We Didn’t Define It as Love, We Just Were. {poetry}
You were never my destiny perhaps, but for days I lay with you, and your love made revelations beyond any marriage or long-term commitment.
Browsing Tag:
marriage
An Open Letter to My Ex-Husband on What Would Have Been Our 10-Year Wedding Anniversary.
I choose to live in the unfolding... I see through my own conditioned responses: I disentangle. And I do so, broken open, as joyously as I can.
Love Isn’t Complicity With Racist/Sexist Systems.
When you see people out there getting MAD AF in 2020, don't shrink away, enlighten yourself enough to see it as the truest expression of unconditional love.
Taking a Chance for Myself After Years of Marriage.
My sisters and I watched it for years. It made us angry, so we chose emotionally damaged boy/men at early ages. They divorced theirs. I stayed. And left.
14 Ways to Create a Lasting Marriage.
I never thought I’d be married, or have children, and sometimes it still surprises me. But we just celebrated our twelfth anniversary, 16 years as a couple, and are happier and stronger than ever. I feel incredibly lucky that we met. With that initial luck, conscious creation, and ...
Moving On: The Harsh Paves the Way for Beauty.
We have to be willing to take it all. To know that we can survive the harsh, and that it paves the way for even more beauty.
A Moment in My Marriage.
Our marriage has always been a safe haven even when the projections were sky-high from both of us, but now it’s mostly a playground of joy and harmony.
Commit, Or Leave: The Art Of Long-Term Commitment.
The texture of commitment hasn’t been a grandiose cinematic score. Daily, it feels more like a Bach Suite -- sweet, rhythmic, flowing, precise, simple.
Sixty, Sexy and Sensual: On Peeling Away Silly Notions.
And as I was attempting to teach him the sophistication of Kama Sutra, he showed me, for the first time, sex in its most basic form.
Fear Prevents Us from Speaking Our Truth: Reflections During Pregnancy.
It’s... Fear, sitting in his dark corner with a smirk, twisting his mustache and rubbing his hands together, plotting our paralysis.