Posts from the ‘divorce’ category

My ex has a picture of Medusa set as my caller ID photo on his phone. Still. We’ve been apart 5 years now and that man still cares so much about me he has a picture set up for my caller ID.

How sweet

My 11 year old has told me on a few occasions that it bothers her to see it on his phone. I don’t blame her. That’s her mom. She used his phone last week to place a phone call to me and came home grumbling her dad “still has Medusa as your photo, mom.”

Mature

Is that a behavior an ex should participate in knowing full-well his kids see the pic? No. Do I care about the picture or the names he and his wife call me? Uh, no again. Do I care about how all of this affects my kids? Hell yes, I do. 

Let’s cut to the chase, here. The truth about people like my ex always appears. They can’t hide it forever.

If you’re so angry at the mother of your 4 children that you have Medusa as her caller ID (after 5 years) and you allow your children to know that, you have issues. 

If your 11 year old daughter tells you she wants to be with her step-dad on his birthday, and instead of being supportive, you confront her and tell her “do you know not one of my kids wished me a happy birthday on my birthday,” you must realize that you’re plotting her one father against the other and putting her in the middle. That’s a selfish way to interact with your daughter. 

If you insist in submitting paperwork to the court saying your ex wife is vindictive and obsessed with you because she has an anonymous blog about overcoming a controlling relationship with a narcissist and you want her to stop blogging, well, didn’t you just prove you’re indeed acting like a controlling narcissist?

I say it’s time that people grow up and move on. Perhaps then I won’t have tons and tons of stories to blog about on how to overcome a relationship with a controlling narcissist.

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sex after divorce 

Sex is an important part of any marriage. We’ve all heard this before, and many people have varied definitions as to what is “healthy” and what is not when it comes to intimacy and the frequency of having sex.

I grew up in a Utah community, and as you could guess (Mormon culture and all) sex isn’t something that’s discussed openly–at all. On top of that, we’re known for marrying young (approx 19-22 or your over the hill) and young = immature!

Entering a relationship with someone who has narcissistic traits when you’re at such a young age can really affect how you view sex and how you communicate about it (or even IF you communicate about it).

A woman who has been in a relationship with a narcissist is showered with love at first. You’re treated sweetly and groomed for the narcissist’s picking. You, of course, have no idea this is happening at the time. Oblivious to the control mechanisms that spin and crank behind the scenes, you might hear stories about how the narcissist has been cheated on or hurt. Or how he feels he wasn’t loved as a child. You feel it’s your responsibility to “prove” you’re worthiness and loyalty to him. Always. 

When sex enters the picture, this can become a huge problem for you, the victim. For some women, the sex is never really about a mutual connection once the narcissist has entrapped you. For some narcissists, is only about the him and his needs. He doesn’t consider her need to be loved outside of the bedroom or if she has an orgasm or not. He only wants to get his and feel good. His needs come first. For other victims, it can turn into something dark and abusive.

The manipulation starts small. The convincing and prodding begin slyly and soon turn into comments of “If you loved me, you’d try X.” Some women are manipulated in such a way that they hear “You WILL do this for me, or else.” I know of a woman whose narcissistic husband made her give him oral sex once a week before he went to work. This was expected  every week during their entire marriage. Expected. There was no wanting or desire on her part. It was what MUST happen. 

Now that I’m in a healthy relationship that is vulnerable and connected and there is a mutual respect and love for one another, I thank the heavens above every day to have found such a deep connection. For the first time I feel safe. I feel sexy and I feel, for the first time, like a whole woman. A woman who enjoys sex and communicates about it with her husband. 

For those of you who are coming out of a relationship where you were with someone with narcissistic traits, I’d like to share something I came across from one of our local TV stations. Laura Botherson is a family and marriage educator who shares her definition of a healthy sexual relationship as the following:

  1. Mutually Fulfilling. Lovemaking is mutually enjoyable and satisfying for both husband and wife. (This would include regular orgasms for both husband and wife.)
  2. Open Communication. Husband and wife communicate openly and honestly about sex-including their needs and preferences. This ability allows them to reconcile the many differences that will inevitably arise in the sexual relationship.
  3. Satisfactory Frequency. Both husband and wife feel satisfied with the frequency of lovemaking.
  4. Emotional Connection Beyond the Bedroom. In order for the intimate relationship to come full circle there must be good emotional connection outside the bedroom as well.

I always wondered if there was something wrong with me because I didn’t enjoy sex during my first marriage. In fact, I could have cared less if I never had sex again. I would hear over and over that I was the problem. It took me being on my own to see that the problem was that all 4 of these key components were missing in our relationship. It’s that simple. 

Look at these 4 components and ask yourself if your marriage encompasses satisfaction, communication, and connection. If you’ve been in a relationship with a manipulative person, there’s a good chance many of these are missing. 

If you’re trying to begin anew, and you long for a relationship that is caring, deep, respectful and fulfilling, have hope. You can find it. If you’re escaping a dark past, as the woman I mentioned earlier is trying to do, seek help through a counselor. The scars can heal and you can have a close, trustful relationship if you can get help. Have hope!

To see Laura Botherson’s interview, watch it here.

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After surviving a high-conflict divorce, chances are you can still find yourself battling the raging seas from time to time even years after the judge signs the final paperwork. It’s just one of those inevitable things when you’re divorcing someone who manipulates, lies and twists things.

Over the years, I’ve grown accustomed to threats, dirty looks, letters from lawyers and rude texts. But the one thing I haven’t quite escaped as of yet is the triggers in my life that take me back to one of the darkest times in my life.

Yesterday I sat at a stoplight and stared blankly at the car in front of me while running my to-do list through my mind–spacing off into check boxes and schedules as I usually do. Track meet at 3. Soccer at 6:45. Need to call the satellite company and order the Mayweather and Pacquiao fight. You know how it goes.

After I came out of my cloud of to-dos, I noticed, really noticed, the type of car in front of me. It was a navy blue Nissan Murrano loaded up with things in the back, and they were visible through the back window. I could see through the window and I could make out almost everything in the car.

In that moment I was transported to 2010 in an instant…

In the summer of 2010, after I kicked my then-husband out of our home on the west side of town, he immediately moved in with his mother. She had an extra room he could stay in (which meant free–bonus for him and his penny-pinching ways), and she would take over caring for him as I had for the last 19 years. In my mind, it was a no brainier that he would run to her home after he packed up his things and left. Plus, that way he could drive her blue Murrano and not “put the miles on his car.” 

My then-husband would often come by our house for a “visit” to see the kids, hold my hand, and chat with all of us; often times he would profess his love for me and tell me he wanted us to work things out. And then he would be on his way. He would play this yo-yo game for the next 3 months of our lives, dragging out the hurt and pain and running me and my kids up and down the roller coaster until we were all exhausted.

One night in early-fall, he showed up unannounced to our my home for a quick visit. I was just getting the kids settled in for the night, and I asked my then-husband if he wanted to join us for family prayer. He obliged. We all knelt as a family together and prayed for “daddy to try hard to fix some things in his life so he could return to our family” among other heartfelt things. He seemed happy with our little prayer, and he and I walked each of our 4 kids to their bedrooms to tuck the children in. We kissed them lovingly on the foreheads and he said good bye to them. It was a very difficult thing for everyone, because we knew he’d be returning to his mom’s house once he left.

After the kids were in bed, he asked me to give him the insurance bill to pay grabbed some warmer clothes from his closet and said he was taking his pillows to his mother’s house because hers weren’t comfortable. I was fine with that, and after he grabbed everything I walked him to the door. I opened the door and he looked into my eyes and said, “I really do want everything to work out between us, Lori.” (and at that time I believed him) and kissed me goodbye.

I felt happy for his words and kiss and told him to text me when he got to his mother’s house. He said he would.

After I climbed alone into bed, my sweet friend Erin called to check on me. We were chatting away I realized I hadn’t heard a word from my then-husband. It had been almost an hour, and his mother’s home was only 30 minutes away. He should have texted me by now. I immediately went into a panic, because my thoughts went to him and her together.

I couldn’t tell if what I felt was fear, instinct, or complete sickness in the pit of my stomach. I told Erin my intuition was telling me he was with her. She flatly said, “Your intuition is always right. Go drive by her house and see.” I NEVER had driven by her home before, so why would I do it now? (Of course I knew where she lived; our girls played together for years.)

I quickly hung up the nearly-dead cell phone, grabbed my car keys, and ran outside–barefoot and in my pajamas, sans bra. Her home was only 2 blocks from ours mine, and her street was a dead end. I was mortified to be doing a drive-by as a 39-and-a-half year old woman, but it was something I felt I had to do.

My stomach churned and twisted as I entered her street. It was nearly 11:00 at night and my mind raced, thinking I would get caught outside her home. I slowly drove towards her rambler, eyes scanning the curb sides for my then-husband’s white Nissan truck. I passed her home without incident and a huge wave of relief drown all the self-doubt and worry that was in my head. I thought to myself: Whew! Thank you, God, he’s not here.

I continued down her street so I could flip a U-turn and return home to my 4 sleeping kids–and that’s where I saw it–my mother-in-law’s navy blue Nissan Murrano. It was parked 7 or 8 houses down, behind a huge trailer, almost purposely “hidden” so no one would see. Tears burst from my eyes and panic took over. I began to shake and sweat and I was nauseous immediately. What do I do? What could I do? Should I go knock on her door? Should I walk in her house?

I immediately called my friend Erin whose voice calmed me and talked me through my open wounds and pain. Again, my intuition kicked in. I wanted to call my Bishop and neighbor. I knew he was a steady rock in the storm I found myself in those few months, and I knew he would listen and offer wise words.

Sobbing through tears, I dialed his number, apologized for the lateness of my call and asked his wonderful wife if he was home. He picked up the receiver and listened to me spew out the awful story, calmly asking if I was sure if the Nissan was in-fact my husband’s mother’s. I wasn’t sure–I walked barefoot up to the doorway of the car, my body numb with pain. As I peered in I saw the Allstate bill on the dash and his pillow in the front seat. Tears streamed down my face. I walked to the back of the car and saw the turtlenecks and sweaters in the back of the car from our my closet. Yes, it was her car.

As I had expected, my neighbor talked me out of walking to the door (besides, I had no bra on and I clearly wasn’t presentable enough to kick her ass in an appropriate way). He calmly said to me, “Lori, go home to your children. They need you now. There is nothing you can do tonight.”

I wiped my tears away, and with my hands shaking I put the car in drive and drove to our my home to be with my kids.

How can someone outright lie and twist the truth? Normal people cannot. Liars are good at what they do. They persuade people to believing their truth. They spin their webs and cast them far and wide. Cheaters command the art of the lie and they use it often. And they oftentimes keep cheating because they’ve gotten good at it.

That night was one of the hardest I’ve ever had to face. I’ve all but forgotten it and I’ve moved on. Until the day I sat at a stoplight…and it all comes rushing back.

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OwnIt

Trying to please everyone.

Straining to be perfect.

Refusing to ask for help.

These are the cloaks that people wear as they try to avoid living an authentic, vulnerable life. We do whatever we can to cover up, conceal or hide the fact that we have feelings, needs, insecurities–simply because we don’t want to be seen as weak.

“I can’t stand up for what I believe in, because it contradicts what my spouse believes so I’ll just go along with what he says.”

“My marriage is falling apart, I have so much debt I’m afraid I’ll lose everything, but on the outside I’ll keep presenting myself as a perfect father, husband, and neighbor so I don’t get judged or let my wife and kids down.”

“I’m a single mother trying to work two jobs, care for my kids, volunteer for my church and be a caring friend and I’ve never felt so stressed or alone. I’ve got to keep going on my own, because this is who I am.”

The picture above is from one of my favorite authors, Brené Brown. She shared this image on her Facebook feed yesterday, along with a powerful sentence:

I constantly have to remind myself that running takes way more out of me than owning does.

Do you see the important word in Brené’s post?

Owning.

Let me say that again…

Owning.

No, it never feels good to admit to someone that you can’t handle everything that’s being thrown at you. No one gets a warm, fuzzy feeling from failing at a marriage or at a job and the LAST thing they want to do is publish their life-status change when it happens. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Right?!

Wrong.

In each of these examples, it is shame that gets in the way. Shame takes over in your mind, you feel less-than, and rather than own your part in this story, you stuff it down and cloak it and think it may crawl away quietly to the corner. Yeah, has that ever worked out for you? I think not!

My son and I were having a conversation last night about how he literally feels paralyzed sometimes when he feels like he’s fallen behind or missed a day or two of school. “I feel like when I go back, the teacher will be mad at me. I don’t know where I got that from, but that’s how I feel. So it’s easier to avoid it.” he said. I showed him the image above and we talked about what Brené said. I told him, “Think about it; running takes so damn much energy.” He understood and said, “The teachers are always cool, so I don’t know why I feel like that, but for some reason I just feel like they’re gonna hate me.” He’s been hiding and fearful and avoiding for some time and finally came clean about his fears. This was a huge step for him!

Shame gets in the way of growth, love, personal success and pure happiness. It always has and it always will.

If you are in a place where you’re always self-shaming, you can’t allow your heart to open up and feel the love of others. You aren’t capable of loving and giving as much as you could. You are truly robbing yourself and others of the wonder that is the authentic you. The same is true if you’re being hard, self-centered, and distant. You’re hiding your shame inside, and that shame eliminates any chance for you to connect.

Escaping this shame monster may be a difficult thing if you’ve grown used to seeing the shame shadow follow you around your house and to work every day. To make matters worse, you may find that you’re with someone who directly, or indirectly, is critical, manipulative or controlling. Shame sure loves people like that. Those people add an ocean’s worth of fuel to your shame fire, which makes escaping the monster nearly impossible.

You can run form your story, you can ignore it, you can even shove it deep down within you and pretend it isn’t there, but if you do that you’ll never move past it. As Brené said, owning your story and being brave enough to walk through the darkness will allow you to discover the infinite power of the light. (Boy, I love the infinite power part.) Everyone has darkness in their life. Learning to embrace it and be brave is how you manage through it.

Being brave saved me from a lifetime of unhappiness. Owning my story allowed me to move toxic people out of my life and open my heart to a new life where I wasn’t controlled or manipulated. I am brave when I admit that some days I feel week, and that’s okay. I see that owning my story has shown my children that their mother is strong, smart, funny and not perfect. Being brave has enabled me to write about my story and make connections with people from all over the world. Most importantly, being brave has brought me the happiness I had been searching for.

The first step is always the hardest. Don’t make that step about running away. The step should be towards yourself and towards owning your story.

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Boy and girl meet, fall in love, get married, buy a house, have 4 wonderful kids, and build their dream home. Unhappiness is hidden, distance grows, girl catches boy texting other women, they grow apart and divorce. 

Fast forward a few years…

Boy meets more girls, marries one. Girl meets a man, marries him. Girl begins blogging about finding passion, trust, real love, her past, her growth and wonderful new beginnings. 

One day, boy was told about the blog. Boy reads it and gets pissed. 

Shortly after boy discovers blog, girl is served with court papers where boy accuses her of withholding the children from him, making false accusations about him and coercing her children to lie. Boy also accuses girl of lying to ORS, being vindictive and angry and blogging about the boy so her children read it and think poorly of the boy (because, of course, that is why boy has a strained relationship with his kids). 

Sitting in a courtroom across from the person you were married to for half of your life is a different experience each time you walk into the room. The first time, it’s usually your initial finding hearing before the divorce is finalized. If you’re the person who was lied to, cheated on, betrayed, or basically blindsided by the split, you feel somewhat like a deer-in-the-headlights. Your head is spinning and you feel like you’re watching a made-for-TV series on the Lifetime channel. You stare up at a commissioner or judge, and you listen to THEM decide who has custody of the kids. THEY decide if the dollars and cents make sense, THEY decide who drops off and picks up the kids, and THEY decide who stays in the dream house. You sit there and you can’t believe that life as you know it is crumbling around you.

But, as the saying goes, time heals all wounds.

Your next experience in the courtroom may be different. It’s after the divorce. You are stronger. You see the person seated at the other table for what he/she really is. You see the game they play–trying to drag you down and manipulate you. They make efforts to persuade everyone else around them into believing that you are a mean, vengeful person and a liar.

This time, you sit in your crusty leather seat next to your lawyer and you laugh inside. You think to yourself Has it really come to this? Are we really spending money to fight about a BLOG for God’s sake? My hell. Our son could go to college next year with all of the money we are spending on our lawyers.

This time in court, you see the truth. It’s been there all along. The person seated at the other table can’t stand that you’re happy. He’s poured over every blog post about how happy you and the kids are, he’s read details about the hurt that went on in your heart over the many years you were together, and he’s realizing that he messed up. It’s either that, or he’s so God damned pissed off that you left him and have the guts to write about him that all he can see is fire and he’s become vindictive and angry.

There will forever be a wall between boy and girl. It will never change. Ever. There was once a time after the divorce, albeit short, that boy and girl could be cordial to each other…for the sake of the children. But that was before girl found her voice and her strength. And that was before girl met a man and fell in love.

After being accused of so many awful things in court documents, girl wonders why it’s come down to only one thing in the end: the girl’s blog.

The answer? Because girl dared to stand up for herself and dared to share her feelings. Finally.

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I’ve been longing to live near the beach for quite some time now. It’s a feeling inside me I can’t seem to shake. That longing is deeper than ever today and I find my mind drifting off to imagining my life and how it could be so very different if I lived near the ocean. 

My four kids fell in love with the water when they saw the ocean for the first time. It was early November and they didn’t care the water was cold or that they were the only ones crazy enough to be in bathing suits. They all ran full speed ahead into the wind and waves.

That was over 5 years ago. 

I imagine myself in a small, quaint house a few blocks from the sand and sea. Modestly decorated and comfortable. I don’t need much to keep me happy. I see myself chasing the kids across the sand snapping candid photos of their laughter and smiles. Next we grab ice cream in the heat of the afternoon at one of our favorite shops near the beach where the owner greets us by name and we see neighbors grabbing treats for a day-trip to Laguna Beach. 

The bright colors in the surf shops and small boutiques along the shoreline make for stunning backdrops for our photos and the restful atmosphere seems to wash our worries away. 

I imagine that my camera is my lifeline and provides a way for me to make a living being creative and happy. I capture photos of children, couples and families living the same, humble lifestyle as So Cal locals and freeze wonderful memories in time. 

In the evenings Brandon and I lounge on the front porch, holding hands and watching the orange and pink sherbet sunsets swallow up the sun as we laugh and make plans for the weekend. 

Ahhhhh, I can see my new life now…

I lived in beautiful Southern California over 20 years ago for a few years when my family moved there for my Dad’s job. I spent 3 years adjusting then thriving in my early-adult years then moved back to Utah to be with a man–the man I was married to for 17 years. Now that the life I once had with him is over, I’m ready to run back to the place I loved. It was where I felt most at home. The diversity and different cultures add color to the communities, the flowers and greenery on the sides of the road made me smile, and the kicked-back atmosphere made me high. 

Utah has been a wonderful home to me for most of my life. I grew up here and got married and had my children here. But that was the life I was “supposed” to live and that life is over. My kids and I are different now.

Sometimes the urge to run away isn’t always about running away at all. Sometimes it’s about finding yourself and going back home. 

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When does the desire to win at all costs go away for someone who is used to getting his way?

I love this little blog of mine. I really do. I began this blog when I met my husband, Brandon. For the first time I saw someone who loved me for me and the rush of emotions were dancing in me like a 4 year old at her first dance recital. Ups and downs and fears and confusion ran through me and I needed a place to process all I was feeling.

I’ve come to this blog to write. For me. To open my heart and soul by clicking the keys of a keyboard and pouring my fear, hurt, love and growth onto the pages of this blog. It’s been healing for me. It’s been a listening friend in the dark of night when I had no one to talk to. It’s been a place where kind and loving people have shared their stories and we have learned about the similarities between their paths and mine.

This little blog is now at the center of a court battle, because someone doesn’t like what I write about. Someone doesn’t like that after all of these years I’ve finally found my voice. And that voice is strong. I didn’t have a voice for so, so long, and now I do. He can’t shame me or scare me into my corner where I did not grow or shine or heal. He can’t raise his voice and make the air around me dense and heavy with his glares. He can’t control me anymore. And it bothers him.

I am in love with myself now. Truly and deeply. I don’t need the approval of anyone. I write the truth and I write from my soul and my heart is open. Because he was part of my life for so many years, we are intertwined. His story is part of mine, but it’s not all of my story. I pray he heals and can let me go, but this court battle tells me he cannot.

I cannot say goodbye to my voice, as much as he’s trying to silence it. I won’t do it. The judge may tell me to let this blog go, and if she does, I will. But I will never be silenced again. Because living in the light and in the truth is where love helps you grow.

Keep writing. I will. Keep healing. I am. The support we all feel through sharing our words is what has helped me get this far. And I’m so thankful you’ve helped me find my voice.

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IMG_9256

There was a time in my life where the only purpose I knew was keeping my family happy. The years and years of being a “yes girl” added up to one big blur of a human being who oftentimes gave up her own happiness so as not to rock the boat.

Passions within me died. Hobbies forgotten. I didn’t even recognize my own voice, because I heard my mother’s or husband’s voice in my head and regurgitated their opinions and ideas. That is not living with a purpose, whatsoever.

Writing here is my voice. It is my truth. The truth that I never shared before for fear of being yelled at or ignored. Or, heaven forbid, disappointing someone.

My purpose is living my story. And I choose to share that story. That story involves being abused, being manipulated, feeling guilty all the time, and one day learning that all of those things lead to me being strong, confident, and finding myself. The result? I have deeper friendships, an authentic relationship, and I have pride in who I am and own my journey.

I’ve read so many stories of people’s struggles, healing and faith. Writing the TRUTH about your life is a scary thing. To put it down on paper or in an online form makes it real. No one knew that as a child I was mistreated by someone and it changed me forever. They only saw me being a good student and a busy pre-teen. I stayed quiet until I found my voice at 40.

My family had no idea of some of the struggles I had with my first husband, because I kept them secret. I wanted to protect him and didn’t want people knowing he could sometimes say mean things, yell, or be so controlling and jealous that I changed who I was.

But ya know what? They saw the small signs. They could tell I had changed. My older brother saw me at my first Thanksgiving after the divorce and I was playing and giggling loudly with the kids and he said to me, “Finally. You’re back. After 20 years!” That hit hard on me. Had I really changed that much?

I have no need to hide anything anymore. I live my life with purpose. I share this story so others learn that through pain you can find the other side. You can learn so much about yourself and the people in your life when you live with purpose.

Take it from a woman who was afraid to speak with her own voice. You must learn to stand up for yourself. You must find who you are inside and share the real you. When you do that, and share your light, genuine people find you. Opportunities find you. The world opens up to you because you live your purpose.

Keep sharing your story. Don’t be afraid. It’s the first step to owning the truth and being happy.

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No more settling.

The day that little light bulb goes off in your brain, and the fog lifts, I promise you there will be no turning back.

Knowing what you want and asking for it is not wanting “perfect” or being selfish. It’s asking for what you need so you can be happy, grow, live the life you’re meant to live. Conforming and settling isn’t a solution. And by damn, it certainly isn’t the road to happiness.

You can’t hide who you are to protect someone else just to make them happy. The real you will either die inside, (a slow, dark, quiet death) or you will have feelings and emotions bubble inside of you and you eventually blow.

Stop being afraid to be better. Stop being afraid to want more. You need to start with small baby steps for you.

You only have one life. You only have this day once. This one day is yours to make it as incredible and authentic and amazing as you can. Rise to your potential and don’t settle for anything less.

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big_love

I’m a little bit behind when it comes to becoming addicted to the popular TV series out there. Last year, we registered for Amazon Prime (hello, this is truly a Godsend to a working mother of 8!). Along with subscribing to auto-deliveries of toilet paper, toothbrushes and deodorant, we get Amazon Video–heavenly when nothing good is on TV. After subscribing, I quickly saw what all of the hype was with Downton Abbey (only 4 years late). Once I devoured the series in a few months, I was on the lookout for another fun series to watch while I was on the treadmill.

As I was sweating away, staring out the window at the gym, I happened upon Big Love. I’m a gal who is born and raised in Utah, and although I’m not a “typical” Utah girl, this series seemed intriguing to me. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the whole polygamy thing (I am sooooo not into sharing), but I was interested in watching the series because of the slight mentions about the Mormon church. So I tried watching the first episode. Aside from the it-really-doesn’t-need-to-be-in-there-so-much sex scene, the show is quite addictive.

The relationships between the sister-wives is intriguing to me. I could never share my husband with someone, but they can. (Let’s face it, the drama is too funny and it’s what keeps us coming back for more)

After being a few episodes in, Brandon’s kids came over for the weekend (as they do every other week). I was playing with our 3 year old and he was telling me about his mom and how they were going to maybe get a new house soon. I was excited for them. What a good feeling that must be for both him and her. “That will be so great!” I exclaimed.

I’m a firm believer that their moms are their moms, and I could never replace them in any way. But I’m also a firm believer that we have a connection that other people don’t. In a way (okay, maybe a strange, far-off way) I’m somewhat married to his exes as well. I listen to their children talk about their lives with their mom’s. I see them at events and when we transition from Mom-time to Dad-time. We are connected this way, and will be for the rest of our lives. Weddings, babies, graduations…we have a lot of events in our futures.

When I meet our 3 year old’s mom on Saturdays, it’s friendly and nice. I always tell him, “Say love you mom and see you Sunday.” Then I turn to her and tell her, “Have a good day at work.” I need to be supportive of her. It’s what’s best for our son. Yes, our son. She’s raising my son, and he loves her as much as he loves me.

As a single mom, I know how hard it is day-in and day-out. I know she tries her best. And I know she trusts me with our son. One day, out of the blue, she sent me a text that said “I was talking to {son} today and he brought you up. I just want to tell you I’m grateful for your help in raising him.” I melted. She didn’t have to do that. She could be bitter and hate me and talk badly to our son about me and turn him against me. But she doesn’t. We’ve both chosen the high road. And he’s better off because we have.

When I married Brandon, the mother of Brandon’s 3 older children wrote on my daughter’s Instagram photo of the wedding ‘Beautiful dress, Lori. Congratulations to you two.’ After being divorced from Brandon for over 10 years, she knows that welcoming a new mother into her kids life takes courage and love.

When my ex married his new wife, I couldn’t have been happier. She’s been nice and accepting of my kids. She’s spoken to me when my ex won’t. She’s raising my children, too. With every part of me, I’m thankful for the love she shows to them. We, too, have a connection that will last forever–our kids. It isn’t easy sharing your kids and having time away from them, but this woman is the best woman my ex could have ever chosen.

All of these women, are in a way, my sister-wives. No, I don’t share a husband with them, but I do share their/our children. I’m lucky. Each of these women love openly, like I do. Each one works hard for their kids and each one is a believer in raising good children.

If I have to be ‘married’ to multiple people, I guess this is how it’s done.

*image HBO

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