hypocrisy makes me crazy. I figure if you want people to believe something about you then you act that way. No need to talk about it all the time, no need to write about it on Facebook or say things from a microphone to a room full of people. Because let's be honest, we aren't that dumb, we can tell when things are what they seem or if someone is quite what they profess. But yet it still makes my skin crawl when someone says something and then acts in total opposition of that. Today should have been my ninth wedding anniversary. I had dreaded this day for awhile because it was a day that was something that will always be his and mine, a day that was picked on the calendar (we were at a fireside at the conference center) and then talked about endlessly and anticipated with so much excitement. I can tell you almost of every detail of how we celebrated this day for the past eight years, the first that he so carefully planned, the second, fourth and eighth that I spent pregnant, the fifth that was miserable and I found out why two weeks later when we first separated  and all the others that no matter what were marked as a passage of time that only we exclusively shared. Our wedding day was beautiful, all the fighting in the planning was forgotten and for the most part the ex in-laws were held at bay, and the day was just a day that we got to be happy. I wanted to hug everyone, I was that happy. I thought this was the day the rest of forever would start. I had waited for him for what seemed like so long and we could finally start what I was so excited for. I still remember our first weekend together, we just stayed in Salt Lake but it was such a wonderful time. We had a really nice dinner out (the most expensive I had and still ever have had) and I remember his wedding ring catching the light and I was so happy that he was my husband. It was the best feeling, at the time I didn't think we would ever need anything more than we had in that very moment. I am so glad we didn't know what the future would hold. I can't bear to think about myself as that girl and to know all the heartache that would come. I knew marriage would not be easy and I knew that we would have challenges but I guess I had been protected from the real world. I didn't know how mean people could be, I had no idea how bad it could get. There were so many dreams wrapped up in that day and I still mourn the loss of what I think should have been. Some days I am still bitter that promises weren't kept and bad feelings and rotten experiences came at the hand of someone who was supposed to love me and take care of me. But really those thoughts are just bitterness and dwelling on them only creates sadness so I take solace in the fact that I am who I am because of my life and that is something I have earned and it can't be taken away from me. A cute friend passed on a quick screen shot of something my x had shared today, maybe she thought it was sweet but in reality it felt like salt in a wound, because if you claim to be grateful for something then you should act like it. Don't treat the things you value terribly and then be surprised when you can't keep them forever. I knew today would be a fight, he was mean and controlling when I was married to him, I don't know why I keep expecting him to change now that I'm not. My daughters teacher called to ask that I come pick up the cookie dough they ordered for a fundraiser, it was all over the classroom and the boxes were to big for the kids to try and carry out themselves, so I did. He had taken the order form and I hadn't heard about it until the last day when I hurried and told him that I had some orders I would like added. I was grateful he had sold some too, B was thrilled she had a few orders but I didn't grab it from the freezer when he first picked up the younger girls. I have a class I have to leave immediately for so I figured we could exchange it later that evening but he called within a few minutes and screamed at me that he had to have the cookie dough that minute because he had people waiting for that cookie dough (really? is someone going to die from lack of dough) . He yelled that he didn't even know why I would have picked up the cookie dough in the first place. I hung up, stopped what I was doing and put his orders on the front porch. I couldn't believe we were screaming at each other over this today. I wanted today to be different. I wanted to remember the reasons we loved each other before and maybe even for just a second allow myself to feel sad that that was gone, and not feel guilty about it. I maybe even wanted to really see him again, for just a second be able to remember him the way it used to be but maybe that was never really the way it was. Maybe he was always this guy and I just didn't see it. But I prefer to think that he wasn't always like this, he used to say things and mean them, he used to be more happy with himself, that I wasn't just too dumb to not see through it. Today I will tell myself that, and even if it's just for the last hour of November 7th, I will believe it.

Louisville was the first of a few major cities we had to navigate through on our way to Utah. In order to get past it you have to use a bridge and last January that bridge was closed. And so was the bridge we were supposed to detour on. We were only an hour into what already was a totally overwhelming trip and we were lost. We followed the signs and somehow we wound a big circle around the city and ended up right where we started, so we tried again and still couldn't get anywhere. The gps was no help and I was completely turned around and lost by the time we started making our way around again. I never liked Louisville, out of all the cities we had been in, all the slums we had been through I was always the most uncomfortable there. It seemed like a mean, dirty city and I did not want to have to drive through the heart of it that morning. But we knew the way we were going wasn't working so we got off the exit and tried to wind our way through town. We followed a construction truck and at the third stop sign he got out of his truck and ran back to the van. A little cautiously I unrolled it, and he kindly asked if we were lost. He explained the way we needed to go and then told us to follow him he would get us as far as he could, and when we past the exit he waved us on our way. Too bad we didn't quite get the directions and some how ended up turned around and lost again. By this point I was panicked that we were absolutely never going to get out of this city, we had at least three days of driving before us and we were all already tired and hungry. We wound our way through some one way streets and u-turns and my mom thought we should pull over. I was very nervous, we were not in a good part of town but we didn't have any other options so I pulled into the parking lot of a White Castle. There were some cop cars around so I quietly hoped things would be okay. I had to nurse the baby so my mom took the other girls in. My mom isn't scared of much, I think she sincerely sees the good in people and so she doesn't really judge what might be negative, she figures she would help someone so most people would be willing to do the same. She told me she hadn't felt the same nervous about the area as I had and she is so sensitive to the spirit had I known that I wouldn't have worried at all. She asked someone at the counter and as they tried to give her directions another man overheard her from his table and got up to talk with her. He explained exactly where we needed to go, down to the direction we should go when we left the parking lot. He took the time to write down everything for us and then said he would point it out to her since he was about to walk home. She told him that I was feeding the baby and we probably wouldn't be ready to go for a little and thanked him for all his help. She came out to the car and told me she had gotten help and we were so relieved that he took the time to write it down so we wouldn't get mixed up again. It took about 20 minutes to get everyone settled and we drove around back we saw the man from the restaurant standing on the corner patiently waiting for us to come. We rolled down the window and he explained that he just wouldn't have been able to go home because he would have worried about us until he knew we were headed the right direction. I couldn't believe that standing on this yucky street corner, in an old wool cap and dirty sweats stood an angel helping us on a little further. This man didn't know where we came from or where we going, but I believe because he had Jesus is his heart he knew someone had a need and he was there to help. What a blessing and what a lesson in the power that one person can have on another. We can be such a help to those around us and what a good man to wait patiently on that sidewalk just because he cared enough to worry about some strangers he met in a burger joint. I wish I could thank him again for being there, maybe one day I will, I don't think I will ever forget his face. He probably doesn't share my religion but he exemplified what it meant to be a Christian that morning, and some days all that a person can get is that help through another. Be that other person, keep Christ in your countenance so others can be edified through that, be that light to the world that others need you to be, you may never know just what a blessing you have the potential to be!

once in awhile someone will ask about something, or a memory will come back and I have to stop and think about last January. Sometimes we even talk about the miracle it was that we made it to Utah in one piece, sometimes we laugh about it and think did that really happen? I checked B out of school early one day. The secretary at the school asked me if I was okay. I had explained a little bit over the phone and when she saw my face she wanted to make sure I wasn't in danger. To be honest I wasn't sure. I was terrified, I had a lock box filled with some papers in the car and a bag of a few essentials. B's teacher walked her to the office, she was hoping to get a peek at the new baby and my heart broke when I saw her. I couldn't tell her that we were leaving, I couldn't stand the thought of taking B out of her class, it was such a wonderful place, full of kids who loved it and I just couldn't bring myself to say it out loud. We went to McDonalds for lunch and I told him that I didn't want him to be at the house while we packed things up. I was scared that we wouldn't be safe in the house but I needed some time to get a few things together. My mom and I thought we would have to have the house packed before we left so we tried to get a truck, find boxes and figure out how we could even do it all. I sold furniture, packed and we tried to take care of a 2 week old. He wanted to meet with the bishop so we did. It was something we had done so many times before and I was honest when I told both of them I was done. I could not do this again, I was too tired of it. I don't think he knew what he was coming up against as he met with us that night but I will always be grateful for his words of support and wisdom. I had never experienced that before but I knew the bishop was given the grace to see my soul that night, he understood what I was saying and also many things that I didn't say. I am grateful for good men who allow God to work though them in order to bless my life. I called a friend on the way home and told her what was going on, her husband was at the house within an hour and also offered some more inspired words of kindness and comfort. The next few days were a whirlwind of all the things we had to get done. K's dad had offered to bring the moving truck so we didn't have to. It was a relief to not have to do that but I didn't realize that meant he would take the truck to his house first and unload everything he wanted or could sell. I am always amazed at how much work my mom can do, she accomplishes more in an hour than most do in a day and she worked tirelessly. My mind was such a fog and she was a superhero in helping with absolutely every little thing I needed. I had started to say good-bye to some people, it was so difficult that I didn't have the energy for it all. I had to return a baby swing to someone. I thought I was composed but her daughter caught what I was saying and asked if my girls were leaving too. It such a horribly wrenching moment and I lost it again. These people had been so good to me and I hated to think I was just leaving. But that last night I had two girls come visit. They helped me pack up my closet and made me laugh while I put the last few pieces of my life into boxes. These were girls who knew many of the things I had felt that year in Kentucky and they had been so good to me through it all. I needed to see them and I needed to have a few last minutes. It was a surprisingly happy few hours and I still find myself wishing I could be around them again. They told me I looked good, I seemed lighter and they loved on the new baby they had all been so excited to see. The next morning we were up early anxious to be done, my mom packed the van in the freezing cold as the sun came up and we drove out of Lexington. No fanfare, no drama. Just a right turn and the highway and we were on our way in our loaded little minivan.

you know when you sit on the airplane and they tell you that if a situation should arise that you need an oxygen mask you should always put your own mask on before helping anyone around you? Like I was ever actually going to do that... Now by no means am I a saint who worries endlessly about those around me, but I usually think "I am strong enough to handle this, better me than someone else", I can put off myself for a bit if it means somebody else feels a little better. I like those around me to be happy, and if that means I don't say exactly how I feel, or do what it is I want to do, or be quite what I want to be, that was ok. Because I thought that would make them think I was ok, and that was more important. Then I sat in the airplane and buckled the most amazing little thing I had ever had into that seat next to me. There was nothing in the world that had ever meant so much to me, no one who I would have sacrificed more for, nothing I had ever loved the same as I loved her. I would have gladly given up a thousand oxygen masks if it had meant that she had a moment of easy breathing. I could take a little beating here and there because I was working for something bigger now, it wasn't about me any longer. I could tolerate a little more pain, I could see past some rough edges, and soon it became a dull ache that didn't matter as much, because I told myself "she was happy", this family was what I had wanted my entire life and it was ok that it was hard for me, if I tried a little harder it would be easier for them. For now there were two, one on each side, buckled in safely, knowing that I was there, and that was enough for them in the moment. And there were certainly good moments in our life. Pieces of happiness, because it's impossible not to have them when you are with these little girls. Sent from God- handpicked for me, I was chosen to be their steward, to help them through this life while they had to be separated from their Heavenly Father. To care for them when they are hurt, when they are scared or when they don't know what to do. I am their mother and that meant, forever I will fight for them, I will give anything that I have to them and I will do what needs to be done for them. The turbulence came but I thought I could handle it, they didn't see me cry at night, they didn't hear the frustrated fights after they were tucked into their beds and I could always come up with an answer as to why he was missing yet again on another activity, another day when it was just us. Once in awhile he would try, he would take them out for an afternoon, or turn the tv off long enough to help with homework or comb their air after a bath but it was inconsistent at best, and at worst the affection was deliberately withheld and they were left thinking they had done something wrong. And the anger continued to increase and the reach of his rage went further after he told her she was a worthless brat and left her crying in the kitchen,  I hugged her with every fierceness in my heart and told her how wonderful she was and how much she meant to me. She had my oxygen, and that was ok. He told me I wasn't allowed to tell her that. That I was not allowed to take away any of the pain he caused, that was not my right to step over him as a parent and coddle my child. I didn't care what he said I would do it anyway, for that is what I promised those new babies each time I held them. I don't think he meant to do things this way, I think he wanted it to be better but he was also tired and overwhelmed and not sure how fix this. Then the third baby came. She and I struggled a great deal to get her here and after my part was done she struggled even more to adjust to being here. I loved her more than I could imagine possible and I knew she felt when I was there in the hospital unit with her. But when I wasn't there it was ugly; I was told I couldn't go, I was told I couldn't drive myself anywhere, so if he didn't want to take me I couldn't go see my baby. I was exhausted when I came home from the hospital, days before Christmas, to a home that was an absolute mess. Thankfully my wonderful friends made sure that we had good food brought in out of the kindness of their hearts, yummy soups and casseroles and the most amazing plate of fresh fruit all cut up and with yummy dip that was so much better than the hospital stuff we had been living on, but the kids were told to stop eating all that fruit, they didn't need that sugar.. controlling to the max. The older girls were shuffled from house to house at the drop of a hat as we turned around every 3 hours to be at the hospital for feedings and my heart broke when my poor toddler told me 'I just want to stay home with you today.' But if I just wanted to stay home I was berated for abandoning the baby, though she had a full team of qualified nurses and doctors caring for her. I laid on the couch and cried, I was missing something either place I was at, and I couldn't get to the hospital that morning because there was too much to do at the house, with the mess he had made and his inability to do anything other than watch football from the couch. No dishes had been done, no laundry washed, presents for Christmas still needed to be wrapped and I was so overwhelmed with it all. I was no longer truly taking care of any of those babies because honestly, I could not breathe. There was no life in me, it had just become too much. The circumstances of my life at that moment seemed to drown me and the last thing that I needed was to yet again stand up to him and defend myself... But sometimes in life there is no choice, there is only do, so up off the couch I went. I took a deep breath and got to work, the house got cleaned, the girls were played with and the baby was fed and loved. My body was battered, my mind was exhausted and overwhelmed, and I was so alone, but I was still breathing.

I am truly grateful for what I have each and every day. I know just how lucky I am with every fiber in me, I am so thankful for all of my blessings but despite that I usually go to bed thinking about just how big a mess I have made of things. I always feel that I just am not quite getting things right. No forget that, I pretty much think I am sucking at everything right now. There is so much to squeeze into each an every moment, that it seems like it never quite comes out how I would hope. My feet hit the ground running and I barely stop yet sometimes I think I am simply just spinning my wheels. Then I am blessed with today, just a regular Thursday  that filled my heart and restarted my soul. The baby woke up happy, full of cuddles and I kept thinking, "this is why people are "morning people" because if I wake up to this how could anything be bad." Then the 4-yr old joined us and I watched as the baby was so overjoyed to see her that she couldn't pull my hand fast enough to walk over to her. They love being together, and I am so lucky that the big sisters take such good care of the little one. They are her protectors and her safety net when I cannot be and she absolutely adores them. We waited for the biggest sis to get up and I thought I heard some rumblings from her room. Middle sis heard too and finally wanted to see what she was up to and when we walked in the bedroom she proudly announced she had gotten up and made both she and her sister's bed, laid out their clothes and put toothpaste on her toothbrush. These may seem like menial daily tasks but to me they meant so much more. Her sweet little mind thought of someone else before herself and from the moment she woke up she wanted to help her sister. I couldn't have been more proud. It means volumes to me when I see my kids, despite what they have been through find that good in themselves and when they act on it, it helps me feel like something is going right with them. The rest of the morning was just as great, I spent it running errands with little ones and we enjoyed lunch together, and for the 1st time in a while I really got to listen to what my child was saying, no interruptions and no distractions and I remembered just how much I love hearing how her little mind works. The girls had a play date after school and when I asked them to clean up their room, they did it. I mean really did it, totally clean and put away! Miracle in itself! And when I got to the gym we found out the daycare was full so after a change of plans we ended up at the park. It was a beautiful night and we ran on the grass and did handstands and pushed each other so high on the swings that the girls though they were touching the sky. The bigger girls took countless turns sliding down with the baby who would squeal with delight each time and squirm to get back around to them. We ran and we laughed and for the first time in a long time it didn't feel incomplete or broken anymore. We just felt okay and that felt really good. Not thinking about anything other than that moment right then and it was enough. I was blessed with this day so that I could see that the efforts I am making now have pay-offs, the lessons are being learned, the effort is being rewarded little by little. Our scripture story was about Jesus blessing the children and I couldn't help but think that was also not a coincidence, I was being reminded about how truly lucky I am to have them as an example to me, for they are truly the pure in heart. I think heaven opened up just a little bit so I could get the glimpse of what may come, and it was enough to keep us going for a little while. Today was a good day, tomorrow probably won't be, but this is not a race that will be won in the sprint, but I know we are at least headed in the right direction.

today in one crazy moment and one big signature, it ended 8 years of marriage, after 8 months of purgatory, and I just turned 28 this month, the 8th one of the year. 8 is my lucky number... but I still feel like it is. It was actually a small sign to me that even though things seem rough, they are still going my way. Court was hard but I had anticipated that it would be. Things there will eventually work themselves out, eventually even this  to will end so I try and not worry too much about what is out of my control for now. The worst part was hearing him tell me that I had chosen to do this to him, accusing me of quitting on him. I didn't expect an apology, I didn't expect an acknowledgment of the efforts I had put into our relationship, nor did I really expect any grace or humility from him. He wasn't raised that way, if you left a weak spot open they were the first in line to take the sucker punch, so I always have my defenses up but I still didn't expect to be so utterly destroyed when I was called a quitter. No one says divorce is a one way street, you go in as a pair and regardless of how much you rip each other to shreds or place blame on the other person, you still go out as a pair. Each with your own set of responsibilities and mistakes, mine is a list a couple of pages long. They are things I worry about during the monotony of a run, downfalls that are magnified when I struggle with my kids, and they are first problems I pray for help with each night and day. They are my mistakes and regrets and mine alone and in some way they have all affected where I ended up at today. Nobody is perfect and if anyone implies they are then they are only fooling themselves. But it hurt to have all the effort, all the work, and all sacrifice I had put into our life together dismissed like I just woke up one day and decided to throw in the towel. And it didn't hurt because it was a jab at me. I know what I put into this, I know the true nature of our marriage and I am comfortable with where that stood; but it hurt because I truly wanted to love him through it all and I just couldn't. He was the one who I picked, who I wanted to be my other half through everything. He put me through hell and I probably surprised him every time I clawed my way through and we ended up on the other side together. That probably made him more mad, but I thought what we had was worth it so I tried and then tried again. I thought he was worth it and I figured some time it would even out, the pain and the pleasure would eventually reconcile and it would all be worth it. Nothing great ever came without hard work, I knew that and I didn't mind rough patches once in a while. But the good times got farther and farther apart and the bad times got more and more explosive. I knew for awhile it was just time running out from under us and eventually it would all collapse beneath the weight. I told him this many times in the months before that terrible day in January. One time I yelled it in anger, one time I told him through tears as I tried to get in my car and leave, and another time I stood in front of the mirror and told him as calmly as if I was reciting the weather that I knew our marriage was not going to survive much longer. I still remember my face, solemn but determined, as he pushed past me and went about what he was doing like I had said nothing. There was no relationship at that time, we were barely speaking to one another, important conversations went unsaid, stories with nobody to share them with and routines that did not involve one another. He spent all his free time with the cross country teenagers he worked with or the girls he trained at the gym and I didn't care to share what we did as a family without him because it no longer mattered. We were two wheels spinning in different directions and even if I had wanted to, you can't force someone to be present in a relationship. He had checked out and I had found I didn't need him anymore. I spent so much time thinking about everything that would be lost in the splitting of a marriage, and had I known how truly horrible it is to have my children away from me I don't know if I could have done it again. It is the worst experience he has ever put me through and truly it may be the only thing I can't forgive him for. I had worked so hard to show him how I loved him, how much I wanted him, and how much I would do in order to stay with him but it could never be enough, it wasn't in the way he needed me to and we just couldn't seem to get it right. So on that night after the most horrible day I've ever experienced, I prayed. All alone, kneeling by my couch and I begged that I could let go. I needed to get out from this horrible cycle of lies and abuse and addictions and unhappiness, it had simply become too much for me to bear anymore. I prayed for a release because I knew if I was told to stay in this marriage like I had been the times before, then I would stay. My marriage and the covenants I made with them were the most important thing I had, if there was any chance we could salvage this then I was there, but in that weak moment of begging for a reprieve from all of the life draining, soul-sucking big ol' mess we called a marriage and I knew in that moment it was okay. It was time to move on, my life wasn't meant to be one of unhappiness, and there would be peace even in the turmoil that was sure to come. I knew I had done everything possible to get that answer and feel so comfortable with it. So quitter doesn't feel quite appropriate to me. I may have made the choice but the marriage was thrown away long ago. Marriage is not a ceremony that you perform once and then choose to live in any self-serving way you choose. Marriage is a living relationship, a choice you make each day to love someone else, it is a bond that requires constant attention, work and sacrifice. And ours just didn't exist anymore. So I may have made the first traceable step out but was it truly just giving up or the only way to finally give in to what had been crumbling for a much longer time? Quitting implies a certain amount of power over someone, it says that you are in control while the other party is not. Perpetrator and victim, of which I am neither. My decisions are thoughtful, deliberate, excruciatingly painful and continue to reap consequences that I don't feel strong enough to handle. Choosing to quit would have meant things are now easier than sticking it out would have been. Quitting is cowardly, and I am not a coward. There is strength in the making of a decision that is backed by the true peace that comes from only one place. He is a source that doesn't ask for fault, He does not want to place blame or take sides. He only wants us to be happy and He has promised that if we only follow Him we will be given that. He didn't tell me to quit, He only promised if you fall I will pick you back up."Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
Quitting is an easy solution to avoid temporary pain and discomfort but to imply that someone can quit a marriage would mean that I could step out of this and be done. Marriage isn't the be all end, all in our journey, it is not our final destination. We are creatures of eternal progression, and denying that is denying our divine nature. We were given families and marriages as a tool to ease our journey and give us greater meaning in our purpose and I knew that once mine began to take me down a path I was unwilling to follow it was okay for me to take another way. The journey is not over, the struggles haven't ceased and I am not happy about many of the things I now have to deal with, but ultimately my life continues, because that is what is meant to be. The joy comes in the refining of our trials here, not in removing ourselves from them. I didn't quit because that is not allowed, but my weariness has been removed and I am seeing the affects of an all knowing God who can use our setbacks to bring us closer to Him, He won't let me quit but He will help me along the way. I found strength in knowing that life didn't have to be lived in fear, and unhappiness. My burden is now lighter and my happiness is greater than what I would have ever thought possible. 28 will be great, for I have now learned to live in peace, even in the storm. 

"the pursuit of happiness,,," We were all promised that we would at least be allowed the chance at finding happiness yet that chance seems to be the easy part, it is actually knowing it when we find it that can be tricky. Is happiness a condition, a frame of reference or only a destination that seems to always be just around the corner? I think I am a happy person, I have definitely lived a happy life yet I am also not a very content person. I am always thinking about what is next, when we would go on vacation my thoughts would always focus on, "We have already been here a day, we only have 6 left, 5 left, 4 etc..." I was always thinking about the next step and forget to live in my moment now. My happiness was often static and even fleeting because I knew the weekend would end and I would face another Monday morning. Divorce can often feel like one big unhappy moment, the happiness always seems tainted as if it is never as whole as it could be, like sunshine peeking through a dirty window. I know it's there, but sometimes I think I will never be able to fully experience it again. I've been told it will get better, and I truly believe that. Someone said there will come a day when you just realize you are actually ok. Or even a day where you just don't think about it, and you realize this horrible time won't affect everything forever. For now I am happy with the moments when they come, because I am blessed with so many good ones each day, I just have to see them. The sun was always shining, but I am finally able to see it again. I read that oftentimes the Lord is just waiting to bless us with something wonderful and more than we could ever hope for we just have to ask Him. Joseph Smith sat down to a simple meal and prayed, "Lord, we thank thee for this Johnny cake, and ask Thee to send us something better. Amen." Before the meal was over a man had come to the door with flour and a ham! The prophet Jospeh knew he could have more, and he had the faith to ask for it. Something better, that is a comforting thought to me as I realize that it is there, it will come. For now it is enough to just know that total happiness is a possibilty. It was like I was walking on a beautiful trail, but I had my head down focused on the dirt that lay just under my feet. When I asked for more the Lord simply reminded me to look up. He wasn't able to move me from the path I was on, for there are always consequences that he can't remove and sometimes He simply needs more time to change our direction, but He did show me all that He has already blessed me with, showed me that the sun is shining on me, the view is great, and I am blessed with the ability to keep walking towards all that He has yet in store. My happiness is not a destination, it is a journey, given to me piece by piece and earned along every step of the way. I am grateful for each little bit that I have, for I have experienced life with out it. I know even though I am not in the situation I would picked for myself or my family these experiences will not be wasted, they are for our good, and compensation has been promised, even if that is only a reminder to look around and see all that we have already been given. My happiness is there for me, I just have to be willing to take it. Wash the window, and let His sunshine pour in!

This is life now. This is my reality, this is what it is. In many ways it is different, in many ways it is the same and in even more ways it has gotten so much better. I'm figuring out the new role, I'm getting comfortable in this new skin. But there are still the moments. The moments that pierce through the defenses I have built. Memories that I can't keep out in the haunting shadows of the lonely nights. Frustration with no one to dump them on, except for the undeserving soldiers who have stood by me through it all. Questions that even God won't answer when I want to demand it. Sometimes it feels like too much, the negativity, the arguing, splitting up a life, trying to show the worst in a person who you were supposed to love through everything. This is it, this is really happening. The moment became real when I sat in a lawyers office and spelled out the names of each of my children and their ages: 5, 3 and 3 mos. The heartbreak that came from saying that out loud was insurmountable and I felt a near panic level as the walls seemed to close in. I had spent so many years shielding them from him and these fights and now rattling it off like it was nothing became more that I could handle and I got out of that office as quickly as I could. The rain smashing the windshield only matched the tears that poured out me. I cried the entire drive home and when I stepped in the house I saw my girls, playing and smiling and happy as could be, for they were where they were supposed to be and they were happy and I realized we are tough and even if life gets tough we have each other and that's what matters. We will survive this, life may be tough but us girls are tougher.

Why am I so tired, yet he seems to be thriving on this? I come out of these mediation sessions feeling like I fell off the roof and he seems to feed off of the fighting. He loves the back and forth, the power over the fact that I am desperate for some relief. I spent months carefully weighing what issues I thought were important, deciding whether or not certain stipulations were worth it, talking and researching and discussing all the details that others have found to be problems in their divorces and custody arrangements and worried endlessly that I would not do the right thing. I carefully drafted a lengthy document to my lawyer, knowing there would have to be some compromise but feeling like he and I were coming from the same place so most things were just to keep intact the way we had previously agreed to raise children. He didn't have any money to give me, what little the state deemed it takes to raise kids was already settled. He had moved our possessions back so he kept everything he wanted and anything of worth, I got my clothes and the girls toys, I thought he would be fair in divvying up the rest. But like a bully on the playground he cinched his fists around anything I asked for. He and the girls had given me a tent for Mothers Day, I thought it was too expensive of a gift so I had tried to return it but they wouldn't take it back so we kept it, I had taken the girls camping by myself before so I figured we would use it again. I told the girls we would set it up and have a backyard campout. Braleyn had seen the tent at his house and was excited for our adventure. When I asked to have it returned I was told he had left it in Kentucky. I asked for my recipe books, it was a few binders full of things I liked to make and a recipe box my mother had given me. I guess those didn't make it on the moving truck either. My tool box I had taken to college, filled it with old tools my dad had given me and an adorable little hammer that was a perfect fit for my hands. I guess it will collect dust in someone elses garage. I had fixed our garbage disposal in my first apartment in college with that box. It was the best feeling, thinking if I could fix that I could handle anything. It's a little pathetic to admit but a lot of that confident feeling seems to have been lost along with my hammer that I can't get back. But some people just like the fight. In whatever form they can get it. That carefully drafted paper, that caused me such heartache and agony to actually see on paper was argued and torn apart at every point. He wanted to have the freedom to listen to vulgar music, hit, spank, or lock the kids in the garage, and have male roommates in the same house our little girls would sleep in. Was there an alternative presented? No, the fun is in the fight, not in the solution. Tear it up, spit it out and wait for the next offering. The legal system seems to be a terrible place. There is only fear for me, no one comes out a winner, I am only praying that I come out alive. I am so tired but the fight can't be lost. I can't give in just because he is not willing to give at all. Our entire marriage was just him trying to wear me down. Most of the time it worked, because I am not a natural fighter. It wears me out, it shreds at my soul and it makes me think that this can't be what it is all about. But I am the lucky one because I do know better. I only have to carry this as far as I can, when that is not enough He will carry it the rest of the way. Now is where I find my faith to take the last step, to reach into the darkness because I know He has promised to be there. I will not be left alone, He will never be too tired. His fight will be there when I need it but I must show that I will follow Him. I hope I have some fight left.

"What? Are you mad at me or something?" I sat dumbfounded as I watched the streetlights blur through my tears. We had driven this road about a hundred times the past few days yet I couldn't have told you where we were at that moment. I sat numb in the passenger seat and listened to him smirk after he asked me that question. I couldn't even think through an answer. I had climbed into the van after leaving the NICU, where I had to leave my sick little girl for another lonely night without her. I was tired and had asked that he drive up to get me, I didn't feel up to walking through the parking garage that time. When I got in he greeted me happily and said, "Hey. I know you." I responded, "I am glad. The van right in front of you is the same kind and I almost climbed in with him." The all too familiar storm clouds crossed his face and I knew the mood had changed. He growled at me, "Well, maybe you should. It doesn't matter anyways, I know how to take care of you." I asked him what he was even talking about and he proceeded into something that still chills me today. "I know how to kill you, without anyone ever finding out." He then went on to describe how he would fill a bathtub with cyanide and told me in detail how it would start to burn, but by that time my skin would have melted to the tub so I would know what was happening and would not be able to do anything about it. He told me how it would feel as it burned through my skin and ate through my muscle. He said by that time I would probably be unconcious so he would just have to wait for it to entirely dissolve my body and then all he would have to do is pull up the drain and wash me away.
So the answer to his question was no, I was not mad. Mad was nowhere near the emotion that I was feeling. I cried because my body could do nothing else. And his response was, "It was just a joke." I'm still not laughing...