Ever – Part 2

What inspires me to write could be a current situation and the positive or negative emotions it brings up, or I’m merely reflecting on memories, and the feelings recalled. Those moments when they strike are my material, so to speak; they are what I entertain you with.

I dislike Valentine’s Day. I’m sure many who read what I’m about to say will argue there is a beneficial aspect to it, but I can’t grasp anything remotely useful about it. To me, it’s a non-sensical celebration. There I said it, not ashamed either.

Hallmark, candy and chocolate stores, floral shops, restaurants, jewelry stores, hair salons, spas, and many other commercial establishments are making a killing off people who buy into this bogus day.  2018 saw approximately $19.7 billion in revenue. Yes, it is contributing to our capitalistic society by providing hold-in-your-hand products to alleged lovers of others, on this one particular day. But who wants to be loved just because someone demanded you do, and show it their way. Is this billion dollar business actually bringing anything of value by marketing this day as something compulsory when you love someone? I personally think no, it doesn’t.

My feeling is you should love your special someone if you have one of those, 365 days a year. One day of playing by the rules of industries profiting off you doesn’t make up for the other 364 days of how your person of affection wasn’t appreciated.

I especially don’t like that day on Facebook.

Don’t get me wrong, I adore relationships that are genuine, but I don’t always see that on FB or in real life very often. I’ll applaud those who are mature and loving, whether they are intense or not. But the shallow ones, they leave me kind of meh.

What prompted me to post that 6-day story on my personal page was to my husband and also in direct response to the unextraordinary relationships I see playing out on FB. Obviously, all my FB friends would see it too. The point being, for my spouse,  I was trying to convey – in a quite unromantic gesture – “honey, this is the only marriage I will ever be in, ever again.” It wasn’t meant to be positive or negative, just a declaration of my reality.  I was being unromantic. It was my take on how romantic gestures don’t mean shit unless your intention coincides. A personal statement wrapped in social commentary.

Interestingly, those friends commenting had drawn a hard line on that experience; all of them. They took it to mean that marriage sucks, never doing it again. Who wouldn’t say it, if it did? I would understand the knee-jerk reaction if the situation was not a good one.

So naturally, I was curious (cause I’m always curious!) if more people on this larger platform read this, how would they interpret my 6-word story? What would their takeaway be? The Ever post hit the day after Valentine’s Day along with a request for readers to fill out a short poll about their reaction to the 6-word story.


I’m sad that hardly anyone took the time to share their thoughts. Only a total of nine people took the time to respond. But regardless, the answers they provided showed overwhelmingly, a negative reply.

That made me go “Hmmmm.” 70% were jaded. We’re in love with love, but we’re seemingly unsatisfied. That’s sad to me. And again, makes me think that if we stop putting such emphasis on one day rather than what it takes to do every day, maybe relationships won’t lead to such negativity in the end?

It’s a thought.

What started as an internal demand to highlight the silliness (following the capitalistic bent and the over-the-top streaming of gushiness of this day), ended as another path to possibly understanding the humans in my world.

I like that.

Love to all, every day, for being what inspires me to be myself. 🙂


Cloud Hurt

Lynn Greyling

I’ve been on #9.

It was amazing. For awhile.

Was too young to know it might end badly.

Fooled by the soft and comfortable.

Got pushed off. Hard.

Too stupid on how to deal.

Fuck Cloud 9.

The landing was excruciating.

Full Of Love, But Then Empty

Return to Zero Project

Nobody tells you how devastated you are going to feel.

Your experience is one of joy, of knowing that you will bring a product of love into the world. The pregnancy is a combination of all that’s good about you and the one who made you feel the need to offer yourself as a vessel for that love. Oh, it feels right. You’ve made the best possible decision you have ever made, and it’s growing inside you. The love you feel for your man, the union you have and the child you’ve made together – it is bliss, magnified times ten. At least, it was for me.

You feel giddiness and a depth of emotion like no other in the beautiful moments of planning your future together, and in sharing your expectations with each other. All smiles, so much love, you feel like you’ll just burst with excitement. Wanting to experience every moment, but longing for the time to speed up so that your dreams can finally manifest. Everything you feel, you think and what you know in those precious moments before the dreams are realized is that everything is positive and the experiences are all good. Even the not-so-good moments because the end game is you’ll have produced the child you have pictured in your mind and carried in your heart.

My period was notoriously predictable. The pregnancy test I’d done only three days after being late confirmed I was right about my physical state. We were pregnant, and we were so happy! I wasn’t very far along, maybe six to eight weeks pregnant when the bleeding started. My imagination, of course, took me to the worst possible outcome. And I was right. I usually enjoy being right, but this killed me.

No one is ever prepared to have their dreams challenged. It takes your breath away to go from a deeply involved state of happiness to feeling utter emptiness; one that seems to preclude resolution.

When I received confirmation that I wasn’t pregnant anymore, the ache of feeling so alone without the little person who filled all those visions of my future made my insides feel raw. My thoughts were tinged with so many emotions. I had feelings of inadequacy and guilt about letting my partner down. Where would we go from here knowing what we had already invested emotionally and mentally, was not to be? How would we, as a couple, previously filled with so much joy at the prospect of bringing our child into this world be able to relate to one another again? Especially, when I, the person whose primary responsibility it was to bring that child into the world, had just lost it. The guilt and the inability to forgive myself about the loss was so wounding for me.

I sat with this information and all the emotions that went with it for a bit before I made the phone call to my partner. Sobbing, yelling, beating the bed with my fists as well as silent tears in between during the lulls of emotion that were wracking my body; I felt suspended in an impenetrable bubble of feelings. Time passed, emotions eased up a bit, and I realized that it wasn’t just about me in this life-altering event. I needed to call my partner to let him know about the change in our reality.

Not having fully worked through all that goes with this devastating news, I think I did the best I could during that phone call. I thought I was brave and had pulled myself together. I wasn’t and hadn’t, not really. After hanging up the phone, I went back into the isolation and emptiness that I had been experiencing after I got the call from the doctor. The sobbing resumed.

Instinctively, I just did the next thing I had to do in my normal routine of the day – I got in the shower. My tears flowed out of me joining the stream of water from the shower head. I could only heave as sadness hit while the water ran over me. It’s as if the stream washing down my body kept me connected to being alive, but in my head though, nothing felt real. I only felt a gnawing sense of being alone, where before I felt like two and we were a part of something bigger.

What I didn’t know or even thought of was that my partner would understand. And forgive, though forgiveness is not what was required. While I stood in the shower, he came home to console the woman he loved. He instinctively knew what I was going through, he understood how I would feel, and he came home to help make it all better. His hurt couldn’t and wouldn’t stop him from recognizing how it would impact me and what I needed to get past it. That day I learned how much he loved me and what my happiness meant to him. That love is what got us through that day as well as other emotional upheavals in our lives together. I love that man for what he saw in me that needed attention, and for the strength, he gave me then; what he continues to see and contribute to my well-being is comfort and something I can count on. His care and nurture helped set me up for success in handling all the other hurdles we have endured in our lives. He helped me realize our relationship, its strength, was the something bigger part of my life, too; just like our child would have been. A baby is a wonderful part of it, but not the only part. Yes, there is a loss, but we had a foundation that is just as important to preserve.

When I look back on that moment we lost our first baby, it feels like a distant memory now, but one that still evokes incredible emotions. Tears fill my eyes as I write this. The pain I (we) endured was heart-breaking, but it created a bond with my partner in ways that I never thought, even in that moment, would cement our relationship as it did. Time, distance from the event and life experiences have taught me to be very thankful for that. That bond filled the emptiness the loss created; his love helped heal the injury I experienced to my psyche.

Mourning the loss of my unborn child was such a powerful emotion for me; the pain cut deep, but I learned an incredible amount about my relationship and its value. I can’t imagine what parents go through after the loss of a child they’ve had born to them and watched grow, but I think I can understand the ache of emptiness they would feel. I hope they have someone or people in their lives that show them a love that fills that space; open and raw becomes healed and soothed. Going on in life and thriving becomes a possibility then.

I’m an example of that.

*originally published at Reconceiving Loss, presented here with minor edits

Love Charade

Excerpt from “Love Needs To Be Real”

And those who have the most love to give

Will always see through this

Warm beautiful heart that radiates light

Will never be alone on a cold dark night.


You don’t see it, or feel it. You don’t get it.

The absence of romance tells you nothing.

No warm embrace, you don’t seem to miss it.

Intimacy barely existent, you don’t show any.

Nothing gnaws at you. Or does it?

I’m growling, screaming. Inside and out.

You’re silent.

I’m indifferent… now.

The love died. It reeks sour.

You, the reason.

But maybe you never had it in you?