On Broken Penises…and Broken Promises: A Treatise

Look closely at the tips of my tiara...but not too closely, or you might go blind (your mother warned you, after all!)


I spent much of my New Year’s Eve fixing broken penises. By hand. With Super Glue.

I shit you not…

Of course, there’s a story behind this story — would you expect anything less from me, the girl whose marriage ended with the brick? The girl with the Google-ranked #1 Shit Divorce? The girl whose first relationship post-divorce catapulted her into the seedy underworld of Scrabble Whoring? The girl whose ex-husband’s new wife started a blog after she started a blog mocking her own blog?

There is a tried-and-true axiom in my life prescribing “You can’t make this shit up.” And New Year’s Eve 2010-2011 was no exception, as I spent too much time applying Super Glue to tiny dwarf-like peckers. On a tiara. For a party I never made it to. Because I had a panic attack. Over glue.

Perhaps I should start at the beginning?

I was invited to a New Year’s Eve party by a super-cool friend who is really amazing at coming up with super-awesome themes for her super-fun shin digs. This particular party’s theme: Mad Hatter, meaning we had to come wearing our best hat.

I’m not necessarily a hat girl, though I do have a few. But none are as super-fun as this super-cool friend deserved. So off to the mall I went with Boyfriend Brett in tow.

We found baseball hats. And Santa hats. And beer bong hats. And Cat-in-the-Hat hats. But none were as wicked-cool as the two we settled on: His covered in pot leaves, mine covered in penises.

Cuz that’s how we roll.

Now, please keep in mind that Boyfriend Brett is definitely not a pot head. Well, except while wearing this hat.

Immediately following the taking of this picture, Puffy Pink Penguin demanded a bag of jalapeno kettle chips and all the leftover Christmas fudge in the house.

And considering others have characterized my humor as somewhat akin to that of Chelsea Handler, don’t think the symbol of seven small, erect dicks atop my crown didn’t resonate.

Anyhow, back to the set-up: We had three parties to attend that night, the first of which involved a bottle of wine, pizza and parents. And let me tell ya, once my father’s face transformed from deep purple to baby-bottom pink and then finally back to normal, I could tell they both totally DUG the tiny penis tiara.

But just before the x-rated show-and-tell ended, my penis tiara snapped in half, sending a few small schlongs scampering across the table, landing precariously near the pizza.

One thing you need to know about me: I’m SO not a fan of meat on my pizza — particularly sausage.

In a rush not unlike John Bobbitt surely experienced as he and Lorena “parted ways,” Boyfriend Brett and I urgently departed for a quick pit stop between party #1 and party #2: a visit to our friendly neighborhood Walgreens for some Super Glue.

And you can only imagine the fun I had as I asked the pharmacist for his professional advice about the best adhesive to reattach not one broken pecker — but many.

With glue and penises in hand (there’s a subordinate clause that most likely has never, ever been typed before — or at least I hope), we brought the penis tiara to party #2 so that I could apply the necessary Super Glue in anticipation of Party #3.

But under the influence of half a bottle of wine, I may have applied just a wee bit too much Super Glue to the teeny-weenie-tiara.

Which resulted in said Super Glue seeping everywhere. There was abundant glue jizz, flecks of silver glitter and pink feathers from the tiara stuck to the table. And to my pants. And to my hands. If you’ve seen Natalie Portman in Black Swan, that was me — only with cheery pink feathers and fewer lesbian tendencies. And slightly less crazed.

Well, somewhat slightly. Because then came the sudden realization that the Super Glue on my fingers was, simply and irreversibly put: There. To. Stay.

Now remember: I’m a wee bit claustrophobic, so a layer of gummy gunk on my hands that is close-to-physically impossible to remove may have sent me into a wee bit of a panic attack.

As I tried desperately to de-glue, I donned the now-dry tiara and became fixated on a singular goal. I worked the room quickly and feverishly, visiting every party-goer, persistently demanding that someone — anyone — lend me a loofah, solvent or acetone that I imagined they’d readily pull from their sequined cocktail bags or their back pockets. But alas and damn the luck, not a single soul had the necessary ingredients to free me from the confines of my sticky captivity.

So there I was, pale as Snow White, wearing a tiara of seven dwarf-like penises while desperate to come unglued.

In a noble attempt to calm me, Boyfriend Brett did what any decent boyfriend would do: He swooped in, continually placing half-full glasses of wine in my hand (which, ironically, I kept losing all night — wouldn’t ya think those would stick, too?)

The night devolved from there. Needless to say, we never made it to Party #3, as I continued to pick and drink, drink and pick, lament the loss of finger freedom while cursing the stupid guests who didn’t come to a stupid New Year’s Eve party with a stupid pumice stone. I mean, who comes to a rockin’ party so woefully unprepared?

But in my fixated, poignantly unglued (but entirely too glued) state, I found myself channeling a deeper message straight from the once-broken, now fully erect penises on my head that were like tiny antenna to my soul.

(What can I say: I get introspective when I drink…)

Why can’t there be something like Super Glue that can fix everything that is broken — even promises and hearts?

I’ve never really brought up the concept of trust on this blog, because I’m the light-hearted chick who isn’t all heavy handed about the negative … whose focus is on positive healing, on moving forward, on recovery. But the symbol from that night (in my wee-bit intoxicated state) was loud and clear: Super Glue is like magic. If it can fix a multitude of broken penises, I’d say it can fix just about anything. I mean, that shit doesn’t come off — just ask me, the woman now missing the top layer of skin on both of her hands.

So I continued to reflect: How do you fix the broken trust inspired by a broken promise? How can you recover from that kind of pain?

No loofah, no acetone, no solvent can remove what remains from that special variety of devastation.

I would love to hear your perspective on this. It has been 2.5 years for me, yet I’m still struggling with this baggage. So much so that I’m considering investing in monogrammed luggage tags to adorn the matched set I’ve earned from the few relationships I’ve had, post-divorce (one of which I’m still in. Hi, Boyfriend Brett! Love ya! Kisses!).

I’m not saying the trust issues are fair to these men: I’m just saying they’re there, and I don’t know how to shake ’em. So any advice you can provide by leaving a comment below would be much appreciated. Who knows, maybe we can all benefit from a few trusty trusting tips.

OK. There you go: Almost every euphemism known for “penis” used in one post, followed by a lovely moral to the story (and if you can think of other synonyms I’ve missed in the process, please feel free to share those as well…just for good measure…)

And since I’m the symbol girl, and the universe clearly likes to fuck with me, you can imagine my reaction when I passed by this display the day after my seven-penis-party-hat-fiasco:

Yes, my friends…you just can’t make this shit up…


79 thoughts on “On Broken Penises…and Broken Promises: A Treatise

  1. Salmart says:

    Interesting. I too reflect on how to fix the broken trust and how to recover from that kind of pain. Time is supposed to be the big healer but 11 years after the rug was pulled from under me (after sighting an email with much more painful insights than your brick, but delivering the same message) I can say not too much has changed. I have more perspective and have had time to build a very full happy life but reading your posts and your contributors similar experiences reminds me of the shock & pain of my loss and broken dreams. At the time I couldn’t breathe or put one foot in front of the other. I’d always considered myself a very strong confident woman but in an instant I could barely survive. I didn’t eat for weeks. I felt as if a truck was parked on my chest that wouldn’t drive off. For the sake of my equally shocked children, aged 10 and 13, I had to pick myself up & go on. And I slowly rebuilt our lives, thankfully without hassles from the ex who put his tail between his legs and essentially evaporated himself into thin air into his new life.

    I’ve found acceptance, and I’m definitely a better and happier person without him, but the pain of it happening at all, still lingers. I feel very saddened when I read your story. as it brings back my pain and unless you’ve been through it, you really can’t imagine what it’s like.

    I expect I will always have trust issues. Maybe if my marriage license had said ‘Renewal every 5 years by mutual agreement if everything is going well’, like a house lease, I could have been better prepared for a possible meltdown. (Just the 3 renewals thanks dear, 20 years will do me). But like you, I didn’t see ‘the signs’, (as there weren’t any!) and did expect someone who had made a public vow & made 2 children with me to try and do everything possible to save a marriage before trading me in, like a dirty dishcloth, overnight. I am happily re-married but there will always be a thought in the back of my mind that says’ I’m OK as your wife now, until further notice’.

    I like that you describe yourself as ‘sometimes bitter’ as I am too and hate it when people say I have to get rid of my bitterness & be all forgiving to move on. I’ve moved on & found complete acceptance for what happened to me. But some things you can forgive (my sons overdoing the internet allowance) and some things you could NEVER forgive. (A pedophile violating your child). Inflicting confusion & pain to my children falls on the right of that line. I think each situation is different and each of us is wired differently, and I’m completely comfortable remaining pissed off with my ex for the decisions he made which left my boys waking up in a house without their Daddy forever.

    So as a long time survivor, in fact now more a winner than just a survivor, the pain doesn’t ‘go away’ (I’m not laughing about it yet!) but processed well, it just lies there and doesn’t affect my daily well being. (Until stories like Riddell & Partilla give it a nudge, then I’m hopping mad!)

    Loved the hat. Glad you glued it all back together as you’ll get so much wear out of it around town. And it’s so your color. But should penises in multiple be peni? It’s not like I use the word in plural more than a couple of times a day in sentences, so I’m not sure, and you’re such a stickler for detail, I’m guessing you’ve got it covered.

    Thanks for sharing. You rock.

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Wow. Just … wow. We have clearly been down the same road, and it isn’t a pleasant one.

      I, too, couldn’t eat for weeks — lost 30 pounds in the first month after he left. I, too, had to pick up and rebuild because my children were also totally blindsided. I, too, am happily rebuilding but not afraid to be sometimes bitter.

      BTW, I was just talking with Boyfriend Brett the other day about how I need to do a post on the word “bitter.” I’m so tired of the negative connotation. Of COURSE we’re bitter, and there are certain times, places and ways when that is totally appropriate. So stay tuned for that.

      Also, your characterization of “I’m OK as your wife now, until further notice,” is so similar to my approach, it’s eerie: In fact, I have what Boyfriend Brett calls my “classic Mikalee” response to when he tells me, “I love you with all of my heart.” He says that sincerely, and then I deadpan: “…for now.” He hates that, but I can’t help but hear those last two words every time he says it. Because “I love you with all of my heart” is something I heard every day for 13 years from the ex.

      And yes, I threw around “peni” for a while (another sentence that has probably never been written before in the history of humanity), but I finally erred on the side of “penises” … mostly for the “penises…promises” parallel. 😉

      GREAT comment, and thank you so much for leaving it. It seems we are like shit-divorce soul sisters, you and I … and for that, I express to you my sincere respect and admiration. You’ve clearly come out on the other side, and I can only hope to be as healthy in another 8.5 years!

  2. Krystil says:

    That was one of the funnier blogs I’ve read Mik! It was so funny that I had to share it with everyone at work. I’m seeing a new side of you that I didn’t get to see in high school and I love it.

  3. KC says:

    I know for myself, closure didn’t happen until I realized that not forgiving was holding me back. Forgiveness wasn’t condoning the actions, but by forgiving, I was no longer letting them be a negative thing in my life. Learn what you can and look forward. For me it was easier, no kids and no further contact. The words still apply though. And I think of trust in the same way. In the beginning I also wondered how I would trust again, but I finally realized that I preferred trusting as my default, not something someone would have to chisel out of me. I may get burned again, but in the meantime it just makes me a happier person. And it lets me have faith in others.

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      KC, I love the idea of trust being the default, and that is certainly the woman I was before. But now — wow, I just don’t know how to get back there. Once you’ve been played for a fool, I just don’t see how that synapse/piece of your heart/ chemical or physical part heals “enough” to go there again.

      I’m so glad you have. Perhaps it just takes time, and I haven’t quite done my time yet? Fingers crossed…

      • KC says:

        I guess that I look at it from the point that it wasn’t your trust that failed, it was his lack of character that failed you. From the broad point of view 2 1/2 years is a long time, yet it isn’t. The healing will be complete when you are ready or decide that it should be.

        • Mikalee Byerman says:

          I do know that 2-1/2 years is but a speck of time in the scheme of things…but dammit, I want to be healed NOW!

          Actually, I know I’ve made many small victories already: I couldn’t care less about him (except the part of me that will always respect the man who gave me my beautiful children), and I don’t care about his life. The one lasting bit of hurt is that trust piece with other relationships.

          And that one’s a doozy! 😦

  4. Lisa says:

    Recovery is a choice just like with alcohol or drug addiction. You can choose to continue to wallow in pain or choose to move forward. NOT as easy as said! But a day, a moment at a time, a conscience thought to make the change in you. You can allow the bitterness and pain to consume you or you can grow from the experience and learn something about yourself. For me, getting over the pain of disappointment and broken promises (although not the same as you but definitely traumatizing) is like riding a roller coaster… Ups and downs and every once in a while a cork screw.

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Lisa, great comment, and I’m so glad you shared. But I do want to open up a few ideas for discussion here.

      Like many who have been through similar experiences, I absolutely know that I have moved forward, and I think I did so as quickly and as gracefully as anyone in my situation could have. I am absolutely better off for the experience, wiser, more confident in many aspects of my life (and truly grateful for the experience, for without it, I wouldn’t have my AMAZING children!). But just like when you have a compound fracture in an appendage, there will always be a physical scar that will never completely heal. No matter how much physical therapy, no matter how much you train or how hard you work or how much you pray to God or whomever you pray to in order to heal it — there will always be that physical effect of the break. And that is not a choice, but a reality of the injury.

      And embracing that part of you that is not fully healed — acknowledging it, protecting it when appropriate, not putting it directly in harm’s way — isn’t that just part of how you adjust your life, post break? If you’ve broken a leg, for example — and I mean a bad break — perhaps you won’t ski the black diamond slopes again, right? Bunny hills, fine…and even steeper slopes, maybe. But there is a limit to what the injured leg can take.

      Well, falling in love and trusting again is like skiing the black diamond slopes for me. I know I’m brave for the strides I’ve made in the 2.5 years since the divorce, but I’m just not brave (or is it stupid?) enough to go to the back side of the hill just yet. Despite the fact that I’ve chosen the most proactive path to healing possible, this is just too great a challenge. At least for me. Yet.

      Anyone have thoughts on all of this?

      • KC says:

        I accept the that the enjoyment of skiing comes with the risk of injury. And having been injured I continue to ski as I did before because I love it. In fact my broken leg has become my dominant leg, go figure. Same thing for my racing career. Relationships for me are like that as well. There is inherent risk opening your heart and being fully committed to someone. I guess each of us only knows for ourselves how strong that commitment can be once we’ve been hurt.

        • Mikalee Byerman says:

          True enough, KC, and I do know there are once-paraplegics out there who go on to win gold medals in the downhill slalom. I do, however, think there are extenuating circumstances: What was the nature of the injury? How much trauma did the entire body sustain? How much support did said skier receive from others? How often does the very same mountain appear in front of the skier, taunting him/her?

          OK, that last bit of the analogy doesn’t work very well, but you get my point: The idea that I’m confronted almost daily with the reminder of the past doesn’t necessarily make for the speediest recovery.

          So I’m definitely starting with the bunny hills…

      • Lisa says:

        I agree there will always be a scar but whether or not that wound is allowed to heal I believe is a choice. If you choose to continually focus on your ex leaving you and the pain that has caused then that is what you will continually feel; feeding the wound so that it is allowed to remain open. A recovering alcoholic does not wake up one day and find that she is no longer an alcoholic. It is a choice to not drink every day, minute, second. But if she spent every second of the day focusing on how much she desired that drink, then likelihood is she will drink. It’s her choice to accept her addiction and place her thoughts (through prayer and meditation) on other things. Likewise, this experience will always be a part of you. There is no erasing it from your past; no do-overs. But it is your choice to focus on the pain and rejection allowing it to continue to fester, or you can choose to focus on healing, being whole and living life to its fullest. Not an easily made choice but a choice…and sometimes our sub-conscience makes that choice for us and we are left picking up the pieces and choosing to start all over.
        On to trust and love… Absolutely! – embrace and protect that part of you that is not fully healed – no one else will!! but place your trust in God not man – NOT any man or woman. We human’s make mistakes and poor choices that consequently hurt others. We battle with our self-centered egos and try to cope with unresolved issues from our past…our baggage. By the time we get to…almost 40… we have likely experienced a good share of heartbreak and let downs. For me, it has helped to understand why people behave the way they do, how those behaviors affect me and especially why I react the way I do. To understand this, has allowed me to Forgive and through forgiving I can love that person regardless of the pain their behavior caused. I TRY to remain aware of events, my perceptions and especially my intuitions (they are unfortunately usually right about people – the most unfortunate part is that I don’t always listen to myself). Trust God, Love Others… being in a committed, loving relationship does not require you to blindly trust.

        • Mikalee Byerman says:

          “But it is your choice to focus on the pain and rejection allowing it to continue to fester, or you can choose to focus on healing, being whole and living life to its fullest.”

          Lisa, your whole comment is incredible, but I really wanted to focus on this line…that is the very purpose of this blog! My own pain has inspired redefinition of who I am, which inherently means my focus is on my future self (in the context of who I was in the past and who I want to be now that I have the opportunity to embrace change). And the opportunity for all of us to share our thoughts, experiences, concerns, demons, happiness, etc. allows us to focus on healing and growing.

          Thanks for putting it all in perspective!

  5. Maggie G. says:

    @Lisa, I don’t read bitterness in Mikalee’s blog posts. I hear and feel her pain.

    Mikalee, the penis tiara rocks. I’m sorry you didn’t get to wear it to ‘the party’. A ‘crown of dicks’ makes me shake with laughter.

    Super glue for broken trust, broken hearts, broken relationships – I think it’s brand name is “Time”.

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      “Super glue for broken trust, broken hearts, broken relationships – I think it’s brand name is ‘Time.'”

      WOW. I just had to emphasize that part of your comment, Maggie…that is truly powerful, and I only hope it’s true! 🙂

  6. Jake H says:

    I like what KC has written. That is also I I try to live, trust as my default. Also, the description of the roller coaster, that’s life. It took me a long while to get over a fiance giving me back an engagement ring on Christmas (after she bought gifts for friends and family with my credit card!). It took a mixture of time, forgiveness, humor and friends. Mikalee, I think your blog is also a help. Hang in there!

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Jake, I’m so glad to see your perspective here. I can only imagine how difficult your situation must have been — and I’m grateful you were able to find forgiveness and surround yourself with amazing people to help you through.

      AND…I’m truly glad my silly little blog offers help as well. That’s definitely the goal, after all!

  7. markp427 says:

    Three parties in one night? Talk about going “willy-nilly.”

    I’ve gotten Super Glue on my fingers on more than one occasion (though never having anything to do with a penis, erect or not, fake or real – I feel that disclaimer is in order) and I can sympathize with the frustration in trying to get it off (heh) and being unable to. For me, the Super Glue just always seems to magically dissipate overnight. It’s the weirdest thing ever…

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Mark, you win the prize for double entendre in the comments section…I laughed out loud at “get it off”! 😉

      And while I did realize the glue would have dissipated, my type-A-edness was not going to let me wait for that eventuality. It had to happen…NOW. And “get it off,” I did … along with much of my skin!

  8. John Roycroft says:

    Being a victim of a bad marriage and worse divorce, I hear all you are saying. Stay strong, fight the good fight. Wonderful blog as expected.

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Thanks so much, John!

      I’m glad you can feel my pain — though I’m certainly not glad that you or anyone has to go through these situations. But it sure helps to know there are kindred shit-divorce souls out there!

  9. JLA says:

    “I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they’re right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.” — Marilyn Monroe.

    I knew/know your boyfriend. I think you have found a better thing – further, trust yourself

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Boyfriend Brett is a great guy, and he’s certainly a far better man than my ex…in many, many ways. 😉

      But it’s the “trust yourself” part that I’m having a hard time with — because I totally, completely trusted myself before. And apparently, I’m a terrible judge of character.

      Love the quote, btw…”…sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.” AWESOME.

      • K says:

        I disagree that you are a terrible judge of character. I think once we get into a relationship we change. Hell, we always change. And if the person’s character changes over time, then we don’t always notice because we’ve accepted our original assessment of who they are. Why would you keep re-assessing his character if you had already decided he was a good guy?

        The thing is, people are going to hurt us. Things are going to happen. Do we use those experiences to build walls around ourselves or do we use them as greater knowledge as we open ourselves up to new people? Or even, the people already in our lives?

        I’m in the midst of severe relationship issues, with two small children. My whole way of thinking about love and connection and relating is being altered by way of a woman by the name of Brene Brown (www.brenebrown.com). Check her out. Life changing stuff.

  10. Bonnie says:

    Awesome post, Mikalee! Your hat brought much-needed laughs my way. Well, I personally think it’s always gonna hurt, although time does seem to lessen the pain. I’ve found much consolation with my boyfriend since he also got hit by the brick via his wife. There’s an amazing respect we have for what each other went through… as well as a deep understanding. Misery loves company? Maybe. It sure wasn’t planned this way, but I thought I’d share. You will trust again… I didn’t ever think I would. Sometimes it just takes a while. xo

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      That’s really good to read, Bonnie — that shared experience can often bring a deeper respect and therefore an inherent trust. I can see where that would definitely be the case.

      I think I just need more time. Of course, at this rate, I’ll be ready to trust again by the time I’m 83. Give or take… 😉

  11. Jim Krouskop says:

    Maggie G has it right: “Super glue for broken trust, broken hearts, broken relationships – I think it’s brand name is ‘Time.'”

    Wise beyond your years…not that I know how old you are. Nevertheless, wise.

    Mikalee, the Penis Tiara is brilliant. Trademark that beeyotch before Trojan starts offering it as a freebie with their Quicky Sale marketing promotion. BTW, the words “quick” and “reduced” should not be associated with Trojan. I’m just sayin’.

  12. Connie T says:

    I once glued my finger to a camera. I don’t even know why I was using the super glue next to a camera. Probably repairing a stupid fake fingernail. How come super glue will glue everything but the thing you want to glue. I had to pull my finger off the camera and to this day, my fingerprint skin is glued to that camera.
    It does suck to have glue on your fingers, I know that feeling too.

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Thank you, Connie T, for commiserating…misery does love company, and I’m glad others can relate to my plight.

      I love the visual of your fingerprint skin glued to the camera. AWESOME! 😉

  13. Susan L says:

    Fingernail polish remover will release the glue. Too bad there isn’t as simple a fix for releasing the bitterness. It’s been nearly 1.5 years since my brick hit and I’ve moved on fairly well. I don’t hate him anymore, but I can’t seem to let go of the anger, resentment and bitterness. The man I thought loved me completely betrayed me. I don’t know that I’ll ever trust that completely again. It’s like that old saw “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Susan … thank you so much for sharing a little bit of your story, and I wish you continued healing. It sounds like you’re doing just fine — 1.5 years is not a long time, and as I’ve said in other responses, some bitterness is completely, totally appropriate!

      Fixating on that bitterness — that’s when you have a problem!

      And I totally agree with the “Fool me once…” quote. If that makes me jaded, so be it…


  14. LAW says:

    Six years ago, my husband of 14 years informed me he was unhappy and that he needed to move on. There was no cheating. No fighting. No bricks, so to speak. I guess you could say it was a very friendly parting of the ways. It was devastating to say the least. We ended up reconciling. I love this guy with all of my heart, but in his desire to find “happiness”, he hurt me beyond belief. It is now six years later and I still have flashbacks to the most painful moments of that time. I say that you are doing mighty fine 2 1/2 years into it, especially with all the bricks that were tossed your way.

    I was only told he had someone in mind that he would like to start seeing. As far as I know he didn’t see anyone at all, but I sure as hell remember feeling like I was just punched in the gut. So, I didn’t have to deal with all the shit you did, but it was still painful.

    I guess my point is that even when things aren’t horribly rotten in a breakup, they still suck. Kudos to you for getting on with your life! Well done!

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Thank you so much for sharing a little bit of your story — it’s heartbreaking to read, because I can only imagine the pain you must have felt … and evidently still do when you think back to that time in your life.

      I respect you so much for being so committed, so loyal, so unwavering. To reconcile because of the depth of your love is a true reflection of your character.

      I wish you continued healing, and I’m so grateful for your perspective. Sometimes, the bricks may be easier than the alternative…

  15. etrodrig says:

    Hi! I saw a comment you had left on a blog that was “Freshly Pressed” today and just wanted to say this: Bravo.

    Seriously. I am 23, not been married but have been in 2 serious relationships, and currently single. My heartbreaks, while significant to me, cannot compare to the things you’ve had to endure. I don’t know you (though I feel like I sort of do know you after reading quite a few of your posts), but you are my favorite type of person. Instead of being ugly and hateful, you take the worst things in your life and turn them into positive stories for others to relate to. It’s so much nicer to read a story and laugh, thinking “HA! I know exactly what she means!” instead of, “*sobs quietly or not so quietly into a pillow* I know exactly what she means, and I hate my life.” Does that make sense?

    Also, a brick? Really? And I though my instant message breakup was bad. But I digress.

    I also wanted to say that as strange as it may seem, your “penis tiara super glue” story sounds like something that would happen to me. It’s strange how the weirdest things happen and can cause a domino effect towards a mini-panic attack. It’s also strange that alcohol tends to bring out such a colorful variety of emotions and thoughts.

    Anyways, I will definitely be keeping up with your blog, and I look forward to a new post! Have a great rest of your evening! 🙂

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      …well you are so totally my favorite type of person for saying I’m your favorite type of person! 😉

      Seriously, I truly appreciate the comment. I think we’ve all been through our own heartbreaks, which are definitely relative to our time and place in life. Just because you’re “only” 23 certainly doesn’t mean you’re unable to relate! Quite the contrary, in fact — I think you need to share the instant message breakup story. If not here, definitely write a blog about that one!

      So please check back, share your perspectives and let us all live vicariously through your experiences as well. And I’ll continue to try to turn the ugly shit into “you can’t make this shit up” stories. Deal? Deal!

      Take care, and you have a great evening too!

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      It does rock, doesn’t it? Can’t wait for the next occasion to wear it (wait, I do believe that’s called, “shopping at the grocery store tonight…”)


      Thanks so much for stopping by!

  16. gus3 says:

    About that super-glue:

    Nail polish remover, mentioned above, has (AFAIK) acetone as its active ingredient. It takes a few applications to get the action you need, but it’s worked the two times I needed it.

    Also, when glue of any kind gets into your fingertips, it smooths out the ridges in your fingerprints, which in turn reduces the friction on those surfaces. I’m sure there’s some kind of symbolism to be found there, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is…

    And “With glue and penises in hand” is two prepositional phrases, not a clause. A clause has a subject and a verb.

    As for the more important question of, when does the trust start to return, I think I can shed a little light on it. When a wonderful man comes into your life seemingly out of the blue, and you find yourself at a point where you have to start trusting him more or the relationship won’t go any further, a true mensch won’t tell you to trust him. If anything, he’ll refuse to vouch for the future, because he knows he’ll screw something up, something important, and won’t realize it until after the damage is done. But when he expresses regret for his blunder, begs forgiveness, and asks your help to keep him from screwing it up again, in order to prove his regret… well, maybe you have found a worthy destination for your trust.

    Note that particular disclaimer about “won’t realize it until after the damage is done.” If he already knew the hurt it would cause, but did it anyway, f&*# it, take your energies elsewhere.

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      gus3: Awesome perspective here!

      I love your analysis of when you know you’ve found someone worthy of trust. I’m just hoping I’ll let myself get far enough into a relationship to experience that kind of moment. As for now, I’m pretty guarded — and I HATE that. This is so not who I want to be, but unfortunately, it’s who I’ve become.

      See: There are parts of Me 2.0 that I love love LOVE, and there are some I’d rather exchange for my 1.0 parts. Sadly, they seem to be a package deal.

      And as for the subordinate clause issue: I vacillated on that one for entirely too long, being the grammar geek that I am! But a subordinate clause is defined as “a group of words that has both a subject and a verb but (unlike an independent clause) cannot stand alone as a sentence,” which I thought fit the situation.

      Oh well. Whatever. And thanks for giving me yet another issue to work through: now, I’m not even trusting myself on grammar issues. Sheesh…


      • gus3 says:

        Not to worry, hon; just chalk it up to holiday stress. Besides, good writers have good editors to keep them in line. 😉

        At this stage of getting legal matters sorted out, if you weren’t guarded to a noticeable degree, I’d worry that your maternal instinct was severely damaged. But time will bring new circumstances and new people to your life. You’re already taking a new look at the old you, the v1.0 you, and deciding what you liked about you back then. I expect that will give you a head start on recognizing those old feelings when they blindside you.

        Now, here’s the $64 question: Will your first thought be, “Oh yeah, and then the heartbreak… why bother?” Or will you dare yourself to say, “But I *liked* feeling that way, dammit! Why shouldn’t I let myself feel it again?”

        I do have one more thing to say about this, and it’s really loopy to the point of insanity… so I’m going to send it via an “alternate channel”.

        • Mikalee Byerman says:

          …as for the $64 question: Currently I’m rooted in option A. Option B is much better…I’m just not there quite yet.

          If only I could fast forward a bit — maybe a decade? I’ll bet I’ll be there by then! 😉

  17. groovyrick says:

    I’ve been down that road, and who knows, maybe I’ll go down it again…I guess that’s the point I want to make. The defining moment for me came when I was just 26. Everything was perfect, then one day, just gone…no warning signs, no weird vibes. The best way for me to describe it is that, since that moment, I’ve never been able to put complete faith in anything. To this day, I question everything. Maybe I was too naive before and it taught me a lesson about life, I don’t know. Wish there was some sort of substance that you could put on a wound like that and make it heal. If there were, I’d split a case with you to cut down a little on cost and shipping…that’s where they really get ya.

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Indeed, groovyrick…it’s always that damn shipping and handling charge! 😉

      I, too, think about how naive I was. But dammit, I liked being naive. It was easy. And totally my nature. And this new person, the untrusting one, the suspicious one, the one with all the questions — she’s entirely too jaded. I don’t like her as much.

      But alas, she’s the one I’m with now. And you know what they say: “Love the one you’re with.” (And I HATE that song, btw…).

      So if you do find that magical Super Glue for the soul, please be in touch. Until then, continued healing…

  18. darkmoon689 says:

    So, I started from On Broken Penises…and Broken Promises: A Treatise, and read all your post, (I think?) all scrambled but it still. I love the way you write, I laugh so much at every post, and I might no much about life, but you’re so rigth some thing are too crazy to be made up. And as I don’t feel like going back and commeting on each of post, althoughg I migh have comment or two for each.. I decided to just post everything righ here. I have a new, new year’s resolution to find/make a hat that tops this one. Is just full of awesomness (and no I don’t care if that’s a real word or if I spell it right.)

    Now, in a general comment about you other posts…

    Some people just lack common sense; apparently your ex and his exgirl/new wife are trying to get the guiness record for plain stupity (I just read Didn’t THEY See the Signs?), or a google medal. Maybe you could engrave one for them, well better not he still the father of your children but hell it would’ve been a lovely Christmas present.

    Stay strong, I agreed with the one that wrote, that the brand of super-glue you need is TIME. Hurting is an unavoidable part of life, and the scars of what once was broken remmind us of two things, that we can get hurt, and more immportanly that we can heal. I understand what you mean when you wrote something about everytime boyfriend says “I love with all my heart” you can help but to hear the “for now..”

    But hey, that’s life, things change, people change, , feelings change, we might not see it sometimes, we might not like it. But the fact that his feelings or yours can change doesn’t mean you have dennied yourself the opportunity to enjoy them while they last. Is like not eating ice-cream (or whatever you favorite sweet) because the taste in gonna fade afterwards. (Is not the best analogy I know)

    And moving on to another subject, you just inspired me to keep writing, or keep trying (even if i suck at it XD).

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Well I’m so glad you happened upon the blog and read — in order, out of order, doesn’t matter…it’s still all crazy!

      But you have offered some excellent points here. First, “awesomeness” is totally a word, and I love it. Second, you will never, ever find a hat better than my penis tiara. And third: this whole situation has definitely opened my eyes to how much people can change … and without warning, even. That revelation is among the scariest, because I have always found comfort in feeling that the people in my life were a constant. I know my feelings are a constant, but for some, maybe not so much…right?

      And I kinda dig your ice cream analogy. My fave is cherry vanilla. What’s yours?

      Thanks so much for leaving a few brilliant, inspired comments. Can’t wait to read your writing as well…

  19. Liz says:

    Wow. Just wow. I had some time this evening, so I read through your blog, I hope you don’t mind. You have an incredible story, and I’m sure it hasn’t been an easy road to get to where you are. I’ve never been married, but I’ve suffered heart break nonetheless. I hope you don’t mind reading my story. There is a point behind telling you, I promise.

    For me, there were plenty of signs leading to the break up. We fought constantly, and most of my friends had told me to run and never look back months before we got to that point. Except for two “friends” (I use that term loosely). They encouraged me to work it out, to stay with him no matter what. Little did I know that they only wanted me to stay with him so they could continue to screw him behind my back. Yea, friends.

    I remember the day like it was yesterday, even though its been almost five years since it happened. It was mid-May. I was working at Disneyland, a job his brother had gotten me. He sent me a text message:

    “Its over. Don’t call me, text me, nothing. I never want to hear from you again.”

    He had waited to send it till he knew I would be at work, unable to answer. My boss found me curled up in the fetal position in the break room, crying like my puppy had just died. She told me I could take the rest of the day off. It would be the last time I would ever go to Disneyland.

    The next couple of months were hell. I’d spent 2 1/2 years with this man. I thought he was the one. We’d even looked at engagement rings together. But that day in May did nothing to prepare for the following September.

    I got a text message from a number I recognized instantly, even though I’d deleted it from my phone months earlier. He wanted me to come over. Of course I said yes, got in my car, and drove straight over. This was the part I never saw coming, the “signs” I never saw.

    I knocked and he said come in. He was standing up against the wall opposite the door to his apartment with a loaded handgun. Before I could cross the distance, he lifted the gun to his temple and fired, but not before telling me it was all my fault.

    The next few weeks would be hell. I would find out that not only was he sleeping with my two best friends, he also was seeing someone else. Another man. I was the only one he never slept with, and for that I am glad. He had always said he was saving himself for marriage. He had never told anyone that he was gay. His mother only found out when she checked her email that morning. He had sent her an email telling her he was gay just shortly before I arrived at his apartment.

    The next few months were torture. I went from an (overweight) 185 pounds to 92 pounds in the span of a month and a half. I spent most of my time in my room, crying for hours on end. I never ate. I lost contact with most of my friends. I dropped out of school. My family tried to force me into a rehab facility, thinking that I’d gone back on drugs.

    That forced me to wake up, to realize it was time to move on. I tested clean when I got to the rehab facility, so I was able to go home after a few days. It was slow starting back up. First I had to find a job. And I went back to school, even writing for the student newspaper. A friend I made while writing happened to mention that his company was hiring, and he said he’d put in a good word for me if I decided to apply. I was hired the next week.

    Soon after, my dad would get sick. I thought God was testing me, trying to see how much I could live through. It would be a grueling six months of chemo therapy and surgery, blood tests and doctor’s appointments. I had to quit my job so I could take care of him. My mom was the only one working, and times got tough. I would move back in with my parents and spend what little I had left in my savings to keep them in their house. To say the next couple of years were tough was an understatement. I haven’t worked an “actual” job since I quit my last job, and not for lack of looking. By the time my dad was well again, the market had crashed and I didn’t have a degree yet.

    But 2009 would turn out to be a good year. I would meet the love of my life. I’d finally figure out that it was okay to move on. What my ex had done was NOT my fault. He had been very sick (mentally) for a really long time, and I had just been lucky enough to catch the tailspin towards his eventual destruction. And I would finally become okay with the fact that I couldn’t fix him, that his healing was something only he could undertake, and he clearly hadn’t been willing to do that. There was nothing I could do, and it would be best for me to move on with my life.

    So I did. I’m still not working, but I’m okay with that. Yes, I really need the money, and I AM looking actively, but I just need to do what needs to be done and eventually something will come up. Joe makes me unbelievably happy, and I honestly couldn’t ask for any better. And this time I know I’m right.

    • Mikalee Byerman says:


      You began your comment in response to my blog with the words “Wow. Just wow.”

      But those are words you truly deserve…

      Your story sent chills through me — repeatedly. It is a reminder to us all that there are different kinds and levels of heartbreak, and I fear you may have experienced one of the truest, deepest kinds. I am so sorry for your pain.

      But how you’ve come out of the situation is inspiring. But I can only imagine the road you’ve traveled to find your healing, your resolution, your true happiness.

      I wish you only the best. I’m so grateful and humbled that you took the time to share your amazing story on my blog. Like I said, you are an inspiration.

      Take care, and I do hope to see you around here again!

  20. Post Divorce Coach says:

    Thank you for posting your blog on my FaceBoook page, because your quick wit reminds me of myself, when I had my other irreverent blog, before I decided to go all politically correct…well, except for when I use posts to call out the hubby’s new wife…which by the way, I believe our husbands married the SAME WOMAN!

    It is refreshing to see wit and humor again and not be bogged down in the heretofor’s of post divorce dismality (I don’t know if that is a word, but if not, it should be).

    So, do you ever trust again. I don’t think so. I think you can a little, but not 100%. I am on marriage #3, yes, I am that stupid, and I still have issues, and it is 6 years later. I don’t know if the anger and disappointment and guilt over the kids ever goes away. Does it get better? Some days yes and some days no, but we survive, because what else can we do?

    Keep doing what you are doing. It is fabulous!

    Lee aka Post Divorce Coach
    The Post-Divorce Chronicles
    (That’s just in case you didn’t know where you left your comment)

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Well, Lee aka Post-Divorce Coach: You totally rock, and I love your Facebook page! Plus I love love LOVE that you call out your ex’s new wife (and I’m secretly wishing they are the same person, because then there’s something to really sink my teeth into when it comes to the raging custody battle!).

      You (jokingly, I’m sure) say you’re stupid for being on marriage #3, but I call it brave. Because it takes a whole lotta guts to overcome those pesky little trust issues, and a whole lotta faith to make those vows again. I don’t think I’ve got the chutzpah. Yet. I’m afraid I’d break out in a fit of hysterical laughter if my future imaginary hubby were to recite vows to me. And that’s so not cool.

      Thank you so much for the feedback — and for the inspiration. I love that we can all find hope in these crazy places — Facebook, blogs, others’ comments, etc.

  21. Fidel Hart says:

    You really know how to leave me in hysterics. Of course the blog title had me wondering just what you were up to. Good post! Happy New Year!

  22. Salmart says:

    I think there’s confusion when ‘bitterness’ ‘trust’ ‘love’ and ‘commitment’ are all thrown in together as if it’s all one thing to move forward from.

    I like your stance on bitterness, that’s it’s inevitable that there is lingering disappointment for the losses & sadness & damage. Maybe we need another word for ‘lingering disappointment /anger/resentment/loss of respect.’ The word ‘bitterness’ conjures up such sinful negative self defeating images. I’ve remained ‘disappointed’, if you like, which I think is to be expected, given what happened & the way it happened, but not in a way that has stopped me moving forward full steam ahead. Life is full of ‘disappointments’ and I don’t think it’s unhealthy to acknowledge them as such.

    The issue of getting trust back is clouded by confusion with being willingly & emotionally available to love again. (Which does take time.) I am totally in love again, with my wonderful husband of 6 years, which I put down to my moving forward & gaining clarity & acceptance for what happened to me. But do I ‘trust’ again? Absolutely not. What fool would EVER say, I completely trust my partner to never cheat on me and/or leave me. Certainly not most people reading this post and everyone else who is married if they listen to our words. If Mikalee’s perfect marriage came to grief, it’s a brave, I mean, foolish person who says they ‘trust’ their partner to do the right thing and ALWAYS love them. My ‘default position’ is certainly that I see all the good possible in everybody & I assume people will behave honorably and furthermore that I am happy & lucky,blah blah. But, read the blog folks! Reality not fantasy for me.

    I smiled at Ric’s short but sweet take on this: ‘ Trust? Nah. Expect betrayal, enjoy life in the meantime, deal when it happens, and move on.’

    And Mikalee’s response: ….’Love it, Ric…truer (sadder) words may never have been spoken, my friend! ‘

    I think it is definitely healthy & productive to move to a position to believe in love again and the wonderful things it offers & be willing to accept & give love, rather than being ‘stuck’ and suspicious and not let anyone get close. But ‘trust’, now that’s a different ballgame. I can only speak for myself but if my current husband ever decides to leave me preferring to live with someone else, THIS TIME, I’ll be sad for a while then pick myself up, brush myself off & continue to enjoy the goods things in my life. Or as Ric said in a lot fewer words ‘.Expect betrayal, enjoy life in the meantime, deal when it happens, and move on.’

    I don’t know about ‘expecting betrayal’ but I’m certainly prepared for it this time and from where I sit, only a fool trusts a partner never ever to do that to them.

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      I’m such a fan of your observations, Salmart … and as I’ve said before, I am so tired of the negative connotations of the word “bitter.” We do need a different, better, sexier word — because it’s entirely appropriate for those of us in these situations to feel that emotion — one month later, one year later, one decade later. To fixate on it is a different thing, but to experience pangs … especially when that person cannot inherently leave your life entirely … that just seems normal (whatever that word means).

      And I do think you’re brave for embracing love again. I’m doing my best, but with only a few years under my belt, it’s a constant struggle. I’m sure time will help, but I do feel entirely, fundamentally changed. And there are parts of that change — the suspicious parts — that I’m not a fan of…

      Thanks again for adding some clarity to a cloudy issue. And when you think of that new word, perhaps we can work together to market it? First stop: Urban Dictionary!

  23. Cat says:

    I don’t know what you can do to mend a broken heart, I mean how can you stop the rain from fallin down? Love makes the world go round! Okay, okay, enough of that. I, too, was subjected to cruel behaviour from the man who had loved me so long, after we separated, and it burned like acid. My responses were defensive and vitriolic. My instinctive defense mechanism was to be extremely bitchy and vengeful, born out of a sense of self-preservation. To protect myself. The hurt is so acute that you never want to go through that again, and you never want that person to hurt you LIKE that, ever again, so you sabotage any friendly relationship that might develop, instinctively. Stronger than this is the desire to protect your children, and you say anything that will do that job, and do things, too. It is a time-period of your life that you are not proud of, and indeed admit that you never treated enemies as badly as the one who loved you for so long but who also tore the “our” out of “our family”, and our heart along with it. More than the loss of trust and self-esteem and love is the amount of hurt that comes with your marital break-up. Nothing compares to hurt. Hurt heals so slowly it seems unbearable. Hurt lasts longer even than betrayal because the betrayal you can deal with, you can deal with it as a single event and accept it. Hurting ebbs and flows. I cleaned house: boxed up every item that he bought, owned or we bought together and either sent it to the Thift shop or the garbage pick-up. I exchanged the livingroom furniture and all the lamps, changed beds (who wants to share their Marital Bed with their next partner after all?) and a lot of household decor. Fresh start. New chapter. And it hurts a little less and the healing begins. And eventually you shut off ALL your emotions towards the one who loved you for so long, even anger, because your need for self-preservation no longer allows you to feel hurt by this person, and you marvel at how you can look at him and be in his physical presence and feel absolutely nothing, as if you were nothing more to each other than 2 complete strangers in a mall. I believe that every one going through divorce achieves this emotional state eventualy, but the amount of time is different of each of us. For me it took about 4 years of fighting before I was finally there. One of my friends took only a year. You will get there one day because you fighting the good fight, and never lose sight of that.

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Cat … I’m so grateful for your perspective! I found myself reading your comment and thinking to myself “I did that!” and “I didn’t do that, but I thought about it…” Once again, it’s amazing how much commonality we all share!

      The de-exed house is a beautiful thing: While I was not able to sell the home we shared (damn post-divorce housing market), I did essentially gut it and start fresh.

      And one of my favorite moments was literally placing our marital bed on my lawn and telling him that he needed to come dispose of it. I wouldn’t even give it the decency of a proper departure — I aired it out on the lawn, for all the neighbors to see and speculate about, like a rejected, broken appliance. Very cathartic…

  24. Lizard says:

    Another great chapter! Thanks for the smiles and the heartfelt reality of it all. Somehow your blog brings to mind the saying about the tears of a clown. Your humor is really whats keeping you afloat. Hugs..

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Thank you kindly. It does seem to me both amazing and appropriate the crazy situations I find myself in … or, rather, the crazy situations that find me. I figure it’s my duty to write about them.


      Hugs right back at ya!

  25. misterking23 says:

    Mikalee…I was suprised by how entertaining your post on New Years was. Sorry you didn’t make it to the 3rd party, but from what it sounds like your night was eventful enough….

    I’m new to the blogging world, so if you could please check some of my blogs out and provide me with pointers for the future it would be appreciated…Stay safe, and warm!


    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Thanks for the condolences … I appreciate the sympathy! But you’re right, the party was interesting enough as it was — I certainly don’t feel like I missed much that night!

      I look forward to reading your blog. 🙂

  26. mamanne says:

    I don’t know if trust can ever be fully restored, altho I think you can live a pretty full life without it. Trust in a significant other, anyway. I still have trust in family, good friends, God… My story is an unfaithful spouse, who chose eventually to stay in the marriage and make it work. So, I didn’t get the pleasure of shredding him in print because that would have been sort of counter-productive, don’t ya think? Which I missed, I really did! It would’ve been cathartic! Anyway, it’s been 15 years… I wish for you who are newly-injured I could say “time heals all wounds” but I think that’s kind of a load of crap – I mean, like you said, maybe the injury is healed, but the scar will always be there, and sometimes scars can get stiff or a little sore, if they were deep wounds. So it’s never really, truly gone. Is my trust better than in the early part of recovery? Sure, totally! I could not have gone on living like that… is it recovered fully? No. And I don’t think it will be. Sometimes the doubts creeep in. But, I am a stronger person now, and I’m okay.
    One important thing I take away from your post is this: I’ve always had the thought that maybe, had I divorced and remarried, I could have had complete trust in that new spouse because ‘he’ had never hurt me… I guess that’s not the case, huh? Which makes me feel a little better about my choice – because somedays I really like to second-guess myself. So, thank you! Sorry you have to be making that point, tho. But, for all of us, it helps to share.

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Wow, mamanne … great perspective here. It’s really interesting to see the situation from the other side, and I’m so glad you shared part of your story.

      I can certainly imagine the “what might have been” questions that would endure in a situation like this — as I sometimes imagine what would have happened had my ex worked to keep his family intact. But I honestly feel the best case happened for me, as it sounds like it did for you as well.

      And I’m glad that you brought up how trust remains for people/ideas representing other aspects of your life — just not in relationships. As they say, “once bitten, twice shy…”

  27. lessonstobelearned462 says:

    Wow! Sounds like you had quite an interesting new year! You remind me of my mum a bit, she’s very out there, and she even got her fingers stuck together with super glue too! My mum and dad got divorced when i was about 7. Our situation was pretty crazy too. I’ll spare you the details, but to explain it simply, my mum was divorcing her second husband at 28 years of age, which left her with about zero capability to trust anyone. She was studying, and we lived in poverty while she was suffering from depression. We saw our dad every weekend [he was also suffering from depression] who was living with his parents. From the day after they got divorced, dad and his parents hated mum, still do. 8 years later we are in a lovely house, and mum coping exceptionally well, especially after dad decided that he was going to travel around Australia with his 22 year old girlfriend. My mum worries about becoming bitter, and I’ll tell you what i tell her. If you stop hating your ex, then you can’t become bitter. Sounds simple? Believe me, I know it’s not. But you can’t be angry at someone forever. You will trust again, when you need to trust again. Have you ever read eat pray love and committed by Elizabeth Gilbert? I think those books could help, and if they don’t, they are very interesting. Good luck with your in devour to become a new you!

    • Mikalee Byerman says:

      Well, now that I know you’re 13, I’m not totally offended that I sound like your mom. Nah, just kidding — I think no matter the age, anyone who’s been through a situation like this can share similar quirks, traits and coping mechanisms.

      And speaking of coping, it sounds like you’ve all done amazingly well, and I hope you’re in a happier, more peaceful place. I am sometimes reminded by how truly lucky I am — good job, good life, good home, good friends. So many in horrible divorces are left with so much less (though I’m the one who worked by butt off to get myself here!).

      Thanks so much for the comment. 🙂

  28. 7kimberlee says:

    Time does heal all wounds…that’s all I can offer. While my marriage did not dissolve (thankfully), it still took years to repair the broken bedrock of my previously impervious trust and belief in our marriage. I am happy to say that time is indeed the super glue of broken promises ~and~ its been 3.5 years since our troubles and we are better than ever as a couple! You will get through the process, and you are doing exactly what you need to do. Just keep it up!

If you do not leave a comment, you will further shatter my already broken spirit. If you can live with that guilt, so be it... ;)

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