Three big words

I love you.

Those three words strung together have power, yet… it depends on who is saying it and when, and not everyone will hear them the same way. There is a huge gap in the reception of those 8 letters put together to form one of the simplest and yet complex phrases that exists. 

As a mom to a child who doesn’t form sentences, or speak more than 3-5 words I know the importance of just one word, let alone 3 of them strung together and with meaning and purpose to them. 

Love. It really is everywhere and in so many forms and shapes. It’s in the hug between family and friends, but it’s also in the lunch packed for a child or spouse. It’s in the look exchanged between friends, or in the care of another. It’s in late night conversations between lovers, or the forehead kiss placed on a sleeping baby. 

I often wonder why people are so scared of love, because when your heart breaks it’s not love that did it. It is something else entirely. It’s either your expectations, or fear, or need, or longing… desire. Not love. Love didn’t break you. Love filled you up, made you happy, made you feel special or hopeful. Love replaces anger with the help of forgiveness. Love helps you remain hopeful about humanity and the future. 

If my child ever says “mommy” or anything even close to “I love you” I’m going to remember it forever and cry like a baby. I’m sure no one can blame me. 

I don’t take the word love lightly and yet it doesn’t have to carry such a burden with it. If I tell you I love you it is important but it has no strings attached. I love big. I love well. I love excessively and messily. I’m learning to love myself more. I’m learning that… I am love. All the way to the core of my person. 

I am not alone in this. Most of us are an abundance of love. There are no limits to love. Love really does… win. It conquers so many other awful things in life and about people. It makes everything else worthwhile. 

I will never regret loving someone. I will never regret telling them. I will never regret anything I’ve done in love. 



Welp…. I guess it was time friends. Might help me to get it off of my chest anyway. 

I have no idea where to start. A few posts back I confessed that I know I love him, or it had occurred to me that I had those feelings for him. We had a whole paragraph about love being a gift. A lot and nothing at all have both happened since then. 

I am a poker player most of the time. It’s a great metaphor because I hold my cards close to my chest, but I also only let people see like 3 out of 5 cards so it seems like they know what’s going on with me. It’s an old habit. Hard to break. Serves me no purpose anymore. 

My only excuse has ever been self preservation. No one tells everyone everything right? Well, it started to feel more like bluffing my way through life than being genuine, and I hated it. 

After I realized how I felt, I did what I always do: gave it time to sink in and for my heart to tell me what to do. Any time I do this though either the heaviness of my secret vanishes or it just gets heavier and sits on me till I can’t breathe. I was gasping for air by the time I saw my way through this one. 

I decided, since I’m no longer making fear the ruler of this heart or head, that I had to tell him. 


Just thinking about the process it took me to come to this conclusion makes me nauseous. I questioned God’s will on this one. I second guessed my own feelings. I looked for soooooooo many other solutions to this revelation. None came. I had to crack open my heart and serve it to him on a plate. With a smile on my face. 

Here is where I tell you- some things are both hard and easy all at the same time. The truth feels good to me. Even the bad things feel liberating because I’ve gotten to a place where I don’t care if someone judges me. That’s not my problem. That’s there’s. 

Sooooooooo…. how to deliver this important message? I had already written him two emails that I’m almost 95% positive he never got. He hadn’t responded to texts. What else was there? 

Mail. I had his address. And a beanie he’d left at my house that no longer smelled like him. *I know. I know* I drafted a lengthy 3 page letter. Just excessive. It somehow seemed to just write those three words and slip it into the envelope wasn’t enough. In for a penny in for a pound I guess. 

The hard part came after my package, beanie and letter, came back to me. I cried buckets because I didn’t understand. My heart was broken, not by him, but by God. I had prayed, meditated, waited till I felt in my heart it was the right thing to do, and all for naught. The day it came back to me I ugly cried in the car and yelled at the man upstairs. 

You’d think that’d be it right? I did what I could. I worked up the guts, put it all on paper, and it was “unforwardable”. *sigh* 

I tossed that padded envelope into my backseat and looked for my way out of feeling like fear had bested me yet again, and made my timing crap. 

By coincidence (or maybe not since everything is part of a bigger plan) I drove by his old job and saw his truck there. I called my number one advisor, bestie extraordinaire, and she told me I’d just have to march my butt in there with said returned package if I wanted to finish what I’d started. After all, she said, you had the guts to write it and send it. This is just more… in his face. Personal. 

I’m not lying when I say my fingers and toes were all tingling from anxiety by the time I finally made myself do it. But I always forget… talking to him, seeing him, it’s like… being home. I’m not sure it could ever feel anything but right. 

But I’m skipping the best part. 

My gut, my deep down intuition, is usually SO right. I’d felt like there was likely a story and that he probably hadn’t just ghosted me for almost 3 months because he didn’t care, or I didn’t matter. He may be ghosting me now, but it would be for a very different reason. Again, I’m jumping ahead. 

Yes, he’d had to move. His phone was shut off. He was, is, back at his old job, and I know from the look on his face that things have been hard. I just wanted to hug him till everything around us became fuzzy, out of focus, and unimportant. 

But life isn’t a movie. It doesn’t go how you want. It’s not easy and painless and perfect. It’s hard, and messy, and complicated.

We probably talked for no more than 10-15 minutes but it felt like longer. I just wanted to stand there, and smell him, and hold him, forever. 

The conversation doesn’t matter. The words spoken don’t matter. Just the time spent and the sparks that arced between us. I knew it would change once he had the chance to read my rambling profession of love. It was all I could do to just memorize his face. Just in case…. 

I will say that I gave him my number again, but have no real hope of hearing from him. It’s a giant leap from chemistry to love and one that most people don’t make without more time spent. I am not mad, or angry, or hurt. The purpose was never to convince him to love me back. It was just to give love to him. To make him feel… good. Full. Perfect, as he is, in someone else’s eyes. I think everyone should feel loved just as they are. 

I know this sounds like feeding an ego. I don’t feel that way about it. I think love is a gift. You give it to people who need it. You share it, and lift others up. You speak it when it’s true. You express it in kindness, and… it’s never wrong. True love for your fellow man is just that. Love is pure. Love wins. 

So, ok. Here we are. I’ve stepped off of the biggest cliff in a long time. It’s not likely end as I’d want. I have no regrets. I wouldn’t take any of it back. 

I won’t pretend to know what he thinks or feels. I’ll possibly never know. Men struggle with expression of feelings and thoughts in the best of circumstances, and as mentioned, he’s nowhere near even semi ok circumstances. There’s a lot on his plate, and so many things in line ahead of trying to date anyone, let alone some random girl he’s known for a year, but only seen sporadically during that time. I’m lucky if he still considers me a friend. 

I’m not making excuses for him. I don’t need to. He will do what’s best for him and I have no judgement. If I know anything, it’s that he will do what’s necessary for himself and his sweet baby boy, always. That’s as it should be. 

I’m grateful. I’m such a different person after meeting him. There are things he said, and the way he made me feel… I’ll keep those always. Regardless of how it seems on the outside looking in… he was good for my heart. 

I’ll keep him in my prayers, as always. God has plans for him. I can feel it. 

My heart is glad I was brave. It’s full and beats like it’s never been broken. 

Maybe, one day, later down the road, AZ and I will cross paths again. I can’t imagine ever feeling anything for him but love and knowing how things are with him, maybe he is my home. Or maybe he was just sent to remind me of how it feels with someone that you have real, pure chemistry/compatibility with. 

Regardless, I’m so thankful I met him. 


Hello friends. It’s been a couple of months. I was stuck in my head for a little bit, which tends to happen with me. When I get quiet I’m really working on something.

I’ve been standing still. There are so many times in life that I treaded water so I don’t drown. Just survive from day to day, paycheck to paycheck, breath after breath, until I no longer think about it. During the last couple of months I was actually making what felt like progress. I was focused and driven and doing what needs to be done to get to a better place in life. 

The last few weeks, I came to a full standstill. I was really down for a couple of days in the middle. It feels like I’m wading through a giant vat of molasses. Barely making any progress or forward movement. 

There’s a ton of things to explain here… starting with AZ. But let’s be honest… I don’t have the energy to relay that right now. Just don’t. 

There is no shortage to the men, aka vultures, circling right now. I seem to be attracting all kinds of attention that, honestly, I don’t care about. Three at work alone. 

Here’s the part that will sound bad: I’m used to it and it doesn’t impress me. I’ve had two guys hit on me at the grocery store alone in the last month. I don’t find it flattering, I’m not egotistical about it, it doesn’t help my life. I’m pretty sure part of why it happens is because I don’t care. I’m not paying any attention to anyone but me and my kid (and my friends a little) at the moment and that’s why. I’m decent looking and carry myself pretty well, I’m not overly insecure, and those are things that are obvious when I have my ish mostly together. Obviously, when I’m down or stressed that shows too. 

Here’s where my point is… I need a guy who sees me. Not just my face. Or my boobs. Or… whatever. Someone who really sees who I am. Deep down. It’s possible. It’s happened before. Recently I think even. I’m not going to mention him here again. My heart hurts a little right now so, we’ll get back to that story much later. 

What I mean by sees me, is understands on a deeper level who I am. He can see my heart. Knows I try really hard to be good to everyone but somehow still protect myself a little. Someone who sees that no matter what, I’d try to give them the world and still not feel like I’m amazing or perfect. Because that’s who I am. Just me, trying to put as much love out into the world as possible. 

The last guy who I could feel peering into my soul a little… may not ever be back. It’s really up to him, and he’s going through a lot of his own stuff. I’d love to help him, but I’m not sure he’ll let me and I may have pushed him away with my honesty. I didn’t mean to. I just thought he should know the whole truth, as I know it. 

Only time will tell. Till then… I’ll know when another guy sees me. My ratio isn’t good, but sometimes, lightning strikes and I get lucky. 

It’s been almost a year since it happened the last time. I wish… that one would just come back, and stay. I could get lost in his eyes.