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.
“Surviving the suicide of my first love and my kids’ father was a twist I never thought my life would take. But here we are, three years later, still living on after the whiplash of the tragedy which changed our lives forever.”
“I let her go. That all sounded like a pretty sh*tty existence, right? Then they proceeded to say she had a stroke. As I watched my daughter die, all I wanted was to trade places with her. I wanted to take the pain away. So, I let her go.”
“I parked my tired butt on the couch, overindulged in some sweets, and started to cry. I can barely wife and mom. Last night, it hit me like a ton of bricks. ALL OF THIS. I haven’t hugged my mom!”
“If I wanted to impress a crowd, I could. I’ve got my ducky little life put together. At home, my children are laughing, my husband is eating a hot dinner, and the floor is tidy and clean. Right beneath the surface, hidden right before your eyes, is someone desperately trying to stay afloat.”
“She was fried. She hadn’t slept much. I felt invisible. She looked at me and said, ‘This isn’t you, or the parent you want to be, so you need to tell me what you need or snap out of it.’ We sat in that uncomfortable place for a good 45 minutes.”
“OMG YOU GUYS. I notice that EVERY. SINGLE. CAR. THERE is either some sort of hot rod muscle car. I spent the next ten minutes until the ‘parade’ started avoiding eye contact with anyone, plotting my escape.”
“As I type this, I’m sitting on the potty. Was that TMI? Ugh, I’m sorry. My four-year-old snapped this image of me today.”
“This is what’s right for me. Friends, six feet of space, and fresh air.”
“In less than 24 hours, our hearts turned from us to them. Our hearts somersaulted to an option that was nowhere near the table — it wasn’t even in the house. Foster care. And I was right, by the way. I’ve already given one baby back to his natural mom. But I’ll never not be a mom.”
“I cried yesterday , I cried today. I worry about my family and my aging parents. I worry about job security, and I worry for others — those businesses that may never open back up, the friends who are suddenly out of work.”
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