Sometimes Second Chances Are Only for the Lessons You Still Need to Learn
Sometimes your intuition whispers. Mine apparently had to start screaming: STOP BEING FUCKING DUMB.
Read the story →Marriage. Divorce. Motherhood. Grief. Trauma. Money. Starting over. Bad decisions. Small-town shit. And all the messy parts of life we usually clean up before telling anyone about them.
No cleaning it up for company here.
Three stories. Three different sides of what this is going to be: raw, unfinished, funny when it can be, and useful when it needs to be.
Sometimes your intuition whispers. Mine apparently had to start screaming: STOP BEING FUCKING DUMB.
Read the story →Maybe starting over again and again is not failure. Maybe that is how you eventually design a life that actually feels like yours.
Read the story →I moved from Massachusetts to rural Georgia and apparently there was an entire set of unwritten rules. Nobody gave me the handbook.
Read the story →Life does not happen in neat categories, but we had to put the damn menu somewhere.
Marriage, divorce, dating, sex, breakups, second chances, co-parenting, and decisions that seemed reasonable at the time.
Explore →The love, guilt, exhaustion, hilarity, and things mothers apparently are not supposed to admit.
Explore →Death, loss, grief, trauma, missing people, and the things that do not wrap themselves up neatly.
Explore →Abuse, leaving, going back, rebuilding, safety, and what happens after everybody thinks the hard part is over.
Explore →Money, housing, jobs, pride, asking for help, losing shit, rebuilding shit, trying again.
Explore →Courts, social services, government, advocacy, the people who help, and what happens when the systems do not.
Explore →Community, culture, politics, rumors, family names, unwritten rules, and life where everybody knows everybody.
Explore →Some stories do not need a category. Sometimes life just needs its own drawer.
Explore →Recurring series for the things that deserve their own label.
The things everybody thinks and nobody wants to admit.
The stuff that would have been nice to know before learning it the hard way.
Because sometimes the call is, in fact, coming from inside the house.
You do not have to be a writer. You can use your name, your first name, or stay anonymous. Maybe somebody needs to read the thing you are scared to admit and realize: holy shit, me too.