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Tag: Angela Dunne

Angela Dunne

New Beginnings

I love new beginnings.  I delight in shaking the Etch-A-Sketch clear and starting over.  I appreciate every month flipping the calendar to a fresh start.  I enjoy crawling into bed when freshly laundered sheets await.  I particularly enjoy the start of a new year when I spend days preparing pages of goals for the upcoming year.  Well, a divorce can change that. During a divorce, every single layer of life is changed.  And I mean – every. single. one.  New beginnings are everywhere.  Although in the middle of life-altering upheaval, they don’t feel like new beginnings – the just feel
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Easy

“You have it so much easier because you only have your kids half the time.” He made this statement a couple of times during our conversation.  The first time it fell out of his mouth I felt like a victim of Little Bunny Foo Foo hopping through the forest being bopped on the head. It didn’t sting so much as shock my system. The next time he said it, the normally dormant lava bubbles in my gut started to boil as anger crept up my spine. These words were uttered by a dear friend of mine who has seen some
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Grateful

Light me up a pumpkin spiced candle, let my feet crunch as I walk over brightly colored leaves, and zip me into a parka when the fall wind nips at my nose.  I love all that is fall.  I love this season, and in particular, this week of Thanksgiving, where with it brings reflections on gratitude and abundance.  During times of transition or grief, it may be difficult to feel gratitude or see the silver linings, but perhaps take pause and really look. Why I Am Grateful for my Divorce Did I just write that subtitle?  Did it just get
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Casserole Care

I thought it was heat rash when the red prickly, itchy bumps appeared.  Then the pain set in and my instincts told me otherwise.  The doctor took one look and resolutely said, “Shingles.”  “Adult chicken pox?” I asked.  “At your age the only explanation is that it is stress induced,” he looked at me with what felt like a smidge of silent judgment.  I was on Google as soon as I walked in the door to discern how long this bout would last, my mind already racing to the commitments I had the following work week and how was I
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Sacrificing Smiles

She told a heartbreaking tale:  Of a marriage long desired, of children finally born, and of it all unraveling after.  Her marriage now finds itself in a house with two middle school age children and a spouse she barely considers a confidante.  Intimacy of any kind deserted them more than a decade ago.  And these words she spoke after finally meeting with the divorce lawyer to look at her options and dividing time with her children became real: “My happiness can wait.  I will have time to be happy.  I need to make the best of it as it is
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Lucky Us

I remember the instantaneous excitement I felt when the girls came home from school and enthusiastically reported that Anna got a part in the play.  As someone who did my own share of performances in junior high and high school, I was thrilled to see her so excited to experience the unique kind of magic that being part of a cast and a show produces. This was her first year with a role, a costume, and a solo.  I wanted to be with her for all of it and to celebrate it all.  When mapping out the rehearsal and performance
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Being Dishonest

I was sneaking down the stairs to the basement to avoid both the creaky steps and detection.  I made my way to the Sam’s Club storage stash and started taking the packs of toilet paper out to hide them in a different place.  I was nervous and moving quickly.  The shame of my scheming and deceitful behavior was one thought and tear away.  I felt like a thief.  I was in my own home. To remember, let alone admit to this behavior, immediately fills me with embarrassment.  I had a choice to ignore this part of my past and pretend
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Above and Beyond

I was starting to stress with every snowflake coming down.  I had to get my girls safely to school on time in this slippery slush and then make sure I was in the courtroom with my exhibits organized and ready to go promptly at our 9 a.m. start time.  From the parking garage I half jogged in my suit and snow boots toting my rolling briefcase behind me and double checking that I had my high heels ready for a quick change in the courthouse. I arrived somewhat breathless to find a dark courtroom.  Neither the bailiff nor the judge
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Pursuing Perspective

When she stood at the altar with him and they recited their vows through smiles and tears, she did not imagine that a few years later he would be hiding alcohol bottles in the garage out of reach of their two year old and calling her fat and lazy. She did not anticipate that she would feel unsafe in the home that should have served as sanctuary. The more abusive and drunk he became, the more she tried to “obey” his rules.  She developed unrealistic standards of herself and her children.  She was a slave to her own rigidity born
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Transitioning Traditions

It was quiet Thanksgiving morning.  My kitchen was void of the warmth and scent of stuffing and turkey cooking in the oven.  I trudged down the stairs to get the super- ad-stuffed newspaper to peruse while watching the parade.  This, the first time it felt like a chore.  I felt off – cranky, sad, and alone.   My girls were in Texas with their dad and paternal grandparents for the Thanksgiving holiday.  I was home alone in Nebraska left with my woe-is-me thoughts as my only comfort. Holidays are hard.   This refrain is a reality for most, but not all, divorced
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