You can find Monica's personal blog at The Girl Who.
We meant it as a joke. An ironic commentary about the world's obsession with documenting every living, breathing moment. I posted it on Instagram and Facebook with the caption "Awkward Separation Moving Day Selfie" and never meant for it to be taken seriously.
So now he writes his admittedly beautiful missives about heartbreak and love lost and everyone is swooning and wondering, How could she leave a guy like that? I can only answer that being able to write eloquently about love isn’t necessarily indicative of what you’re like in a relationship
Watching him interact with women on Facebook would kind of be like showing up at the same party and ogling him from across the room.
When they're telling you something, when they're expressing a feeling or an emotion, even if it feels like they're accusing you of something, you need to just listen. No need to defend yourself.
I’m terrified of showing my saggy mom boobs and otherwise baby-ravaged bod to someone other than the man whose children caused the damage.
I’m 38 and have been taking care of myself for a long time now. I have the power to stitch the shotgun blast not having a stable, present dad blew into my chest. It ain’t easy though. A lifetime spent building a personality based on insecurity, confusion and sadness is no picnic to untangle.
We laud couples who have been together for decades, but does the celebrated longevity of a coupling often come at the expense of the happiness and personal fulfillment of those within the union? We all know couples who have years and years of marriage under their belts but can count the happy times on one hand. Is their marriage a “success” simply because they’re still together? What about a five year marriage during which a couple is satisfied and happy and quickly end it when they realize they no longer work together?
When I manage to take an unvarnished look at who I am and my role in the demise of my marriage, I realize how ill-equipped I am to be in a healthy relationship right now.
They have a right to be surrounded by photos of their parents and celebrate the onetime love between the two people that brought them into existence even if – especially if – you’re just not into Dad anymore.
Other people are not medicine! Also? Your self-worth is NOT reliant upon who you're with.
“When I got rid of the majority of my possessions, I was compelled to ask questions I wasn’t prepared for: When did I give so much meaning to material possessions? What is truly important in life? Why am I discontented? Who is the person I want to become? How will I define my own success?”
Don’t get me wrong, Serge is an amazing dad and his kids are lucky to have him. But he’s just pulling a freakin’ wagon. What’s with him doing next to nothing and getting praised to the high heavens like he just lifted a truck off a toddler?
It seems we tend to view divorced moms as these tragic figures deserving of our pity and their kids as baggage not to mention the fact that any man who ‘takes them on’ is a saint.
”Sometime between when we were children and when we had children of our own, parenthood became a religion in America. As with many religions, complete unthinking devotion is required from its practitioners. Nothing in life is allowed to be more important than our children, and we must never speak a disloyal word about our relationships with our offspring.”
I’ve never felt more divorced than when mowing my lawn. I can never remember to check the mail, because it’s something he delighted in doing. Dragging the garbage cans to the curb is another task that makes me keenly aware of my new-found singleness.
Why can’t I be friends with Serge’s new girlfriend? Why does divorce — when kids are involved — have to be this great divide? We are grown-ups. We both acknowledge we don’t work well when married and yet we both acknowledge we like each other, and our kids are the most important, so why can’t we spend holidays together?
This is no man-dons-Bjorn-and-I-go-nuts phenomenon. Any random Don Draper type can strap on a Bjorn for an hour. I’m talking about single dads all up in the mix. Sexy single dads who know a thing or two about wiping poop off bums for the 5th time in a day, dads who know how to usher their children from morning to night and night to morning.
I dig romance as much as the next person but I think growing up thinking that it’s romantic and fulfilling to view your future mate as the completion of you or that happiness will be reached when you find the right person is as detrimental to a child as forcing religion on them.
I know it has nothing to do with their love for me or how good of a mom I am. But even after all this time, I still feel badly whenever it happens.