A Year Ago Today…

And there are still tears…

Believe it or not… a year ago today ish, we were hanging out in a park in Phoenix. Trying to make every moment last before I had to go to the airport to come home. And just like then… I’m finding myself with tears. This time, because I still miss you.

Two months. And honestly sometimes it feels like two seconds, or two minutes or two hours, shit… two days. I believe it’s getting easier, better, more tolerable. Most of the time. And then just like that, it’s not again. There are little markers that happen. A song I hear and not burst in to tears, and there are still songs that just push me over the ledge. I’ve yet to listen to Happy Anywhere by Blake Shelton, it’s just too close.

I’m working on laundry for travel to Arizona tomorrow. Looking forward to that… I love travel, even not seeing you, I still love it.

The next milestone is two weeks away.


Sarah is getting married, and we were going to have our first vacation together. Initially, I was going to go by myself. I thought better of it, because I don’t want to be alone, I think I’d think too much of you. So Sheritta is going. I’m grateful for that. So today was dress shopping and getting ready for a week in paradise, without you. I don’t know if, and I wonder if you think about ANY of these things? Or…

Is it something I do…?

Because I am just having such a hard time getting over you. This is our “anniversary.” There you are and here I am and we’re just not. I have to keep telling myself that. I want you to think about us, I want you to miss me, and I want you to want me back. It makes me sad and feel a little bit on the pathetic side of things frankly… Just like having Sheritta be my travel buddy. I feel like I’ve given up on us, just a little and I don’t want to give up on us. And I am still asking myself… what the fuck happened? I thought about when your dad said that you told him that we just weren’t getting along… And that’s why we’re over. And when I think about that… I think about things with the house were becoming more real, and that real decisions were being made, how to create our household. Honestly, I believe things were getting too real for you. Never once did I believe we were just not getting along. I do believe things were getting harder, it doesn’t matter who’s “fault” it is, or was, or could be. It just doesn’t matter.

What I do believe?

I believe still we were/are worth working on and fighting for. That is why I struggle so much. And then I just catch myself talking about us in past tense… another marker on the road. I believe just not getting along at the moment is not a reason to throw something amazing away. It’s like throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Things you just don’t do.

That’s what you did.

You pussed out. You gave up. You quit. You avoided working on something worth working for. You avoid things that are hard. It has consequences. You threw us out because it was easier than doing the work. Fuck you for that. Fuck you for breaking my heart. Fuck you for loving me or for not loving me. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

I hope you think about us.

I hope you think about me.

I hope you think about Kauai.

I hope you think about the house.

I hope you think about what was possible.

I hope you think about what was possible. I hope you know never ever if you live a million years will you EVER find a woman that loves you more fiercely or willing to go to the mat than me.

And in all of that… this is still true.


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One. Year. Later.

525,600 minutes

One of these days I do believe I should see Rent.

Because I refer often to 525600 minutes. The number of minutes in a year. And tomorrow it will be 525600 since I first flew to Phoenix to see you.

The name of the song is Seasons of Love. In the past 525600 minutes, I believe I’ve felt all of the things one can feel in the seasons of love. The newness of the relationship, when everyday was rainbows and unicorns… and sparkles and bows. It went that way for such a long time… Maybe it was dating from the distance that made it so. And honestly, for me, it was rainbows and unicorns until January maybe… when things just started feeling off.

It’s like going from Spring to the bone chilling dead of winter in 30 seconds or less. That’s what the fall apart felt like for me. The season where it ends… when the relationship dies. It’s cold, it’s empty, everything dies and everything hurts.

Maybe it was happening the whole while and I just didn’t notice, or care to notice. I was so committed to what I thought we were building that I don’t think I bothered to believe for one moment that we weren’t equally invested. I didn’t stop to consider maybe we weren’t on the same page. Not that I would have, because from all signs I see and evidence I have, I had no reason to believe otherwise.

And yet here we are.

And strangely enough, I am getting ready to travel back to Arizona.

Timing is funny isn’t it?

This time, I’ve had to plan more. Be more intentional with my time, to be sure I don’t have a lot of empty time to wonder what could have been, what should have been, what I believed would be.

I’ll arrive on Monday, and go straight to the house. I am looking forward to the progress that’s been made since my last visit. I’m bringing my sharpie… so I can write my hopes and dreams for my home in Arizona on the floor and the walls… so they’ll be permanently in my home. It’s like my prayer circles.

I’ll spend Tuesday doing sales calls and stay the night in Phoenix.


I’ll move on to Tucson for some appointments and trade show prep. Ordinarily I may have kept the room in Phoenix and gone back there.

If we were us.

But we’re not.

So staying in Tucson makes more sense. I’ll grab dinner with some friends… and not have the urge to wonder what you’re doing. Driving by to see if you’re home. Thursday is trade show day, and I’m grateful for Thursday plans too. Return to Phoenix on Friday… one last drive to the house, and then to the airport to come home… If we were us, I’d be staying the weekend and returning home on Sunday.

But we aren’t. And so it’s different, it has to be.

What we were… was almost 525600 minutes of thinking I had my forever person.

How do you measure the Seasons of Love?https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s1c3MARlJ0Q

525600 minutes of learning to move on, miss you less, want you less and look forward to 525600 minutes of learning what makes me fulfilled.

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Love You And Move On Too…

I believe I can.

I believe I can love you, and likely will forever, and move on too.

Fifty days.

Of crying, sobbing, wondering if the sun will actually still bother to rise tomorrow. Of being angry, of self sabotaging, blaming myself, blaming you, blaming anything else in arms reach. Of wondering why I’m not good enough (file under self sabotage), and know what?

None of it matters.

Because here’s the truth.

The sun will rise tomorrow not withstanding some Armageddon moment. I will still get up, and I’m realizing it simply doesn’t matter how much I want things to be the way they were, because they can’t. The genie has been let out of the bottle and it’s not something you can easily put back and I don’t care what Disney’s Aladdin claims. I am realizing I can’t love you, or me, or us enough for both of us. I just can’t as much as I sometimes wish I could.


I can’t fix what’s hurting in your heart. Whatever it is that’s keeping you from the life you should have if you’d only reach out and grab it. I wish I could… sometimes, and then I wish and realize I can’t. That’s work you’ll have to choose to do.

So…what’s left?

The work on the house continues. I am so excited to have my brand new home… with new house smell and everything. Of making new friends and finding new relationships. Of doing something that’s scary, really scary…and doing it in a way I wasn’t expecting to, but choosing to do. I could choose to let the house go, and stay here. But I can’t help but to feel I’d have a lifetime of regret from that. Perhaps you are the push I needed to go in another direction. To be brave, to do me, to do something new…to do me.

Now that’s not to say…

That I don’t wonder how you are, because I know you know I do. It’s not to say that I don’t pray for you still everyday, I do. That I don’t wish you’d call me. I do. And that in some crazy romance novel kind of way wish that you’d find your way back to us…I do. Though I think I do less than I did.

Just the same… I believe.

I’ll Love you still… and I’m moving on. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IiHhTdg8qrc

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Do You Boo…

Photo by Anny Patterson on Pexels.com

So… My sister Jennifer, among others has said, “you do you.” In the aftermath and aftershocks of Chet.

I believe it’s worth a try…


What happens when you don’t know how to “do you.” There’s a ton to unpack here. So I am going to give it my level best.

I don’t know what doing me is… let me tell you why.

I am number 4 in a family of six children. I have three older brothers and two younger sisters. My parents divorced when I was in second grade give or take. Initially, and for most of the time, my oldest brother lived with us, or not… the two younger brothers (before me in pecking order) lived with my dad and my two younger sisters lived with me. When I say me… I mean my mother.

I believe my brother Vito (the oldest) and I were forced in to the caretaker role for the good or the bad. Vito more so when we were younger, but even from an early age, it was projected on me that I was “older” than my years and so “taking care of… fill-in the blank” seemed to just be expected. For as long as I can remember, I’ve taken care of things, of people, of to dos, of the cat, the dog, friends… you name it. I’ve been wired this way for 38 give or take years. If something needs to be done, Liz will do it.

Thirty-eight years…

Of doing things for everyone, sometimes me, but me is secondary. I believe this has been a factor creating the mess I find myself in today.

You do you…

I get the big do me things…

Buy a house. check.

Finally get my name changed. check.

See the bariatric surgeon. check.

But what does the smaller me doing me look like?

I’ve been getting a massage every other week. I’ll put that in the me doing me column. I’ve been better at going to the gym with my gal pal Amy… that goes in me doing me. Getting my nails done, me doing me. But much beyond that feels truly uncomfortable. It shows up everywhere really. I am happiest when I am doing something for someone else. And that… is really kind of the reason I think I am where I am now.


She’s one of my gal pals and I find myself so jealous, envious, wishing I was a bit more like her. She’s really similar to me in life path and trajectory right now. Which makes me grateful for her in my circle and makes me grateful for an example of how to “do you.” She’s amazing at finding meet ups and marching to her drum, doing her, trying out new and different and doing so unapologetically. I will spend more time watching her and with her and hoping she’ll be a great coach in this space. She makes it all look EASY.

I believe I’ll keep watching.

Bringing selfish back.

There’s also the notion of “doing me” is really being selfish. Especially when you know there are things you can be doing for others. Karine… my rockstar therapist and I talked about bringing selfish back. Taking the stigma out of doing for yourself… first. Even typing it out in this blog… I feel like I am breaking some unspoken rule of humanity. Be kind to your fellow man. I am going to start journaling about me doing me and looking for the ways I can do it small… exercise the muscle so being selfish becomes second nature.

I hope you find ways to do you… and to do it selfishly, unapologetically, and consistently,

“Remember always that you not only have the right to be an individual, you have an obligation to be one.” — Eleanor Roosevelt

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A Month of Heartbreak…

And it’s still no easier.

Thirty Three Days.

I’m not going to consider the hours, minutes, or seconds. It would be too much.

Some days I believe I am making progress. And then there’s today. Am I?


I’d love to be a martyr and say no… say it’s no better. I think it still hurts a bit… maybe as much as day one, and maybe I am just becoming more adept at compartmentalizing, stuffing, ignoring, sometimes dealing, and learning the new way about it.

I’m not used to this.

I’m not used to not being in control, of not having answers, or access to answers, and wanting something that really isn’t going to happen. It’s kind of like waiting to win the lottery without having bought a ticket. Wanting something that really isn’t going to happen.

There’s still the camp…

That will encourage me for the bullet I’ve dodged. The I can do better crowd. The I deserve more crowd. The I loved you as you were when we started crowd.


You know what I wanted? I wanted what we were working on. I wanted our plans. I wanted all of that. I wanted you. I wanted me. I wanted us.

Didn’t you want that too?

I have to believe you didn’t intend the collateral damage that was created in the past 33 days. I have to believe you didn’t mean to hurt me. And yet…

You did.

And.. there’s no putting the genie back in to the bottle. The sooner I realize that and really believe it, the better I will be.

I still wish you’d call me.

Though I don’t know exactly what I’d say. Though I don’t know exactly how I’d feel.

I love you. Still.

I’d rather love a million times and have my heart broken every time, than hold a permanently empty heart forever. H.C. Paye

This is a stinger. A bad one… the kind of hurt that isn’t really alleviated with anything. And believe me… I’ve tried.

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How Is It…?

So I saw Karine on Monday. She’s my therapist, and I do believe she’s fucking amazing. I believe we need to change the conversation around mental health and therapy, but that’s a different conversation for another day.

The conversation around the loss of my relationship has been the topic d’jour for about a month now…since he put on the breaks without warning and at a slam versus tap.

We’ve talked about how I’ve been blogging to help work through the million give or take emotions I am feeling minute to minute, day to day, hour to hour. Sometimes writing it out helps, and sometimes not. Most of the time… I think it helps.


Blog or write why it is possible that I am amazing in all of these ways and yet are without a partner?

Here are the ways… in which I am amazing:

I’m funny.

I’m smart.

I’m pretty.

I’m kind.

I’m giving.

I’m debt free.

I have a great job.

I make great money.

I am successful.


I am alone.

And I don’t know the answer to that. I don’t even know that I know where to start finding the answer. Part of me feels like I traverse around with a target on my back (and front) letting the world around me know what an easy and gullible target I am. I fall, and when I do I fall hard. The outcome is historically painful, and leaves me with my feelings of not being good enough. And that is really quite the mind fuck, when I look at the aforementioned list.

So why am I alone?

Some might say my bar isn’t set high enough and that I need to be fishing in a different pond.

Some might say that I am trying to do things in Liz time versus God’s time.

Some might say I just haven’t found “the one” yet.

And I say I don’t know.

Because I actually believe he is the one. My last first kiss, the opposite attracts of me. The one that showed me I was worthy of the daily phone call, the affirmations of my “I am” list… and yet the one, who just wasn’t ready to accept me and my amazing and my not so amazing at face value and commit to the work of making it work.

Edit: 3/16/2022 7:47 — Maybe… he’s not ready ready to accept his amazing and not so amazing and commit to the work of making it work.

And there ladies and gentlemen… is the answer.

I am alone because he just isn’t ready to accept me (and him) and my (and his) amazing, and, not so amazing at face value and commit to the work of making it work.

So… I’ll wait.

And go through the sometimes painful process of grief and loss for my love. Learning what it is to be me in this new space where I am, to turn a Trane Technologies phrase, boldly challenge what is possible, so that maybe I’ll catch the fish in a different pond, or God’s time will prevail, and I’ll find the one.

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The Weekend Comes…

And goes.

So it’s Friday… In normal time, FriYay. But I’m not there yet.

I made it through the bulk of the day yesterday with relatively few tears.

Then call time came.

And went.

We’ve spent nearly a year speaking every evening at our time. It’s missing now, and it still hurts. It frankly sucks that here we are a month later (give or take) and my heart still aches and wishes you’d just fucking call.

The problem.

As I see it, and so well put by my gal pal Susan is I don’t have either definite hope, or… definite closure. I mean there’s the closure of we’re not talking and you’ve taken to ghosting, so yes, closure there. But you know and I know based on our last conversation, things were left very undone. It’s untidy. And it’s uncomfortable.

Through all of this, I believe I will keep you in my prayers. I tried to erase you from my mirror. I failed. And so you’re back up there… I am going to try again. I’ll try again. I’ll try again. It’s the way it is and how it goes.

I also believe there is a reason for everything. Whether I like it or not, there is a reason to go through seasons of hurt. I believe there is a reason you are going through it too. I still hope you are able to get your heart whole again.

And believe it or not…

I still love you.

Really it is the all or all because even today, a month later, I still wish the phone would ring, and you would be on the other end, I wish you would let me know you love me, you want me, and we can work on just being us. I believe however, the odds on that…

Not. So. Much.

So another week in the books. Cabinets are ordered, my taxes are finished and the final K1 for my business is done bringing me one step closer to closing and my new home… I believe in the possibility of starting over in Arizona, with a plan that’s different than what was originally imagined.

Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness. DESMOND TUTU

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Cry the Last Tear…

I’d love to believe I’ve cried my last tear over this… and I haven’t. Today was another of the painful booger spilling, hyperventilating, sobbing sort of crying only associated with a broken heart.

It’s a crazy series of ups and downs, and downs, and then some more downs. I’m frustrated. I’m sad. I’m broken hearted. I have moments where all I can do is cry, I have moments where it’s me telling myself enough is enough, pick up, dust off, build the fucking bridge and get over it.

It’s not that easy.

It couldn’t be.

I didn’t just love you as something I said… a cute way to sign a card or end a conversation, or something we said with a kiss goodnight. I fucking love you. There was nothing I had that wasn’t yours, nothing I wouldn’t have shared freely without question or reservation. It was all or all, because I can’t even find myself able to do all or nothing. I don’t work that way.

The house.

My house is still in construction, and moving forward, and something I am moving forward with. The only road block I can see is a financing challenge, I’m doing my best to fix that. I love the house, I love that I can build and buy something all my own. I get to live somewhere no one else has… my new home smell. I love that I can do this. It’s scary because it’s so close to where you are. There are some absolute challenges that come along with that. So it’s time for me to really start getting real with that too. Of course, I think the time to get real is here anyway. You made the choices, you called the shots and now we both get to figure out forward based on your choices.

I can’t help but wonder if you really do or ever did love me. I believe you do, or at the very least did. I believe there was more to unpack and talk about and that there was nothing that wasn’t something we could have worked on… had we both been up to the task. Yours. Mine. Ours. It didn’t matter. I was. I’m sad the same wasn’t true for you too.

And so now what?

I hope you figure out what it is that’s hurting you so much. Because I don’t believe you deserve that hurt. I do believe you have to want to remedy it and it’s something only you can do.

I love fixing things.

This… for as much as I’d love to, I know I can’t. That sucks too. I’ve had people tell me about the bullet I’ve dodged, or I can do better, should have better, or deserve better, and right now… though all said from people I like, love, and/or respect, it matters little because my heart and head are still traveling two very different roads. My head is on board with pick up, dust off, build the bridge and fucking get over it. The heart… well… she’s still not on board. Some days it feels so much easier than others. That is the beauty of time on this. There will be more days that are better days as I move further away from the 15th, I also suspect there will be some real challenges as the time to move draws nearer. I’ll do what I can with my tribe to prepare myself for what’s next.

I hope you believe you deserve more. I hope you believe you can find it and make it happen. I hope you believe/d in what we had. I believe in what it is/was, because I saw it in you.

Broken heart will turn into a stronger one within hope. – Toba Beta

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When What You Believe Is Different…

So WHAT happens… when what you believe is, isn’t really at all?

It’s been my question for the past two weeks. What I believed was my last first kiss, the love of my life, my person, abruptly ended the relationship. No conversation, no face to face, no nothing. This is what it is and then I was ghosted.

Just. Like. That.

I won’t be so naive to say this is all on him. I can’t. Intentional or not, there are things I may have said and/or did that created some of the relational discomfort that resulted in the break-up. I’m not saying what I said or didn’t, did or didn’t is not valid nor justified. I have no way of knowing.

But still… what I believed to be true isn’t.

And it hurts like hell.

So… Here’s what I know.

I still believe in love. I still believe in bright futures… and for the good, bad, or ugly, I still believe in him. I just can’t wish him ill, not in the way I wish Putin would fall into a full bath tub with a plugged in toaster. Not in the way I wish to never see my narcissit ex-husband. Not in the ways that are burn it down kind of shit. It flies in the face of who I am.

Decisions to make.

It leaves me with decisions to make, you see, I am building my house in Arizona. It was going to be our home. On a gut level… moving forward still feels like the thing to do, for me. Partly, because I’m super priced out of buying anything in Colorado. Partly, because it’s brand new, never been lived in, new car smell kind of stuff. Mostly, because it’s beautiful and I love it. I believe I can be happy there. I believe I deserve my home. I believe I’ll make friends and build a beautiful life there.

So I do what any smart girl does. I’m talking to people smarter than I. Taking the sting of emotion out of the situation as much as possible. I’ll do some looking in Colorado, though I’m likely limited to a townhome if anything. I don’t want a condo… buying an apartment sounds awful.

It’s a two year commitment. One year, I have to live in the home… year two, I can have a renter if I find myself truly unhappy and unable to stay there.


My sister Jennifer would be four hours away by car. Super doable. I am only a short 90 minute flight to Denver, and Denver will still be a frequent stay for work related things. So the decision seems easy-ish.

But. Not. Really.

Picking up everything I own and moving somewhere new…against the original plan is super scary. But shit… I’ve done super scary for the past two years. Haven’t I?

So I believe I will pray on it. I believe I’ll seek wise counsel. I believe I’ll sleep on it for several more nights, and I believe whatever choice I make I will be supported by an amazing tribe of people.

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Believe… In. Me.

Just a ramble for today.

Somedays it’s hard. Just hard. Today feels like one of those days and frankly, I’m not even sure why.

Belief… seems so simple, but sometimes, I think it’s elusive. Believing in a cause, in a team, in myself.

Today… is that day. I’m not sure where it’s stemming from, and I certainly don’t want it to hang around any longer than it needs to, but I feel shaken, a little unsteady. No… a lot unsteady.


It’s a little gut check.

So how to dig myself out of this place of uncertainty and shaken-ness? Well…?There’s the rub. Don’t. Dig.

It’s got to be a lift doesn’t it? Building a ladder, climbing, like stairs, one step at a time, because that’s what I can do. One step.

The thing about belief, or disbelief, is the ability it has to show up in places where it has no business, and I think that happened today. And… it’s hard to find the way out. Taking back the moment isn’t possible, I wish it was, because not only does a shakedown in belief effect me, but it can affect others and that’s not what I’m up to or wanting so I need to be aware of it. And I hope that you are aware of it too.

I believe in you.

I believe in me.

I believe in us.

I believe in love.

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