Heartbreak

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Heartbreaks and Triumphs

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Heartbreaks and Triumphs

I think I have PTSD from Valentine's Day. Those years spent as a single mom were some of the best years of my life but also some of the most lonely and painful. When every magazine, TV show and social network was bantering on about romance, I just wanted to slink off and hide until the whole thing was over with. 

Don't get me wrong, I did great things with my daughter. We'd go out to dinner and to the movies. We'd get flowers and decorate the dining room table. I did my best to create a version of Valentines Day that worked for us. But honestly, it still hurt.

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What to Do if Your Daughter Hates You

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What to Do if Your Daughter Hates You

Divorce is horrible. And unfortunately, it's even more terrible for our children. This week, one of my students posted on my online forum asking for help. Her tween daughter is unhappy which means she is unhappy. My student is newly divorced and their entire lives have been upended. Once having lived in the expansive stretch of a McMansion, now living in a tiny two-room apartment. Her daughter complains about the apartment, the clothes, the new life. The mom feels guilty and ashamed and is grasping for anything she can do to help her daughter feel safe. Feel loved. Feel like it's all going to be okay.

I remember what this was like. I remember that first year, living in my little house. I remember the tears, night after night, as I tried to put my inconsolable daughter to bed. I remember her fury and her heartbreak.

"You've stolen my happiness," she told me. 

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A Mother's Loss

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A Mother's Loss

It happened again.

I watched my daughter get out of the car, sling her backpack over her shoulder and run after some friends. I watched as she crossed the busy street to the inner sanctum of junior high. She was laughing, face to the sky, hair flying in the wind, so beautiful that time seemed to stand still just for her.

I sat in my car watching, waiting for her to look back in my direction, if even for a second. 

She did. She always does. A smile and a secret wave saying, "Bye, I love you."

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Independence Day

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Independence Day

Last winter, my heart was broken. Someone I loved very much walked out of my life. Out of my daughter's life. 

He gave no reason. 

He just bailed.

And for months after, I tried to heal. I tried to forgive. I tried to forget.

I tried to pick up the pieces of my heart and scotch-tape them back together.

My chest literally hurt. My rib cage ached. I felt haunted by the Ghost of Relationships Past. Everything I did. Everywhere I went. He was there. 

I came to realize this heavy brick on my sternum was grief. 

And that it is normal.

And that it sucks.

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How To Let Go

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How To Let Go

I know how to hold on.

How to push. Force. Sweat. Grunt. Dig deep. Grit my teeth. And get shit done.

I'm fiercely talented at keeping a grudge alive.

I know how to stay focused. Eyes on the prize. Nose to the grindstone.

I don't give up. Nor do I give in. Until the universe beats it into me.

Surrender's just not my strong-suit.

And sometimes this strength has moved mountains in my life. It's gotten me through death and divorce. It has finished a marathon, published two books, and paid off more than a half-million in debt.

But sometimes this strength has been my weakest link.

Because anything too rigid.

Can break.

And I did. Well, my heart did.

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Moon Prayers

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Moon Prayers

I said a prayer for my heart tonight. 

I felt that cold seeping in.

The inky blackness that hides in my veins. Just waiting for a call to duty. To harden and cement a barrier so thick that I will be protected from this hurt. 

The white hot barbed-wire that courses from my gut. Twisting and turning a tangled rusted knot. Weaving itself a corset through my rib cage. Suffocating and stifling. Tighter. Till there were only two words.

Love me.

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A Love Like That

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A Love Like That

I live in one of the most beautiful places on earth. A little piece of heaven surrounded by ranches, farms and ocean in the middle of the California coast line.

This morning, I took advantage of an unusually-blank weekday morning and jumped in my car to go to one my favorite running trails about 20 minutes from my house.

Mornings can be utterly gorgeous in this valley. For the short time that California is green - it’s almost arrogant with its vibrancy. Showing off for the sky.

But not today.

Nope. Just grey. Subdued. 

Rounding the bend into the valley, to the left you can see all the way into wine country. And the hills beyond. To the right, you look up the valley to the ocean. Beyond the ranches.

And today there was a single horse in the middle of the field.

Surrounded by vultures. In an equidistant circle.

There had be at least 30 of them. Sitting there. Ring-around-the-rosie all facing the horse.

My heart sank. Something is wrong.

I got to my trail but couldn’t shake the thought of that horse and those vultures.

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My Daughter Wants A New Mom

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In 2011, a few years into single-motherhood, my daughter (9 years old at the time) told me that she didn’t want me to be her mom anymore. This post was written late one night during one of the worst times of my life. Here’s the original post. Scroll down to see my update, written 12 years later.