Ah – the holidays are upon us; and on the heels of a nerve-wrecking and completely divisive election non-the-less… should make for interesting fodder over the next several weeks as we come together to celebrate our respective faiths and each other. Oh, the stories we will tell…

The people are protesting. The people are pissed – except for half the people. Half the people are elated. Half the people feel justified. The other half feel scorned. Half the people didn’t even show up.Sometimes in life, you’re lucky if half the people even show up.I hate politics. Holding firm to a personal belief that the only way to effect real change is not through government, but through the hearts of the people.

I know you are worried, and I know you are scared. When we met the other day, you told me you were considering divorce - you and your spouse have fallen out of love. Yesterday, I wrote part 1 of an open letter describing my own experience of divorce and shared some insight I thought might help you. Today, I promised a deeper look at some of the specifics that often contribute to the end of partnership. I hope it helps.

It was great seeing you last night, I love it when we get together – with our busy lives, those opportunities are few and far between. You have come to me, as many do, to ask about my divorce, to see how I’m doing. You say it is something you’re considering for yourself. You say you and your spouse have ‘fallen out of love’ and are merely co-existing.

This week I received a message via Twitter asking two questions:Will you share where you are now on this journey? What happened as a result of your willingness to embrace change?It seemed interesting, so I agreed to answer via blog post. Only, it proved to be more challenging than I expected. Consequently, I’ve decided to answer the first question here and the second in my next post, so check back for that one. Thanks, @BeingKwa for the ask!

I’ve just spent the last several days in one of my favorite spots on earth. Tucked away in the hills of the Smoky Mountains, this cute little town in North Carolina is not known for its lavish resorts or expanded amenities. It is a simple place, trading name brand golf courses and country clubs for small creeks and modest family vacation homes that have spanned generations - along with views that I’m convinced are as close to God as any you’ll ever see. There is a spirit here you won’t find elsewhere; those seeking God have also found this place with prayer and meditation houses haphazardly dotting the landscape. There’s a thriving arts district nearby as well – creative energy and God often walk hand – in – hand.

There’s a new girl at the gym. I’ve known her for years really, but she’s new to that space in my life. She’s what I’d call a loose acquaintance. The other day, I noticed she stopped talking to me – saying hello and the like – the times I’ve approached her, she seems distant, like I’m bothering her. We’ve all been there. Is it me? Is it her? What is going on here?

In my house there is an ugly green couch. It was given to me by a friend when I was in the middle of divorce and in the process of a considerable downsize. I was literally cutting my square footage of living space in half and walking away from large spaces in favor of smaller, more manageable ones. The oversized furniture it took to fill up my old space was never going to work in this new place. Sometimes a purge is necessary – sometimes you should not adorn your new surroundings with your old materials.

It started in middle school. Science class was held in a portable outside and it became a game for one boy to grab my *ss as we walked there each day. The next year, another great game was created when a different boy would pull me into the band closet and try to kiss me while his friends held the door. Every year, it was my great pleasure to be greeted by the PE teacher as I emerged from the locker room after dressing out, “would you like fries to go with that shake?” he would ask as he watched my friends and me head down to the school field.

I’m worried, I say – I’m concerned because we’ve been on antidepressants for over a year now and she’s still depressed.

“Of course she’s depressed.”We’d found a new therapist, one who is working with new techniques. These techniques have worked with other kids – we are hopeful.“Every day is hard for her – everything she does, everywhere she goes it is too bright or too loud or not loud enough. It takes all she’s got to just get through the day. She has a right to be a little depressed. I would be worried if she was not a little depressed.”

Everything was falling apart. Seemingly overnight we lost almost all of our money, everything gone. What little was left would be finding its way elsewhere soon. Worse than that, it was becoming apparent to me that our financial problems were the least of our worries and in fact, were only symptoms of much bigger problems hiding in plain sight right beneath the surface.

“I’m just so busy…” I caught myself. I was in the grocery store talking to a friend, or an acquaintance really, who had asked about my life. I never want to be the I’m so busy girl. The truth is we’re all really busy with things we’ve made up to do in order to occupy our time. Our level of busyness (or avoidance) is entirely up to us. When it comes to civilization, we have more free time than any societal group in human history. But even with all of our newly found freedom, we don’t take the time to properly care for ourselves in body and in spirit.

My name is Sara and I’m a recovering perfectionist.For most of my adult life I was a striver. A striver and a pleaser. For many years, my life consisted of a neatly compartmentalized set of rules and standards that created a false sense of safety and security. Nothing was as sacred as these self-imposed rules and I would let nothing violate them. If challenged, I would defend to the death, twisting the truth to match my skewed reality.

Her boss was angry. He wanted her to begin planting the seeds to a co-worker about the eventual phasing out of her job. When she refused to do so, the treatment was harsh and his abuse became focused on her. Suddenly, she could do no right.His wife was angry. It seemed like he could do nothing to please her. Most days she blew up his phone with angry texts in order to get him to do what she wanted. ‘If you were worth anything.. .’ ‘If you cared at all.. .’ ‘If you ever leave me, I’ll make your life a living hell.’ All the while, they served on the local church council and were members of the best clubs in town – they were modeling the perfect family. This was going to be a long life.

We were made for each other – some say the perfect pair.

I told him it always felt like I was disappointing someone; my employer, my kids, my family, my friends. There just never seemed to be enough of me to go around. He had asked me to describe the most difficult thing about being a single mom. At the time, I thought that answer was true – but looking back, I think maybe the hardest part about being a single mom – or a mom in general is that it’s easy to lose yourself a little bit. He told me he wished I needed him more. A lot of people in my life say this.

It was a very bad day. He was fired and upon release of the news, the company stock increased by 21%....She looked into her checking account and realized he had taken everything and had gone himself, leaving her with the house and the kids and all the explaining that goes along with such a matter…After years of an empty and volatile relationship, she had come to the realization that the life and the world she had built for herself needed to come to an end…

She had been in a loveless marriage for years – decades maybe. If asked, she talked about it openly, and even those who didn’t know somehow knew. A mutual friend approached me, “it’s become the elephant in the room,” she said. “She can’t see how much this is impacting her.” Over the years, this relationship had stolen her joy, her beauty. It was making her bitter and angry – her sense of self was seeping out at the seams. There is nothing quite as lonely as being in a lonely marriage.

Orlando has had a tough week. There’s a general malaise right now around the city. It’s a mixture of shock and grief, and sadness, a lot of sadness – but I think mostly we’re just trying to make sense of the senseless. And come to terms with all the terrible things that have just happened in our own backyard. It is hard to accept tragedy.

“I just want to be certain – I want to know what’s going to happen, and I want to make sure I don’t get hurt.” I was silent, listening to my friend as she was carefully spelling out the details of a new romantic interest. Her voice was filled with enthusiasm and a little dread. New relationships are scary and she was afraid of the unknown.In life, there is so much uncertainty.