Georgia

Hello, Georgia! I’m settling in to life here and wake up each day grateful for the opportunity to make this move.

This move has been on my heart since May, 2019. Austin received orders to Moody Air Force Base mid-May and my heart dropped at the news. He immediately said that he would like me to join him when he moved, which brought mixed feelings. I was flattered but also knew it was early in the relationship for such a big decision. I’d also renewed my teaching contract months before for the upcoming school year. So I decided to spend the next year prayerfully discerning the move.

 Fast forward to now and I’ve made the giant leap. One of my greatest anxieties came from what to do for work. I couldn’t leave my work without some sort of income.

I wasn’t comfortable going into a teaching position without experiencing the culture of the school and knowing it was the right fit for all. My initial plan was to substitute teach for the year. However, the complication of the pandemic and virtual, hybrid, and in-person instruction variables changing frequently, I realized that it was best to set that aside as well. I spent months praying for God to place me where He wanted me. Each day closer to my final paycheck made my anxiety levels rise.

Once again, God came through and proved that He has a plan. I stumbled upon the opportunity to nanny (which I’ve done several times before) for this school year. I’m able to use my experience of teaching preschool and pre-k and love it! The situation has been exactly what I needed. I started working on the day my final paycheck came through from teaching. God is good!

Moving during a pandemic has proven to be a challenge in meeting people and exploring a new city. I have been able to meet a couple women and have at least driven around to see what places I’d like to try out.

So far, the biggest adjustment has been transitioning to a new parish. There is only ONE Catholic church in town and trying to find Catholic young adult events hasn’t been easy. Just this week, I finally stumbled into a Blessed is She women’s group at church. I popped in during the virtual meeting on Thursday and am so thankful to have some sort of parish tie and way of meeting people.

I also had the opportunity to drive with Austin to visit his family in Kentucky over Thanksgiving. He takes leave each November to hunt and see his family. Since we would be distanced from others, we went ahead with the trip. I brought Tucker and Maddie with me and he took Aspen.

The trip was so so good. Though we didn’t get to make all the stops he would have liked due to Covid, the visit exceeded my expectations.

(post in progress)

Saying Goodbye

After six years, I said goodbye to my first house. It didn’t quite end the way I’d planned. My dream was to fill it with children, with family, and with great memories. And there were some.

My goodbye was short. It was difficult but I prepared well.

My therapist once told me a story. She said that she likes to go to estate sales or garage and sales and purchase plates. She does her own therapy at home when she needs it by taking the plates, bowls, etc. and smashing them. She talked about the release of it and I tucked that idea away. Well, this move was a perfect time to try it out.

Moving from this house, I was leaving behind a lot. I was saying goodbye to some terrible memories and beginning a fresh start elsewhere. I wanted a way to make those goodbyes tangible.

So, I took a plate. The plate alone had significance. It was gifted to me at my bridal shower and was to be used for breakfast in bed. The gifter has a family tradition of bringing breakfast in bed to each family member on their birthday or special day of some kind. The whole family brings the meal to the person and sits on his/her bed. I loved this idea and dreamt of doing it with my own family. But it didn’t happen. The promise to carry on this special tradition fell by the wayside along with many other unfulfilled promises. This plate became a reminder of those.

I sat down on my last night in the house and wrote down the things I was saying goodbye to upon leaving the house the following day. Nothing fancy. Originally, I tried to toss the plate into my fire pit. However, it turned out to be fairly sturdy. So I removed it, geared up, bagged it, and took a hammer to it. No crazy screams or anything like in tv. But still, the experience was cathartic. When I finished, I took the bag of shattered pieces, and tossed it out the front porch to be disposed of with the other trash.

The following day, I climbed into a 26’ truck and closed that chapter.

The new chapter is a beautiful one. It will have a new plate. And this time, it will be used.

Final thoughts:

Healing is a process. There is no “get over it”. If there’s a death in someone’s family, there’s grieving. Somehow affairs, abuse, addictions, and desertion are expected to be kept quiet. And that’s of not help to someone going through it.

 I’ve been blessed by those that have reached out while going through similar experiences. If you’re going through it, please find someone to lean on. This is one of the loneliest roads and no one should go through it alone. I promise that it will get better.

Boxes

 Here I am, sitting in my living room, surrounded by boxes, bubble wrap, and miscellaneous items waiting to be packed. The room perfectly illustrates my brain right now. Clutter. I have so many things to do that I’m currently avoiding. Instead, I’m sitting in my chair, looking out at the sunset, listening to the cicadas, or locusts, if  they’re not the same thing. The buzzing.

As I pack, memories flood through. When looking at A home to buy, I remember driving by this one and seeing all the things on my checklist for my first house: a Wood burning fireplace, an attached two car garage, a security system, beautiful windows and tons of natural light (even French doors!), laundry on the first floor, this amazing storage room in the basement with built in shelves, two full baths and a double vanity in the master bath, and so much more.

But I saw this house after falling in love with another one. It was several blocks away. By the time we went to look at it, the realtor got a call saying it was under contract. I was devastated. I knew it was the house I wanted.

But I gave it some time. And this house fell into my lap. It had everything I wanted. It had a yard without painful stickers for my dog to play. I just needed to be patient.

How appropriate that I’ve seen this paralleled in my life in other ways.

This move has been a long time coming. It’s been part of the journey. When everything happened, I went from married almost six years to a civil annulment in under three months. I couldn’t process the drastic shift. Things weren’t okay for years. But this was yet another blow I absolutely never saw coming.

My life had been turned upside down over summer “vacation” and I didn’t know which way was up. I needed to hold on to anything that felt stable. And that was my home. The home I loved. I remember crying (which was my new hobby) and telling my dad I didn’t know how I could continue. He told me that we were a team. He mowed the huge yard, let my dogs out During his lunch break while I was at work, and dropped little snacks by occasionally. And this house was there.

Over the last year, my heart has been drifting, growing. I didn’t need the house to stabilize me. I’d made it out of the worst part and I survived. It became a lot of house for one person and her adorable dogs. Part of the healing process is stepping away from this home and the memories.

Every piece of furniture has a memory. Every room. And it’s time for new memories.

This house has been there for the highest of highs. I closed on the house the same week I started at St. Catherine’s. I loved having a place of my own. I loved making it home. I enjoyed painting trim for all of 3 days and then came to my senses. I hosted bridal showers, surprise parties, Friendsgivings, Thanksgiving for my extended family . . .

This house has also been there for the lowest of lows. The deepest hurts, the scariest times. The living room floor was my go-to where I’d cry on my knees and pray the most sincere prayers of my life.

There are six years of memories in this house. And I’m ready to make some new ones.

And so, one box at a time, I pack up and prepare for the future and the life that awaits.

Scars

What a road it has been. A broken road. At times, the loneliest road. And each day, I've made it further.

2017-2018 were the years that my world crumbled. The blows kept coming and I didn't know how much I could physically, emotionally, and mentally take.

"Come, let us rebuild..." -Nehemiah 2:17

And boy, have we.

The biggest disappointments and devastations have, and continue to be made beautiful.

God's hand has been there the entire way.

The song "Scars" by I Am They came flooding over me weeks ago. I replayed it repeatedly, praying and praising the words. I've said that God often speaks to me through music. And I love using music to be the words I pray.

Waking up to a new sunrise
Looking back from the other side
I can see now with open eyes
Darkest water and deepest pain
I wouldn't trade it for anything
'Cause my brokenness brought me to You 
And these wounds are a story You'll use


Looking back, I can see that God was with me through the absolute deepest pain. I had nothing left to give. There were times when I couldn't find the words to pray. I just came to Him in all my brokenness.

So I'm thankful for the scars
'Cause without them I wouldn't know Your heart
And I know they'll always tell of who You are
So forever I am thankful for the scars


I can look back and truly thank God for those experiences. I wouldn't have the faith to completely rely on Him to carry me through. It wasn't until I had nothing that I gave Him all of me. It took my world falling apart to give Him complete control over my life.

Now I'm standing in confidence
With the strength of Your faithfulness
And I'm not who I was before
No, I don't have to fear anymore

In a million years, I couldn't fathom the story that would unfold. I have been forever changed. But I've also seen that "earth has no sorrow that Heaven can't heal" (Come As You Are-Crowder). And there's a peace in that.

I can see, I can see
How You delivered me
In Your hands, In Your feet
I found my victory

 I believe 100% that God rescued me from a situation that would have only escalated. He rescued me from more heartbreak.

I lived for years struggling with infertility. I thought it was my biggest burden. I cried out, begging for understanding. I praised Him for whatever it was that month that He saw that I didn't. I went through years of natural hormone therapies, and was prepared to visit the Pope Paul Institute after we'd exhausted all options locally.

Little did I know that He saw the big picture. He saw something each month that I didn't. And on the other side, I praise Him for that.

I stand in awe of how He has saved me. "He reached down from Heaven and rescued me." -Psalm 18:16


This post feels all over the place. But I've just had it on my heart. I never want to forget the beauty that comes from the ashes. Not because of anything I did, but because of Him.

And for that, I am thankful for the scars.

That's a Wrap on 2019

The holidays this year are a far cry from last year. Last year, it was all new. After several years of what I thought would be my life forever, I was hit in the face with a new reality. It was a reality I wasn't ready or very willing to embrace.

2018 was no doubt the most painful year of my life. As I wrote in January, I spent New Years Eve last year going to bed early and ready to finally close the book on 2018.

As we near the end of 2019 and I look back at this year, I am filled with gratitude. What a stark contrast it was to the year prior.

I no longer need my "One Day at a Time" playlist to get me through recess duties to keep me from breaking down at work. I don't spend my break in my classroom crying anymore.

God has placed people in my life that have been through similar traumas and serve as a support system. Learning that I'm not alone has been essential. Not only that, but God has brought people into my life who are going through similar struggles now and I am able to provide support for them. God has redeemed that suffering in my life and used it for good. I have been able to look at my piles of books from support groups and counseling and pass them on to someone else who needs them.

In July, two of my best friends, Megan and Shawn, had their first baby. Megan I met in 2011 through a mutual friend and became close instantly. She's a youth minister in Denver and at the time I was an adult Core Team member for my church's Lifeteen group. We both love Jesus, singing, and were former cheerleaders.

The week I came home any he was gone, Megan and Shawn made the drive from Denver to be with me. Shawn took down Christmas lights that were still on the house, helped with other things that needed to be done, and both provided much needed emotional support during that incredibly difficult time.

A few months ago, they called and told me they called and asked me to be the godmother to their sweet little Kelby. Cue tears. It was such a blessing to meet little Kelby James last month and take part in his Baptism. I may not have children of my own, but I sure do love my godchildren a ton.

What else in 2019? Oh, I can watch romantic movies again. This is huge! When he first left, my mom and I would watch movies/tv shows over the phone together (so I had company) and the list of "safe" content felt restrictive. I still get triggered by infidelity, abuse, and other things, but I can watch sappy movies once again and not ugly cry uncontrollably.

One thing I learned from 2018 is that I have worth that is God-given and there is no place in my life for anyone that doesn't recognize it. I've learned my nonnegotiables. I've learned that with faith, truly anything is possible: any pain can be overcome, any circumstance, any healing.

I've spent the year being okay with saying "no", focusing on self-care and knowing that it is most important (after faith) in order for everything else to fall into place.

And, what has been least expected, I've learned to accept love. I knew I was ready for new beginnings in 2019. When I woke up on January 1, I took a breath and started again. After weeks of dodging another awkward first date, I finally made solid plans for a quick meet up. I called my mom on the way and told her I'd surely be calling her soon. I didn't expect it to go well.

Not only did it go well, but we closed down two restaurants (everywhere closed early on New Years Day) and ended up talking outside after the second restaurant closed. At one point he told me he was terrible with remembering names. I asked if he remembered mine and without missing a beat, he said, "Of course I remember yours, Tonya." We both knew that day that we didn't want to date anyone else. We bonded over our love of board games, our love for faith and family, and our pickiness in food, among other things.

We both lost a grandmother early in the year. In May, he received orders to move from Kansas to Georgia. And in October, he made the cross-country move. However, I'm thankful that I will be able to visit over Christmas Break and spend both the first and last day of the 2019 year with him.

As we 2019 comes to a close, I'm hopeful and ready for what is to come in 2020.

A Year Later

A year ago, I shared the tiniest morsel of my story. The moment I did, things changed. I wrote that 

I would be called into question, that I worried I'd be cut out of the lives of others. And it happened. My integrity was called into question as a result of last year's share. I was called sinful by some. I think it's easier to attack someone speaking out than to stomach the reality sometimes. Some were asked to cut me out of their lives as a result. Most followed suit. And it hurt, deeply. 

But so much good came from it as well.

I can't begin to say the number of people that reached out as a result with stories to share. One person reached out and said that they felt they had been the offender is the situation and shared how eye-opening it had been to read. Another sent me police evidence photos of where their situation ended up, and stated that it started just as mine had.

I decided to share as a result of hearing of the death of a woman in town that was killed by abusive spouse. It was Domestic Violence Awareness Month and I was moved to share my experience. The only intent was to reach someone who needed to hear it. Abuse doesn't have to be strictly physical. And as someone in a situation that felt like a gray area, I found myself making excuses and allowing unacceptable, damaging behavior. I hate to think of anyone else feeling the same way, keeping quiet and carrying that load alone.

Almost a year later, the losses that came as a result still break my heart. But if this cautionary tale has reached one person, then I'm grateful.

Healing Process

My, how the lessons keep coming. It's such a process. That's why it's called a "healing process". There are many days when I need to remind myself of that.

I was recently at the doctor for my annual wellness exam and I talked about my anxiety. I've moved past the crying all day, every day that I initially experienced, praise God. When I said this, my doctor commented that I shouldn't be in that same place, that it's been a year. I should be better. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that he is a medical professional, not a mental health professional with expertise in betrayal trauma. He deals with physical medical symptoms of the body and the comment was not meant to offend. There's no way he could truly know the depth of this process.

One thing I've learned in my time in counseling is to give myself grace. Yes, I can carry on and continue to work, yes I can begin a relationship, yes it can look as if I've made it to the other side. In a sense, I have. I made it through the hardest days. But that doesn't mean that it's not still hard. The triggers still come. The feeling of loss for the family, for my niece and nephews still hurts my heart. And that's okay.

There is no time limit on the healing. And it's okay that it may not be understood by others. Or even by myself sometimes.

I remember my counselor saying how impressed she was last year that I managed to keep my job. She said that many women who have similar experiences end up losing their jobs because of the gravity of what they are dealing with. Keeping my job? I hadn't thought of that as a win until that point.

In the beginning, I was seeing my counselor three days a week just to keep going. One appointment, I sat in the waiting room staring at the clock. Tears welled up in my eyes and I looked at the seconds ticking by. It was three minutes over when I was supposed to start my appointment. It took everything in me to not completely lose it in that waiting room.

Recently I sat down reread some of my journal entries and blog posts from last year. My journal was full of prayers begging God to just carry me through the next moment, hour, and day. The pain felt so unbearable, I lived to make it to the next moment.

Reading the words my heart spoke in those times filled me with gratitude and humility, as well as pride. Is that possible? To be filled with humility and pride? I know 100% that I wouldn't have been able to make it through those days without God carrying me, even dragging me at times. And I felt...feel so stinkin' proud of myself for continuing to push through and rely on my faith to get me through those times.

When I share my story, it doesn't sound real. If I didn't live it, I don't think I would believe it. Hearing myself speak the words makes me stop and praise God for His Goodness.

Each day generally gets better. With anything, there are moments that come and I work through them. And I've learned not to put a time limit on myself.

Just keep swimming.

New Life

Yesterday was the first Easter. It was a far cry from last Easter and for that I am forever grateful.

On Easter we celebrate Christ's resurrection and new life in Him. This year the "new life" part rang incredibly true to my heart and it was beautiful. New life can be scary. Change and the unknown can be scary. But stepping into a new life with faith and confidence in His plan are what make the difference. Knowing He can and will carry me through bring peace.

For the first time, we cooked an Easter meal, no parents. What?! I realize that at almost 31 it was time. Not to say it was a fully cooked meal from scratch. But there was ham, mashed potatoes, cornbread, and green beans. Throughout the day I stopped to just thank God, not only for His Son's resurrection, but for that new life I have. Praise You, Jesus, for delivering me. Praise You for keeping your promise to carry me through.

My prayer is that my heart will always remember this Easter and the joy and gratitude I've felt.

Happy Easter!

A Milestone

I woke up today with praise on my lips. 

Praise You, God. Praise You, Jesus. Praise You. Thank You for carrying me through, for never giving up on me.

These were the only words I could get out. Over and over I spoke them.

Then I spent some time in His Word. Some of the verses that have carried me through the past year. Verses I needed a year ago. (I was gifted a Blessed Is She daily encouraging verses, which is where these have come from)

“He does great things beyond our knowing.” – Job 37:5

“Do not fear, beloved.” -Daniel 10:19

“I will hope in Him.” -Lamentations 3:24

“Call to me and I will give answer you.” -Jeremiah 33:3

“Let us fall into the hands of the Lord.” -Sirach 2:18

“Abide with him.” – Wisdom 3:9

“Deep waters cannot quench love.” -Song of Songs 8:7

“Give me your heart.”-Proverbs 23:26

“‘Come,’says my heart, ‘seek his face.’”–Psalm 27:8

“Hope in the Lord.” – 2 Maccabees 7:20

“The battle is not yours but God’s.” –2 Chronicles 20:15

“He is good.” –Ezra 3:11

“Walk in my ways.” –1 Kings 3:14

“He rescued me because he loves me.” –2 Samuel 22:20

"You are safe. Do not fear.” –Judges 6:23

“I will be with you.” –Joshua 1:5

“The lord set his heart on you.” -Deuteronomy 7:7

A year ago I was filled with questions for God. A devastating blow shook me to my core. I spent time telling Him I didn't know the purpose but begged for the faith to make it through. I had no idea how much my faith would be tested in the coming months...and throughout the next year.

But He is faithful. Oh, how He is faithful.

I look back at the tears, the times I asked God what I was meant to learn in all of this. And today I see. I see that He was saving me. He was carrying me through it all.

There are times and situations that are out of our hands. Devastations and interruptions are a part of life that expose the brokenness in our world.

If you're in one of those moments right now, I beg you to hold on. Hold on with all that you have. The sun will shine again, you'll smile again. It may be days, months, or longer. But I promise you, there is hope.

Today, a year later, I have nothing but praise on my lips. Praise for the place I am at now that a year ago I couldn't fathom.

My prayer today is for strength, perseverance, and peace to those struggling to make it through the roughest days.

“Come, let us rebuild.” -Nehemiah 2:17

New Year, New Beginnings

Each January 1, people focus on the beginning of a new year. It's a time to start fresh, try new things, or rid oneself of poor habits. A fresh start was exactly what I was looking forward to this year. This time, it would be on my own terms.

On December 31, I was ready. Ready in a different way. In the past, I've been ready for the exciting things of the new year as I remember the fond memories of the year prior.

Though there was good in 2018, much of the good was overshadowed by what was the most difficult year I've lived. I felt blindsided by life in 2018. Shortchanged and left to pick up the pieces of what was left. These were memories I didn't want to remember fondly on December 31. As the day loomed, I couldn't get excited about a celebration. I was just ready to wake up to a new year. Though I'd spent months working through those pieces I was...am picking up, the day just loomed over me.

I wish I could say I was more gracious in this moment. There have been times when I have been. Overall, I've begun to see the beauty. I see that God has rescued me from what I thought I wanted. I'm still in that 40 years of wandering in the desert (though hopefully not that long). Preparing for the end of the year couldn't come soon enough.

I couldn't get myself to want to go out or be with friends. I resolved to spend the evening at home just like any other night. I was just ready to the chapter to close and a new one to begin. I don't think I even made it to 11:00 before falling asleep.

And then, it was over. The year. It was only a moment in time that changed, and I was still just as me as the night prior. But I was able to finally say "Last year...." with those memories rather than referring to the number of months. The words "last year" brought peace. It was a reminder of that chapter closing. I woke up on January 1 ready for a new beginning. I didn't know what it would be or really if it would be any different than any other day. But I was ready.

This year, I didn't make a resolution to go to the gym more frequently, or pick up a new hobby, or anything like I've done in the past. My resolution is to just love me, to make me a priority, to hold onto my worth, to continue to heal and put my faith in Him each day. To open my heart to whatever life has in store for me.

My resolution wasn't a conscious one that I made, but a change that has taken months to embrace. Bible study, a support system that has been there every step of the way, spiritual direction, groups, counseling, and faith. Without any one of these, I couldn't be where I am.

This year, I have a new appreciation for new beginnings. I have faith that good is unfolding and I need only praise God for the new day and the new year.

My hope and prayer is that your year is the best one yet.

        "Behold, I make all things new." -Revelation 21:5

One Ornament

Raw is a word that I've used to describe myself. I've shared my struggles to conceive, I've shared life challenges, mistakes, and growths to teens at youth group, and am just an open person. My perspective is that maybe my story will hit someone and help them in some way. Never has a story I've shared gone without a person reaching out saying it's hit home in some way. I know I speak about things that others may not, but that's me. And any choice you make in life, you'll have a percentage of people that agree and support and a percentage that disagree and have strong opinions against. Life isn't about pleasing the masses; that's impossible.


I spoke about the difficulty I'm experiencing with the holidays. The newness, the traditions that I'm rewriting, the people I'm missing this year, the reopened wounds that were just beginning to heal. Well here comes another big one: Christmas.

I LOVE Christmas. I've been known to start Christmas music in my classroom after Halloween. I love Advent and reading the Advent calendar each day. I love the music, playing it on the piano, singing it at home, at work, in the car, and at Mass. I love the togetherness, the memories growing up, the get togethers with my huge Italian family, the time with my mom's side of the family in Colorado. I love preparing my heart and home for the birth of Christ. I love keeping Him hidden from the manger scene until Christmas Eve. I love the smell of my Fresh Balsam candle and cinnamon, the lights on the Christmas tree, the crisp air, the red and white candy cane stripes. I love reading "A Special Place for Santa" to my students to remind them that even Santa worships Our Lord. I just love the Advent and Christmas seasons.

And this year is different. Yes, I still love that I'm preparing for the birth of Our Lord. But the rest, it's just painful. Those feelings I felt back in May when this all "began" are daily reminders of those I won't see this year, how different my holiday will be from here on out, an the loneliness sets in.

I promise this story won't be all sad.

My tree has been especially dreadful this year. A tree that has brought so much joy in the past years. I remember picking it out and knowing it was the exact tree for the house. It's stayed up until well after Epiphany the past few years because it was so beautiful lit up in the window. It's the perfect height, not too full, and has the look of a light dusting of snow on its branches.

This year it's taken all my willpower to get into the "Christmas spirit". I finally brought the tree upstairs to set it up and realized the stand was nowhere to be seen. I have no idea why it wasn't with the rest of the tree or where it is but this was my first hiccup. After days of searching the storage room high and low, I decided to order a stand on Amazon.

When the stand arrived, its measurements didn't quite match and the tree fell right through it to the floor. Thankfully my dad was able to rig it so that the tree would stand in it properly. First hurdle overcome.

It took me a week to get all three sections on the tree; I'd start the short process and end up in tears. When this happened, I'd set the tree aside and decide to wait another day. When it came time to plug in the tree, I realized that the lights in the middle section wouldn't light up. Another frustration that was just too much. This sounds petty but it was taking everything in me emotionally to just get the darn thing up. Each setback was more than I could take. I decided to leave my unlit, unfluffed tree in the corner and mess with it when I had someone with me to do so (to distract me).

Bringing up the ornaments was a whole other ordeal. I knew I'd be bringing up half the ornaments I'd had in the past. And the ones I did have would bring up memories. Then there's the onesie. Five years ago around Christmas we'd finally conceived for the first time, the only time. We announced it by having family members open one of two Christmas outfits and keep them under the tree. When we miscarried shortly after Christmas on the Feast of Holy Innocents, the onesies stayed there. Each year, they've been placed under the tree as a memory of that one Christmas we were a family of three. To pull out the outfit as a now family of one was just more than I could bear. So I left the wonky tree, still unfluffed and unlit, without ornaments.

Well, that's not true. I had one ornament. A few weeks ago, I purchased a single ornament on Small Business Saturday. It's a wood slice ornament with Kansas and Home written where Wichita is. This would be my tree this year.

It felt very analogous to my life. Things just didn't seem to be going right, and there was this one ornament. At the same time, it was my tree, the tree I've loved, and it was as much as I could do.

I realize this may come across as overly dramatic and that many others have life far worse than I do. 100%. But this is where my heart has been this year and during these few weeks. Again, I'm raw.

Side note: I'm incredibly proud of the way I've handled this curveball to the stomach this year. Never in my wildest nightmares would I have expected I'd be where I am. But I've surrounded myself with a  support system, am in necessary groups, counseling, and spiritual direction throughout the process in order to work through the trauma, Yes, many would keep all of this private but I see no reason to hide how I've maintained a healthy coping and healing process. It couldn't have just happened on my own doing.

I brought this tree situation to counseling last week. I explained the lights, the stand, the decorations, the pain, and the one ornament. The advice was given that I could be coping with drugs or alcohol and I'm not, and that I need to accept where I am right now. If one ornament is all I can do this year, then that's what I need to be okay with. And that's okay.

The following day I went to work and shared this story at lunch. I shared that I was going to just be okay with my one ornament and that the pain of getting out the box of what I have was just too great this year. After lunch, I went along with my day as usual.

That afternoon, a student came back from a restroom break with a Christmas bag and set it on my desk. He simply said, "This is for you." He wouldn't say another word about it.

I opened the bag to find several beautiful ornaments wrapped inside. Immediately the ugly tears overcame me. Students were announcing to one another my state and checked on my sanity. :-)

Later that afternoon, I checked my teacher mailbox and found two more ornaments. Tears again.

This has continued for the past week now. Bags left in my classroom and in my mailbox throughout the days. And more and more tears.

These ornaments have been a reminder that I am carried. I have loving, supportive people around me that truly care about me and love me. People that want me to know I'm not alone this year.

I shared this at counseling earlier this week. I shared how touched I am by these thoughtful, heartwarming gestures of love and kindness. And after I shared, she stood up, walked over to her desk, and grabbed an envelope with my name on it and an ornament attached.

More tears.

This Christmas is still difficult. But I am overwhelmed by the love I've experienced and am going to enjoy a tree full of this love and support for years to come.