The word "contradiction" probably comes to mind when reading the title of this article. What marriage advice could a divorced mom possibly give? Being divorced means she failed at marriage, right? “I haven’t failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.” – Thomas Edison Failure is a harsh term. I like to think that I’ve simply figured out at least one way marriage doesn’t work. So, if you are willing to listen to a divorced mom, then here are some things I’ve learned a

This post contains affiliate links. This is a book review series I do the first Wednesday of every month. I review books related to divorce, love, relationships, and self-growth. I also review some fiction books. So snuggle in with a cup of joe and a blanket and let's get reading :) Today, I'm featuring Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. Gosh darn it! It changed my life. I know it's become somewhat of a cliche to say that Eat, Pray, Love changed your life. But gosh darn it

Like many divorced women before me, I packed a bag the day I decided to leave my ex-husband. I threw in shirts, pajamas, socks, underwear, and comfy pants. On top of that, I dumped my makeup bag, toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant. It didn’t occur to me then, but this was a very important bag. It was probably the most important bag I would ever pack. When I opened that bag at my parents' house later that first night, I realized I didn’t do a very good job packing. The shir

I've been doing a lot of soul-searching this year (a lot more than in past years) and there's been a theme: I need more abundance in my life. I've struggled with feeling inadequate and "less than" as long as I can remember. Lately, I've been getting tired, I snap at people easily. And when I look inward and ask my spiritual guide what is missing, the answer is "abundance". Abundance in happiness, creativity, connection. And abundance in love for myself. I think we can all use

This article was first published on The HuffPost. Today, I let my fear get to me. I let the what ifs, and the never was-es and the should haves and the baggage and the insecurities and the doubts creep in my head. They were sly buggers. I was having a hard day and just off “my time of the month," so I was hungover from chocolate and hormones. I let my guard down, and they scurried right in through the crack in my carefully crafted door. Fear sucks. It’s immobilizing. It’s par