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“She knew she loved him when ‘home’ went from being a place to being a person” — E. Levanthal

I found this quote many months ago when The Boy and I were still happy and its truth struck me. I thought I had experienced this kind of love before, I thought I had loved my husband this way…but now I’m not so sure. One thing I do know, however, is that I loved The Boy this way. There is no doubt of that.

I wasn’t sure I would ever love anyone again after my husband, I thought with my silly girlish mind that I had used up my allotment of being in love, that maybe there would be other men but that nothing would ever be like it had been with him. That is, until The Boy came along.

He showed me what real love is supposed to be like, the way a man who really loves me (and is capable of such love) is supposed to treat me, and how I’m supposed to feel in that situation. He changed me. He showed me that I really could be in love again. It didn’t take long at all for him to become my “home”.

For the last eight months he has been my home, my safe place, my rock. He was my best friend, my confidant, my cheerleader; he was the one I called, no matter what I wanted to talk about. For the first time in a VERY long time I was really truly happy when I was with him. I knew, and LIKED, who I was; I believed in myself and my dreams. I was someone important, I was beautiful and I was smart. I was someone else’s “home”. I can’t explain how good that felt…until it was over.

Now I don’t know who I am anymore, I feel horribly homeless and it’s hard. I’m adrift in the sea of life, without a rock to anchor myself to. I used to think that I would never love like that again….now I am certain that I will never love like THIS again. I don’t think my heart is capable, even if I wanted to.  I have no words to explain how difficult it is to be that honestly happy and then to just have your “home” ripped away from you. To make it even worse is that we still love each other, he’s just as lost as I am right now, but still we can’t be with each other. The world is horribly cruel like that sometimes.

Now we are faced with the next to impossible task of converting that love we have for each other into something that still resembles a friendship…hopefully without losing the importance of it. We have to somehow learn to not love each other quite so much, so that it doesn’t kill us to see the other person with someone new and we can still be each other’s best friend; to somehow find out who we are today, separate from each other. I’ve had people tell me this is impossible, that it can’t work, that it’s an idea that is doomed from the start. The thing is, I just don’t care. Maybe it is stupid, maybe it won’t work, but I have to try. He’s too important to me, he’s too much of an integral part of my life and who I am to just walk away. Stupid idea or not, it HAS to work. It just has to.

I can only hope that the next man I meet is half as wonderful as The Boy is, that he makes me half as happy. I will consider myself a lucky girl if that happens. And as difficult as it is to say this, I wish the same for him…I will always love him, but I hope that he finds someone who deserves him and that makes him happy, and I hope I am by his side as his best friend to witness it.


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Letter From Healthy Me– I am soooo in love with this post

Letter From Healthy Me

Dear Sick Me,

There is an end to this. I know you’re tired and your lips are so chapped from treatment that they are basically falling off and that’s just one of ten things you are frustrated about, but just listen. Actually, the ringing in your ears is beyond deafening so just read. I know you have been ill for a long time. I know you are not your best self. I know how much of an identify shift this has forced upon you. But, believe me, your illness has an expiration date.

You know those first daily intimations of your illness that occur before your eyes have fully opened for the day? The ones that wake with you as you lay in your bed while you lay mildly aware of that beautiful hazy light of a sun not fully risen? You know how before you’ve even completed the disjointed and random dreams marking a restless and shallow sleep you are aware of intense pain in your body? And most of all, you know how once your body does realize it’s waking, it aggressively slingshots the process and your heart begins to pound and you are wracked with internal vibrating like a door stop that’s been bent back and released? There will come a day that will stop. You will get the chance to again fully appreciate the beauty of a morning. There will come a day when you can wake and stretch and bask in the comfort of your sheets and be unaware of your body except as a thing to jump up and seize the day with. There will.

There will come a time where getting out of bed doesn’t lead you hobbling straight to your pill cabinet. Where taking four different medications simply to try to calm your nervous system to a tolerable level won’t be your first urgent thought of the day. There will come a time when you can wake, walk past your stored empty pill case and eat Frosted Mini Wheats while looking out your window over the beautiful scenery. You’ll have no other thoughts but simple things like how you sure do love Frosted Mini Wheats and how majestic mountains are casting shadows with their crags. You will.

A day will come where you won’t look in the mirror and see dark circles under your eyes and a face you hardly recognize. You won’t see the stresses of prolonged internal battles with infectious agents written over your visage.  You won’t constantly battle painful sores or hair loss or bizarre flaky redness over your eyelids that just won’t go away. You won’t see the daily reminders of feeling too sick to shower as you attempt to put back your greasy and unkempt hair that has seen better days and better hairstyles. You won’t feel the frustration of your illness forbidding you to hide it because your foundation flakes on your dry and sallow skin, your concealer is a joke, you can’t put anything on your eyes and your lipstick just draws attention to that weird sore right on your top lip line. Yes, I promise you, your hair will grow shiny and bouncy again. Your eyes will sparkle and your skin will pep. You won’t even need concealer again… remember those days? They will come back.

I know you hate meal time. You have for quite some time now. I know you’ve long grown bored with the limited foods you can eat. I know how much you miss the freedom of grabbing on occasional donut or baking a batch of cookies with no thought at all to consequences. I know how maddening it is that a few bites of something outside of your diet has fairly immediate consequences and you’re tired of experiencing the tachycardia for hours or body aches for days. I know it still feels like your body continues to react to more and more foods and your list continues to grow shorter. But this won’t last forever. You will once again enjoy a family BBQ for more than the social aspect. You’ll even be able to eat pizza again. Doesn’t pizza sound amazing? It’s not even 8 AM and pizza sounds amazing right now to you. I can feel it with my healthy me special senses from the future. Sick me, some day, you will eat pizza before 8 am again, with no reservations. Again, you’ll do so while you look out your window at mountains and be able to think about how gosh darn lovely mountains are because your heart isn’t pounding hard enough to have hi-jacked every ounce of your attention. Unsweetened breakfast shakes, which I know sometimes you feel is the equivalent of IV TPN will not live immortally on your breakfast menu. You will see.

There will come a time where you aren’t scheduling your morning, afternoon, and evening around handfuls of antibiotics and a pill case large enough that surely was designed for someone far beyond your years. Soon you won’t be spending Sunday mornings filling each slot – morning, lunch, dinner, and bed – with pills and supplements, often to over capacity. Soon your pharmacy will forget your name and you will forget the faces of the techs there. Soon your online shopping will shift from vitacost and seekinghealth and the amazon health & wellness section to things you actually want. Maybe clothes that can replace old ones because the last time you shopped was years ago and think of how great it will feel to buy a shirt that’s actually in style now and you actually have a place to wear it to. You’ll have that chance, you will.

Someday soon, you will have a day to seize. You won’t have it dictated for you by a disease that likes to remind you every moment it is still there. I know you can’t sleep without symptoms, eat without them, shower without them, even talk without them. I know that every moment of the day you are feeling your disease and I know every moment of the night is dictated by bacteria that seem to rule over even your subconscious. I know it is much that you feel inside that exists without awareness of others. Sometimes there is much you feel that you can not hide. I know that loud noises send you crumbling to the floor and I know that flashing lights have you scrambling to do anything that will block the lacerating waves these inflict upon your brain. I know these are seizure triggers and I know you move throughout your day fragile and vulnerable to many other triggers too. I know each day feels like a landmine and I know this forces your constant attention. I know how much it requires of you to keep it together at a restaurant when you can hear plates clanging in the kitchen, every conversation at all surrounding tables, every baby that is fussing and every chair that drags across the floor as one gets up from his table. I know the anxiety this causes and I know few understand the vexatious discomfort of sensory overload. I know how hard you work when you have to feverishly stifle these things in order to engage in something “normal”. I know most don’t understand much of your symptoms and thus burdening you with the weight of this arduous existence alone and in your head. I know this has become your way of life – a poorly arranged marriage to a tyrant from which you feel you can’t escape. But someday it won’t. There are movie theaters and dinner parties and even unexpected car horns or a dropped plate in your future that won’t phase you a bit. There are days ahead where disease-borne oppressions do not rule.  There are.

You know how you spend a lot of time experiencing some kind of pain? You know how right now your back is hurting and you can’t seem to shake the upper right quadrant abdominal pain that’s been an ongoing trouble for years? You know how sometimes your wrist can flare out of the blue and you can’t even dress yourself due to the pain? Or you know how your gut will suddenly hurt so severely, enough to have you double over and yell? You know how your ribs feel like you’ve been kicked by a horse almost every single day? This pain is not in perpetuity. Your body will be freed from this. You will soon be able to move freely and even curl up in bed or on the couch in front of a movie without having to split your attention between the screen and your distress. You’ll do these things without even a fleeting thought of physical discomfort. The enjoyments of the world will be yours.

Someday you won’t be plagued by the susceptibilities of your heart. I know how for over two years you have felt every beat. I know your heart is constantly in some level of your awareness through no desire of your own. I know you feel it beat in your chest, in your neck, in your head, in your ear, in various parts of your body when you lie down and even in your eyes at times. I know how much of a discomfort this has been. I know you’ve forgotten what it feels like to NOT feel your heart, to go through your day unaware of it’s beating. This will not last forever. Someday, you’ll know. Eventually you will be able to drink a glass of water without feeling it skip a beat. You will be able to eat without it resulting in chest pounding for hours. You will once again run without triggering arrhythmia and you will be able to resume your love for yoga and weightlifting without feeling dizzy, woozy, and faint. It doesn’t seem like it now, but this cardiac clamor will go. You will get your heart back. You will.

Someday, sick Me, and someday soon, the chains of this disease will be loosed. Someday you will discover that your body is once again yours. That each day is once again yours. That you are free to do and go and be, more fully.

Someday your doctor will give you the go ahead to become a mother. He will declare your body a vessel safe to house life without risk of giving your child this disease. You will get that chance to take care of others, as they have taken care of you. You will get that chance to repay humanity for kindnesses shown to you.

Someday you will look in the mirror as you brush your teeth, or maybe after washing your face, and you will see remnants of a war in your eyes, but a war that is over. You know in years past you’ve struggled to love that image or see her worth, and I know during your illness you’ve struggled to even recognize her. But soon you will know her. Know her because you’ve learned a bit more of what she’s made of and from whom she is made.

You will have great compassion for her because you will know your Father in Heaven’s compassion for her. You will love her. You won’t love her with egotism but with truth. And I know that many times throughout your illness you hung on to the belief you surely weren’t forgotten despite the prolonged and drawn out era of your discomfort. Your belief will be knowledge. You will know God doesn’t leave us in our agonies forever.

Someday this storm will be over. You may not know exactly when that happens, as it won’t happen in a day. And I can assure you that you won’t remember how you made it through. But you will know that one thing is certain. When you do come out of this storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. You will look back on this time and be able to discern it with greater wisdom than you currently have now. You will see it as some sort of school. Yes, it was schooling all along. You will remember periods of it where you recall barely staying above water. Others where you were quite strong and endured gracefully. And others… not so much. You’ll see moments where you cried with fists in the air to a God who seemed silent while a surge in the storm raged. But in the full spectrum of the experience, you will see He never left. Instead, perhaps like a great teacher does, He remained silent during a test or two (or more). You will see this was for your good. You will appreciate it.

Dear sick me, be patient. There was a better you to be built. Flaws are woven through the fibers of every mortal being, and you were never exempt. God gives you opportunities disguised as bad luck at times, opportunities to overcome those flaws and grow more refined. You wanted those opportunities, you were born for that. You know, sick me, how your basement had this unknown flaw behind its walls and then it flooded and grew mold and created a big hassle for everyone? You know how parts of it have had to be stripped to the foundation and studs in order to fix it? You illness is doing the same. It’s a painful process and a slow one. You may not be whole now, but someday you will be. You will be. You’ll see how much better you were rebuilt. You’re becoming acquainted with parts of you that disease can not touch. You are growing those parts. Your health will return and you will live a good life, and the cultivation you’re doing of what death and illness can not touch will last with you eternally. This journey won’t be for naught.

You will look back and ponder it often. You will ponder it in camping tents under bright moons as wind blows through trees. You will ponder it as you rock your babies while that hazy morning sun you used to be only barely aware of now pours across their blankets with great warmth. You will ponder it in plane rides as you fly to far away bucket-list destinations. You will ponder it as you feel the wind in your hair while biking mountain trails over-looking valleys lived in below. Even if you aren’t pondering it directly, it will be an experience always with you… each piece a part of your new frame.

You will come to cherish the journey. You will.

Love, Healthy Me.

Quoted from

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I’m not a princess, this ain’t a fairytale…

I have always been a fairytale kind of girl; you know what I’m talking about, the happily ever after, prince charming, big white dress kind of fairytale girl. The kind of fairytale girl who spent hours daydreaming about her perfect wedding, her perfect husband, her perfect children; making 5 year, 10 year and 20 year plans, and plans for her plans. But after a lifetime of failed relationships and sickness and a failed marriage in my early twenties it’s becoming clear that I’ve become rather dark and twisty. Fairytale girl is gone.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to still be a fairytale girl, but as much as I try it just doesn’t feel like me anymore. The thought of getting married again terrifies the shit out of me, the idea of the prince charming and the big white dress makes me want to flee and fast, and the whole happily ever after thing just doesn’t feel like a reality for me any more. I absolutely cannot endure another failed marriage, especially after a big expensive (and public!) wedding ceremony. There is no way I can endure the heartbreak and embarrassment again. I can’t fail again, I just can’t.

Surprisingly, I don’t really think my failed marriage caused this…I mean, obviously it contributed, but I didn’t really feel this way until things with the boyfriend from previous posts went south. I was ready to commit again, I loved him with all of my heart and soul…I still do…but due to a complicated religious/family reason he can’t be with me. I don’t think I’ve ever been so heartbroken in my life. My divorce basically ripped me apart…but this is different. It’s different because he WANTS to be with me, and I with him, because he’s incredible and everything I’ve ever wanted; it’s different because for the first time in my life he actually makes me feel like the princess from the fairytale. The world makes sense when I’m with him, the sky is blue, the grass is green, up is up and down is down, things just fall into place. He taught me what a normal, actually truly happy, relationship feels like. But I can’t have him…

Maybe I’ll just be that girl that marries her career, I mean by the time I HAVE a career I’ll be like 35…that’s getting a little old for husbands and babies (at least for my taste). I mean, sure it could happen, but it doesn’t go with any versions of my plans. I’m going to be a doctor, that’s very time consuming work, I’ll just get through the next 2 years and then when I go to med school I’ll throw myself into my work and never look back. People do that, right? It works for some people.

I said that to my friend the other day and he said “yeah right, you know you’re not one of those people. You need love too much for that”. I guess he’s right…but people can change…


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Planning to plan

“Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans” — John Lennon

There is unrest in my soul tonight.

So many people spend their whole lives planning their lives. I used to be one of those people; the one with the 5 year plan, the 10 year plan and the 20 year plan…with plans for achieving my plans, I even planned to plan! 

People spend their lives running from one opportunity to the next, expending energy, time and money…they even forgo time with their loved ones in exchange for pursuing the ever out of reach “plan”.

The truth of the matter is I can’t plan anymore. Well, I can but if I’m being honest with myself it’s a waste.

Don’t get me wrong, I have plans and I want so badly for them to come to life…but I can never ever lose respect for the fact that in a minute it could all be gone. All my plans could go up in smoke.

Tomorrow we could not wake up; we could wake up and not be able to walk; we could wake up and not be able to speak or see or hear. Tomorrow we could get hit by a bus, murdered or kidnapped and sold into sex slavery. Ok, I’m being a little dramatic…but it’s true.

Tomorrow you could get bit by a tick and your whole world could change…mine did.

The fact is that none of us can plan, if we’re being honest with ourselves. We can plan, but we damn well better never lose a healthy respect for the fact that it could all be gone in an instant…because that’s when the universe likes to throw us a little reminder. Trust me…

Plans are just that, plans…they’re ideas, possibilities, desires. They are not promises and they are most definitely not guarantees. So make your plans, set your goals, and work hard for them but remember this…tomorrow it could all be gone.


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Today is a big day…

Today is a special day…I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it is. “It’s just March 27th, what’s so special about that?” — I know that’s what you’re asking yourselves. Well here it is…

Its my Lyme-a-versary. Exactly one year ago today I was diagnosed with Lyme disease. Exactly one year ago today my life changed completely; all at once I had a newfound hope, but in the same moment I took the first step on a very long, very hard journey. So many times in the last year I have wanted to quit, I’ve wanted to give up and go back to “fibromyalgia”…at least that didn’t involve purposefully making myself sicker, but I didn’t and I’m so glad. 🙂

365 days

3 heart surgeries (1 pacemaker implantation and 2 ablations)

3 picc lines

12 LLMD appointments

334 IVs

5 ER visits

4 ultrasounds

4 MRIs

7 x-rays

1 CT scan

7 different antibiotics, 2 antifungals, 1 antiviral and 1 antiparasitic

44 PT/myofascial release sessions

7 Chiropractic/acupuncture sessions

12 microcurrent sessions and 1 rife session

12093809573459 supplements

Countless hours of research and thousands of dollars…

later I have to say I’m finally seeing some improvement! I’ve had an awesome few weeks, which is really nice because I was needing a reminder of what I was fighting for. I needed just a little proof that it was possible for me to get better, and I got it.

In fact, I’ve been feeling SO good that I walked/ran a 5K on Saturday!

(Picture for proof 🙂 )


Yes, that is the wonderful boyfriend I mentioned in a previous post 🙂 ❤ This is The Color Run, basically a 5K where the point is to get as dirty as possible with different colored paint. You fling it on each other and there are volunteers there to fling it on you as you run as well. It was so much fun, and an incredible experience to be able to check that off my bucket list. Of course I intend to do it again next year and run the entire thing, but even if that never happens now I can say I did it once!

So in honor of my Lyme-a-versary I took the Lyme Disease Challenge today. This is a grassroots campaign to raise awareness of lyme disease and the desperate need for research and accurate testing methods.

Lyme disease challenge 2

Did you know that 300,000 people are infected with lyme disease each year? That’s more than hepatitis, HIV, colon cancer AND breast cancer! Did you also know that there is no reliable test to diagnose lyme, and that less than 50% of people develop the classic “bulls eye rash” or remember a tick bite? This leads to a delay in diagnosis, often for many many years, by which time many patients are severely disabled. Lyme can imitate many common diagnosis’ such as fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue syndrome, MS, ALS, Alzheimers, Parkinsons and autism leading to improper and ineffective treatments for these conditions, meanwhile the patients just get sicker. Please, educate yourself and your loved ones, this is a terrible disease and we need to get the word out!

Now I challenge all of you readers (especially you Ralph!) to participate in the challenge as well! Picture or it didn’t happen! 🙂

Are you in? Great! You have 48 hours to follow the three easy steps below and donate $10 to International Lyme and Associated Diseases Educational Fund (ILADEF), the IRS 501(c)(3) educational foundation of the International Lyme and Associated Diseases Society (ILADS). Prefer not to take the bite? That’s okay too! Donate $100 to ILADS instead. All donations accepted here:
1. TAKE A BITE: Bite a lime and TAKE A PHOTO OR A SHORT VIDEO of the act (the funnier your sour-puss face the better!)
2. SHARE A FACT: State ONE BRIEF FACT ABOUT LYME DISEASE, such as the facts provided on
3. PASS IT ON: Keep the campaign going — CHALLENGE THREE OTHER PEOPLE – and tag them in your post. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE CHALLENGE OTHERS!
Please be sure to use the hashtag #lymediseasechallenge. For more information, please visit


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Cross your fingers, toes, and anything else that crosses! 

I’m really afraid to say this…i don’t want to jinx it…but I feel GOOD. For almost 2 weeks now! I’ve had only 1 bad day out of 12! 

When I say good, I mean I have energy, less pain that normal, and I just have this general sense of something BIG being different. Even when I had that one bad day (and it was really bad), when I was stuck in bed all day, I didn’t mind, I wasn’t upset, because I just knew that it would be temporary (and it WAS!) 

I have no idea what’s going on, but if you’ve got something to cross please cross it for me that this sticks around! I’m really enjoying living life like a normal person; I’m having fun spending time with my dear boyfriend and not being held back by feeling sick.  

Also, I’m having surgery on my heart in a couple of days (my 3rd heart surgery in 7 months!) If it works that will definitely contribute to my feeling good, so keep crossed for that too? Thanks! 


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Dating a sick girl

As I sit here, awake early (for me) on a Saturday morning, eating pastry in his bed and channeling my inner Carrie Bradshaw while he is at work, all I can think about is the parts of that picture I failed to describe for you. Like the IV pole standing next to me, and the pill box full of pills on his beside table; the many bags of IV medicine currently residing in his refrigerator and the conversation we just had before he left about what time we could leave to go somewhere this afternoon because I will have to finish my IV drip before we can leave. How I laid awake and watched him sleep until 4:30am because I had to finish my IV, and the box of saran wrap in my suitcase so that I can take a shower later. While all of these things are MY normal, I am constantly reminded that they are not everyone else’s.

I know a lot of people who can’t/won’t date due to their chronic illness, and I know that I should consider myself very lucky that I not only can but have found someone who is willing to look past it and put up with the insanity that is my life…but I can’t help feeling that it isn’t fair.

I hate worrying him. I hate filling his once normal life with IV bags, doctors appointments and surgeries. I can’t for the life of me figure out why he wants to put up with it all. Hell, Idon’t want to put up with it all and it’s my life, I definitely wouldn’t be doing it voluntarily!

I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking…how does he feel about waking up to an IV pole in his bedroom? He says he’s fine, that it doesn’t bother him, but is he really fine? What is it really like dating a sick girl?

The other day I had a massive migraine, I mean the worst migraine I’ve ever had. We were out at dinner and then going grocery shopping when it hit me. I could barely move, was ready to throw up, and was desperately popping every pill in my purse to make it stop. I was actually contemplating going to the ER, it hurt THAT badly. The poor guy was so shocked, he didn’t know what to do and just stared at me with big worry-filled eyes. I can’t even begin to imagine what that feels like, watching someone you care about be that sick. I know cognitively what he was feeling; worry, helplessness, frustration, sympathy etc. but I can’t really understand.

I can’t imagine having my life suddenly over taken by IVs and worry…my life has always been this way. I guess I’m scared. Maybe he’ll decide it’s too much. Maybe he’ll meet some prettier, healthier girl who can live a normal life with him sans IV bags and doctors appointments. Perhaps his friends will lecture him about how he “could do so much better” or “shouldn’t have to put up with that”. Maybe he’ll decide I’m just being a baby…like my ex husband did…

For now though, I can’t even wrap my mind around how lucky I am…

I really dislike clichés, and I’m not one to subscribe to the belief that an omnipotent being (whatever you choose to call him/her) gave me this life for some reason I am unaware of, but I will say that I believe things happen sometimes exactly the way they are supposed to happen…

I think he is exactly what I need right now.

He makes me so incredibly happy. He makes me want to be as smart, strong, and incredible as he thinks I am. He makes me believe for half a second that I could actually get better and be a normal person. He makes me want to work harder, be more determined…try harder.


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Everything’s Going to be Okay

I was going to write a post tonight, but honestly I don’t have the energy and this sums up what I’m feeling so perfectly.

Last Christmas was hard for me because I was sick, and this Christmas I’m sick too but that’s not why it’s hard…it’s hard because he’s not here. It’s hard because I don’t know where he is, if he ate today or if he even has a place to live anymore. It’s hard because I miss him being here, but at the same time I really don’t. Wow it hurts to admit that.

I just sat down here to congratulate myself on being so ok today; I didn’t cry, I didn’t think about him, and I didn’t even really miss him until now…because it just occurred to me that I was so ok because I never stopped to let myself feel something. From the time I woke up till now I have been doing doing doing so I didn’t have to think about it.

Well now I am going to feel something, I am going to sit here and be sad, because that’s ok.

Merry Christmas everyone. Let’s hope next year is better for all of us. ❤

Must Be This Tall To Ride

christmas-beautiful-tree “I’m struggling today,” she said.

Her kids are 500 miles away. The mandatory waiting period for her state to finalize her divorce will end in 2015. This is her first Christmas where everything’s broken.

“It’s amazing what you can get used to,” I said.

From now on our troubles will be out of sight.

I waxed philosophically about how in the grand scheme of our lives this really doesn’t matter and everything’s going to be okay and don’t let your emotions ruin an otherwise beautiful occasion. She gets me and claimed it helped.

But I bet it didn’t. I bet it didn’t help at all.


I was in the store earlier. So much life. Everyone moving this way and that buying drinks and snacks and last-minute ingredients for Christmas parties and dinners with friends and family.

That’s when you feel the most alone after divorce.

That’s why divorced people…

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Something strange is happening.

Something very strange is happening. Something that has never happened to me before.

I want to be alone. 

I mean, I’m totally an introvert, people have always worn me out…but I’ve never let that stop me. I always wanted to be around people, talking to people, doing things, dating people. Not anymore.

I see my friends occasionally, I text a lot, and talk on the phone sometimes…but for the most part I’m pretty much ok with just being by myself. As for dating, forget it; a teeny tiny part of me wants to, but not really.

I even find myself occasionally annoyed with the fact that people keep texting me! (“uhm, hello, who are you and what did you do with Addie Marie?!”)

I sort of want to date, as in spend time with a nice guy once in a while…but share my space? No way. Be obligated to see or talk to someone? Absolutely not. I’m not even sure I really want to deal with every thing dating entails, getting dressed up, small talk, possible physical activity (ie. walking, get your mind out of the gutter!), sitting still in cold movie theaters/restaurants, etc. Then there’s the whole issue of involving someone else in the train wreck that is my life right now. No thanks.

When I met my husband I moved in with him less than 6 months later…which meant that for the last 4 1/2 years I have never ever had any alone time. Now I can’t fathom doing that, the thought of never having alone time makes me want to run away.

This is a very strange sensation for me, but I think I’m liking it… 🙂



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The story of the cracked pot

By Sacinandana Swami

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on one end of the pole he carried across the back of his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream, the cracked pot arrived only half full. This went on every day for two years, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots of water to his master’s house.

Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishment and saw itself as perfectly suited for the purpose for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its imperfection and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived as bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself and I want to apologize to you.”

“Why?” asked the bearer. “What are you ashamed of?”

“For the past two years, I have been able to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house. Because of my flaws you have to work without getting the full value of your efforts,” the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and out of compassion he said, “As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.” Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the wildflowers on the side of the path. The pot felt cheered.

But at the end of the trail, the pot still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and again it apologized for its failure. The bearer said to the pot, “Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot’s side? That’s because I knew about your flaw and took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them for me. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master’s table. If you were not just the way you are, he would not have such beauty to grace his house.

For the majority of my life I have heard this story every year at a martial arts camp, and it has always tugged on my heart. However, the older and sicker I get, the more it speaks to me.

Tonight, as I sat here trying to write the quintessential “Happy Thanksgiving!” post, I just couldn’t do it. I’m thankful, really truly I am, for so many things…I’m just feeling like a cracked pot right now.

It’s been a hard few weeks, I’ve been in a lot of pain and spending a lot of time in the “deep dark lyme place” of sad emotions.  I’ve had a lot of stuff going wrong with my heart, which I will write about one of these days when I have energy for that, that make me very stressed and angry.

Last weekend I had a flat tire on my car, so I set out to change it. I’d never done that before, but I knew technically how it should be done. With my sister’s help to lift things I managed it…and then was miserable for 3 whole days afterward. I just wanted to be able to do something for myself, to know that I could take care of myself in an emergency…and I did it, but I really should not have. I want to be able to do normal people things without hurting myself or feeling so sick I want to die.

I don’t want to feel like this anymore, I don’t want to be in pain anymore. I don’t want to be this sad person. I used to feel like a strong person, like I could cope with anything and still be a happy, positive person…not anymore. I’m angry that lyme and this pain have taken that away from me.


“When I was treating aids, none of the patients wanted to die, yet they did. Now, treating Lyme, the patients want to die because of the pain, but they usually can’t…Lyme takes you to the edge of death and leaves you there” Dr Jemsek.

Dr Jemseck gets it. That is exactly how I feel lately.


So tonight I will read the story of the cracked pot, and try to remind myself that I am simply a cracked pot and that somewhere there are flowers that I will be able to water with my flaws.


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