LJ Herman is a former editor at Love What Matters and lives in Colorado. LJ is a concert, ticket and technology enthusiast. He has seen the Dave Mathews Band over one hundred times and counting.
LJ Herman is a former editor at Love What Matters and lives in Colorado. LJ is a concert, ticket and technology enthusiast. He has seen the Dave Mathews Band over one hundred times and counting.
“I needed a cold drink. It was so hot outside, and I was so thirsty, and I just felt a stirring in my soul saying, ‘stop at Sonic, girl, and get you a Route 44. Think about that tiny crunchy ice. You deserve it.’ I am not one to ignore heart whispers, so I stopped, thinking I had enough change to buy it in my center console thingy. But I thought wrong.”
“This moment was one I’d never in my 33 years of anxiety imagined happening to me. I held my phone steadily pointed towards my little boy, in hopes of capturing his every move on video. I was witnessing something I’d never have wished on the worst of enemies. I searched ‘Polymicrogyria,’ ran to the toilet, threw up my breakfast and curled into a tight ball. When I tell friends my son has a condition that causes epilepsy, they respond by saying, ‘at least that is treatable.’”
“For a while, this actually worked. I posted more freely; comfortable in stating my true heart, sharing my real struggles and joys without the shackles of the judgement they would surely throw my way. I did not feel the urge to edit or tip toe. I didn’t censor what was truly felt, even knowing it may help someone else, for the sake of possibly ‘pleasing’ these two. Or even for the sake of them not saying anything at all. I was freed.”
“The truth is, I resent being a disciplinarian, even though I know it’s good and right. So today, I gave myself the luxury of picking my battles. And to be honest, it was freaking amazing. Chill a little, mamas. The kids are alright.”
“I did what I had to do, which meant dragging my exhausted toddler on the subway, letting him sleep on me, then carrying him 8 blocks, all while wearing a full suit on the hottest day in history. I was literally dripping with sweat. We’re doing what we can to survive.”
“He threatened divorce if I didn’t quit my job. Eventually, he left. As we began the divorce process, the first serious boyfriend I had re-entered my life. There was a restraining order in place to keep myself safe. Things got worse. I never thought about my cell phone bill I shared with him. He took it upon himself to call every person I talked to. He found out about my said first boyfriend and lost it.”
“I writhed and wailed on the cold hospital floor. ‘I killed my baby. Oh God, I killed my baby!’ We had no answers. My husband said something about the moonlight shining through the window on her face that gave him an eerie feeling. He turned on the lamp next to our bed, and made the spine-chilling discovery. I used to joke my day was a success if my kids were alive and asleep by 10. Now I think about how carelessly I jested about their survival and I’m nauseated.”
“It was an average day. I dressed my kids, sent them to school. Then, I started to feel numb. Most days depression blends into our every day lives, but not today. Today it felt heavy. The world fed me the idea that depression looked like staying in bed every day, and because I was still rising and thriving, I thought I could get by. But when I entered the dressing room, the pain slipped in so fast I had no choice but to sit.”
“My son was vomiting and having crazy amounts of diarrhea for days. As I was unpacking his daycare bag, he was standing beside me crying. Next thing I know, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he passed out. I now have a 2-year-old with multiple chronic allergies and an 8-week-old heading in the same direction.”
“After the teary goodbyes, we walked inside. Our son tossed his shoes off and threw himself on the floor sobbing. It broke my heart because I knew he is now realizing that ‘See ya in 2 weeks’ is a different kind of goodbye. What broke my heart more was the pain in his daddy’s eyes as he drove off.”