Tag: family

• Bury It Next To A Tulip

  Wow. I have been incredibly slack around here. I apologize; I have no excuse. I’m currently in the middle of nowhere in West Virginia, at a very fancy hotel, to attend and present at a lawyer conference. I flew a red-eye with a layover in Atlanta, i.e., hell. I slept two hours on the plane, supplemented by a 30-minute nap.

  I slept poorly the night before because, guess what: as my new boyfriend and I were driving to the gym, I saw my ex walking the dog, a tenth of a mile from my boyfriend’s house. Thirty seconds earlier, and we would have run into him at the intersection, and he would have seen us both in the car. Me and a stranger, in his eyes. It sent a delayed jolt through my system, initially I nervously laughed but now, it just feels…bad, for the lack of a better word. Once I knew he had moved four blocks from my boyfriend’s place, I knew it was fucked and that I needed to be ready to run into him at any time. My cortisol is spiking; I walk in fear. That neighborhood was a safe space, my safe space, but now I’m not sure what to do or feel, or how to make it better. It feels tainted, and my underlying anxiety has been creeping back up. Dang it. I was okay, stable, and overall quite happy, and all of a sudden, he took that away from me. Yet again.

  It’s now 6 p.m. EST, and I’m getting ready to attend the conference’s cocktail reception. I simultaneously hate and love those events. Right now, I just want to eat, have a drink, and sleep. I’m pushing through it, as my boss would say.

  I thought I’d check in and share a little about what’s been happening. My birthday was over the weekend, and that, too, was magical with a hint of weird (I’ll share more about it). I am mourning a prior life while thoroughly loving my new one. My boyfriend bought me a Switch (yay, Zelda!!), but most importantly, he wrote me a beautiful and deeply meaningful love ballad. He’s a musician, one who made a career out of it, and that unpublished song is my most cherished possession, something I will forever remember and adore. It makes me want to do very romantic things with him, and some, to him. I feel incredibly lucky. Yet at the same time, I feel plagued. I love you so much, anonymous musician, yet I don’t know where to put the rest of my conflicting, grieving emotions. Suffocate them? Caress them? Throw them in front of a truck? Eat them? Bury them next to a tulip?

  

  2026.10.14

• Happy Birthday To Me ?

  This week is my birthday week (Libras, unite!). Yesterday I had a pre-birthday celebration, surrounded by friends and loved ones. It was a joint party with two other European (birthday) girls, and it was great. So many people came through, and it felt really special. The week ahead looks just as good: I’m getting sworn in at an Italian-American society in Los Angeles (months of work and networking), I’m hanging out with my best friend, I have a spooky movie night with my girlfriends, and on Saturday I’m going to see my favorite band ever. &, on top of it all, I have a beach day planned on Sunday (my actual birthday, and my favorite activity to do).

  Oddly enough, there’s a lingering feeling that my ex should have been there. I celebrated ten birthdays with him, including some really important ones. The last one with him was bad. This time last year, I ended up in the ER in Canada after a massive mental breakdown on a work trip. A few days later, I saw three psychiatrists, who all diagnosed me with a serious mood disorder. I was crying all the time, on top of pretty serious depression and anxiety. My mind kept swinging between X and Y. I couldn’t make a single decision, and I felt incredibly stuck and hurt. Despair became my companion. I dissociated constantly and couldn’t feel anything. I felt like a Sims character.

  On my birthday last year, my ex left me alone all day because “I had not requested his presence during the day” and “I need to organize things with him because his time is valuable.” Instead, he went to play soccer with a team he had barely put together. Then he was annoyed that he had to get me flowers (I like flowers on my birthday). His reasoning was that because he had helped plan my birthday dinner that evening, I could entertain myself during the day. So I spent the day crying on the couch. I watched Intouchables, barely ate, and walked the dog. My parents (who live in France) sent me a pretty plant on my day, and I cried some more. I dreaded the evening, felt like I couldn’t survive it, and wanted to cancel. He pushed me to go out and celebrate, and honestly, it was a good thing. I had a great time with my friends – although I drank too much and almost did not make it to the toilet bowl.

  This year looks very different. I feel like I have so many new friends, a whole new circle, and I celebrated at a really cool spot in Los Angeles. Not many old friends were invited, the ones who would have been at my birthday for years, because navigating our shared friends has become a very tough endeavor. I’m quite sad about that, and at the same time immensely relieved.

  My growth over the last year has been tremendous. I exercise five days a week (CrossFit, HIIT, strength training), I’ve built a huge gym community, I have lots of new friends I love, I travel a lot, I’ve reconnected with my family and old friends, as well as hobbies, and I found a job I adore that fits my lifestyle really well. As cheesy as it fucking sounds, I’ve reconnected with myself and found more within myself. I’m confident, and I feel much more at peace. It’s as if the storm has settled and the waves are no longer crashing against a wall.

  Life doesn’t feel so crazily overwhelming anymore. Yet he still pulls me back a little. I can still feel his invisible hand, a decade of love and care (on my end) that’s taking time to unravel. It feels odd, because I now see him as weak and, quite frankly, pathetic. I don’t think he had evil intentions or set out to be manipulative, but he was so fucked up. Such a boy, with little confidence, immense anxiety, and narcissism. He was killing me softly. And yet I feel sorry for him, for how much he lost because of his own hubris. A Greek god who suddenly lost it all.

  Sometimes I want to cry or scream, but nothing comes out. I’m a little afraid that I felt too much and went through so many traumatic years that now I feel nothing, or so little. It truly feels like my mind is still protecting me from the constant high stress and trauma I was subjected to. Little by little, I’m trying to give myself the space to think about what I’m feeling, and to actually feel it. Sometimes it works, and this blog definitely helps. But most of the time, it still doesn’t. I’m being patient with myself, because there is progress. One day, when someone asks me how I feel, I want to be able to answer with something other than “nothing” or “I don’t know.”

  

  2026.10.05

• Drive, Not Reverse

  I’ve been slacking on here. Sorry. It’s been an odd week. I spent it taking care of the dog (my beloved) and seeing friends again. It feels like there’s a distance between me and my friends now. I’m not sure why, but I’m struggling to be more present. It’s also my birthday month, and I’m throwing a party this Sunday with two other birthday girls. Seventy people RSVPed going, so it’s going to be pretty fun.

  Last night at 9:15 PM, my ex-husband emailed me. His car had broken down and he was stuck on an LA highway, and he wanted to know when our dog had last been taken out (I had returned her to him that afternoon). I immediately dropped everything and drove to his place, since he wasn’t there, to take her out and feed her. Immediately. I gave my boyfriend a heads-up, and he got upset, which led to our first “fight”. It was gentle, respectful and kind. It wasn’t really a fight, more a serious conversation, but it was still our first. He felt threatened that I dropped everything to go see the dog the moment my ex needed help. It was also 10 PM. I get it: if the roles were reversed, I’d feel the same way. In the moment, I was so anxious about the dog, who had been alone for almost seven hours, that I ran straight to her without thinking. The problem is the precedent it sets with my ex – that I am still willing to drop everything and help him, via her. But I want to choose this new relationship, and I am so over my ex.

  Oh, and I also put my boyfriend’s car in drive instead of reverse and bumped into the car in front of us. Thankfully, the other car had a tow hitch and wasn’t damaged, but his car was. Not badly, but still.

  I also went to the doctor yesterday for an allergy test. After being poked 47 times, I learned I’m severely allergic to dust mites (great), weeds like pigweed, and cats (a bit). On the bright side, I’ve finally recovered from jet lag, though it took a while. All in all, it was a weird, stressful week:

  1. Dog care and the handoff, which meant a lot more talking with my ex
  2. My first serious conversation with my boyfriend
  3. Guilt over the car and the ex situation
  4. Severe dust mite allergies
  5. Money stress after the EU trip

  What interests me is how I reacted during our serious conversation. I freaked out. I felt cornered and anxious, my heart was racing, and I was boiling with stress. I kept chuckling nervously and had no idea what to say. I couldn’t put into words what I was feeling, and I felt so guilty and bad. Because of that, it felt like I had done something wrong, like I’d cheated on my new boyfriend with my ex. That absolutely never happened, and it never even crossed my mind! But I was so visibly freaked out that he asked whether something might have happened. I immediately chuckled and got defensive, which only made me look guiltier. I couldn’t believe he’d think that, and it made me even more anxious.

  He saw how distressed I was and calmed me down. He asked how I felt, why I might be feeling that way, and what would help ease the urge to flee. I told him I hate conflict and avoid it at all costs (ironic for a lawyer, I know). I saw a new side of him, and he saw a new side of me. I think it made us stronger. This morning he apologized again for feeling stressed, threatened and a little jealous. He’d never shared feelings like that with me during my whole divorce, so it took me aback. I told him not to apologize for having feelings and thanked him for being so open. We both felt a little silly, apologized, and comforted each other last night and again today.

  I still need to work through this. I think because I’m such a people pleaser, and so afraid of causing hurt or starting conflict, I lose my mind when conflict actually happens.

  

  2026.10.02

• On Rest, Agency, and a Beef Bone

  I made zero social plans this past weekend, which is incredibly unlike me. I’m watching the dog right now and chose to stay put all weekend to spend some quality time with her at my lover’s home. Or maybe the jet lag forced me into rest. Either way, I was running around all day Saturday: I caught up on some work, went to a CrossFit class, unpacked my big suitcase, bathed the dog, and washed her bed. I did a million loads of laundry and cleaning. I also ordered her a bunch of cute ocean-themed toys on Amazon, restocked her food and treats, and got her favorite, a beef bone to chew on. On Sunday, I did nothing with my lover. Well, “nothing.” I went to a slow stretch yoga class, got a massage, bought some Italian sandwiches (and made friends with the owner), played video games with my lover, made carbonara together, and we finished watching Atonement. I have no clue why I felt like writing about my weekend today. I guess doing normal, chill things on a weekend has felt so foreign to me that the fact I did it feels like an immense victory.

  I used to cram my time with an incredible amount of social stuff, so much that I barely had time to breathe. It felt like I was running away as fast and as far as I could. Constantly running. My emotions were constantly boiling, so tangled that I couldn’t unravel anything. I had no idea what I felt or why I felt it. I was a kettle, always whistling. The anxiety and stress were extreme and showed up in all kinds of physical symptoms. Ultimately, it all led to a mental breakdown last year.

  Today, out of that relationship, I feel at peace. It feels a little easier to leave the dishes in the sink, to not answer a text right away, to work a little less, and to make room in my daily life for things that calm me, like this blog. (I know, I know, I don’t write every day, but trust me, I’m trying.) I can take some me-time without freaking out about my life. I can rest. I feel relaxed and content. Of course, some existential dread still resurfaces from time to time, and anxiety sometimes creeps in. But no more going to bed with my blood boiling, jaw clenched, and heart racing with anger. No more walking on eggshells. No more making myself so small that I could barely exist. No more shielding myself from his extreme anger and violence, his impatience and unkindness, his darkness. I finally feel entitled to my own existence.

  Now, don’t get me wrong. I still struggle with being alone with my own company. But I’m no longer scared of being alone with my thoughts, and I actually welcome the intrusive, painful feelings. I don’t run from them anymore, though saying I fully and truly embrace them would be a lie. I do think that to love myself, I need to be loved by someone else. It is what it is, and for now, I am content with it.

  I’ve already grieved my past relationship and all the pain that came with it: I listened to podcasts, journaled, and saw a psychologist for three years. All that work, plus the new meds, saved me. It gave me enough strength to leave, to choose myself. And I did all of that alone. I’ve done “the work” (again, whatever that means), so why can’t I keep doing it with a partner by my side? Every self-help book would tell me not to jump into something serious right after a bad relationship with a sour ending. Truth is, I don’t care. I no longer care what anyone or anything thinks I should do with my personal life. I left that relationship because I felt I had no agency. Work is another matter, and I’ll gladly defer to my overlords’ thoughts and decisions. But when it comes to my own life, I’ll make my own decisions, thank you very much. If at some point my gut or my body tells me I got it wrong, I’ll leave, and I trust myself to do so.

  For now, I’m happy. Oh god, I’m so happy. So, ladies and gentlemen, allow me to announce that my lover was promoted to boyfriend a little while ago. After almost six months, I can say it: I’ve finally found someone who walks beside me with peace, respect, and kindness, and I strive to do the same for him.

  PS: I think I got new subscribers? Not sure what you find in me/this project, but thank you for reading and sharing a little corner of the internet/my soul with me.

  

  A visual representation of my weekend. And yes, I wish it were me but it is not.

  2026.09.28

• Emptiness

  As I was thinking about a theme to write about today, I felt empty. Utterly empty. Is that a good thing? Unclear. Feels odd, uncomfortable, and peaceful all at the same time?

  I had another day of corporate meetings in London, marketing myself and my practice – goal is to sign new clients soon and build my own book of business. Partnership is right around the corner. Big question is: do I even want that? Those clients are not exactly the kind of companies or entities I want to represent. I do not think they are worth my time, and indirectly, life. I feel conflicted about it. I worked so hard to get this far in my niche, and I am the youngest one in my entourage to pursue this…yet I also feel empty? Like, do I want this, or am I just doing it because I feel like others want it, and so I should too? Long-term plan remains to save the marine wildlife and oceans with Earthjustice – and become part of its Our Oceans department. I have always wanted to work for the environment. As they say, “the Earth needs a good lawyer.”

  This week, and the next, are incredibly busy social and work weeks in Europe. Amidst the chaos, the re-uniting with very old and dear friends, I feel such melancholy and emptiness. Are any of my decisions right? Should I live in LA? Should I be a lawyer? Do I feel, happy? I have not felt this calm and empty in quite a while, due to my crazy last few months escaping a bad marriage. And overall, somehow – emptiness feels like happiness?

  2026.09.15

• Tube Memories

  Writing to you all from London. The number of times I used to visit here was astounding. I spent every other weekend here during my uni years in England. Weirdly enough, I miss the tube. I miss busy sidewalks and shops everywhere. I miss the cobble stone, the wooden pubs, the cathedrals and brick walls everywhere. The breeze. The overcast weather. LA can feel like a burning hell hole sometimes.

  It is an odd feeling feeling to be back here. As if I am visiting an old friend, with whom I have not caught up in a while. Even the stench of sweat in the tube brings me back. So much has changed in the last ten years. I was very much in love with my ex husband back then. Every song reminded me of him. We were long distance for about a year and a half, but I fell deeply in love with him in England. Now, ten years later, I realize that it was complete infatuation. I was 18, and he 25. When we moved in together in Norway 2 years after, the bad experiences began. It became a coercive relationship. I was told horrible things often, felt trapped, unloved (in fact hated), used, disrespected, manipulated – coerced. I lost my appreciation of life quickly. I lost confidence. I got diminished, pushed down, stepped on. My family saw my down fall. My friends too. I was not letting anyone help me. Anyone who would try to help I shut down, i.e. would block them. He pushed a lof of that on me too.

  I started having flashbacks. I am close to being free from him (minus the spousal support part, evidently). Flashbacks of ways he talked to me, what he said, how he touched me and shook me. Flashbacks of horrible times, where I would cry on the bathroom floor, and wonder if life was worth living at all. The coercion peaked. The pain too. It all led to a major nervous breakdown leading to a major diagnosis – at a time where he had unilaterally decided to open the relationship (one way) just for him. He could see girls, I could see girls. That was it. No talk. “Either you allow this, or I am leaving you.” And that was 30 minutes after I understood that he had cheated on me two years back. Mind you, this was in the St Martin airport, after a 10 day vacation. He was frustrated at my weight back then. Anyways, I disgress.

  Somehow, London reminds me of him. Of my love for him. Oh I was so in love. I saw a friend and her parents yesterday, folks that I have known for 21 years. I was telling them about the recent divorce updates. Her father looked at me and said something that will stick with me forever – “you learnt, and that is invaluable.” No shaming, no pity, no anger, no frustration, no shock, no sadness. It was refreshing. I felt seen. He also shared another incredible piece of advice that I will write about another time.

  As I am about to exit the tube (next station), I think of this old and new chapter of my life. If anyone out there has coercion stories, please comment – together, we can sharpen our swords and feel less alone.

  2026.09.14

• An Ode to Spousal Support & Prenups

  This one is dedicated to spousal support in the 21st century. A wonderful plot twist I never saw coming, as a 28-year-old woman. When I tell people I’m going through a divorce and that he is asking for spousal support, they can’t believe it. We have no kids. He is a PhD, 35 years old; I am a 28-year-old lawyer, still paying off my own law school debt (which, by the way, he took $10k out of to invest in crypto against my will, and lost it all). I paid 75-80% of all our expenses during our married life. And yet, somehow, he now wants more money from me.

  He was financially controlling — the credit cards, what I could or should spend money on… even puzzles. Yes, puzzles. Clothes. Hair products. Furniture. Food. I digress. Now, every financial change that happens over the next 33 months, I have to report to him. Lose my job, get sick, land a bonus, get promoted; he’s entitled to a cut of my wins and my losses. Like a very well-dressed leech that simply refuses to let go. Ten years together, and he still managed to take a little more than I had planned on giving — emotionally, financially, and otherwise. Apparently that doesn’t end just because I left.

  I do think he’s powerless, anxious, and a little unraveled. The loss of control over me seems to be driving him slightly feral. That he’s essentially asking me for money is, frankly, a small delicious form of justice. My sword, thankfully, is my legal background, paired with an utter lack of urgency to make this easy for him. But I do want him gone. I left abruptly, for reasons he still can’t quite wrap his head around.

  Girls, women, witches — get yourself a prenup. Don’t, like me, fall for the “if you want a prenup, you don’t really love me” line. Independence is worth its weight in gold, and then some. Heading into a holiday weekend, I’ll be pondering the exact decision that will cost me tens of thousands of dollars — because I am, and will continue, bankrolling his lifestyle: coffees, bills, dinners out, vacations, gas, whatever else he fancies, to the tune of about $2,000 a month. A law designed to protect women left behind after years spent raising the next generation is now being used against a childless 28-year-old with a law degree. The irony writes itself. Anyway, I’m not here to reform community property law. I’m simply here to deliver one piece of wisdom: get. a. prenup.

  2026.09.04