I almost thanked you for teaching me something about survival. Then I remembered the ocean never handed me the gift of swimming. I GAVE IT TO MYSELF!

Loving him was the destruction of my soul. Saving him from his demons took over my daily life. And fear became my companion. While I wish I could say this has changed, it truly hasn’t.

How do you ever stop worrying about someone you shared 12 years with?

How do you stop worrying about the father of your children?

I don’t think you ever do. This is often when the guilt rolls in, once a marriage is over that person is no longer your responsibility. They are no longer your “problem”, for those out there like me… They know that is never the case. It becomes nearly impossible to go from being the person who comforted them from their fears, held their hand, and stood next to them no matter how hard life was…..to nothing. When I made the decision to diovrce him I had every intention of making him part of my past, never looking back. Instead I still find myself helping when necessary, benefits, VA claims, heart to heart conversations. The constant, he will probably never admit it, but I am still his stability. While many say “you’re a god send. And the best ex-wife anyone could have” I feel like a jackass. Like most, I struggle to define those boundaries and it has been a process.

I guess I have my own version of survivor’s guilt. While he didn’t die, we lost him too. And there is a part of me that struggles every time I find myself doing well. As if somehow I don’t deserve it because I left the man I vowed to be with. At times I feel guilty because he should be here by my side celebrating my successes. Other times I find myself being harder on myself because if I chose to leave him, to break up my family then it has to be for something great. So I work hard, I study harder, and I strive to be the most stable mom I can be. I am my children’s only stability. And lord knows I would give up anything and everything if I could find a magical cure for him so my children could have an emotionally stable dad. Yet; looking back, I did give up everything and like many of you out there it wasn’t enough. None of us are capable of resorting a human, hell we’re barely capable of fully restoring ourselves. The road to healing has been ever so difficult. I have never felt so alone, so afraid, so empty. As if I gave him the best parts of me, and I no longer have those to give myself.

But there is always progress if you work hard enough at it. I am about to hit 2 years without anti-depressants & anxiety medication. My daily reminder is to try and be at least half as kind to myself as I was to him. He deals with severe trauma and PTSD, but guess what?

So do I,



You are never alone,



Dear White Bus,

In my younger years I had a love hate relationship with those white busses. On one hand I hated them because they would take what was most valuable to me. Yet; on the other hand it was those same busses that would return what I loved the most. Like I said, this was in my younger years. Back when I was still naïve. In these days homecomings were the romantic part of a Nicholas Sparks novel, the 3 doors down song playing on the radio…. “I’m here without you” …they were the news channels reporting on homecomings. Like I said, naïve. The truth is I didn’t expect the return of the buses to represent nights full of paranoia, lack of sleep, night sweats, screams for no reason, and fists through walls. No one told us about that side of the homecoming. No one told us the deployment would enter our homes. Or maybe they did, and we refused to believe it. Again, naïve. As the years passed, my relationship with these buses began to evolve from hate-love, to love-fear, to fear- fear, and now simply to hate-hate.

The fear turned into hatred when I began to realize that every time these busses would take something I cared about they would return it different, tormented, and broken. And with time, the eyes I used to love to look into became lifeless. And he was always living in that twilight area, somewhere between here with us, and there with his brothers…. The ones that weren’t so lucky, the ones he couldn’t save. Enter survivor’s guilt. Me and his children a constant reminder of how underserving he was to have lived, to have a family, to be happy. At times it felt as if we were at fault for the pain he was feeling, we were a constant reminder that he was alive, and without knowing it, we killed him more from the inside.

The fantasy of these busses was short lived. And this is why to this day the sight of them, makes me want to vomit.


Your most tortured fanatic.


I like storms. They let me know that even the sky SCREAMS SOMETIMES

Thank you for all the amazing feedback, shares, and emails about PTSD following my last blog.  I received the same questions multiple times “How did you keep calm? Did you ever feel angry? or just sad?” So here you go dear readers.

I WAS PISSED! Not always at my ex-husband, sometimes at life, god, the Marine Corps. So I’m gonna say what many of us women married to men who served in combat and struggle with PTSD find it hard to say. I was pissed off too! I felt cheated and resentful. Yes, wearing the uniform comes with a sacrifice, NO SHIT! No one knows this more than the families, the ones left behind. But we did it, I did it. I watched him pack up his bags time after time, and each time I waited for the man I swore to stand beside. You know what the problem was with that? That the man I fell in love with 10 years prior was no longer that man, every time he came back he was different. It was like we were losing him each time a little more. With each day that passed, he became more detached…. more reckless… he drank more, he became angry all the time, irritable… paranoid. He looked like the man I fell in love with, he smelled like him, he smiled like him, and every now and then he would come back just long enough to remind me why I loved him. And as quickly as he came back to us, he was gone again. Mentally and emotionally gone… tortured. Anger, yes. That is what I felt. How dare you take a man who means the world to us and send him back like this! Empty and soulless… angry.  And after a while the anger consumes you too. How? simple you are no longer normal. You too are damaged, wounded, paranoid, scared. Your own fears become irrational. I recall one sunny afternoon the door bell rang, and when I opened the door to our brand new house there was a package with his name on it. The so called “problem with this package” was there was no return label on it. While most of us would open the box… life wasn’t that simple. Life was now scary and dangerous. I remember the sound of his voice, angry… “Get the fuck away from the box! Don’t fucking touch it!” I remember looking at him and saying “just open the box”. His response… “NO. stay inside the house!” after what seemed like ages, he carefully and meticulously opened the box. Inside it…. Brownies! from out Real Estate Agent along with a congratulations note. Brownies. It was a fucking baked good! His reaction to him was justified. “What if I didn’t burn my mail all the way and they have our address! What if they know who my family is?” Well dear ex-husband… WHO THE FUCK WERE THEY!!???!! And why are you so fucking crazy! God there were so many times when I wanted to shake him and say “Snap out of it! you are a fucking retard! there is nothing to be scared of”. And yet, I would silently stare at him and nod my head. I knew better than to ask questions about it, he’s been clear before. “I don’t want to think about the things I’ve seen, so why the hell would I tell you? why put those thoughts in your head”. They were his secrets. The secrets I longed so badly for, why couldn’t he fucking tell ME! and his friends or shall we call them “his brothers” they knew it all. I was envious, jealous, I began to dislike them. How do they know more about the man I married then I do? Why am I the one tortured and left with no answers? Great, you all have this club, you know everything about what you went through over there. But guess what? While you all had each other, I WAS ALONE!. Shit I’m still alone. See what happens is, as time goes by and he gets help…. he talks about the things he saw, he did, he lived though. But what about me? who helps me deal with thoughts and memories that weren’t even mine to begin with.I carry these, silently… like weights tied to my heart, engraved in every part of my soul. And there are times when I curse his fucking name, and I hate him for all he was put on me, for contaminating me with his world of shit, with his fucking sickness. And then there are times when I just cry, and mourn the man I married. I mourn the life of my best friend, the man I used to know…. a man who is now just an empty shell. An empty shell that once contained, life, laughter, promises, and so much love. The man that gave me a ring, and promised to be my everything. That man…. who is now just of shell, a shell that holds, broken dreams, hurt, loss, and a shit ton of anger. So readers, the answer is yes, Yes I have been angry, shit who am I kidding…. I’M STILL FUCKING PISSED.

Love you all


“The problem with having a problem… is that someone always has it worse”

PTSD is something that happens to service members that go off to war…. Right? The ones that deal with the constant stress, the loss of loved ones, the constant fear, and most of all the aftermath. They are our “heroes”! The ones that sacrifice it all so that we may live free! So when they return we try our hardest to take care of them. The ones that seek help at least, to those that finally break down enough and know there is no other choice. Men like my ex-husband. Men that are so broken, so wounded, so ridden by survivor’s guilt that they contemplate taking their own life daily. I remember my therapist telling me months ago “You have PTSD” and I remember laughing and thinking “No, no…. that’s my EX not ME! Reread your file lady” I remember thinking, I suffer from Anxiety, NOT PTSD. I’ve never suffered trauma like that, I was a lucky child and young adult.

FAST FORWARD-A week after this conversation, I recall being woken up at 3am, covered in sweat, screaming….. the look on my boyfriend’s face….. Startled, confused, and worried. It was then he asked “what were you dreaming about?” my response… “I don’t know just a nightmare.”  The truth…. I was having a nightmare like the ones I’ve had many times before… My Ex-husband…. Dead. Him giving up on life, survivors guilt won… he’s lying on the floor of the bathroom… shot. Only this time, in this dream, he decided to take my boys with him. But how could I tell him that? How do you tell someone who loves you that you are so far gone and crazy and scared of the dark thoughts in your head for no reason. Or worse…. You now fear that this plague that has caused the loss of your entire family has now plagued you as well. Where does this end? When does the fear go away? I return the next week and tell my therapist, I’ve been having nightmares, but I minimize it. Because denial is a nice place to be, it’s comfortable here. So how do you develop PTSD without ever going through trauma of your own? Easy. 7 months go by, you answer ever phone call, you watch the news, you mail packages, and you spend day and night worried you will get a visit or a phone call saying “He’s gone…” And then when he finally comes home, relief right? HELL NO. This is the beginning of your nightmare. Now you will spend your every night listening for his every move. When he gets up, when he checks the doors, windows, when he checks on your kids. Every movement means DANGER. And when once you had no fear, the world is now a scary place. If the man who is your family’s protector, your rock, your place to lean on, is scared of the world… then I guess I should be scared to. So he “prepares you” he teaches you how to shoot a gun, how to come up with a safety plan in case something happens…. How to load and reload quickly…. And most important “DON’T YOU DARE MISS YOUR TARGET” but wait….. What am I scared of? Hell at this point you don’t even know anymore. And so your life begins to change….. Ever watch a loved one slowly die? Well imagine living every day thinking this is your husbands last day on earth, and tonight or tomorrow you will have to tell his children that they no longer have a father. So you begin to prep your speech… and his obituary. Only the day never comes. So you live day to day waiting for your loved one to take their last breath…. Can you imagine that?

And that is how. That is how you catch this plague called PTSD.

Love you all,


“The entire world is in my hands, and I have no idea what to do with it”

Today a complete stranger told me “You no longer have to be the pretty girl, covered in this muddy shit”. What does that mean? It means exactly that. I am around the corner from closing this really sad and tragic chapter of my life. And as I sit here 12 years from the time that chapter began, I have no idea who I am. Who I become now that all of my roles no the longer exist? I am no longer a military spouse, his wife, his best friend, part of a two parent household, the student working on her bachelor’s degree. I look back on days like today, and barely recognize that girl, so naive and hopeful and full of huge dreams. But she was also someone’s door mat, she always played second best, she gave and gave until she was on empty. And while that should be a relief, somehow it’s scary. Who do you become when everything you thought you were was attached to a role and that role ends? I’ve been spending days feeling lost, like I’m wandering this world with no clear destination, no map, and no plan. I am around the corner from throwing away the key to the door I locked up so long ago. The sale of one house away from being DONE with this chapter in my life. And when that chapter ends, I will probably still be standing there, clueless. I have no idea who I am, I have no idea who I become from here. But here is what I do know for sure:

I am stronger than I ever imagined. I am the mother of two boys, who I try to raise to be kind humans. I am intelligent. I am fucking worthy of being happy. And I am no longer permanently attached to the muddy shit that has been covering every part of my outside being for the last 3 years. I may not know who I am or who I will become. But I did learn who I am no longer! I am no longer weak, I am no longer the victim, I am no longer a door mat, I am no longer un-scarred. I am no longer un-damaged. I have felt love, and enough heartache to last me a life time. I have felt grief, real fucking grief, I have felt parts of my heart leave with them with every goodbye. I have been so weak I thought it would kill me, and it almost did. And I have been so fucking strong that my heart is now covered in scar tissue. But now it is the end of that, it is the end of that chapter. We all have chapters in life we don’t read out loud, for me this will be one of those. So who knows who I become in the future? But one thing is certain, I will never be who I used to be, that girl is a distant memory. I also won’t be who I’ve been for the last three years, because that chapter is over, and it’s time to wash the muddy shit off this pretty face. This leads me to believe one thing, the woman I become next will have no “role” attached to her. But she will be fucking amazing!!!!!!!!!!!!



“We cannot control the wind. But we can direct the sail”

Dear readers,

It’s been so so long, maybe I come and go with the seasons? I don’t really know. What I do know is that the sound of this keyboard makes me feel like I can breathe again. What is the purpose of my writing today? A recurring theme in my life and probably most of yours, Control. Lately I’ve been fed up with the cliché lines of “Take control of your own life!” “Take charge of your life” and the ever so pleasant “Don’t worry about things you can’t change or control” Well guess what? FUCK YOU! Don’t you think if it was that simple I’d be running around in my hippie dress, picking sunflowers, and dancing in the rain? Perhaps it’s my anxiety that requires me to have all things lined up and planned out, or perhaps it’s the pressure of wanting to do everything so right for the sake of my children. The next piece of advice I received sounded good: “write a list of the things you cannot control and another with the things you can control” easy enough.

What I cannot control:

-My ex becoming a shit dad

-My ex wanting to marry an alcoholic & drug addict

-My ex wanting to screw me out of 100k

What I can control:

-The way I react to all of the above…. (FALSE because anyone who has anxiety knows that controlling your own thoughts is like trying to stop the waves of the ocean)

So basically, I am fucked. Sometimes I stay up at night tossing and turning, crying into my pillow wondering what my kind of life my boys will have living with an alcoholic father and an alcoholic step-mother. So while I cannot control his shitty behavior and choices, I can try my best to not let it consume me. I did my part, I filed my paper work and I wait for our court date. And at night when I am alone, I let the thoughts of “what if” consume every part of my being. When I hear my kids laugh, I tell myself “at least they are happy, right now”. I wish I could shield them from everything, I wish I could control their every surrounding, but the reality is I can’t. The reality for most of us is we can’t control shit. I can’t control their future any more than I could control the deaths of my friend’s parents, the death of someone in my family, watching my best friends move to different states, or the fears that go on in my head. And neither can you. I guess this is where my uplifting message is supposed to come in, but I don’t really have one. Because not being in control is one of the shittiest feelings. What I can say is, get up and take control of the small bits that are in your range of reach. For me that was walking into the court house and literally saying to myself as I sat in the car and cried “You took ten years of my life away, and you have taken my kindness for weakness, but YOU WILL NOT do the same to my children.” So fix your face, and you walk back into that court house and demand what is yours and what is right! Because sometimes that’s all we have left. People say you have to “pick your battles” and this is true, I can’t deny that. What I will say is that YOU are worth every fucking battle! You are worth every part of what’s right and what’s fair. And that doesn’t mean that I am not scared, dear god I am terrified. But I chose to be brave. Because the universe listens to BRAVE!

Love you all,


“Three things I cannot change,

The past,

The truth,

And you.”


“Never have I dealt with anything more difficult than my OWN soul”

Anxiety…. Lets talk about it for a minute. I cannot count how many times people have bombarded me with questions regarding it. What does it feel like? Why does it happen? Whats stressing you out? did something happen? AAAAAHHHH fucking shit fuck! NO NO NO and NO!!! Nothing “happened”. No one “did anything to me” this is just the way my brain is wired. I bet you never thought about that did you? This is were biology confuses the ignorant people of the world. I’ve been diagnosed with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) yes, its a biology thing. It’s not a “my boyfriend hurt my feelings thing” Its something out of my control. Here’s an example, when people tell me to “calm down, try and relax” its like telling someone who has epilepsy to STOP having a seizure! I cant you fucking idiot! Its a physical response my body is having. With that said, I do take daily medication to help control it. So what is it like? It sucks… It feels like the entire world is falling apart and everyone on this planet is going to die and you will somehow watch their slow deaths, with your hands tied behind your back, helpless. I know, sounds extreme right? but that’s what its like. For me, I cant sleep… Cant eat.. and when I do try to sleep I wake up every two hours. The dark scares me, silence scares me, being alone scares me. And its always around 3am when the feeling of “I am going crazy” begins to kick in. Or the most common one “what if this doesn’t go away” So what does it “FEEL” like. Ever walk down the stairs and miss a step? you know that sensation when your heart skips a beat and your stomach tightens and you feel like you cant breathe… Its like that but worse and it doesn’t end quickly. Its like putting a ton of weights on you chest and trying to breathe, better yet try and breathe under water. Your brain? well we have now entered fight or fight mode. And even tho you know, this will eventually pass, in those moments you feel as it never will. Anxiety for me is one of the hardest things I have ever dealt with in my life. It controls me, I cant control it. Usually after days of being beat down by it, I hit that dark place. Anyone who suffers from GAD knows where I am going with this. The moment when you cant breathe, you’re drowning in your own tears, and you just say out loud “I rather die than live like this forever” Its the moment when you look at that bottle full of pills and say… “hey there, can you solve all my problems, can you put me to sleep and grant me the wish of never waking up?” What can drive a human so crazy, make them so desperate, to the point where ending your life seems more appealing? Anxiety can. I know this first hand. So my dear readers, you are not alone…. Ive been there, hell I’m still there. So cheers to me, and to you for waking up every morning to fight the same fight, a fight we wont ever win. But do you even begin to understand how brave that is? How fucking brave you are? if you dont, well I know how brave you are!!

“You wake up every morning to fight the same demons that left you so tired the night before, AND THAT, MY LOVE, IS BRAVERY”





“She’s been though hell and came out an angel. You didn’t break her darling. You don’t OWN that kind of power!”

“How long are you going to not care about the people you hurt or leave in your wake?” “Why do you feel you have the right to hurt people with your words, and use the fact that you have been hurt as an excuse?”

These are the questions that I have been asked more times than I can count, usually my men who I have thrown away like yesterday’s garbage. Valid questions, but as many times before I have found them super annoying. Perhaps this is because I don’t even know how to answer them. How long will I continue to hurt people? How long will I not care about who I leave in my wake? Shit….. I don’t know. I guess that depends on how long it takes to heal the damage that has been caused. I recently made a decision to no longer be the person I claim my ex “turned me into”. This path is hard. It requires allowing myself to feel, be vulnerable, be accountable. As I sat there with my therapist and heard her say you are exhibiting “abusive behavior” I immediately thought…. Wow. Now I’m a piece of shit just like he was. I am no longer any different. I have let his actions turn me into a hateful, cold woman. A woman sometimes I don’t recognize in the mirror. My hatred for the male species is too real for most to comprehend. “Don’t chase them, replace them” has been my motto. Until him. He has somehow unlocked the box holds my emotions, lies, and my truth. Next to him I am able to feel hurt, loss, pain. It scares the shit out of me. Its during these times I want to run, not care who I hurt. Its too close for comfort here, hes too near to my heart. It is during these times when in my own twisted head I find myself saying things like “don’t be stupid. Don’t be stupid. This is temporary. He’s only here until he finds something better.” Guess I talk myself out of every deal. So how long will I hurt other people? No clue. Ever heard the quote “Be careful when helping broken people, you might cut yourself on their broken pieces” maybe that’s all I am. Broken glass. Something not meant to be handled. I cut. Often too deep. Excuses. I can give you so many of them, why Ive become the way that I am, why I say the things that I do. BUT I will no longer do that. Instead I will hold my head high and take a step forward. Drop my guard, re-learn to be kind, loving, and compassionate. I don’t want to be shattered broken glass anymore. So while I cant answer the questions ive been asked before, I can say I will no longer be that woman you used to know. I guess hurt people tend to hurt other people, it’s  “misery loves company I suppose.” It’s the if” I can make you hurt then somehow I have gained a piece of what I lost with him back, power”  But like most things, it has eaten away at my soul, at my self worth…. to the point where I don’t even like myself anymore. For now, all I can say is I am a broken being, in search of the cure. And if in my road of darkness I have caused you pain, I apologize. But this is day one, day one of a new chapter…. No fuck that. This IS A NEW FUCKING BOOK!


Love you all


“I almost thanked you for teaching me about survival back there, but then I remembered, the ocean never handed me the gift of swimming. I gave it to myself.”




Thank God For Unanswered Prayers

Life is an interesting thing, full of weird twists and turns and sadly hurt. It was almost three years ago that I remember crying myself to bed every night, praying to god that he would change my husbands heart and mind. That he would help him see the damage he was causing to our family. I prayed night after night as I laid in a pillow soaked with my own tears and desperation. And guess what? God never answered my prayers. He never brought D back with a changed heart, he never stopped his stupid whoreish behavior. I felt like god gave me nothing in return for all of my prayers. Little did I know that at the same time, only an 45 minutes away was a man praying the same prayers I was. He prayed every day and every night that god would help save his marriage, that he would help change her ways. And guess what? God didn’t answer his prayers either. I always knew our god was a fair god, but in this case not changing their disgusting ways, well that seemed unfair. I always thought god didn’t leave prayers unanswered. Little did I know that god had a different plan. It was to cross the paths of this brokenhearted woman with that brokenhearted man. And while at first that wasn’t clear to see as time goes on it becomes more and more clear that god had a better plan then the one he and I prayed for. And while it hasn’t always been easy, and we even decided to go our separate ways for some time, here we are again. This man once shared a quote with me that said “When you hold a man’s hand and he makes you feel giddy and excited, walk away from this man. He is not the man for you. If hold a man’s hand and he makes you feel warm, safe, and secure, hold on to him. This is the man you are going to marry.” I remember laughing at him and thinking “hell no I want the man that will make me feel giddy!” foolish girl. But then something began to change, this man that made me feel “safe” eventually began to feel like home. Calm… quiet…peaceful. I found the one man that could silence my every thought, calm my crazy and lord knows I’m crazy because he made me this way. Somehow this man has become my biggest supporter, my confidant, and most of all my best friend. In him I found someone that could relate to the pain of being lied to, cheated on, and disrespected by disgusting people. In him I found safety, love, understanding. In him I found a partner, my ride or die homie, the man who I cant fathom life without. I remember when I shared my blog with him long ago, when I had 200 readers. And his reply was “own your own site. buy the name, the domain, all of it. I’m behind you.” and so I did. And now all 10,000 plus of you have read my life without knowing who I am, and your support like his has been amazing. He may not always agree with my posts or views, but he loves me enough that he always supports them, and that’s all I need. His acceptance, his loyalty, because it is in his presence that I feel whole again. How do people go from complete strangers to sitting in a jewelry store trying on engagement rings? Well I don’t know. I guess that’s a god thing. How do two people who have been so hurt and broken by such low individuals find the strength to sit and talk about, marriage, babies, and the future? That must also be a god thing. I guess all I have to say is….. THANK YOU GOD. THANK YOU FOR UNANSWERED PRAYERS. THANK YOU FOR LOVING US ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT WE DESERVED BETTER THEN THE PEOPLE WE FOOLISHLY MADE THE MISTAKE OF SHARING OUR LIVES WITH. THANK YOU GOD FOR SETTING THE RECORD STRAIGHT. AND AGAIN, THANK YOU FOR IGNORING MY PRAYERS.

**and to that man….. you know my heart. you are the beginning and the end of everything for me. you complete me. and even though I am difficult and stubborn and hell on heels, you take me as I am, and for that I don’t have words…. Except that I will always do right by you. Because there is no other way. God wouldn’t allow it… you and I have seen the pain that nasty selfish people can cause, and we vowed once we WOULD NEVER BE THEM. YOU HAVE MY WORD. NEVER. I love you**

I love you all,


Fall seven times, Stand up eight!

Hello loyal subscribers!! I know, I know, Its been an entire year since my last post. So much to update on, so much has changed. Lets do a quick recap: D and I never worked things out, instead I filed for divorce in November. And while the road with him has been anything but easy we have come so far. Grieving the loss of someone can come in many forms, Sometimes we grieve the loss of the hopes and dreams we had with someone. The images in our head for us and our children, the way life was supposed to be…..but isn’t. They say grief is the price we pay for love, they couldn’t be more right. It has been a long year of countless fights, tears, name calling, hard feelings, hurt, and anger. So much anger. But like all else the tides of life will eventually shift, the fog clears and so does our heart and mind. As it stands now D and I have a pretty good relationship when it comes to our children. He is a man I have grown to love and appreciate only from a distance now. He will always be someone I consider a friend, a confidant, and most of all he will always be the father of my kids. And while our lives have taken us in different directions I will always remain his biggest cheerleader as he remains mine. Co-Dependency made up my sole identity while I was with D. I found myself caring more about his well being than my own at times, excusing his mistakes.Worrying about his drinking, mental health, impulsive irresponsible actions. . PTSD… another beast.  There were times in our marriage where I was fighting harder for him to stay alive than he was. Hurt, pain, helplessness, those were my three main feelings during out last year of marriage. Why did I do it? the answer is simple, Love. The man gave me a ring, and I gave him my word. My word that I would be his everything when he had nothing. That I would care for him in sickness and in health. That I would love him unconditionally. And for almost ten years I did just that, I held my end of the bargain. Only he didn’t. What most people don’t tell you but I will is that when a relationship like this ends it leaves you empty. How do we have anything left to care for ourselves when we have spent every ounce of love on someone else? We walk around feeling like empty shells, unimportant, unloved, broken, we become broken people. So what next? do we remain broken forever? HELL NO! you get back up that one last time! Only this time you learn to stand on your own. You learn to be stronger, maybe a bit more cold but that’s ok. The world is a tough place darling, but so are you!! So you get up and you begin to move forward, may it be finding new love, friends, or in my case a great therapist. But you begin to fix your broken pieces one by one until one day you don’t feel so damaged. Faith- faith is the belief in something more than what you know. and lastly Hope- hold on to that.

“You wake up every morning to fight the same demons that left you so tired the night before,

and that, my love,

Is bravery.”

-Love you all