Skip to main content


I have been writing about boys for so long. Men, boys, the guys I dated, used, loved. The boys I used in high school in an attempt to feel whole. And the more of them that I used in college. The boys I let use me in an attempt to find love. And then the few that I have loved. Since then I have learned how many girls follow that same path. How many of us search for love and worth and fulfillment in strange boys’ beds. How many of us fall head over heels in love with blonde, muscle-y artist boys in suburban summers only to have our hearts broken when they realize they do not love us the way even they thought. When they disappear back into themselves – their addictions or obsessions or adolescent confusion. I have learned how normal this is, I suppose. That none of that was meant to last. My muscle-y blond high school boyfriend was never meant to be the love of my life. But that doesn’t mean I was not meant to love him. They have each had their role to play. From Matt I learned what it felt like to be wanted and worshiped. From Jim I learned to love deeply, to feel awe and wonder at another human being, and to cultivate love. And from Andrew I suppose I learned something of stability. I learned that I can love and stay whole, grow more whole even. I learned what to love myself. I learned something of commitment, and of the kind of woman I want to be. From Andrew I learned patience and grace. I learned that I would rather be happy than be right, and I learned that while it is necessary to stand up for what we believe in, there are very few fights that are truly worth having.

I guess the problem is that we think these things are forever. We go into love hoping it will never change, that it will last and last till the end of time. That we will never again be confronted with heartache or pain. But that simply isn’t true. And it does not make love not worthwhile. In fact, each of them helps us to love better next time. I know that has been the case for me. I remember when my marriage was just beginning to unravel, when it was the beginning of the end and I didn’t even know it yet, Christina said to me that her own divorce had given her the opportunity to “love better next time.” At the time my pride prevented me from thinking that I had any better love to give than what I had given. And I’m sure I thought the same every time I have loved. But of course that’s not true and there is so much more I can give. There are always more layers to be stripped away. More of reality and honesty and truth. More of myself. More of acceptance. More of love.

And so far it is different. This is the first time I have loved when it felt like man and woman. Like two adults. Not two children, angsty with teenage passion and heartache, or a man and girl or woman and boy like so many of my relationships have been. He has strong hands, a face that has weathered years of life and love and heartache. He has strong thighs and a sturdy chest. His golden hair and soft touch make me melt, and sharing meals, prayers, and our bodies feels sacred, beautiful, and real. It is the first time I have felt so conscious in love. So aware of my thoughts and feeling and what rises up inside me before it comes bubbling out clumsily or gets buried deep inside, too scared or ashamed to let it be seen. And so again I am learning. Learning to love better – myself, and him. Learning to love as a mother too, of course. What it means to love unconditionally. To put myself aside and retain my whole self at the same time. To take care of myself so that I can be the mother and the woman I want to be. And yet despite the beauty and the importance of it all, no one can guarantee its permanence. That is the thing of life. To go through it with as much heart as possible, to stay open and curious and willing to love, to be loved, to let ourselves be seen and heard, always knowing that at any second everything could change. And trusting that when it does, it will only be followed by more of that same beauty, enhanced, if we let it.


Popular posts from this blog

to struggle gives strength.

"We must recognise that under duress great things are born. Diamonds form in molten stone. The sweetest flowers of man's spirit have most often been watered by tears. To struggle gives strength, to endure breeds a greater capacity for endurance. We must not run away from our heartbreaks in life; we must go through them, however fiery they may be, and bring with us out of the fire a stronger character, a deeper reliance on ourselves and on the Creator Who, like a good Parent, chastizes us because He loves us and because He knows what can be made out of us and that the pain is worth the prize that can be won. Love, hate, passion, fear, sorrow, pain -they act on us and spur us on, they develop our qualities and give us colour and individuality. Why should we want to shun and abolish some of the factors that bring out the best in us, that temper our steel, that teach us to value happiness at its true worth? Can a man who has never been hungry in all his life know what a piece of …

Coming Home.

Two years ago I got divorced. I did it with my head held high. After starting my marriage off with an affair I decided to change my life. I entered recovery and lived out the next 6 years sober & faithful, the best wife I could be. But we grew apart, and less than a year after our daughter was born, we split up. Then I fell in love again. I forgot what it felt like to be head over heels in love with someone, and quite honestly it knocked me off my feet. I really thought that God had finally answered all my prayers - I thought I had finally gotten what I wanted - the dream come true. 
Just about eight months ago, my boyfriend came clean after months of relapsing that I did not know about. I felt broken like I really don’t think I have ever felt before, and the healing has been slow and painful. There is no doubt that we are both doing the work, but it is hard. 
It occurred to me recently that much of the pain his relapse has brought up for me is old pain. It shouldn’t be a surprise,…

A message from Clarissa Pinkola Estes

My friends, do not lose heart. We were made for these times. I have heard from so many recently who are deeply and properly bewildered. They are concerned about the state of affairs in our world now. Ours is a time of almost daily astonishment and often righteous rage over the latest degradations of what matters most to civilized, visionary people.

You are right in your assessments. The lustre and hubris some have aspired to while endorsing acts so heinous against children, elders, everyday people, the poor, the unguarded, the helpless, is breathtaking. Yet, I urge you, ask you, gentle you, to please not spend your spirit dry by bewailing these difficult times. Especially do not lose hope. Most particularly because, the fact is that we were made for these times. Yes. For years, we have been learning, practicing, been in training for and just waiting to meet on this exact plain of engagement.

I grew up on the Great Lakes and recognize a seaworthy vessel when I see one. Regarding awakene…