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Tag: Angela Dunne

Angela Dunne

Sacrificing Smiles

[column width=”1/1″ last=”true” title=”” title_type=”single” animation=”none” implicit=”true”] 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
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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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Having Heartbreak

I started to feel a sickness in my stomach.  My eyes welled without warning.  In mere seconds I felt myself feeling sluggish and exhausted.  Sadness was sinking in.  I wanted to stop time – change it even.  I felt desperate in my disbelief.  I was watching the election results unfold.  For me, my candidate was losing and lost.  I was now facing yet another of my life’s heartbreaks. This post is not political.  This post is about heartbreak.  It happens to each of us.  In many forms and in many ways over our lifetimes we will experience a hope lost,
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The Gift

I had just finished stringing cupcake liners on a piece of yarn to serve as party decorations for my daughter’s 10th birthday.  The “Cupcake Wars” birthday extravaganza preparation was nearly complete.  I now needed to wrap her birthday gifts in the fun cupcake wrapping paper I found on a fluke.  Wrapping gifts is my favorite part of any celebration.  I find nothing more delightful than producing a pretty package for the recipient. This year, her dad and I decided to go in together on a joint gift and each pay half the cost of her first iPod.  This was an
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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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Bitter and Sweet: A Tribute to my Sophia

She arrived at 2:55 p.m. on September 7th ten full years ago.  She charged into this world amid a flurry of frantic activity as my labor suddenly went into overdrive and I dilated from 7 to 10 centimeters in mere minutes.  3 pushes later she took her first breath:  My Sophia Grace. Oh how bittersweet this birthday is marking the completion of a decade spent dancing through the days with this daughter of mine.  From being the toddler who regularly pulled at my ear lobes for comfort in what we deemed Sophia’s ear tugs to now having long enough legs
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