There can be beauty in getting lost. Sometimes we have to get lost to find each other and sometimes we find each other, only to get lost all over again. We can’t always control it, the thing that’s going to set you adrift. And as you stand there on your front porch staring at the life you are about to leave behind, you have to accept it’s gone, it’s lost. Just like you. All you can do now is stand very still, breathe in the moment and try to be open to wherever the wind’s going to take you next.

Meredith Grey(Season11, Ep. 1-I Must Have Lost It on the Wind)


The second my husband asked for a divorce . . . it felt like I was just thrown overboard, locked out of my own life.

Time to sink or swim. 

The first week after my husband asked for the divorce was the worst week of my entire life. I spent it pathetically begging him to reconsider. I called and begged him to come home. Once at 2:00 AM. And I appealed from every angle via in person, the phone, email – I was emotional, logical, persuasive – but, it didn’t work.

I was so persistent he told me I should be in sales.

But, obviously I’m not THAT great at selling, because he wasn’t buying what I was selling.

He isn’t in love with me.

He said it to my face. To friends. Over and over again.

No words have ever cut me to the core so very deeply.

I didn’t want to believe it; I still don’t really believe it . . . but, it HAS to be true. I HAVE to accept it if he can say it multiple times and even after seeing how badly it hurts me . . . say it again.

After that initial week, he eventually came home and moved into the guest room so he could still help out with the baby. He is gone so much for work he’s never here anyway, though. He’s never in one place for long, yet he still got his own apartment across town to add to the list of places he drifts around to. He forwarded his mail and got renter’s insurance and even moved some furniture in.

But, all of his personal effects still remain here. Shirts waiting to be dry cleaned, a dress shoe the dog relocated to another room in the house. His electric toothbrush and collection of colognes. Some mail that didn’t make the forwarding cut. Even a tupperware of leftover pulled pork in the fridge that was made for dinner before he asked for the divorce.

They all feel like relics of a past life. It feels like my husband doesn’t even exist. Did he ever exist? It doesn’t feel like it. It’s like he’s a figment of my imagination.

A life that barely existed because it never even had time to begin.

A life that’s lost. Just like me.

So, now here I am, lost at sea, sitting in my little life raft wondering what’s supposed to come next.

Thankfully, I’m a mom. Being a mom means I can’t let myself drown. My son needs me. And needs me now more than ever.

So, every night when I go to bed and I can’t sleep because all of the, “WHY WHY WHY WHY WHYs” take over . . . I simply breathe. In and out. And I repeat to myself over and over and over again “It’s going to be OKAY. It WILL be okay. Everything IS okay.”

Then, as I finally am able to drift off to sleep, I hang my hope on the moon and the stars and convince myself that each day is going to be better than the next.

And I believe it.

Maybe I WOULD be a good salesperson, after all. 

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