I Remember

It’s been on my heart to write something for the holidays.

I began to overthink it. I began to add too many layers. I put too much pressure on myself to say all the right things. Then I just decided to sit down and write from my heart…so here goes:

I want to tell you that I remember.

I’ve been there.

I remember what it’s like to feel the way that you are feeling.

I remember my first Christmas as a single mom. It was 2009 and it had been a year of incredible lows. In January of that year, I walked away from my home (my fake, fancy life) and my marriage ended at the same time. In March of that year, my beloved business went under which left me owing money to many people and filing for bankruptcy in June. My ex-husband spent July and August terrorizing me. By August I was in the women’s shelter and in September, my youngest daughter had a 45-minute seizure that even the doctors struggled to navigate. During October and November, I was getting groceries from local food banks. December felt bleak.

I reflected on my life; prior to this, I thought I was making all the right choices. I had married someone who appeared to have it all; the perfect family, a college degree, a promising career and, he said all the right things. The year prior to my life falling apart, I had a personal chef in my kitchen making my meals for me and now, I was at a church food pantry? My world had crashed, and it crashed hard. My world as I knew it had shattered into a million tiny, sharp pieces.

I sat there staring at the tiny, tw0-foot tall pink Christmas tree that I purchased on clearance to brighten our spirits, realizing that I didn’t even have the money to buy ornaments. I pulled old red clay out of a craft box and with my daughter’s tiny little thumbs, we made thumbprint ornaments out of clay, baked them and hung them on our little pink tree.

I didn’t have any money to buy my daughters gifts that year. I had no control. I was crushed and my spirit was broken. My family sent gifts. Glenn had just met the girls after dating for six months and he came through with two little guitars, a pink one and a green one. My church donated a bag full of wrapped trinkets and toys. I put on my happy face and, I made it all as magical as I possibly could. Somehow, it all came together. It was humbling and, I was grateful.

At 11am, the time came to do our custody exchange. My ex-husband boasted loudly at the exchange about all of the presents that awaited them at his house. I kept on that happy face, telling them to have a great time. I hugged them tightly, I walked back to my apartment and I cried in the fetal position for what felt like hours. It hurt me to my core.

My sweet Jewish friend let me in on a secret, Chinese restaurants are open on Christmas and, that became my tradition as a single mom, several years in a row. With my family being very far away, I did my best to keep my chin up and I made the best of it. I won’t lie, it was hard. I remember it so well.

My daughters came back the next day, telling me about all of the new things at their dad’s house. I smiled and listened, I was happy because they were happy. I won’t lie, it was hard and it hurt. It didn’t seem fair. The reality was, my financial situation was so dark because of financial abuse ( post separation abuse ) at the hands of my ex-husband. My daughters were babies and, my goal was to shelter then from the realities of our world. I did my best.

I went from a fake, fancy lifestyle to an authentic, happy life. If you ask my daughters, who are now 12 and 14-years old, which Christmas’s they remember from their childhood, they will tell you about the little pink tree, the guitars and the thumbprint ornaments, which we still have. For that, I am grateful. If you asked them today, they wouldn’t be able to recount a single material gift that they received from Seth that year. That wasn’t what mattered.

Those were some of the darkest days of my life. Had I not journaled all of it, my memories would not be this clear because I was living and breathing trauma after trauma. I was in a fog and, I was in sheer survival mode. But I remember the little pink tree, I remember the red clay thumbprints, I remember the little guitars (see intro picture) and, I remember the generosity of those around me. For all of this, I am grateful.

Today I stand in a much different place in some ways, but not in others. I still value the little clay ornaments over the store-bought ones. This journey has taught me a lot. It taught me radical acceptance. It wasn’t fair by any means, but, it was the path that I was on. I appreciate the simple things more than I ever have. I appreciate peace and I have boundaries that are rock-solid. I came into this journey knowing the power of gratitude and to this day, that is what fuels me. Even on those dark days, and especially on those dark days, I leaned into my gratitude list. There is always something to be grateful for.

I was "magical" for my girls even when I didn't feel magical. I put on a smile, even when my heart was breaking. That doesn't mean your children can't see you cry, or see you have a hard day. That is life. That is healthy. What I am saying is, be magical more than the alternative. They need you to be their rock, even when you don't feel like a rock.

Sending you a HUGE hug, and please know, I remember very well how you are likely feeling and it does get better.