My ability to overshare on Facebook, is only out matched by my ability to not care who I annoy with it.

I overshare on Facebook, but that doesn't mean I don't accomplish anything all day. The question I am most often asked is, "How do you do it?" Well, to be honest, I've never thought about it. I just "do."
I guess the misconceptions that I'm either super woman or super lazy are the easiest way to picture what a household as large as ours looks like.

But the reality is my house is loud. It isn't perfect. Unsteady, amateur hands painted outside the lines during a couple of DIY home renovation projects. There's permanent marker on the sides of a number of surfaces. Stains on our stairway carpet. An upstairs bathroom that I'm sometimes afraid to enter because who knows what I'll find. Some days I want to burn the house down and start fresh. Others, I throw my hair up; I turn the music on full blast; and I get shit done.

You may see me share fifteen or more posts in one day. I share things that I relate to, things that frustrate me, things that make me laugh, things that make me proud, and things that I believe in. But what you don't often see is the hour breaks in between these posts. Those moments I'm switching over the eleventh load of laundry of the week; or picking up trash off of the floors and counters on my way to make food. You don't see the eyes that search me out as soon as they feel absolutely anything at all. Looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to read their minds and just know how to fix it. You also probably don't realize that some days I'm not in bed until midnight just for my morning to begin at 4:30.

You don't see me gathering up all of the dishes scattered throughout the house because apparently I'm the only one who can find the sink. You don't get front row seats to the UFC match that just broke out in the living room; nor can you help me as I'm frantically searching for the missing tube that belongs to the superglue lid in my hand. You can't hear the constant yells for "MOM!" that reverberate off of our walls. Or the barrage of nonsensical questions that make up the majority of our conversations. You don't see that at any given moment I can reach out and touch someone because my bubble is no longer my own. You don't hear my son declare he has to use the bathroom at the precise moment he sees me walk to it. Every time, without fail. 

More importantly, you also aren't privy to the snuggles and the kisses; or the dance breaks and the concert-level solos that erupt randomly all the time. You can't hear the laughter and the "I love yous." You miss out on story times, running, giggling, and using our imaginations to play Super Mario Brothers on cold days. You don't see us all pitch in together to reset our home. Or the peace that settles over each child as they walk through the front door every day. Not caring if they are collapsing onto a couch covered in laundry, or if there are dishes piled on top of the counters. They are just glad to be home, among those whom they love the most.

You get a snapshot of our life. A narrative of which, for the most part, I control myself. You interpret it based on your own life experiences and prejudices and for that, all I ask of you is to think twice about the snippet someone gives you of their life. You don't know our day to day. You don't realize that I'm both excelling and miserably failing at being a parent and I'm better for it. Celebrating even the smallest accomplishments each day, while still prioritizing break times to recharge is a feat I have tried to hurtle for years. So in today's keyboard warrior society, I refuse to cave to judgements.

Hard days don't define me as a parent. Days I spend more time on Facebook and less time cleaning are days I need that recharge. I need that reminder that I'm not alone in the way that I feel. That even though I'm overwhelmed, and not handling my household or family management responsibilities the best, I'm still ok. It doesn't mean I don't love my life. It doesn't mean I'm neglecting my children or my home or my husband. It means absolutely nothing to anyone outside of these walls. So please keep your opinions to yourself.

If you want to know how someone runs a household that is larger than average smoothly, I'll tell you. We have NO idea. We just get up and do what has to be done. Every day, in one way or another, we put one foot in front of the other and go forward. Some days we can't see the progress we've made and some days we spend too much time dwelling over what we feel are our shortcomings. Instead of asking us "how we do it" or exclaiming that we are super parents, remind us that we are doing great. Remind us that you are here without judgement. Love us unconditionally because sometimes it takes every ounce of our sanity to keep our houses together; and more often than not we feel like we are failing. Recognize that sometimes that "oversharer" on Facebook is really just trying to refill their tank with the posts that feed their soul.

Climbing Out of the Negative

Hey kiddos.
It's been a while since I've written. Today, however, it's all I've wanted to do.

I've been in a negative space lately. My mind has been resting in it and it's taken a toll on me I don't quite care for.

So I need to talk about it. I need to tell you about it. I need you to read my words and mull them over. They're important.

You can't live a positive life with a negative mind.

Read that again. Go ahead. I'll wait.

You can't loves. It just isn't possible.

I reached a point a couple of months ago where I finally stepped outside of myself and took a long hard look at the person I was becoming. I wasn't happy at what I saw. For the first time in 13 years I acknowledged that I needed help.

I have thrown out in the past that I am a highly emotional person. I wear my heart on my sleeve and I let my feelings run my life. While I'll admit that this is partially true. It isn't the whole picture of me.

This highly emotional train wreck of a mother and wife, deep down is suffering. So much more than I want to admit. I finally acknowledge I am depressed.

Depression sucks the life out of you. It turns you into someone you don't want to be and the worst part of it, it makes you believe you'll never be free of it. It's a downward spiral of negative. Living with it for 13 years convinced me that I would be fine. That I didn't need to talk to anyone because I could handle it. I still had good days after all. I still had moments where I was little Miss Bubbly Sunshine so how depressed could I really be?

It's tricky that way, you know?

I see now that that isn't the case. I'm exhausted guys. I'm tired of the gloom. The darkness that has sucked the joy and optimism out of me at every turn. It's too much work to constantly worry about every. Single. Thing. That has and hasn't happened in our lives. I just can't do it anymore.

So your mama finally went and talked to someone. I finally took that step. I finally am working toward better for myself and ultimately you guys. I'm a long way from where I want to be, but I'm getting there and that is what is important.

I want you to remember something. It's okay to have bad days. It's okay to be hard on yourself. But it isn't okay to unpack and live there. No matter what you may think, storms will pass. They are not constant. Choosing to stay in a place of sorrow not only robs you of the happiness around you, it robs others of the happiness that is within you.

These past several months/years I have repeatedly robbed myself and you of so much positive. For that I am sorry. For that I am trying. For that I will succeed in getting through this.

Life is far too short to dwell on the negative. I choose to no longer give into it. I choose better for myself, but more importantly, I choose better for you guys.

All my love
-Mama

Life Lessons Don't Take a Vacation

Summer's over kids and your mom has taken quite a long break in her writing. I'm sorry for this.

With the change in our routine, the separation, and craziness; I've kept myself preoccupied and busy with various projects and new hobbies.

And in all honesty I'm coming off of a massive case of writer's block.

However, I learned something very valuable and as I lay here at nearly 10:30 at night, I can't seem to allow myself to sleep before getting it out. So here it goes.

Sometimes in life situations arise that test you. They test the goodness in you, my loves. A test that may seem easy when talked about, but proves to be so much harder when you are in the throes of it.

My resolve was tested this summer. In a way that I'm admittedly still struggling to come to terms with. Not because of regret, not because of anger, but because of genuine hurt and confusion.

It's led me to realize one major flaw of myself that I am learning to embrace. Sometimes things are better left to work themselves out. I am a person who more often than not, cannot leave unresolved issues lay. I try to hard to fix things and end up making a bigger mess than the one I started with. This time, I'm being good. I'm leaving it where it's at and letting fate take over.

I'm accepting the situation for what it appears to be and that's because of this important tidbit of information I'm about to pass on to you.

So without further ado...

Someday a person may come to you in their time of need. I'd like to hope at a moment like this that all you can think about is how much you genuinely care about this person. How much you love them from the depths of your soul. Without question you know that you will be there. You will help them. Even if it tests your patience, your sanity, and your ability to see past the flaws in yourself and them.

Sometimes you are put in the middle of someone's path for a reason. You may not understand why, but it is there, hidden just outside of view.

Sometimes these moments will give you (seemingly) nothing in return. Please, guys, listen to your mom when I say do it anyway.

Sometimes through your dedication this person gains so much more than they had. Even if your role is minute in their outcome, a piece nearly unrecognizable in the panaromic view of their life. Do it anyway.

Even when they walk away after and never speak to you again. Revisit why you said yes. Rethink the place you were in. The genuine love and desire to help and do it anyway.

Never second guess the role you play in someone else's life when the part your playing grows from the goodness in your heart. You cannot go wrong when you begin with pure intentions.

If events unfold and this person fades away, it's okay. You didn't get involved to reap the benefits. If you were expecting something in return then that is a reflection on your character, not theirs.

Find comfort in knowing that when someone needed you, you were there. There are so few people left in this world who think of others before themselves. Be the ones who do good solely because it is the right thing to do.

I promise you, you will love yourself so much more for it.

All of this can be said for people you don't know, too. Help that woman trying to console a screaming toddler who just dropped an entire bag of groceries on the parking lot pavement. Rush to open the door for the elderly couple barely standing upright with the support of their walkers. Stand up for that kid, that adult, that animal, being bullied.

Do it and you will feel your heart grow. You will sense a lightness in your step and your goodness will touch the lives of those fortunate enough to witness your act of selflessness.

It is so easy to give into comfort. So easy to turn your back on someone because it seems as if their drama; their problems; their situations will be an inconvenience to you. Don't be that person. Don't give into the negative kiddos. You are so much more than that.

I pray that I instill a compassion in you so big that it lights a fire under your ass anytime you see someone being selfish and cruel. I pray that I give you a good enough example of how a person with a good heart behaves that it touches the lives of every person you ever meet.

While you may have had a summer vacation, and I may have pretty much taken the summer off of writing for this blog. There is no vacation from truly learning all life has to offer. Lessons come at you at every turn. When the last thing you can think about doing is turning and welcoming these lessons with open arms.... Please. Do it anyway.

All my love,
Mama

My Hope For You

In two short months three of my children will be celebrating birthdays. In three we will be adding our final family member. How is it possible to feel so much joy and sadness all at the same time?

Each year I notice more and more that time seems to be moving faster. Soon summer mornings will be filled with my voice urging you to get out of bed. Making breakfast will become a thing of the past since I'm sure I'll be lucky to have any of you up before noon.

Days spent annoyed because I'm answering a seemingly endless stream of questions will be filled with the longing of getting you to speak to me without an eye roll and a shrug of your shoulders. Dolls will be replaced with ipods; imaginary tea parties with bickering about your sisters not staying out of your clothes; legos with phones; and cartoons with music videos.

You are growing up my loves. More independent every day. Nap time has become chill time for all of you but one, and soon that peaceful quiet time of my day will be gone altogether. You'll want to leave to visit friends or to hang out at the park. My heart will ache and I'll hold back a tear for the babies who are long since grown.

With your advancing years will come new struggles and challenges. Both for you and for your father and me. Our parenting mottos will change and we'll have to scramble to figure out the new set of tears flowing down your sweet faces. We'll have to control our desire to deck the first boy or girl who breaks your heart. Or bite our tongues when we hear your anger at your current "bestie" because of the malicious and untrue rumors that they have started.

We will have to learn how to guide your self image so no matter what your peers say, you always see how beautiful and special that you are. Right now, my loves, you are still so young and impressionable. It pains me to admit how scared I am of the years to come.

How someone like me can raise you to be confident in your skin; respectful to all you encounter through life; and motivated to reach your fullest potential. Someone like me, who cared way too much about the opinions of others. Who ignored and disobeyed my own parents at every turn. Who never embraced the opportunities I had in front of me.

But, I carry on. I do it because I hope for you. I have hope that our constant reminders of your intelligence, your confidence, your beauty, your wonderful little hearts, will always be ringing in the back of your minds. When the doubters come to you. When you face the people who refuse to see what's inside of you. I have hope for you.

My hope for you will outlast my body kiddos. It'll be there when you are old and gray and having your own hope for your children. My hope for you will surround you on your worst days. When you can no longer hear my voice urging you on, you can read my words and feel them touch your heart.

My hope for you is never ending. My hope for you will endure even the darkest moments of your lives. The moments when your judgement lapses and you've hit rock bottom. My hope for you will help raise you up because you will know that I don't expect perfection. My hope for you is that you live your life always staying true to yourself. My hope for you is that you find your joy in life and ride it through the rest of your days.

My hope for you is to know that you will always be my babies. Even when your skin begins to wrinkle and your hair takes on a silvery hue. When your eyesight weakens and your body starts to give. My hope for you is you never forget you are the most beautiful gifts in my life.

Why Size Really Doesn't Matter

My favorite mommy blogger has been known on several occasions to post that any amount of kids is a lot of kids. I couldn't agree more with this observation.

It seems like no matter how many children I have welcomed into this world, my hands have somehow always remained full. Each time I was convinced that I couldn't do it again, I have surprised myself with my flexibility.

I'm a part of a pregnancy group on Facebook and have repeatedly seen the conversation come up to whether or not the women in the group are finished after this baby, or if they plan to have more. It's pretty enlightening reading the comments about how many kids these families have and their reasoning behind being finished. Some moms are content with two, some are currently cooking number six and still remain undecided.

The biggest thing I commend these women on are their abilities to not look down their noses at the women who have accepted that they don't want a large family. The ones who have realized they are stretched thin enough with the one, two, or three that their family currently have.

Which brings me back to the statement that any amount of kids is in fact, a lot of kids.

With my personal circumstances I always knew I wanted a large family. Being around kids a lot in my youth I felt confident in my ability to maintain composure in the face of the chaos that comes with them. I have since learned that I am definitely equipped to handle the Brady Bunch of children I have, but maintaining composure is a feat that I need to cut myself some slack on. No parent is perfect and that's okay.

Truth is, my hands were full when it was just me and my son. I lost my cool a lot with his energetic self. He has a personality that is go, go, go all of the time. So I can completely understand those who have decided that their one child is enough for them.

My hands became slightly more full when my second daughter came. Her personality being the complete opposite of her big brother gave me confidence that maybe I was figuring this whole mom gig out better than originally thought.

Then naturally with each additional child I grew in my understanding of motherhood and realized how much each kid's individual personality affected that. I had my doubts about what I could handle, but for the most part believe I've done a pretty good job of rolling with the punches. I started to question if there ever would be a number that I would deem "too many" for our family.

I know scary thought right?

Well good news, this mother has definitely reached her limit. Not in the sense of finally realizing that there are too many to handle, but because I know how thin I can be stretched before my older children start to lose the individual attention that they deserve.

Every child deserves to feel special to their parents. They each deserve an equal amount of one on one time so they can create memories with their mom and their dad unique to that of their siblings. My younger children will never get what my oldest has. Four years of just him and me. Four years of creating a very special bond.

Six kids, is enough. Too many for some, too few for others. Determining which side you see for that is solely based on individual preferences and I, for one, celebrate that.

I will never be a mom who hears a mother of two (or even one) venting about the stressfulness of motherhood with a condescending stare down of "imagine having six." Mama... You do have your hands full and I'm here if you need an ear to let those frustrations out!

One person's struggle will always be another's walk in the park, but that doesn't mean that we should spend that stroll judging each other.

I sometimes see or hear comments made by mothers expressing how they just knew two children was the right amount for them. Being human, I get a fleeting feeling of self consciousness about what these women must think of a family like mine.

In reality, these women are doing what is best for their family, and their opinion holds no merit in what is best for mine. I wouldn't trade the blessing of my six children for any amount of sanity or free time in the world. They are worth it a million times over.

So, yes six kids is a lot of kids. But one, two, five, ten, nineteen are all a lot as well. Kids are the most (and best) work you'll ever put in in life. Embrace what you can handle and never let anyone make you feel like your hands aren't full. Household size is a subjective endeavor when discussing how many are too many. Stick with what works for you!

Because One Time I Almost Lost

Today I want to talk about something difficult. Something that very few people know about me. Something I've kept silent on for a long time for fear that my weakness would be exposed and that I may be looked at or treated differently.

I'm sharing this with you today because I need to. I need you to know you aren't alone. As alone as I felt. I need you to know that there is hope. That you matter.

Many years ago, I was lost. Constantly surrounded by people, but always alone. There was a darkness in me that I couldn't hide from and trust me I tried. I spent everyday drinking and smoking this darkness away. Trying to mask it's devastating affects with the help of little blue pills.

One day it almost won. One day I had decided I had had enough. My best friend was dating the person I was in love with. I had dated him for two and a half years before he broke up with me to date not only her, but my other best friend as well. 
He was dangling our "love" on a string trailing it behind him for six months after he ended it. Seeing them but seeing me too.

I was young I know. Naive and stupid. Not really sure what real love is. But I felt something so strong for him that it made me blind to what was happening.

Everyday I went to school I was high. 
I couldn't sit still in class from the uppers I was taking. If it weren't for the colored contacts I wore I'll bet my teachers would have caught on. My pupils took over my eyes. The artificial coloring helped mask the craziness that anyone would see if they had actually been looking. 

It was a cold day in January. A fight between me and this man pushed me past anything I could've ever imagined I'd feel. I sat in my bedroom. Music blaring, tears flowing.

So I tried.

I couldn't tell you how many pills I took. Or how long the belt was tied around my throat. I can't remember how long I laid there before I came to. I can't describe the hopelessness I felt. I was a failure at love. A failure to myself. And now a failure at finding a release.

I was more lost than ever. How would I ever explain to my mother where the marks on my neck came from?

She never even noticed.

I spent the next couple of weeks letting loose. I went wild. Nothing left to lose I no longer cared about anything.

Two weeks after my failed attempt I got so wasted I lost an entire weekend. To this day the stories people tell me still don't register in my memory. I don't remember anything past the alcohol, past snorting the klonopins, past making it to my house with a handful of friends.

I woke up two days later to my mother standing over me. Telling me I wasn't going to spend another day in bed. Then she was gone.

Two days later my life changed.

Two days later I found out I was pregnant.

Fear isn't even the word I would use to describe how I felt. The guilt for everything that I had done washed over me in an instant. What had I done?

It was in that moment where my failed attempt at release started to make sense. It was my first step in my journey towards God.

To say I was fully reformed would be a lie. While my battle with drugs and alcohol was over in that instant, I was still at war with this feeling of hopelessness and despair. Probably more so without their numbing release. 

My son helped me through the thick of it, and I had a temporary bandaid-like fix because my pregnancy brought me and his father back together. Which at the time, I thought was the only reason I was feeling the way that I was. Looking back, however, it's clear to me I was in a volatile relationship. We brought out the worst in each other. I had no filter when I saw red and everyone knew it. He was a master at getting me to that point.

Two years five months after my failed attempt I found myself at yet another low point. After enduring so much negativity in my life. Everyday we fought. Everyday I heard that I was a terrible person and a terrible mother. He was still chasing my best friend. I sat back and watched. Believing that this was all that was meant for me. Believing that I indeed deserved the treatment he gave me. Believing I wasn't a good mother.

It was June. My son wasn't quite two. His dad told me he was going fishing with our friends. That I wasn't allowed to go even though all of my friends were going as well. A fight ensued to the point where the police were called.

He went fishing, I called his brother to see if he could take our son. Which he gladly did. I was devasted. Swirling in the darkness once more. Lost. Alone.

I sat staring at a cup of bleach. Bawling. I wrote out a long letter to my son. Begging him for forgiveness. I'm sure if I looked hard enough I probably still have this note somewhere.

I gathered every bit of courage I had and raised the glass to my lips.

" Please forgive me."

There was a knock on my door.

It was my mom coming to see if I was ok. I told her I was, but I just needed to be alone and I sent her on her way. It took me nearly thirty minutes to gather up the courage to bring that cup to my lips again.

"I love you Damian."

There's another knock at the door. My son and his uncle.

I dumped the glass and put it away and opened the door.

I found God that day.

While many would brush this off to coincidence, I can't.  I can't believe that a coincidence would knock on my door at the precise moment I'm ready to succumb to the darkness. Not just once but twice.

I can't believe a coincidence would allow me to just wake up that moment two and half years ago and walk away with only a few marks on my neck and a massive headache.

My life didn't change overnight, but my heart did. I stayed with him for a couple more years. Trying to make it work for our son. Believing it could. It couldn't.

Now looking back I see that every rough spot I went through, I went through for a reason. I had to believe my life was worth something. Even if I couldn't measure it in my own mind. God wanted me here.

If I would have succeeded at least two lives would have been forever changed. Four lives wouldn't have even came into existence. I wouldn't have been able to share this with you.

I would like to believe that my life has touched many others in the eight years since. That I have made a profound difference to at least one other person. I believe with one hundred percent of my being that God put me here because I am needed.

You are too. You may not be able to see it right now. You may be lost and scared like I was. You aren't alone, I promise. You matter to more people than you realize and you owe it to yourself to reach out to them. Some choices can't be unmade, but they can always be worked through together.

If you're having trouble talking to someone you know, the suicide prevention hotline is available 24/7. 
1-800-273-8255

Only You Can Determine Your Self Worth

Small confession before I begin this post. I do not feel fully confident in giving relationship and/or marriage advice. Not because I don't feel like I have an amazing marriage, but because I don't feel like we have put in the time it takes to make one qualified to say.

That being said, I have to get my thoughts out here. I have been in two major relationships in my life and they were like night and day.

My first relationship lasted from 2001 until 2008. He was a few years older and I was incredibly young. The premise of every parents nightmare really. My parents were otherwise occupied with work and their own marital problems though, and being the youngest of four children I got pretty good at sneaking around.

I look back at that relationship and the only question I ask myself is why?

Not why did I date him; not why did I try to grow up so fast; not why didn't my parents stop me; but why didn't I stand up for myself?

I was not perfect or without blame in the Hell that was our relationship. I was a teenage girl. For those who know what that's like to be or live with, I'll bet you're nodding in understanding right now.

To say I was bipolar and crazed would be an understatement. We fought from day one. We didn't care where we were or who was around, we fought. I wouldn't leave him alone either. That was a huge mistake on my part, but it was like this uncontrollable magnetic charge that completely prevented me from letting him walk away from me.

Sure, he was mean. I remember it vividly. He said horrible things that he knew would cut me deep. However, he always managed to do it in such a controlled way that no matter what I was left to look like the psycho. People I thought were my friends began making me and his relationship the center of their conversations. Never knowing both sides of the story or seeing the insane things he'd do to me.

We split briefly in 2003 for what I thought was his chance to gain custody of his son. It turned out to be six months of him and I not officially being in a relationship so he could date not one, but two of my best friends. All the while still seeing me in secret. Yeah... It's honestly embarrassing to admit.

This is what happens when you are a little girl trying to pretend you're an adult. A fifteen year old has no business chasing after an eighteen year old with a two year old son. But there I went, heart on my sleeve, running as fast as I could.

Life changed quick when I got pregnant and had our son in 2004. The foolishness of him chasing both my friends dwindled down to just one. Bonus, he was nice enough to only occasionally do it in front of me. Lucky me.

He moved in with me when I was six months pregnant. Me with this naive notion that all of our problems would disappear once we were living together and our son was here. Instead I was left with the choice that he could leave during the day or he could leave at night, but he was going to leave one way or another every single day.

I look back and I think about every opportunity I had to say No. This is not how you are going to treat me. And how many times I just didn't. It took me so long to realize that I did deserve better. No matter what anyone else thought.

I didn't stand up for myself until 2007, when my best friend and I moved in together. Looking at him and telling him I was moving out was one of the most freeing moments of my life. I had waited six years for him to show me that I was worth fighting for. He did... For two months. Long enough for him to move in to my new place and then we went straight back to where we were. Hearing cunt more than Megan.

The worst part of all of it and what eventually brought me to my senses was all of this; every fight, every push, every name that was called, random thing that was thrown; it all happened in front of our little boy. That poor innocent child that had no say in what was going on.

Our final split and my eye opening transformation came in 2008. I went through a huge life change and our relationship ended as it was meant to. All of that year was spent figuring myself out. Reflecting over the idiotic mistakes of an inexperienced and impressionable teen girl.

I spent all of my teenage life trying to skip it. I didn't realize it until those years were over, but it is exactly what I did. The summer I turned thirteen and gained the tiniest bit of freedom I was immediately drawn to kids three to four years my senior. I immediately acted like I was grown instead of embracing all that was in front of me as a kid.

My first boyfriend turned into a seven year relationship that produced my first child. I know that everything was meant to happen that way because my son changed my life, but I can't help but feel cheated out of my last five years of childhood. I unknowingly cheated myself and it is a regret I hope to prevent my own kids from repeating.

The one major thing I have going for me with this goal is being with a man who is the complete opposite of my ex. Our relationship started with me knowing exactly what I wanted and how I expected to be treated. It started with a let's see how this goes type of attitude. We both had just ended major relationships within the last few months and we were in no hurry to jump into another.

Alex and I had known each other years before, being neighborhood friends at age five. Our hometown is unique in the sense of being very small, but divided in half by the Indiana-Ohio state line. For the first three years of him living in our town he lived with his Aunt at the end of the alley behind my house. We spent a lot of time playing together before he moved across town and went to the other school.

My mom was a consultant of sorts for the few years he lived close. His mom and aunts loved the home decor she sold so I spent a lot of time coming with her to the parties they'd throw. During this time Alex and I grew very fond of each other and little did I know then that we both had developed our first little crush.

We lost touch once his family settled into their new home. Only to be reunited twelve years later through the power of the internet.

I knew from our first conversation that he was different. Everything felt natural. He asked for my number and when I gave it to him I said you can call now if you want. Being the ass that he is, he responded with something to the effect of whoa now let's not rush things. I was embarrassed to say the least and let it be known. He called and apologized saying that it had been a joke.

That was my first taste of how our relationship would go. Never being able to be mad at him because he can always make me laugh.

We spent the first three months testing the waters. Spending late night hours watching corny movies and eating pizza rolls and tator tots. Not wanting outside interference or to confuse my kids we didn't spend anytime together during the day. No one knew who the person was making each one of us happy. Though everyone spent many weeks trying to guess.

I know now that that is exactly what we should have done and I'm so grateful we did. By keeping our budding romance to ourselves we gave us a real shot. We got to know one another. We got to talk about what hurt us in the past and what we didn't want for our future. We got to have our space to remember that we still needed it. We spent time together because we wanted to not because we had to.

Sure no relationship is without its downsides. We are not perfect all of the time. We do have to put work into us and the problems that we have. The difference between this relationship and my last though is overwhelming.

My husband never calls me the c word. Ever. In fact, I could probably count on one hand the amount of times he has called me a bitch and we've been together for six years. His biggest flaw in our arguments really is the amount of effort it takes to get him to talk at all. His response usually being I just don't know what to say or I don't want to make it worse.

We didn't even have a "real" fight until about six months into seeing each other and our second came probably six months after that. We bickered and disagreed sure. Still do a lot, but it is easy (for the most part) to talk it through and move on. We both remember what is it we want and that is each other.

It's effortless to love him and I have never once thought to myself that I don't think I can spend the rest of my life with him. We've never publicly blown up at one another or disrespected each other outwardly. We are playful towards one another and tease each other all the time. We are united in all things that we do. We remind each other daily that we're in this for the long haul. We have a forever kind of love.

Alex knows how to treat a woman. He tells me everyday that I am beautiful. Everyday he gets up and works hard so I can be home with our kids. Every day he comes up to me wraps his arms around my waist and whispers I love you in my ear. Everyday.

He has his faults and I have mine, but together we bring out the best in one another. That's how I know that we have a relationship worth fighting for. When I got with him I told myself I would never again allow a man to make me feel worthless. Never again allow a man to tell me that I didn't deserve to be treated well. That I wasn't worth spending time with.

Alex has never made me have to remind myself of those things. He has never put me down. This is why I ask myself why I put up with it for so long with my ex. How I could have allowed someone to tell me I was a horrible mother and person. I remember so many hurtful things he said and did to me and I remember so many times I cried and told him I would change. The mere fact that I considered even once being the person who needed to change in that relationship makes me ashamed of myself.

Sure, I did need to change, but not in any way that he told me I needed to. I needed to change by becoming a stronger woman. Being someone who developed a damn backbone.

The hardest part was convincing myself that I would survive without him. That I was worth so much more than what he tried to make me believe I was. Years of being told I wasn't good enough or any other person who I tried to get with would treat me the same made it nearly impossible. Once I did though there was no turning back.

I found out that being alone wasn't the worst thing that could happen. That year I spent being a single mom was the best gift I could've given my children. They got to see their mom transform from a doormat to an independent happy woman. I gave them the opportunity to grow up in an environment free from watching their mom suffer from mental and emotional abuse.

My kids get to see what it's like to have parents who love each other more than life. Who are more than just a husband and wife, but are best friends. Who laugh together and bicker; who are affectionate and childish; who respect one another and give each other space. It's an amazing feeling.

We are still very much in the early years of our marriage. I have several years ahead of me before I feel like I can begin sharing the secrets of what it takes to make it a success. I just wanted to take the time right now though to say that I know what it feels like to feel defeated in love. To wonder if there really is a man out there for me. One that won't make me feel like something's wrong with me and instead make it feel like my whole world has split wide open and all the possibilities are poring out in front of us.

I want anyone reading this right now who feels even the slightest bit relatable to know that the only person standing in the way of your happiness right now is you. I don't say it to be mean, I don't say it to make you feel bad about yourself, I say it because you need to hear it. Being alone is terrifying, but being with someone who doesn't treat you like the incredible person that you are is by far the worst thing you can do to yourself.

You have to sit back and take a long hard look in the mirror. Do you know what you deserve? Because I do.

You, my dear, deserve the world. Please, don't let anyone make you feel like you don't.