I haven't written anything in a really long time, but recently felt the urge to take a look at my past, through my posts. It became evident how far I have come. And also how far my Children have come. In fact, they might be ahead of me! In "rereading" my life, I realize I had forgotten how much pain we all experienced over the last year. It's amazing how the brain seems to protect us in many ways, as days feel normal again, and we can suddenly focus on the good memories rather than bad ones. I can't even remember the exact time that things suddenly felt okay, but maybe that was because it was gradual. I know it took quite a while, but we just had to keep moving forward day after day, knowing that at some point we would get through it. Some day, the heaviness would be gone.

But something that I omitted from my earlier posts, probably because it was hard to write about at the time, but that I think parents experience in all different situations, was my feeling of guilt. I felt guilty for hurting my children. No, I wasn't the individual who ended the Relationship, but I was the one responsible for bringing that person into my kids' lives. See, initially, when they were six years old, they didn't want him there, but I did, so my kids didn't have a choice. He joined in activities with us, ran errands with us, ate dinner with us, and was around most of the time; after about six months, he moved in. It was not one, big, happy family at first. I remember Taylor was angry about it, while at least Reese was a bit more accepting. But it was what I wanted because I could see beyond the immediate time frame towards trying to build a lasting relationship that would not only make me happy, but hopefully my children, as well. And, as time went on, my kids did grow to love him. In fact, by the time he deployed, about a year into the relationship, my kids wanted him to be their stepdad and didn't want him to leave at all. And even though he called every day and Skyped with my kids, when he returned three months later, things were more difficult than expected. Taylor, in particular, didn't want him around because she felt he "was different than before." She wanted him to leave, gave him those glaring death looks, and no longer felt close to him. It was hard to experience, but, again, I wanted him there, and so she didn't have a choice. And, with lots of struggles over about a year, she grew to love him again. In fact, both my kids loved him very much and formed a bond with him that I always wanted for them. For a brief period of time, everything seemed pretty perfect. And then, without being prepared for it, he was gone and they never saw him again. They came home from school one day in late May, just over a year ago, and, within hours, the relationship ended and he literally disappeared from their lives, only leaving behind a lot of pain. And that was my fault. I am the one who allowed the two, most important people in my life, who were completely innocent and without any control over this situation, to get hurt. I felt I failed my kids and I was the one who was to blame for their pain. I beat myself up over it and even told them I would never date again because that was the only way for me to prevent them from experiencing this type of heartache in the future. I absolutely meant it...then.

But the thing is, time seems to heal all wounds. So cliche, but so true. We even learn to forgive ourselves. Yes, I have made choices that have ultimately hurt my children, and those choices were based on me trying to fulfill some need I had for myself. It sounds selfish. But if we don't show our children that we are real people, who don't give up on ourselves, then maybe when they grow up, they won't give up on themselves either. I initiated my divorce ten years ago because I didn't believe it was beneficial for my children to grow up in a household with a parent who was unhappy in a relationship that just wasn't right and never would be right. And since that time, I have brought a couple people into their lives, who I hoped would be there for the long haul. Though it hasn't worked out that way so far, I haven't given up on myself, and I want my kids to see that. I do believe it's important to remember that we, as adults, still have needs independent of those of our children and it is healthy to try to fulfill those needs. Life is not perfect or easy, and as hard as it is to ever see my children hurt, I am actually thankful that my kids have experienced such painful realities and gotten through those experiences, with me helping them, so that they know how to cope when things don't go as planned or they have no control over a difficult situation. We sometimes have to make really hard decisions and deal with horrible events, but with strength and a lot of deep breaths, hours worth of tears and immense sadness, sleepless nights and extreme patience, time is an amazing thing. And, so just a couple weeks ago, I had a talk with my girls that I was dreading...the dating talk. Not the one where we discuss them dating, but the one where we discuss me dating. For a long time, I didn't feel like I ever wanted to date again. I had that "dead inside" feeling and I was okay with it. But then, I started to come alive again. I started to think it might be nice to get back out there and test the waters. So it was time to talk to my kids about it. I fully expected tears, especially from Taylor, who suffered a lot during my last breakup. And to my utter shock, my kids teased me like I was one of their friends and asked me all kinds of questions about whether I had been on any dates and did I have a crush. I wasn't prepared for such a positive reaction. I could tell my kids had healed. I had healed. You would never look at us now and have any idea about what we experienced and how hard it all was for so many months. All those days of just trying to make it through to the next one, with the hope maybe THIS day would be the first normal one had finally turned into days we aren't just surviving, but days we are living.