That's What I Said.

Because I love the rawness and hilarity of her words, Pretty All True is one of the first blogs I read in the morning. In fact, I get a notification on my toolbar when a new post is published and I instantly click on it. (Although I have learned to look for the warning labels she is kind enough to place at the top of a post in case the kids are running around.)

Today's post was, like most of her posts, honest and raw, but this one had a different twist. This one hinted at a much darker time than she normally shares. It tasted of sadness and regret and I rolled it across my tonuge until I was sure to have sucked the marrow from it. Her mother admitted to never knowing what she endured at the hands of her father and a string in my soul was plucked and stretched farther than it has been in a while.

Not in sadness, you understand. No, in complete understanding. Below you will read my comment to her post and her reply. (You will so understand why I love this woman and totally want to be her friend in the most serious and non-stalker way possible.)

Jamie: I read the words of your mother and I hear my own voice-my voice from over a year ago, before I left my ex-husband. The guilt I had for taking my children’s father from them was overwhelming and suffocating at the time and I almost caved because how could I be so selfish to put my personal happiness above that of my children’s. I’ve been where your mother was.


It wasn’t until months later when my son’s nightmares finally stopped that I realized my ex was the “bad” guy in every single nightmare he’d had since he could tell me what happened in his dreams. (My daughter had just turned a year old and my son was almost three when I left.) He still gets shy around men he doesn’t know. Sigh. Now I tend to chastise myself for not seeing the world as it was before I finally worked up the courage to leave-when I was still a coward who thought she was lower than shit. I’ve been where you mom was.


Now my children are 2 and 4 and our happiness knows no bounds, or screaming, or harsh words, or icy glares and silences. To borrow a phrase from you…we are all kinds of awesome now.


Kris: I have no adequate words for what you have shared here.

Know that I love and respect my mother.


And I am happy she is not there now.


And I am happy that you are not there now.


And that instead you are all kinds of awesome now.


I am all teary.


Love you.