The story of my own divorce, my own marriage in which I bore a child and slowly built a home, much like the one I faintly remember of my parents and how, that too failed, exactly like theirs. I poke around the bottom of the master bedroom door with a stick, aware that one day I need to face a monster much bigger than one I’ve already battled.
You will learn that you are your own darkness and likewise your own light. You will learn that you need both in order to survive. You will learn that it’s not always darkest before the storm, but that the storm is pretty f*cking dark too.
When you’re thinking about getting married, pick someone you absolutely adore. It sets a good baseline for those times when you get on each other’s nerves.
What can we go out to face when our church basement is the internet? What can we go out to face when we can make it stop by just clicking on something else? What has to happen? Who else has to be murdered and how?
At their best, relationships help you rewrite the bad stories you once fell for. You’re drawn to each other’s wounds—this is why “opposites attract” and “women love bad boys”—but if you’re brave enough and the wounds aren’t mortal, you can also heal each other.
I knew I was at a turning point in my life but didn’t know which way to go. I could stay on a self destructive path or beat the odds and become something. I just didn’t know how to do it.
This grief thing can sometimes be a tricky beast, with sadness that feels like anger, and happiness that is still just tired, and pain that that is so intense it broadcasts as numbness.
