold sweat dreaming of him. Nightmares...dreaming of his life with out us, of his life with her. It has absolutely tortured me, not that he replaced me, eventhough that thought shatters me...but that he replaced our girl.

Out of our seven years spent together, as much pain as there was at the end, we also made the most beautiful thing that I could have ever imagined. Our Addy Bear. Adam gave me a lot of hurt, but he also was there to give me a part of him that turned into the greatest gift I had ever been given. Adaline Charlotte King. She is all the good parts of him, and equal parts of me. Instead of looking at her little shoulder shrug, and hippity hoppity walk...or her eye roll and letting it break my heart because it reminds me of him, I can look at that and be happy. There is far more ugly in my recent memories of Adam, than good. But those little characteristics she has that are his...those are my sweet boy. She doesn't have the hateful fire in her eyes, or the quick venemous tongue. She has his happy traits. Those small glimpses of light in all the darkness that I held on to for so long...she has them all. Instead of remembering the ugly in his eyes, every day I get to remember his happy walk, and his long fluttering eyelashes.

For years he truly was my best friend. In Adaline I see the untainted innocence of a sweet, carefree, beautiful, loving little girl. I see the eyes of the little boy standing at the end of the isle waiting for me on our wedding day. I am blessed with getting to live with those happy things...while every day he has to live in our hell on earth. Our home. He gets to look at the patches in the walls, the chips in the tile, the pink room our baby slept in...the living room where she took her first steps, the bed where she peacefully slept between us, the driveway where she helped him wash the jeep, the garage where she handed him tools when he worked on the car, or built me my chairs that are on the front porch...the counters where she helped me make dinner at night, and the tub where she took her baths..the stone flowerbeds in the front and back yard that we spent days in the hundred degree Arkansas summer heat as a family building together, he gets to walk to get the mailbox every day alone now, her favorite thing to do with him. The walk way is no longer covered in chalk drawings, and there is no pink tricycle to trip over...I am SO blessed that even though it hurts my heart to see pieces of him in her, that I get to see the good parts, I don't have to live IN the ugly parts.

We all look for something to numb the pain, that moment of sheer and utter peace where nothing else in this whole world matters. I find that every day as I walk up to the bar at crossfit, as I lunge across the rubber floor with eighty pounds balancing over my head. It doesn't matter what I have left behind, and it doesn't matter what I still have yet to figure out. I am happy in that moment. Nothing can take that away. I feel the same way in those moments with my Addy girl, the sound of her little feet, the weight of her little arms around my neck, the love in her little eyes when she looks at me, the innosence of her little giggle. Everyday I look for an escape from the pain I have felt, the pain I still feel...something I no longer look for is something to fill that void that I felt when Adam decided he no longer wanted us. To be honest that is a void I no longer feel. Our life is so complete, where there was once pieces missing they are so full of love. Our family and friends that we lived so long with out, they now surround us. Where I used to feel weak and incomplete, I now feel full and STRONG in ways I never could have imagined.

I am so proud to have been Adam's wife, I am so proud that I can honestly say that I gave our marriage everything I had. I can truly walk away from this chapter in our life with out any regrets. I am leaving this marriage with far more then I walked into it with. Of course the most important thing is my Adaline, she is my world, she makes my life complete. But I am also walking away with peace, for so many reasons everyone would understand if I gave up, but I have found myself again, I have found my strength in this pain. Everyday when he hurt me I would pray for his heart to be softned and for God to forgive his sins, I still do. I do have faith that one day Adam will see the light, he will see the wonderful life we were blessed with. Unfortuinately it will be too late. Because I now see what the other side looks like. I can't wait to have what we could have had with someone who actually realizes it and relishes in every perfect God given moment. I have grown too strong to ever allow that boy to hurt us again. For Adaline and for me. I am now free to do all the things that I always wanted to do, with out him here to hold me back I don't even have to consider how he would feel about it. I don't have to think, I can just DO. He should have stopped me from walking out that door, but he chose not to. Besides my sweet Adaline the other gift he gave me was freedom. I never knew how much beauty could come from this pain. I am so blessed, and I am so lucky that he was to weak to fight for us. I am free today, and every day. I have found my peace, my happy place...I have found a love and huger for life again...something I had lost sight of when I was Adam's wife. Adaline and I will have the most beautiful life with out Adam, because he gave me the gift of freedom...he let us go. Eventhough I know he didn't do it FOR me...I am thankful he did it. He couldn't give us what we deserved. I can walk away today and every day, with no shame, with my head held high. I fought the fight. I didn't loose anything that day when I locked that door for the last time, and we drove away from that hell...I gained everything I could have never imagined.

It was in me all along, the power I posess to make this world whatever I choose. Something I had doubted for years when I was with him. Now I am free to decide what is right for my girl and I...with no fear of reprocussions and disapproval from him.

I am free.
I am peaceful.
I am right.
I am strong.
I held on to the bitter end...
and it is because of that, that I am a more complete version of myself today.
I am blessed.
I am loved.
I have so much to give to this world.
I cannot wait to live every day with my girl.
...to make a life for us free of him.

Thursday, August 1, 2013

What I Know....And What I Still Haven't Figured Out

" I promise you this, I'll always look out for you, that's what I'll do. My heart is yours."


The day I gave birth to Adaline was the best day of my entire life. All my life I dreamed of being a mom, but I could never have imagined the way it would feel when the doctor handed her to Adam and he brought her over to me to kiss her for the first time. It was then that I knew my life was complete. It didn't matter what had happened before, or what was to come. Not a day would go by that I wouldn't give everything I had to give to that blue eyed baby with the cutest cheeks I had ever seen. 


That day I knew she had my heart...three years later she IS my heart. She is the smartest, most beautiful, most caring, sweet perfect little creature God ever created. That I am sure of. We have gone through so much change in her three short years. She was by my side during two deployments, she was there every time her father broke my heart, she was there looking back at me the day he held me against the wall for the last time...her eyes were the only thing I saw when I called home to Dad to come get us that day. Her laugh was the only thing I heard, louder then the sound of my heart cracking in half. She is the reason I live. She is the reason I have survived. 


Over the last year I have seen some really dark days. Days where I truly wanted to find a place to fall asleep and never wake up. She was my light. My sweet girl is the only reason I wake up in the morning, and the only reason I am still alive. 

I don't know who I am, but I know what I am. I am a mother, and a great one at that. With so many uncertainties in our future, and so much pain in our past...through everything, the ONLY thing worth fighting for are those two blue eyes and angel lips. She makes this life worth living, and this fight worth fighting.


Not a single day goes by that I don't feel guilty for the man who I chose to father her. Not a single night goes by that in the darkness I don't feel physical pain radiating from my chest. When it's dark and I am left alone with my own thoughts and memories...I cry. For eleven months straight I have cried myself to sleep every single night. What I know, is that I was a great mother, an amazing wife, I gave everything I had to my family, to my marriage. No one will ever love that man the way I did, no one can ever give what I gave. Those things I know. What I don't know is why that wasn't enough. What I still can't figure out is how he can go a single day with out seeing those blue eyes...how he can go eleven months with out those two little arms around him. There is NO greater feeling in this world then walking through the kitchen door, hearing Addy's little foot steps on the stairs...and hearing her call out to me "Momma, I missed you" and feeling her weight in my arms. How could that not be something that HE sees as something worth fighting for? How could he deny her a penny of child support? How could he put his girlfriend before his own child?


What I know is that baby is a blessing. That baby is my reason for living, the reason I come home every day. What I don't know is why, or how he cannot feel the same way. Not loving me is one thing, denying her his love is a completely different thing. I will never forgive him for that. I certainly will never understand why....

She is my sun. 
She is my stars.
& my moon.
She is my universe.





Adam Richard, she is your daughter...you were there the day we made her, the day we planned for her and prayed for her. You were there the day we brought her into this world and held her for the first time. I remember the pride in your eyes, I remember the love in your expression as she pushed the lawn mower next to you, or followed you to the fishing pond with her little barbie fishing pole. I also remember the dead expression in your eyes last September as you kissed your girls goodbye. Remember who you were, who we were...know who she is. Remember the way she looked at you, her DADDY...the man who helped bring her into this world. Her little hand in yours, you were supposed to protect her. When we made her, you made an unspoken promise to give her the world. Every time you look next to you when you wake up, or sit at our table with that other girl...think of your girls. Your family. Take some responsibility for the lives you have changed, own your mistakes. For god sakes LOVE that child. No one in this world deserves love more then her. I forgive you, but I will never ever EVER understand what made it so easy for you to walk right out of our lives. 




I will live every day for that child. She was a gift from God. His way of showing me what his love for me looks like. The love of a parent for their child. I will protect her at all costs. I will lay down my life for her if ever I am asked. She is my reason for living. I will die protecting and loving her. This pain is something she will never know. 

Do I wish things could have been different, and that she could have had both of us...of course I do. 
Do I hurt every day because she doesn't...absolutely. 
But I do know I did the right thing, that I saved her from him and the pain he felt...that he felt it necessary to take out on me.
With out a doubt pain he would have taken out on her.
He fell short, wasn't able to be the father or husband we deserved.
Someone else will.
That I know.


"The pain that comes today,
Is here, then goes away.
And we are homeward bound,
And I,
I want this more than life.
To touch something real,
Will help your wounds heal,
Like the sun on your face,
The dreams of starry nights.
And we are homeward bound"




Monday, July 29, 2013

Who's really to blame...

"The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them."
--Thomas Merton

The man I married was a hazel-eyed boy with a sense of humor and a ralph lauren shirt. Who's smile was warm, and who's love for me was clear in the way he faught for me. He loved everything I loved in an effort to show me how much love he had for me. He went to church, picked up a bible, brought me home kit-kats and saratoga water. He would rush home from work to snuggle on the couch and watch The Hills every Monday night. He took me to dinner at a resteraunt who served a salad that I loved, and a burger that he hated, yet he ate it with a smile. He loved my family and took care of my sister when she needed him, which to this day I think is the reason I fell in love with him.

The summer before my Senior year in highschool my sister went into a coma, due to her diabetes. When she woke she had suffered significant brain damage. She had to relearn everything from how to use the bathroom, to how to write her name and color in the lines of a coloring book. For months she slept in a bed beside my parents with a Taylor Swift cd on repeat, a tinker bell lantern glowing, wrapped in a Hello Kitty comforter.

Hil and I were always so different. Poor Hil never stood a chance. From the time she came home from the hospital she could never get a word in. I was so proud of my sissy. I never wanted anyone or anything to cause her any pain. To this day Hilary still can't make decisions, I think that's because I always thought for her. "I want this, and Siss will have this." In home videos of our childhood rough and tumble Hil is pushing the heavy leather ottoman across the carpet trying to wrestle me while I'm standing in front of the camera singing frarajaca and telling mom stories about "Sissy" who can't yet speak herself. Hil and I were different then, and as we grew it seemed like she wanted to be everything I was not. Before she got sick she was spending time with people that I brought into our lives, bad people, unsafe people. The night she got sick and went into that coma she was with someone who I used to love, someone who I brought into our lives and she trusted. I don't think I have ever forgiven myself for that. I don't know if I ever will.

Anger is the only feeling I remember feeling then. Pissed at Hil for getting sick. Pissed at Mom and Dad for being nieve to the fact that I was sixteen riding around on a motorcycle and having sex with a twenty-one year old MAN because they were spending every day in the ICU with Hil at Albany Med. More then anythig pissed at myself for not being able to protect Hil.

In the months that followed as Hil began to learn to function again it became apparent something wasn't right. It turns out the brain damage she suffered had significantly damaged the frontal lobe of her brain, the part of the brain that controls your impulsivity. She went back to sneaking out to spend time with the very people that hurt her, and fought against us trying to protect her. She would attack mom physically, I would step in to protect mom, and I too would get attacked. We didn't know what to do, or how to relate to her...we didn't know how to fix it.

I remember one instance inparticular...It was snowing here and she had disappeared. Once we realized she wasn't home we all went out to search the town for her. We followed her foot prints in the snow all over town. Adam was right there. Adam held my hand, Mom's hand...he protected us and served as a buffer between the three of us. Mom and I are fixers, we fought Hilary because we wanted her to be better again, to be whole. And in many ways I think we did blame ourselves for what happened. Adam didn't try to fix Hil, he didn't try to make her into the girl she was or expect anything from her. When things got bad and she went after us he would take her for rides in the cars for hours. The only thing that calmed her then...I fell in love with him for that. For being there for my sister in a way that I couldn't. I didn't understand and couldn't fix her, I blamed myself and I was so mad I couldn't see that she didn't need to be "fixed"...but Adam could. He was there for her so much in that dark time, he was there for me, he was there for Mason as an escape from the craziness, he was there for Mom when things got ugly. He was there.

In those moments when I needed him, he was there with out my having to ask. He held me when I cried, and made all the hurt go away. I didn't have to lie about how messed up everythig was. I didn't have to smile eventhough I was drowning in my own guilt. I didn't have to be anything, he didn't ask for anything...he was there. To love me when I felt like I was last on everyone's list, he put me first.

Within a year we were engaged, and shortly after that married. We moved across country, and got pregnant. With out anything around to save me from, when I no longer needed him, things changed. He bacame the one who needed saving. He would wake up from night terrors with his hands around my throat, he would roll over and fall back asleep crying and holding on to me, calling out for me in his sleep. The abuse started as Adaline grew in my belly and everything changed. He tried to be my savior and he was the one who really needed saving. Everything he did he did to become what he thought I wanted, till it became to much....he looked for women girls who didn't expect anything from him, and thought he was perfect to take the pressure of the family he had at home waiting for him away. He hurt me because he was hurting. Because he couldn't live up to the standards he had set. I no longer needed saving, and he was no longer my savior.

 He was there for my sister, the person I wanted most to be able to be close to in this world, but never could be. He held my hand at church as I cried, and tried to give me the life he thought I wanted. In many ways he succeeded. But who I was, what I needed, who I thought he was wasn't who he truly was.

I married a man in Ralph Lauren, who had more integrity than any boy I had ever met in my entire life, who knew GOD, and who brought me roses in the morning before school. I am divorcing a man in a bright green "Keep Calm and Chive On" shirt, with vans on his feet who shares OUR bed with a trashy girl who is to stupid to see the truth and needs him to save her from her own reality. I am divorcing a man who was a bad father, who's integrity was lost the second he strayed from our marriage...who's strength diminished the first time he laid a hand on his pregnant wife. I held on so long and loved him so much for what he used to be, hoping he could be that person again...he never was, and he never will be. I wanted my child to be raised by the sweet boy in the designer clothes with soft eyes and a big heart. Now she will be raised by a single mother...and she will never know the person I fell in love with. She will only ever know the pathetic boy in the Chive t-shirt and vans with a chip on his soulder and trash in his bed where we spent many nights together as a family.

Who's really to blame for this mess? Him for letting me down and hurting me...turning his back on the dreams we had? Or me, for being nieve enough to believe he could give me everything he promised?

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Crossfit...

When I first started this blog a year ago I did it to hold myself accountable as I transformed my body...

 At the time I had no idea what the following twelve months held in store for me. Divorce has literally been the most painful thing I never could have imagined going through. A hurt I wouldn't wish on even my worst enemy. In spite of all the pain that I have felt emotionally through this I have found a way to positively use that to fuel changes in my body.

October 2011-July 2013--20 months, 124 pounds

Today I am in a place I could never imagined physically a year ago in my wildest dreams! And it can only get better from here. Four months ago I got inspired by my girl friend Shelly to give crossfit a try. Have you seen her by the way, total MILF status.

I had been wanting to try crossfit for a while, but always just thought I was too big, and felt limited by me ACL and Miniscus injuries. In the beginning they did hold me back...but thankfully I had a wonderful coach who was willing to modify to help me build the muscles that support my knee to make them stronger. Today I no longer have to modify, I RARELY feel any pain infact. In the beginning I was one of the last to finish, today I keep up with the other girls (girls that are a good 30 pounds smaller then I am), and when it comes to power movements I am so surprised that I can literally deadlift, squat and clean weights equivilant {if not greater} then my body weight.
May 2013 Mother's Day--July 2013 A day in Saratoga with Addy
About a 15 pound difference


Crossfit is the most humbling, inspiring, motivating truly amazing thing I have ever been a part of. When I walked into ADK four months ago, I was scared to death. I was way over weight, and so intimidated. Never then could I have imagined the way the people there would become a family to me. Something about sweating your guts out with the same people every day of the week creates a bond unlike any other. We are a family. We encourage eachother, laugh together, sweat together, compete together.


My wedding shower in February 2009 (pre-baby) May 2013 (post-baby)

In the last month I have made some changes to my training. I had felt myself stuck at a plateau, eventhough I wasn't weighing anymore, and it was super frustrating. After a lot of research I decided to add a thermogenic fat burner to my program, and really clean up my diet. On a normal day I eat organic oatmeal, bananas (for my startchy carbs), peanut butter, protein shakes, greens, chicken and eggs. But that doesn't mean that last week I didn't gorge on some coleslaw and fried chicken, or have an ice cream cone with Addy over the weekend. It's all about balance, you have to find what works best for you. For me Monday-Friday I am pretty strict. On the weekends I am a little more lenient with myself. I'm not suggesting you eat yourself into oblivion to reward yourself Saturday-Sunday, but if you want something, have it.

On top of that two days a week I'm doing two a days, an hour of regular crossfit, then an hour of working on my power movements. Our box is moving this week to a bigger facitily, my commute will now be two minutes (literally) instead of twenty and I plan to start dragging my butt out of bed in the morning to go over and lift and work on some endurance...ie running my LEAST favorite thing to do on top of my evening class. I truly would rather do burpees all day rather then run one mile, maybe because I'm not very good at it...Identifying the areas that I fall short and improving them has become addicting to me.

Crossfit has honestly changed my life. The mental strength it has given me is unlike anything I could have ever imagined. My little brother started last month with me...we decided to sign up for the team portion of the Garage Games that's coming to a local box in September. For me this is a way to show myself how far I have come. It happens to be exactly a year from the weekend that Adaline and I moved back to New York, and my marriage to Adam ended. It means so much more to me then just any other WOD, it is the sum of all my mental and physical work over the last year..it's proof to me and everyone around me that even in the middle of the biggest storm imaginable through crossfit and my faith in GOD I have overcome that pain and channeled it into making myself a better, more whole version of myself. I cannot wait to share that expirence with my little brother, and the rest of my crossfit family.


February 13 (pre-crossfit)-- July 2013 (post-crossfit) 35 pound difference ((where did those dimples come from))