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840 days
It’s been 840 days since I became officially separated, and though I vaguely recall the early days of feeling like my life was crumbling before me, these days, I feel overwhelmingly grateful for the opportunity to start a new life at 40. I liken my separation to very nearly avoiding rear-ending someone in traffic —
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I May Be Dating Myself a Bit Here
The most romantic date of my life ending with me walking in the chilly February rain, without proper boots and carrying no umbrella. I’ve walked in the rain (on dates even) plenty of times before, but this was different. This was true love. At the time of writing this, I’m single. It’s been 14 months since being
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“You just think because you don’t yell, you’re not mean.”
I was watching Knocked Up (because I actually have terrible taste in movies and love that one) and when Debbie says, “You just think because you don’t yell, you’re not mean…but this is mean“, my gut dropped. Ouch. That hit home for me… Let me back up. I am a gold medal yeller. I get riled
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I, Pariah
I was married for 11 years, and with that man for almost 20. Barrelling into midlife was predictably tumultuous for me, but I felt that, by 40, at least my marriage was ready to hit a healthy stride. I was married to my best friend, after all — the guy I happily spent all my
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unwanted : happy
As a child, I’d throw tantrums so epic, my mother started recording them on tapes for me to listen to later, to show me just how irrational I’d been. As a teen, I’d push limits and curfews, screaming obscenities at my parents and pushing them away as hard as I could. I’d lock myself in
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There’s Nothing to See Here…
Warning: this post contains depressing talk about a stillbirth. You can skip it, I won’t be offended. On Friday, August 15, 2008 I was just over 19 weeks pregnant and was in an ultrasound lab having what I assumed would be a routine scan wherein we may be able to determine the sex of our
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Six Months
Six months. It’s been six months since my husband left me. I’ve lived a fairly public life for so long that I’ve been feeling a little dishonest not being transparent about it all, but sometimes things are even too personal for me to share. Crazy, I know. As all married couples do, he and I
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Listen, repeat after me: There’s no such thing as a perfect parent. We’re all just doing our best to raise these little humans, and mistakes are bound to happen. The lives we see reflected in social media posts don’t always feel relatable when we’re living in the midst of parenting kids, do they? How come
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#ShowMeYourBrave: Blood Isn’t Always Thicker Than Water
It takes incredible strength to stand up to the people who are supposed to love us most of all. Emotional waters get so muddied when family is involved. We’re told blood is thicker than water, but what happens when cruelty runs deep in that blood? *** “I am not taking part in this drama anymore.” With
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#ShowMeYourBrave: When Walking Away is the Bravest Part
This story must come with the most severe of content and trigger warnings. This is a story of rape, and the after-effects on the life of the victim. The backstory is this: https://www.thestar.com/news/gta/2011/06/27/toronto_police_officer_fights_for_justice_after_woman_raped_in_texas.html The sheer resilience and unbelievable courage of this woman blows my mind. It is truly remarkable what we can survive. Sometimes we need
