Shop the fall collection ➔

In the 8 months since my marriage ended, I have experienced things I never imagined I would. I found myself at a turning point in my life. I have learned so much about myself in this divorce journey. As I continue to navigate it, I will learn even more. Everything is still new and I am still grappling with the end. Yet, beginning anew is looking mighty bright.

No divorce is the same.

Every marriage is unique, making every divorce different. Yet the journey is similar. We all feel hurt, sadness, guilt, loneliness, grief, anger, confusion, and utter desperation. We are all swimming in these emotions. The stages of these emotions differ in frequency, length, and intensity. And I want others to understand that I am going at my own pace, in my own time.

Don’t listen to all the advice.

Everyone has advice for divorce, even people that are not or have never been. I became overwhelmed with it all. I had to remind myself of what is stated above. I had to listen to my heart and realize my situation is not theirs. But mine. And I have to live with how I handle it. I might seem naïve or too nice. I am not. I just want to show my boys what goodness and kindness looks like. Those qualities in me does not equal weakness.

I will NEVER get use to missing out on my boys’ lives.

Every other weekend, I pack them off to Dad’s. I miss their sweet voices, their little arms around me, waking up to them. I will miss holidays, first experiences, and precious time with them. It will get easier but it will never sit right with me. I will struggle always with this.

I am stronger than ever.

Being a mom makes a woman strong. Divorce makes her stronger. My spouse told me he didn’t think I was strong enough to get through this. Well, he doesn’t know me anymore. My strength and courage is more than he could ever imagine. I have more than he ever will. And I like it that way.

I don’t love him anymore.

But I can look back at our times and years together fondly. I can speak to my children of the love that was present and the joy they bring to both of their parents. I will work hard to be a good co-parent with him so my sons thrive. I will try to be friends. I will do this because I did love him. And I want to honor and respect the love that created my two boys.

I don’t have time for games.

When I finally date, I want a man who is strong, passionate, and stable. I am not wasting my time with someone who is still looking for himself or finding his happiness. I want someone who adores me, loves me, and strives to be better for me and my sons. I want a good man. A Godly man. And I deserve it. I am worth it. I am not settling.

I am not broken.

I am healing. I am finding peace and forgiveness. I am finding God and his amazing son Jesus. I am finding true and good friends. I am finding my inner strength. I like who I am. I am proud of what I am becoming. I am holding my head high. I am not weak. I am not someone to pity. I will not let this become who I am. This divorce does not define me. Who I will be in the end will astonish. It will amaze. It will encourage. It will endure. No. I am not broken.

This divorce was never about me.

In the beginning, I thought I did something wrong. I should have tried harder. Been a better wife. A sexier wife. A career wife. A whatever to make him stay wife. What did I do wrong? Nothing. I did everything I could. I loved him. I supported him. I tried to be his partner and friend. I did everything with all that I had to make this marriage work and flourish. The end of our marriage is not on me. No never on me. A marriage will never survive if only one person is doing that. But this new beginning in my life is on me. Only me.

Katie Weber

Me. My two little men. My second change. Motherhood. Depression. Divorce. Love. God. laugher. Friendship. My lovely. It's all right here. Follow along for more at Lovely in the Dark. 

Grief Is Persistent But God Is Faithful

In: Faith, Grief, Loss
Woman praying by ocean

The loss of a parent doesn’t just sting, it leaves you with an irreplaceable hole in your heart. It’s been two years since my loving daddy went home to be with Jesus, and the loss I feel is still unimaginable.  I know in my heart he’s in a better place that is absent of pain and distress. However, his physical presence and wisdom are so dearly missed here on this earth.  He left behind an army of a family who adored him and looked to him for solid guidance. No matter how hard I try to look to the bright...

Keep Reading

l Will Never Stop Missing My Sister

In: Cancer, Grief, Loss
Woman in red shirt

It might be 16 years too late to properly depict the depressive senses that engulfed my whole being when I lost my only sister Aurora to colon cancer in 2006. Painful flashbacks continue to fill my everyday life at the most inopportune moments that  writing about it might somehow alleviate my grief. I remember getting that random phone call from her one sunny day in September 2006 and how guilt automatically hit me. It had been a while since I last saw her. “It’s positive,” she said. Backed with years of joking around and playing tricks on her since childhood,...

Keep Reading

My Parents Are Both Gone Now, and I’m Struggling

In: Grief
Man holding smiling infant, color photo

I lost my dad at the beginning of the summer. The last time I saw him, my daughter and I picked him up from the hospital after his bout of pneumonia. She talked to him about her last day of kindergarten and how she would now be a first-grader. He sat cupping his warm mug of coffee in his favorite chair while his favorite blanket covered his legs. He smiled and giggled about the kindergarten stories. He and my daughter share the same birthday so he always had that Pop-Pop proud look on his face toward her. He was tired...

Keep Reading

Having Cancer at 34 Taught Me How to Live

In: Cancer
Husband and wife on boat, color photo

This picture came up in my Facebook memories today. It took my breath away for a moment, just like it has for nine years now. It was the last picture taken of me before my midwife found the lump and my life changed forever.  The first time I saw that photo, I realized I didn’t know that woman anymore. She was naive. Laying there in the sun without any inkling that a cancer was growing inside her. Look at her—unafraid and without anxiety. Less than 48 hours later, she would be gone, replaced by someone who was afraid of each...

Keep Reading

My Hands Are Full, but They Should Be Fuller

In: Grief, Loss
Family walking on beach

When they are gay, the waves echo their gaiety; but when they are sad, then every breaker, as it rolls, seems to bring additional sadness, and to speak to us of hopelessness and of the pettiness of all our joys. -Baroness Orczy I sat in the sand at the edge of the shore, looked out at the vast Atlantic Ocean, and watched the waves change the landscape with each crash. I absentmindedly dug a hole in the sand next to me, but then a wave came. The hole filled first with water. Then, wet sand caved in. The surface of...

Keep Reading

To My Sons in Heaven: Your Short Lives Changed Mine Forever

In: Grief
Woman at sunse

Dear Noah, Caleb, and Micah: I can’t believe it’s been nine years since I held you in my arms. My sweet sons, losing you broke me in a way that I never thought was possible. I have loved you every second of every day since we first heard of your pending arrival. RELATED: A Letter to my Daughter in Heaven With each day that you have spent in eternity, my love for you has grown exponentially. I have a vision of the day we will hug once more. I imagine that by then, my heart will have expanded so much...

Keep Reading

What If I Could Meet My Mom Now?

In: Grief, Grown Children
Retro photo of woman in sunglasses

I attempt to swallow. My heart is in my throat. I hold back tears. The woman who stands before me is 36 and looks a lot like me, but is not me. I squeeze my arms, pinch my thigh to make sure. I don’t wake up. “Hello.” Her voice is soprano and nasally like mine. Her black, Farrah Fawcett hair frames her round face. We are the same height. We share the same eyes. The same smile. The same white teeth. The same nose. The same long legs. She wears a baggy t-shirt with white-washed jeans, the kind that are...

Keep Reading

317 Days of Love

In: Grief, Motherhood
Smiling baby girl

She couldn’t speak, yet her life spoke to so many. 317 days she was on this earth. She couldn’t speak . . . only one word she said before she passed. One precious word: “Mama.” I can still hear it clear as day. I remember the moment she was born. I looked at her daddy with tear-streaked cheeks, shaking as I heard her cry. The nurse said, “You have a baby girl!” and I was in such awe. I looked at her daddy whispering, “We have a baby girl.” I was in complete adoration. From her dainty little fingers to...

Keep Reading

The Woman He Married Is Long Gone

In: Grief, Kids, Marriage
Young couple smiling

My husband has been married to at least five different women—and they’re all versions of me. His first wife was the 21-year-old version of me, who was a fit and focused college athlete. She was a driven, perfectionist dream-chaser. She was ready to push and sacrifice to chase the dream. No challenge was too hard—but then again, the hardest thing in her life was her organic chemistry final. She had the eternal optimism that comes with naivety and innocence. She loved him with eagerness and couldn’t wait to build a life with him. He often still daydreams of this first...

Keep Reading

Not Having My Mom Here Never Stops Hurting

In: Grief
Sad woman

Each phase of life since my mom died has brought different struggles, triumphs, and varieties of emotion. I always knew that grief was lifelong and complicated, however, I definitely underestimated the ways in which it changes as time goes on. I remember the beginning years as survival mode. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get through each day until that day had passed and I was on to the next one. It was figuring out who I was and what my life was going to become during this awful new normal. Some days were harder than others and...

Keep Reading