Category: Doing Divorce

“First, are you really lonely?” He challenged me in the chat box, “You seem to have many friends with various roles in your life.  A few of your relationships seem deeply satisfying.” He was right.  “He,” is a friend as far back as middle school now reconnected on social media along with a whole community of others.  He pushed further, “Does being an introvert make you lonely?  The way you talk about your hobbies in general indicate to me they give you great joy.” He was right – about all of it.  In just that week alone, I had had a heart-to-heart with Susan, coffee

The concern in his voice struck me right after I answered the second ring with “Hello?”  “What is with this lonely stuff?  You are good right?”  He asked likely already knowing that his big sister was fine. “I am fine,” I replied trying to keep the exasperation undetectable in my response. I wasn’t lying or pacifying or placating.  “Well, let’s get lunch soon,” he said lovingly fulfilling his brotherly duty to me and offering his solution to what he perceived as my problem. While knowing that connection is the antidote to loneliness, by the time my brother called, it was

I clicked on “send” before my brain could stop me.  “Shit.”  I sighed and closed my laptop.  It was out there now.  I had confessed a deep dark feeling and there was nothing I could do now but wait. I had sent my longtime editor, coach, business partner, mentor, neighbor, hero, and dearest friend, Susan, the draft of my blog, Telling the Truth, to read and review. I hadn’t told anyone in my life I was feeling lonely as of late and admitting it in writing had left me reeling. Per usual, Susan’s encouragement came in like clockwork.  She answered my questions about the blog topic,

The path winds and twists ahead. I breathe in the musky pine air and feel the soft moss-covered ground support my steps.  The birds beckon me with their trills and tweets. I pause to sit on a sturdy wood carved bench forcing myself into my meditation to-do. Instead, the tears gather at the corners of my eyes afraid to budge.  In the shallow first second, I want to laugh believing that the welling wetness in my eyes is born from the ever-present frustration I carry of not being able to quiet my mind. (Ever).  But as I sit with my

I have been thinking about you a lot since April 5, 2021 – the day you left this world and took your talent with you.  My heart has been sore and heavy since.  I know you read some of my blogs – you told me.  You told me it was a gift to share my vulnerability.  I use this space often to reflect on how I respond and heal from heartbreaks – of which I have had a varied sort.  You – being my most recent. You and I met in the awkward awakenings of 13-year-olds in junior high school.