I sat on the warm beaches of Mexico for what should have would have been my 21st wedding anniversary, wondering how I got here. The last 6 years were a muddy blur. The sun was hot on my face, and I wasn’t sure if it was sweat or tears on my face.

Was I crying because I was still heartbroken, or because I made it out better than I imagined?

The last 6 years were hard. Changing jobs hard. Divorce and pandemic hard. Life changing shit hard. I know I made it through (cause I’m fuckin’ here)… but when I look back I don’t know how I did it… like I don’t recall the steps I took or the path that got me here, and I kind of wish I had.

Being strong and resilient had a part in it, but how did I convince myself to get up on those mornings when I didn’t want to open my eyes?

How did I raise 2 teen boys to have the amount of grace and confidence they exude?

How did we make it without losing our shit more than we did?

It’s been said before, if you ever love someone, truly deep down love them, then you will always love them. This love that we I had, was one of those loves. A love that no matter what I do or how much time goes by, will always be there in some capacity.

I’m not convinced that is a good thing, but I’ll hold it nonetheless.

The love that we I felt was so innocent and naive. And now I feel colder- I’ve built a cute little wall filled with distractions and distrust to protect myself. When something ends that you thought would be forever, because there is no option in your mind to continue, it’s hard to get over. Learning how to unlove someone is like grieving a death.

And just like grieving a death,  you must go through the steps and continue on until you come out the other side. 

This trip to Mexico was my other side, or maybe it was the bow the other side was wrapped in. Regardless it was the bookend that closed the chapter called grieving.