Category: Doing Divorce

“I can’t wait to go to Dad’s!!  HE will let me go to my friend’s house.”  Despite all the instructions not to, both of my hands instinctively went to my face and pulled my eyes and cheeks downward.  And here it was – co-parenting during COVID19. My eldest daughter and I had just traveled over her spring break from school right at the onset of the pandemic breaking.  My youngest had gone to Washington D.C. for a pre-planned school trip during the same time period.  As the news was breaking around us, I knew that we potentially could have been

It was a startling statement.  “You need to go to the hospital right now for a CT scan to rule out stroke.”  I blinked without focusing and shook my head in disbelief.  I had arrived at my doctor’s office with the confidence that she would give me an antibiotic to alleviate my self-diagnosed sinus infection (despite no actual symptoms).  How else could I explain the pain in my head and the blind spots I was having in both eyes?  A Google search had indicated it could be a sinus infection… I arrived at the hospital gripping the referral sheet –

The first time I saw a man punch a woman in the face, I was in high school, in the passenger seat of my boyfriend’s car, looking out the window at the bowling alley we were passing.  I was shocked, horrified, and instantly felt sick to my stomach.  Prior to that moment it had never occurred to me, outside of movies, that someone would be violent toward a person that they were supposed to love and cherish.  That punch was a pivotal moment shaping the woman I have grown into and what ultimately led to my pursuit of a legal

She said it in such a whisper I could barely tell she was talking.  “I still love him,” she said with a shiver of shame running over her.  My heart moved over to make room for her.  I had met this sadness before – from the hims and hers who came in throughout the years ahead of her.  They told me about the struggles living with a spouse addicted, with a spouse turned paranoid, or with a spouse now violent.  Their sadness you could nearly cup in your hand it was so palpable.  They sought options to end the cycle

I live in constant fear.  Walking on eggshells, whispering my first words in a conversation and bracing myself when I hear the door shut from their arrival have become the norm.  It started about 2 years ago when my oldest turned 13.  My household now includes a 15 ½ year old and a 13 year old – thus the reason for my perpetual state of panic.  I worry about them driving.  I worry about what is happening on their phones.  I worry about why they don’t talk to me.  I worry about when they do talk to me.  I worry

I will not likely ever forget the pit in my stomach.  It was in the wee hours of the morning when sleep evaded me.  After a recent break-up, my thoughts were not yet managed, nor healed.  I rolled over in bed to open my laptop and before I knew it there he was in a tuxedo looking better than ever.  A tear pricked and my stomach rolled as I tried to process something that I simply could not. How was he smiling a few weeks after our break up when I hadn’t even been able to attempt that feat?  Where

For 13 consecutive years now on a back-to-school morning I have awakened with excitement.  In the early years I picked the perfect bow for my daughters’ hair and took my time while they let me brush and style their pretty hair.  In the latter years I have helped chose the outfit or made sure group pictures were taken with friends at school.  I am not ashamed to admit that I have cried on every single one of these days.  Every. Single. One. I am proud to say that for each of these days, their dad and I met up with

A three-hour window.  A three-hour window was all it took to feature the failings of co-parenting.   It was a minor parenting plan problem.  Our case study features an eight-year old girl and her parents two years post-divorce. 4th of July arrived with the provision providing for holiday parenting time to begin at noon.  The 4th fell on a Thursday.  Mom had parenting time Wednesday night and it was her alternating year for the 4th of July holiday.  However, Dad’s parenting time commenced at 9 a.m. on Thursdays for his regular time. Mom asked if it made sense for her

“This is unacceptable.  Can I talk to your supervisor?” The woman was irritated and barking demands.  I waited patiently in line to check my daughter in to Children’s Hospital for a shoulder injury.  I was called up to the next available receptionist and beside the irate woman.  “I do not understand how this happened,” she complained further.  “She is NOT her mother. I am.”  Ah. I began to understand.  The receptionist explained that they had tried to call both parents and could not reach them.  Stepmom had brought the child in for medical care and they were obligated to provide

It is hard for me to write about him.  In so many ways now he is just someone I used to know.  Strange that what seems like another lifetime ago, he was the person I used to know best.  This week would have been our 18th wedding anniversary, but instead time let 8 years slip in between us after our divorce. With this time hurts have healed and now, to me, he is simply “their dad.”  He is the father to our daughters. Without him, I no longer have to argue the point of making the bed in the morning,