The Long Way Around

Went to see the Dixie Chicks last night…

It was a little surreal listening to them live, and screaming/singing ‘Goodbye Earl’ and ‘Not Ready To Make Nice’ with them.

Their cover of ‘Landslide’made me tear up.

Maybe it should be my bucket list, to travel around and listen to all 200 and some song titles on my blog live. From seedy bars to major venues, me sitting in the audience with a drink in my hand, singing loudly off key, to the music that spoke for my heart.

The Dixie Chicks spoke of “women with balls” at the beginning of the concert 🙂 I wanted to tap on my imaginary mic, get their attention and correct them…

” Excuse me, Natalie?” I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Those are lady balls, and are much different than man balls. They are much larger, and not as sensitive as men’s balls. They aren’t used for procreation like men’s instead they are used to do impossible daunting tasks. We also aren’t born with them, but instead grow them when faced with adversity and heartache.”

Instead of interrupting the show, I screamed my approval with the thousands of other women.

The DIxie Chicks might not know their connection to me and that’s okay.

The night was a visit down memory lane for me, and I came home and reread the blog posts.

Man was I angry 🙂 and honest…and ANGRY.

Looking back made me realize how far I’ve come from my first year out. It was a really long, and sad road I traveled, full of setbacks, crying, and heartbreak.

I’m coming up on FOUR years this fall…

Four years since my whole world came crashing down.

Four years of changes.

I could have taken the shorter path, and divorced.

Cut the ties and started over.

Instead I took the long way.

And sometimes all that got me through my darkest days was the ‘Dixie Chicks’ and you my sweet friends 🙂

If I haven’t said it before?

thank you

For walking down this dark road with me.

For being a voice in the darkness.

For showing up to my pity parties.

For never judging.

And always listening.

thank you

“It’s been two long years now
Since the top of the world came crashing down
And I’m getting’ it back on the road now

But I’m taking the long way
Taking the long way around
I’m taking the long way
Taking the long way around
The long
The long way around

Well, I fought with a stranger and I met myself
I opened my mouth and I heard myself
It can get pretty lonely when you show yourself
Guess I could have made it easier on myself

But I, I could never follow
No I, I could never follow

Well, I never seem to do it like anybody else
Maybe someday, someday I’m gonna settle down
If you ever want to find me I can still be found

Taking the long way
Taking the long way around
Taking the long way
Taking the long way around”

-Dixie Chicks-



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I was asked a question last night…

“How did you survive it all? The rough time in you marriage and stay married..”

It wasn’t a judging me question.

Or a nosey question.

It was a “hey I need some advice and I know you’ve been down some pretty rough roads in your marriage” question.

As I listened to her story, I realized it was very similar to mine.

Different characters.

Warmer setting.

Not the exact same plot.

No cheating or whores.

But lots of stress, lack of communication and anger…don’t all marriage stories have a similar chapter?

Hers even began, eerily like mine…

Two Years ago…

I listened to her story, and found myself nodding my head as it unfolded.

Life you see, takes us all down certain roads, roads that often end in cross roads.

Did you know crossroads often have demons waiting there?

“Crossroads demons are entities that make formal agreements or bargains with humans, granting any wish in exchange for claiming their life and soul at a fixed point in the future. Deals made with humans are sealed with a kiss, and contracts are written invisibly on the skin of the person. They tend to have red eyes.” -Supernatural-

They also sometimes dress as Can Can whores and live in Valdez…just  in case you ever travel to Alaska.

Either way crossroads in life are scary and dark places.

Chose the road to the left and the roads get rough and it’s storming but after trudging through the mud and the muck, you might find a rainbow.

Make a deal with the demon? The one standing in front of the sunshine and butterfly filled road? You are promised nothing but fun and good times 🙂 and it is…so much FUN…that you almost don’t notice as the air gets thicker, hotter and smells of sulfur…by the time you step out of the ‘fun fog’ you are in Hell.

My point being, you can’t be afraid to go through rough patches in life or marriage.

Without the bad, we don’t appreciate the good as much.

Cloudy days make you stop and notice the sun on your face.

One of my favorite scenes in a movie?

The grandma in Parenthood explaining life to Gil…

“[Gil has been complaining about his complicated life; Grandma wanders into the room]

Grandma: You know, when I was nineteen, Grandpa took me on a roller coaster.
Gil: Oh?
Grandma: Up, down, up, down. Oh, what a ride!
Gil: What a great story.
Grandma: I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn’t like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it.”

Life isn’t about avoiding anything scary.

It isn’t about choices made when times are good.

It isn’t about always taking the safe well lit path.

I would rather ride the roller coaster 🙂

And see the rainbow after the rain.

And that’s how you survive my sweet friend, in life and marriage.

With the knowledge that not storms or bad times last forever.

“All you folks think you own my life

But you never made any sacrifice
Demons they are on my trail
I’m standing at the crossroads of the hell
I look to the left I look to the right
There’re hands that grab me on every side

All you folks think I got my price
At which I’ll sell all that is mine
You think money rules when all else fails
Go sell your soul and keep your shell
I’m trying to protect what I keep inside
All the reasons why I live my life

Some say the devil be a mystical thing
I say the devil he a walking man
He a fool he a liar conjurer and a thief
He try to tell you what you want
Try to tell you what you need

Standing at the point
The road it cross you down
What is at your back
Which way do you turn
Who will come to find you first
Your devils or your gods

All you folks think you run my life
Say I should be willing to comprimise
I say all you demons go back to hell
I’ll save my soul save myself

Tracy Chapman-




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Story Of My Life


Maybe the trick is to tell it until you are immune to the pain?

Until you build up your tolerance to the heartache…

When you can be separate yourself from your “story” and look back but not relive it?

When it becomes a chapter in our stories but not the whole book of our lives?

When it stops being about what was done to us and instead it is the story of what we overcome?

Maybe that’s when we become healed…and that my sweet friends is when we start writing a new chapter.



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7 Years

Once upon a time there lived a little girl named Lou…

She was the heart and the light in her broken family.




But for how much longer? That has been the thought in my late night, can’t sleep restless mind.

How much longer do we have?

How much longer will she not know?

How long till her finding out changes the person she is/could have been?

My constant vein of sadness which flows through my being, is Laney.

She lived through this once, the knowing, and yet not understanding. Remember, she patted my back at night while I was curled in my bed sobbing so hard I woke her. She ran to me as her ‘bubbas’ cried, unable to comfort them. She screamed as she saw her Daddy, the reason for everyone’s tears, and demanded he leave. She heard unkind words, and watched her family fall into an unending darkness.

She came out, happy and funny, and anyone looking in would think untouched.

She asks questions.

“Are they married?” she will ask as a couple kisses on TV.

“She’s not his wife? Why is he kissing her?” she will demand from us furious. Thank you The Intern for needing to add in a cheating spouse.

Little things, she says and asks, which I don’t remember my boys noticing.

One day, she stands there, watching as I put my makeup on, and asks…

“Why don’t you wear a wedding ring?” Lou looks up at me intently.

“Because,” I pause thinking,” my hands swell and hurt.” I tell her with a sad smile.

“Why doesn’t Daddy wear one?” she questions with a tilt of her head, and narrowing of her eyes.

“Because his doesn’t fit him anymore,” I answer her, and give her a quick hug,” Now go get your shoes on so we can go.”

“When I get married? Maybe I won’t wear a ring either.” She smiles up at me and turns to leave and find her shoes.

She is almost seven now.

How long till her friends repeat their parents gossip to her?

Or she overhears a conversation and puts the words spoken with old memories?

When will the day come that we have to sit down and explain the truth she already knows?

You all know me, I won’t lie.

I won’t cover it up, or try to push it away in the dark.

In this family, we tell the truth, even when it’s hard.

The whore’s mom once told me to lie to my children, not tell them what was going on. I think at that time she thought her daughter was going to be my kid’s stepmom, and it would make them hate her. She was so wrong on so many different levels.

I was right to tell my boys the truth. They are smart kids, they would have figured it out on their own. I got to control how they found out, and when it was told. I think it helped them, the knowing I wouldn’t lie to them.

The truth might hurt, but it is so much better than darkness and lies.

I hope in a couple years, when I know we have to sit Laney down and tell her, I still feel the same way.

I hope she understands.

I hope she forgives, not only her father, but me.

Once I was seven years old, my mama told me,
“Go make yourself some friends or you’ll be lonely.”
Once I was seven years old

It was a big big world, but we thought we were bigger
Pushing each other to the limits, we were learning quicker
By eleven smoking herb and drinking burning liquor
Never rich so we were out to make that steady figure

Once I was eleven years old, my daddy told me,
“Go get yourself a wife or you’ll be lonely.”
Once I was eleven years old

I always had that dream, like my daddy before me
So I started writing songs, I started writing stories
Something about that glory just always seemed to bore me
‘Cause only those I really love will ever really know me

Once I was twenty years old, my story got told
Before the morning sun, when life was lonely
Once I was twenty years old

 I only see my goals, I don’t believe in failure
‘Cause I know the smallest voices, they can make it major
I got my boys with me, at least those in favor
And if we don’t meet before I leave, I hope I’ll see you later”

-Lukas Graham



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Lost Boy


Is it funny, ironic? That the ONE thing we have all been searching for, when found is maybe the scariest part of healing?

We used to take happy for granted, at least I did.

Now a bunch of my kids firsts, family functions, hell holidays and celebrations are triggers. They are tied to the worst of my life and it’s like untying a six year olds shoe.

Full of tight, dirty, knots which seem endless…

I have untied the triggers, well untied them enough where I can get through the days without hiding in bed. This last year there have been minimal tears even, which is a celebration in itself.

I see happiness on the horizon, as my journey is ending.

I am leaving the depression and anger, discarded on the path behind me.

My final hill “Happiness” doesn’t look like a rainbow, covered in unicorns and sparkly sprinkles of goodness though.

Instead it’s  Mount Everest made up of can-can whores and broken promises, which I have to find my way through.

Happiness is scary.

It is really fucking scary…

Being unhappy just means the next day brings more misery, and we are used to miserable.

Being happy means to be HAPPY again, and taking a chance.

Happy is a risk.

Being happy with the one who once broke you? Who broke your heart, and if we are being blunt? He broke my soul, I will never be the same person I was.

I just won’t, some pieces can’t ever go back how they were.

But I can be happy.

I am so close I can see the thighs on Everest clapping together.

I can read every shredded broken promise.

Question is?

do I dare climb the final mountain in my long road to happiness?

When all you ever wanted was to be happy, you don’t think “What if I find it again?”

Happiness the second time around comes with the knowledge that bad shit happens….

Good people do bad things.

People who love you will hurt you.

Happiness comes with a price, a hefty price of admission.

It means stepping into the light, feeling the sun on our faces again, hearing laughter, and finding peace.

And knowing it can all disappear in an instant.

It is enough to make me crazy again.

It makes me wish I could escape to Neverland, where we can all stay young and innocent. No growing older, no being sad, no broken promises…just an island of lost people playing make-believe.

Believing in happy is like being sprinkled with pixie dust and pushed off a cliff.

You might fly.

but you might also die…

“There was a time when I was alone
Nowhere to go and no place to call home
My only friend was the man in the moon
And even sometimes he would go away, too

Then one night, as I closed my eyes
I saw a shadow flying high
He came to me with the sweetest smile
Told me he wanted to talk for awhile
He said, “Peter Pan, that’s what they call me
I promise that you’ll never be lonely, ” and ever since that day

I am a lost boy from Neverland
Usually hanging out with Peter Pan
And when we’re bored we play in the woods
Always on the run from Captain Hook
“Run, run, lost boy, ” they say to me
Away from all of reality

Neverland is home to lost boys like me
And lost boys like me are free
Neverland is home to lost boys like me
And lost boys like me are free

He sprinkled me in pixie dust and told me to believe
Believe in him and believe in me
Together we will fly away in a cloud of green
To your beautiful destiny
As we soared above the town that never loved me
I realized I finally had a family
Soon enough we reached Neverland
Peacefully my feet hit the sand
And ever since that day

I am a lost boy from Neverland
Usually hanging out with Peter Pan
And when we’re bored we play in the woods
Always on the run from Captain Hook
“Run, run, lost boy, ” they say to me
Away from all of reality

Neverland is home to lost boys like me
And lost boys like me are free
Neverland is home to lost boys like me
And lost boys like me are free

Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, Wendy Darling
Even Captain Hook, you are my perfect story book
Neverland, I love you so
You are now my home sweet home
Forever a lost boy at last

Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, Wendy Darling
Even Captain Hook, you are my perfect story book
Neverland, I love you so
You are now my home sweet home
Forever a lost boy at last

-Ruth B-








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Broken As Me

Question I’m most often asked?

How I found my happiness again…

Most the time I’m not asked in person, although you’d probably be surprised the number of people who have asked me.

When you write an open blog in a small town, people will ask you about it.

Does it bug me? Sometimes, yes, because I want to be normal again, to be something more than “Kelly who husband cheated blog” (actual search results for me).

Mostly though, it doesn’t because I get it, infidelity and affairs usually aren’t out in the open, they never happen to anyone we know (hold on a second while I finish laughing), and people don’t usually write about their experience.

I brought this on me, I could have pretended it wasn’t happening in public, kept it private, but that’s just not me.

So here I sit, the local Dr.Phil on affairs, got a question, pull up a chair and let’s talk.

I understand, if I’d had someone I could have seen get through it and they seemed healed, I’d have asked them how they did it.

We all want a cure, and until you sit here with us, a victim in the murder of a marriage, slashed and torn to bits, just praying something, anyone can take our pain away? You don’t get it, trust me you may want to but you don’t.

It is a death of our heart and souls, and we are expected to live through it, with a smile on our faces. Tell me of any other tragedy in our lives where we are expected to hide it?


You will get all kinds of help.

Lost your job?

Sympathies pour in.


Everyone shows up at your door.


How tacky to talk about it, airing your dirty laundry?  Don’t you know we don’t talk about it? And if we do, it’s to gossip and shake our heads, all the while declaring it could never happen to us.

I think it’s why when we, the survivors,  see someone getting better, finding their way back to happy, we cheer.

Hell we have a party for them on here, because if they can make it? Maybe just, maybe we can too.

My blog is found more often by people, who type in some form of “Finding happiness after affair”.

I swear I didn’t think of that when I named my blog, it was just a random sad thought I had one day which stuck with me…

Once upon a time?

Happiness did live here, we were a happy family, and then our world fell apart.

In all the destruction and chaos which follows affairs, all we want is some form of our happiness back.

As you are reading this, I know  “Kelly could you please get to the part where you tell us how to be happy? What’s going to heal this gaping hole in our hearts? We are seriously hurting over here!!!”

Sorry, we all know I tend to run on…


How’s that for cliché?

Time is going to heal you. Nothing is going to be cured overnight or even in the first year.  It is going to take a really long time, for you to find your happy again.


Lots and lots of faith in God, your family and yourself.

You will have to believe with every fiber of your being, that you will heal, your family will heal, and somehow? With God’s help, you can and will get through it.


At some point in your journey? You will be given the daunting task of choosing love over hate. I am not going to lie, hate is going to be tempting, and it is going to be the easier choice. You are going to have to choose to love, and leave the hate in the dark where it belongs.


I know a lot of betrayed spouses argue that forgiveness isn’t necessary. I would ask them if they are happy? If so, my hat is off to you, because you performed the amazing task of finding happiness without forgiving.

I learned to forgive.

When all of the above happens, I think it’s when we will find peace.

There were many days, where I prayed to just find peace in my heart again.

Peace, Love, and Happiness…

Is there really much else we need?

“You’re just as broken as me

Shut your mouth cause I can see through the lies
We’re only getting sicker from the secrets we hide
Disaster is our master as we lie here burning in bed
But something tells me I can not give up on you yet
I will not give up on you today

I will forgive, forget, ’cause I know that it will set me free
But all that’s left is the emptiness inside of me
You murdered my heart, broke my trust and watched me fade away
Now I see, now I see
That you’re just as broken as me

You’re just as broken as me

You always play the victim and you just can’t decide
If the vicious way we loved each other fucked up our lives
When we’re standing in the aftermath our emptiness is what’s left
And if you really loved me, will you love me till death?
I will love you until the end

I will forgive, forget, ’cause I know that it will set me free
But all that’s left is the emptiness inside of me
You murdered my heart, broke my trust and watched me fade away
Now I see, now I see
That you’re just as broken as me

Just as broken as
Just as broken as
Just as broken as
You’re just as broken as me

I’ve been a slave
You’ve been a slave
I’ve been a slave to the hatred in you – in me
I see you’re just as broken as me

I will forgive, forget, ’cause I know that it will set me free
But all that’s left is the emptiness inside of me
You murdered my heart, broke my trust and watched me fade away
Now I see, now I see
That you’re just as broken as me

You’re just as broken as me

Papa Roach-





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Rolling In The Deep

I got a little sad the other day.

Not like crying my eyes out, laying in my kitchen floor, with a dish towel covering my head sad….just sad.

It was brought to my attention, through the actions of another person, that people look at my marriage as a failure.

There are people who look in my home, through the  looking glass (my blog) I provided the whole world, and like to look around at my family.

I sometimes hear them clear their throat, like something has left a bad taste in their mouth. It is sometimes a giggle, or even all out belly laughter. They enjoy the view for awhile, as we sit shadowed in their judgment.

It used to hurt.

It once upon a time, made it hard for me to go out in public.

I got over it.

It wasn’t the other person’s judgment of my family which made me sad. Trust me it wasn’t, she’s crazier than bat shit crazy, and we all know that’s fucking crazy.

It was because I don’t get my fairy tale.

“But Kelly, you hate fairy tales…”

I do.

I hate those old fashioned, waiting on a man to save them damsels in distress, stories.

I hate them more because ‘the whore’ was thinking about getting Tinker Bell on her back.

I just wanted my own fairy tale.

The one I used to tell my kids.

“I met him at a snowgarrita party, and he was a jerk. Cute but a jerk. We ended up talking at another party, and this time he was nice. We ended up seeing each other more and more, until one night he kissed me. Right then and there, I knew I felt something…something different. Six months later, he proposed and we have been together ever since…”

I now feel fake every time it’s brought up.

I feel like every happy time was bullshit.

I feel like it was all just one giant 23 year lie.

I have friends that started dating in junior high, they now have two beautiful daughters, and a marriage I am jealous of.

They have the fairy tale.

The happily ever after.

They don’t judge us, and would never think about comparing their marriage to ours. They are supportive and happy for us, which in some ways just sucks.

I used to have a marriage that made people jealous.

I think that’s one thing which pisses me off…well besides the whole cheating with the town whore debacle.

The fact that for just a second, we almost had it all.

The family.

The marriage.

The dogs and a cat.

The farmhouse on a hill…

We almost had it all.

And now here we sit, being judged by a crazy person, and found wanting.

So I was sad.

Then a new friend told me something.

” My husband and I were talking about you guys, and how you all handled everything. You handled it fantastic. You never gave up or stopped being a mom.”

Yes, we are still the subject of small town talk…three years later.

But, there are people who admire the way we got through our families darkest time.

It made me feel?? Proud?

For the first time, I am proud. Not of my kids, those guys are rock stars. I am proud of my husband and me.

What should have ripped us apart, made us closer.

What was supposed to be the end, became a new beginning.

What others let define them, we decided to define instead.

My marriage isn’t a failure. My marriage isn’t a comedy for people to laugh at. It’s not a bloody mess, for others to point and stare at, snapping pictures as they drive by.

I have nothing to be ashamed of.

I have a new age fairy tale.

In this messed up world, I have a marriage I am proud of. One I have spent 23 years, building. Not all of the blocks are full of happy rainbows and sunshine, but I’m pretty sure that shit would fall over in the first bad storm.

Or the first time the big, bad wolf tried to blow my house down.

And you have nothing to be ashamed of either, my sweet friends. There is no shame in struggles, in imperfection. Most families deal with bad times, and we are all taught to smile and pretend our lives are perfect.

If we all believe Facebook? Everyone in America is blissfully happy. No one is in debt, struggles with addictions, marital woes, or depression. Perfection is just ordinary here, and imperfection is shameful.

I wish more people would be honest. Would show our kids that having “it all”, means struggles along the way. That the road to happiness is full of pot holes and speed traps. Where really bad shit happens daily.


You can still find your happy ending.

And I believe those of us who struggle and fight for it? Are the ones who they should write new “Fairy tales” about. Or better still?

Let’s all write our own endings.

Ones without glass slippers, or singing mice, where real life happens.

And they lived imperfectly, in a messy house, which was often filled with laughter,

Happily ever after….

“Baby I have no story to be told
But I’ve heard one of you and I’m gonna make your head burn,
Think of me in the depths of your despair
Make a home down there as mine sure won’t be shared

The scars of your love, remind you of us.
They keep me thinking that we almost had it all
The scars of your love, they leave me breathless
I can’t help feeling
We could have had it all
Rolling in the deep
You had my heart inside your hand
And you played it
To the beat

We could have had it all
Rolling in the deep
You had my heart inside your hand
But you played it
With a beating

Throw your soul through every open door
Count your blessings to find what you look for
Turn my sorrow into treasured gold
You pay me back in kind and reap just what you sow

We could have had it all
We could have had it all
We could have had it all
Rolling in the deep
You had my heart inside your hand
And you played it to the beat”



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