I wrote the Offbeat Home post I’m not attracted to my husband: Marriage without chemistry? in 2013. [One of the most popular posts on Offbeat Home & Life, of all time. -Ed] After 6 years of working on myself, finding myself, and trying to do absolutely everything I could to save the marriage… I finally had the strength to call it quits.
Yesterday should have been a normal day. It started off that way. But instead it became a first for my eldest daughter. My daughter asked a boy to stop using profanities, and instead, he used them more and more, especially directed at her. And then he threatened her, repeatedly.
When the bus did stop, she ran as fast as she could and into my arms. Her whole body shook with fear and anger. That was the day our daughter became the victim of sexually violent language. She is ten years old. The boy was twelve. She was riding the school bus home from fifth grade.
I’ve been up all night deleting my lists of baby names, deleting my secret baby registry, unfollowing the Twins groups I joined on Facebook, throwing away the books and the ultrasound photos that I’d been proudly displaying on our fridge. I’ve been up all night unbecoming a mother. I had a glass of wine and sushi and it wasn’t as good as I needed it to be. Women don’t talk about miscarriage, even though it happens to a lot of us. A LOT.
Colleagues will ask it, parents will ask it, students will ask it. Some will ask it because it’s the thing to do, some to fill dead air, some because they saw my (not to brag or anything) AMAZING vacation photos on social media, and some because they genuinely want to know. “How was your summer?”
You want to know how my summer really was? It was awful. I was an emotional, hormonal mess who was pregnant, but won’t be having a baby anytime soon. I had two miscarriages, my second and third.
My pregnancy was real. Really brief. Really scary. Really exciting. Really surprising. Really sad. Really hopeful. Really exhausting.
There were three emotional weeks between the moment I saw two lines on a pregnancy test in my bathroom at 4am and the moment an ultrasound confirmed we’d lost it. This wasn’t our first pregnancy, but it was our first since knowing the pain of losing one. We were scared and sad from the start that we might lose it, yet we were hopeful this might finally be our time…
I’m a tattooed mom with blue hair who loves her family and teenage kids and live in a home full of love. Recently we’ve been working through challenges relating to mental illness — minor but requiring therapy and medication. I’ve lost some friends over it, people who could overlook the superficial style stuff, until it seemed less superficial.
My wardrobe has toned down a LOT in the six years we’ve lived here — but should I go back to being a brunette who tends to stick with long sleeves in the summer for the sake of my teen daughters?
I was just a regular teenage girl one moment and then a wreck the next. All I had to worry about in life was what outfit I would have to wear to school the next day and what grades I got in my classes. But that all changed in just one day.
My mom had been going through a rough patch and her depression had gotten the worst of her. One day she just vanished into thin air…
To love someone who has been broken is a brave thing to do. We have lived a life most know nothing about. To the broken, love is a scary and volatile concept. Love isn’t sunshine and roses but thorns and monsoons. To the broken, yelling and raised voices are a part of a typical conversation and something to which we are accustomed. But being broken can be beautiful and strong… and you’re capable of being loved.