After learning of my husband’s multiple affairs and years of deceit, I chose to transform my pain by surrendering to it and living in “real time.” I was a spiritual seeker and life-long storyteller, but could I rise above my own story of betrayal to gratefully embrace the present moment?
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I come from a family of gun enthusiasts. My younger brother is a firearms instructor in Iraq. My older brother, who lives in Atlanta, keeps a handgun tucked in his waistband. Even my 66-year-old mother is taking up arms, having just earned her permit to carry a concealed weapon in Michigan. Recently she held up her paper target for me to see: two bull’s eyes! Her exuberance seemed to expect matching enthusiasm from me.
Four years ago in the shadow of Chicago’s Aon building, surrounded by 40,000 people, Chicago marathon runner Jeff Goad stopped thinking about cancer and got back to running his life.
“It hit me how unbelievably gratifying it was to just be there when I didn’t even know if I’d be around,” he says. “With cancer, your life revolves around all the medical stuff. You don’t feel any control over the things you’re passionate about. I refused to let that define me.”
More than 150 years ago, a former Harvard professor named Henry was awakened from his nap by the sound of screams. His wife Frances’ dress had caught on fire. Henry rushed to her aid, but she was quickly engulfed in flames. She died the next day, leaving Henry with their six children.
The Facebook message started: Tammy, I am a producer on Chelsea Handler’s new documentary series for Netflix…One of the films is on marriage…I was hoping you might share your story with Chelsea.
I re-read this several times with what I considered an impressive amount of skepticism, but honestly, I am not immune to words like producer, series, Los Angeles. So after taking 30 minutes to wander around my house pretending that I wasn’t a bit interested and it was all a mistake anyway, I did as the guy asked and called him.
I know I’ve entered the wilderness when my son says, “Dad laughs. You don’t.” It’s true. So we are embarking on our first post-divorce vacation. I’ll have the kids for a solid week, on my own, and I’m scared. I’ve chosen a YMCA family camp in Wisconsin as our destination because at least there will …
I made an appointment today to be evaluated by a vocational expert. What fun! At long last I’ll find out if my current job as stay-at-home-mom has earned me any street cred, or if, in fact, serving sausage patties 20 years ago at Bob Evans was the apex of my career.
This amusing little diversion is being “offered” to me compliments of my estranged husband, who was kind enough to bring this matter before a judge, who was gracious enough to pen the invitation on fancy paper with a Cook County logo on it, and even stamp it with a fancy stamp.
In last week’s newsletter, I asked readers to take a peek at my first article as guest author on DivorcedMoms.com. I was at 1,300 views and hoping to earn a bronze star on that site.
Fast forward (and I mean fast)… that blog was picked up and featured on the Huffington Post’s Divorce page, then picked up by HP Germany and today appeared in Australia’s IVillage.
The DM editor told me I’d gone viral. No wonder I’m feeling a little dizzy and having trouble catching my breath.
This blog originally posted on DivorcedMoms.com and was picked up by The Huffington Post U.S, Germany, and Australia. It’s an excerpt from my upcoming book. Please stay tuned for more!
This is not just another divorce story.
It’s about my journey of self discovery and finding the courage to be the person I’m here to be.
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