The Turning Point

Perhaps it is instilled in me because I do not know the difference from love or hate, fact or fake, or lies and trust. All I know is my deep gut feeling—something that got me to survive my entire life…… I know who I am deep down inside. I am not a liar. I am an honest person. I try to live by the 10 Commandments. I try to do good for all, including those that treated me so badly my entire life. I don’t take life for granted. On the other hand, I do not trust people. I love animals so much that I feel more for how they look into my eyes than people who can look directly in my eyes with lies, deceit, and secrets.

The Friend Letter

Why am I telling this story now? I thought you were over it all? Why now?
Because being “over it” doesn’t mean the truth has to stay buried. It’s not about being stuck in the past; it’s about finally being allowed to speak the truth in the present. I’m telling it now because silence is exactly what let the gaslighting happen for so long. For 34 years, I played my part, but I’m not an actress in his play anymore. I’m telling it now because I finally have the clarity to see it for what it was, and the strength to say it out loud without fear. This isn’t about looking back; it’s about clearing the air so I can move forward with a clean slate.

 Not waiting until May

So, I’m starting now. Not with a label. Just with this: You don’t have to be in love with someone to still be fighting their shadow. You don’t have to explain your whole history to deserve compassion.
I am still in recovery mode. Something that took my entire life—since birth—doesn’t get fixed easily. I am a work in progress.
I’m not waiting until May.
I’m writing today.

Let it Go

I realized that chasing accountability from someone who refuses responsibility was keeping me trapped. I walked away with things I promised I would never share—not for them, but for me. It was my dignity over my need to be vindicated.
Now, I let go of controlling their behavior, their narrative, or who they recruit to side with them. I can’t control a rollercoaster I’m no longer riding. I know what I know. I saw what I saw. And sometimes letting go is the only way to be free.

What I Thought Was Love

Other women will probably only meet the charming, guitar-playing, life-of-the-party version. They won’t get the version I lived with behind closed doors. That’s not my burden anymore. I know the secret. I know the pattern. And I am no longer available for it. We are old now, where she will never get to the extent of knowing him behind closed doors. I was only someone he could manipulate, and now he has no one else to do that to.

Dear Person I Never Truly Knew

Because of keeping my mouth shut about what happened behind closed doors…
Because of how I was (and still am) called cruel names and told how stupid I am…
Because you stole my journals and tried to find something inside them to hurt me with… I stayed small so you could feel big.
But those days are over.

I Did It Twice

For decades, I was told I was “too emotional,” “too sensitive,” “too dramatic,” “too much.” For decades, I believed I needed someone else to speak for me…. But when the moment came – when I had to choose between shrinking back into the woman he trained me to be or stepping forward as the woman I was becoming – I chose myself.

Boomers vs Millennials

I made a choice for my well-being, just like she did. We both walked away. And maybe that’s the saddest part—not that one of us left, but that staying became impossible for both of us.

If you’re a Boomer parent navigating estrangement—whether you were left or you chose to step back—you’re not alone. It’s okay to protect your peace. It’s okay to love someone from a distance when being close hurts too much. And it’s okay to not have the answers. Most of us don’t.

The First Morning Without the Weight: My Valentine to Myself

And this morning, I woke up happy. Happy with a tiny dog on my chest, looking up at me with sleepy eyes before choosing to trust me enough to drift back to sleep. I am mourning the woman I used to be, the one who accepted the crumbs for all those years. But I am wildly, desperately in love with who I am today. The woman who is finally the priority.

Cheaters of All Kinds Part I

They are masters at hiding secrets behind charm, hiding betrayal behind generosity, hiding rot behind warmth, all with a smile. Until that one day. Not when they confess—they never confess. Not when guilt finally catches up—it never does. But when the evidence stacks too high, when the story stops adding up, when someone finally connects the dots they worked so hard to keep scattered. They are caught. Not because they slipped. Not because they admitted anything. But because even the best webs have weak threads…