I was asked to keep it more private.

And I thought about it.

I really did.

Did I want everyone knowing that I failed at my marriage?

That I’m choosing to end a union I had once vowed my forever?

The sheer magnitude of my vulnerability.

Not really. NO.

But did I want to share every moment of my daughter’s cancer?

My failures as parent through treatment.

Did I want to want to let you watch as I came back from the strokes?

Has it been easy to take picture and videos of my handicaps?

Did I go with the easy way out with the physical side of my recovery.

How were those things not personal?

Why was it ok to make THAT public, but I was supposed to hide this choice that, although hard, was somehow RIGHT.

I have worked really hard to not make this more one-sided than it has to be.

Partly because that’s not how I want this.

But, more importantly, the kids might read this and I want them to knew that these posts were never about GETTING MY WAY.

It’s just that writing has always been MY WAY OF DEALING.

I could write this in a way that would get ME all the support and make Peter look like the enemy.

I could write this in a way that makes me look like a victim and make you feel sorry for for me.

But I just want to tell the truth.

My story.

My feelings.

MY DIVORCE.

Now, before you get all outraged on my behalf and “How could he do that and leave her like this?“, the divorce was MY decision.

It isn’t something that happened because of the strokes or handicap, it stems from issues that started years before I was in the wheelchair. Before Georgia. Before Peyton’s cancer.

There were little things that built and built with time and my priorities became protecting my kids and myself.

The kids know.

I wouldn’t think about telling any of you before telling them.

They’re hurting, but they also knew that something was wrong.

I feel so sorry to them to not be able to provide the home they deserve.

I HATE THAT.

Especially after what they’ve already been through.

But having been through what I have, overcoming the obstacles in my way, embracing my inner happiness….I owe it to myself.

If I DO have another stroke tomorrow, I want my kids to know that the price of happiness and fulfillment comes with a cost.  But it’s worth it.

Go and read it or a unicorn loses its wings.

I lived in this constant fear of my family leaving and not coming back.

There were cards, the kids brought gifts, we tried to celebrate together.

I remember the laughing of the kids.

I hugged them SO tight.

I was very tired, but was afraid to sleep.

I didn’t want to lose a moment of time with my family.

“Sleep, we’ll be here when you wake up.”

I remember Pete reassuring me so I would close my eyes when I needed to.

But I wouldn’t.

Peyton curled up with me.

Rachael laid her head in my arm.

Nathaniel’s hugs were long but never long enough.

They had to go home.

I had to watch them go.

I imagine being stabbed feels like a splinter compared.

I cried until I did finally sleep. The only way to escape the pain of being without them.

Yesterday I got to spend Christmas with my kids.

I was at home and knew that every smile would be captured for eternity.

The kids loved their gifts and I’m glad we were able to give them a little of material joy but I hope they remember that being together is something WE CAN’T TAKE FOR GRANTED.