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Tag: Koenig Dunne Divorce Law

Koenig Dunne Divorce Law

Expectations or Expectancy

Expectations have set me up for more than a little suffering in life. This week I decided to give expectancy of good a try instead. When I predict things will go badly, expectations leave me feeling blue in anticipation. When I predict events will unfold precisely as I’d planned, expectations inevitably leave me feeling disappointed. I decided to set aside my Valentine’s Day expectations of happy or sad, of good or bad, and instead hold the expectancy of a good day. I used my analytical mind to protect my thin-skinned heart.  I retrieved a favorite well-worn tool, list-making, and gathered
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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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Winter Warmup

As a coach, I love to see people excited and inspired to launch into their goals for the year ahead. Getting back to the gym, planning their vacation to the lake, or signing up for that budgeting 101 class. But even with the promise of a new year, many of us find it hard to drag ourselves out of bed, in the winter wind chill. After the flu has made its rounds, the credit card bills come in, and the numbers on the scale that started rising with Thanksgiving pumpkin pie and climbed to a peak with bowl game cheese
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The Stocking

I have pulled it out of the red and green-topped box each year since my divorce.   The sole stocking left among my divorce residue  – a reminder of my divided family.  It is the stocking purchased when the dream of my future family was thriving.  I bought four stockings together, perhaps foolishly, during the pregnancy of my first daughter.  I was hopeful from the beginning she would have a sibling.  The first Christmas after she was born, I had the stockings monogrammed “Mom,” “Dad,” and “Anna.”  I left the last blank until the time came that eventually our Sophia would
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Peaceful Place

“Do you have plans for the holidays?” she asked, breaking the ice at the business lunch. “We’re traveling to Boston.” “We like to keep it relaxed.” “We’ll enjoy a lot of traditions.” “I’m hosting my family.” Spanning over 20 years in age, each was a divorced mom with children. Two married anew, one who remained single, and me, remarried and now widowed.  As the wait staff took orders for the soup of the day and salad with salmon, each shared a little more. “Neither of us ever go back home for Christmas.” “We alternate Christmas Eve with Christmas Day.” “My
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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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Have To or Get to

It’s arrived. The time when I shift the focus of my attention from my big goals of the year to my most treasured season.  In the weeks ahead I get to fulfill my intention to be a gracious hostess for my family and friends. My tacky but treasured turkey napkin holders will accompany my china as I light taper candles on my linen covered Thanksgiving table set for my brothers and sisters and their families. Ten days later I host my big party of the year in memory of my late brother, Tim, and friends will donate to a non-profit
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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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Dime a Dozen

“Women like you are a dime a dozen.” I feigned a blank look as I hesitated.  The words were spoken matter-of-factly, with a hint of compassion. My friend went on to explain. “I mean, look at the statistics. Single women your age outnumber single men 3 to 1. Not to mention men are only interested in women five or ten years younger.” I wanted to argue but I couldn’t. My lawyer mind knew the numbers evidence. She wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know, yet the harshness of the truth weighed on my heart for weeks. When considering a
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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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