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.

That’s the “d” word I was thinking about.

What were YOU thinking of?

Douchebandits. Douchebag McGreggor. Douchemover.

All good words to describe certain behavior.

I would LOVE to justify it by saying that *I* have never acted that way.

But I have.

So has Pete.

Out of anger. Confusion. Fear. Frustration. Hurt.

Just because I’m deciding to end a marriage for reasons that go SO MUCH deeper than you could even dream of knowing, I’m not doing it easily.

It doesn’t come painlessly.

I hurt for my kids. I hurt for myself.

And, yes, I hurt for Pete.

I just can no longer take responsibility for trying to FIX his hurt.

There were some different decisions and complication.

But it was LOTS of fun.

I was incredibly hot.

Supermodels were jealous.

You’re thinking “HOW DO I GET THAT COOL?”

You can’t. Just deal.

Today I’m celebrating my 64th birthday.

THEORY: If I lie and tell people I’m 29 they’re going to think that I look like absolute crap! If I tell them I’m turning 64 they think I look ROCKING for my age!!

And at Babble you can read about having an example at dealing with handicaps.

And because it IS my birthday I extended your chance to win a necklace from Blend Creations!

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.