My marriage ending has taught me what I need, what I want, and what I don’t want.
One day I sat feeling terribly devastated about everything that had happened and decided it was time to pour those volatile, sticky thoughts into words.
I was a little shocked when — instead of the explosive ranting that I anticipated — what came out was something I would have been thrilled to say as a bride on her wedding day.
“You may want to tighten up on your parking. You’ve had 4 tickets in the past 4 months.”
Seriously?
The words, which are fairly innocuous on their own, when delivered by The Ex, seem barbed and mangle whatever part of my heart has the capacity to listen.
You are effing kidding me.
“Oh.. you’re not taking this well..”
Damn straight.
“It’s just that you’ve been towed.. you had those 2 tickets that I paid.. now this..”
He was very impressive, very handsome, and very grown up. He had a collection of letters after his last name that I couldn’t keep up with. I immediately felt an urge to stir up his life.
I fell deeply in love, but I wasn’t enough the way I was.
I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.
He’s right, I thought.
I’m too childish. I should grow up.
He doesn’t eat Lucky Charms. Or read comics. Or watch cartoons. Or like messes.
There are lots of things we do to get ready for the holidays. Christmas lights, tinsel, elves, credit card debt, you know—the usual stuff. Here are three things you can ‘UN’ do to cut the mental fat, simplify your life, and help others as you get ready to turn over a new leaf for a new year. Provided the Mayans are wrong. But whatever.
No one in a break up is an inherently bad person. No one. Ok. There's always the exception. But for the most part, everyone has their side, their story, and their truth. So how do people come out the other side? How can couples that separate — especially those with kids and joint custody issues, get back to being friends? And is it even possible for ex-couples to stay amicable during the ‘no that’s actually my Lagostina set’ argument or worse, the inevitable ‘I think I’ve met someone’ bombshell?
I’m not an expert. I’m just a separated woman trying to shop for her toddler...and I’ve got to ask this question. What the hell are we teaching our kids?
I finally decided to start the ball rolling and go back to using my maiden name.
This isn’t actually a huge change for me. All my documents have been stamped with a mix of both maiden and married monikers. It’s just the way I roll.
My professional work for the most part was always under my maiden name. My banking was always my own. But this blog and my Twitter account—both of which focused on telling the stories of a mom and a wife—used both names. It seemed fitting. It felt right. For a time, it was our story after all. Not just mine.
In the last couple months I’ve actually had my friends and mentors start to try and intervene between me and the sweet comfort of my funk. They didn't just notice that something was off, by the way. ‘Noticing,’ is when some subtle detail makes you skew your head to one side and say ‘hmmm.’ I’m talking intervention. Like flat out:
“Kat, you are doing way too much and it’s showing…you’re slipping up...”
Contrary to popular belief, hitting rock bottom is not accompanied by a film noir soundtrack. There is no montage of mug shots and scandalous articles fresh off the press. There is no Biography special that tours the squalor of a Vegas motel room littered with empty whisky bottles, drug paraphernalia, and interviews with a prostitute named Trixie.
How do you know if your toddler is stressed, and how do you deal with it? I have been trying to figure this out myself. Actually, I have been totally stressing over it.
I’m in the middle of separating from my husband.
I have a toddler—a bright, beautiful, 2.5 year old—who loves her dad, loves her mom and, unsurprisingly, has none of the vocabulary necessary to express her feelings with regard to separation. Considering the fact that Hubs and I barely have the right vernacular either, why are we even surprised? But there it is...
Recently it feels like I’ve been living in a pinball machine. I’m noisily bouncing between clients, projects, emotions, and baggage. In moments of clarity I’m actually astounded by the fact that I’m a separated toddler-mom/creative entrepreneur, and producing a short film while basically living out of a suitcase.
Sunday we were on location at the Running Room from 8am to 12pm.
We had 2 scenes to finish shooting in that time, the weather was wet, we had a ton of equipment to move into the modest retail space and set up... By day 4, everyone was feeling the wear and tear of long days so we were all featuring a bit more of an edge than usual.
What is a divorce party? I have no clue. Let me amend that. I have actually been to a divorce party and I still don’t know what one is.
Technically a divorce party is the kind of shindig that brings people together to provide some closure and celebrate a fresh start in life. Kind of like a cross between a wake and a wedding shower.
And that’s the first place where the concept rattles around in my head like a pinball that refuses to sink. What exactly does a divorce party celebrate? Endings? Beginnings? Life in general?
Something has been getting to me recently. The whole ‘it’s my anniversary so I’m changing my profile and/or cover picture’ to a generic wedding photo. Gah.
Look, I am the first person to go through your photos when I become your Facebook friend. I’m a total and self-admitted social media voyeur and I have no plans to stop formulating theories and opinions on your life based on nothing but Instagram pics of the food you eat and your most recent status updates.
