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January 6th. Wednesday night is church night. My youngest daughter and I headed into town that evening so she could attend her confirmation classe. As the confirmation coordinator, I was there to help out. Then, I received a text message from my middle daughter. She mentioned that Dad was driving her into town to drop her off at the church so I could assist her with a paper due the next day. My first thought—literally the first thought that crossed my mind—was, "That's strang

That night, after the notifications wouldn’t stop, I knew I needed a plan. A plan to tell him we were done and not fall back into believing it wouldn’t happen again because it would. Deep down, I knew that. I needed a plan to tell my girls, to tell my family, to tell his family. The first thing I did was take screenshots. I didn’t do it for him, or even for them, I did it for me. Proof, yes, but also a reminder. A reminder not to forgive and forget. I had done that before, a

It all started during winter break. I was home during the day, we made the choice early in our marriage that I would stay working at the school so a parent could be with our girls as much as possible. We didn't want our girls to spend 12-14 hours a  day in daycare. M y husband at the time worked in construction, often 60+ hours a week, frequently out of town. He had been laid off for the winter, so I was home, paying more attention than usual to his behavior. I had notice

I’ve been working on part one of the journey ChatGPT set up for me on finding out what makes me happy. Lately, I’ve been paying closer attention to those moments when I feel light, when I smile without realizing it, when I feel content and awake. I’ve started to notice patterns. I like being around people who want to do things. I like discovering new places. I like using my brain. I like driving. And I like people - real people, with energy, curiosity, and a sense of adventur

Recently, I’ve felt a deep pull toward authenticity, toward finding meaning and purpose that goes beyond the surface routines most of us, myself included, tend to accept. I remember feeling this same restlessness back in the early 2000s, wondering: Is this it? Is this all life has to offer?  I wanted to believe I was put here to do something bigger, something that mattered, not just live in the cycle of work, eat, sleep, repeat. I call it my soul asking for more, my body feel

This is the story of the day I had to Eat the Crust and put myself first — the day I found out my husband had cheated AGAIN. Is this sentence a little more dramatic than it should be? Absolutely. This wasn't a shock; it wasn't something new. The only difference this time was me - I was done. I knew I deserved more. I wanted more. It was betrayal layered on top of years of silenced doubts, overlooked red flags, and forgiveness I didn’t owe him. This was the moment I woke up

I was sixteen, pregnant, and terrified. There was no family meeting, no discussion of options; it was just assumed what we would do. The plan was simply handed to me: you’ll marry him.  And because no one told me otherwise, because no one even gave me words like choice or freedom, I believed it. I believed this was the only path, the only way forward. Then I miscarried. For a moment, it felt like the world cracked open just enough for possibility to slip in. I remember think

When I think about where I first lost my voice, it goes back further than my marriage. It goes all the way back to when I was a little girl. My grandfather hurt me. From the time I was around four until maybe ten years old, I lived with that secret. At that age, I didn’t know how to speak up. I didn’t even understand what was happening, let alone how to put words to it. I knew it didn’t feel right, but I didn’t feel safe telling anyone. A part of me must have known it was wro