Long Live

 Ours

You know how certain songs have a way of bringing back memories? Sometimes they're good, sometimes they're not so great, but we all have that one song. Recently, I heard Taylor Swift's "Ours" and it brought a smile to my face. Once, it might have reminded me of a difficult period, but now I see it in a new light, appreciating how it helped me and my daughter through a tough time.

When I separated from my daughter's father, she was only about four years old, and my son was two. It was an incredibly emotional period for all of us. The kids struggled with the separation, not understanding why they couldn’t have both parents together. They were reluctant to leave their dad on weekends, not knowing when they'd see him again. And here I was, trying to keep it together for their sake. With little support nearby, since my family was far away, I felt guilty when my daughter would catch me crying. She would always come over to hug me, trying not to cry herself, though sometimes her emotions would get the better of her.

Music has always been a comfort for me; it was a constant presence in our home growing up. It’s an incredible form of therapy, and my children share my love for it. During that emotionally turbulent time, this song became a special tune for us. I recall picking up the kids one day after a difficult interaction with their father. My daughter, sensing my sadness, began singing "Ours” loudly. We cranked up the volume and sang along together, and it became a sort of anthem for us. We played it so often that it truly became our song. It helped us through those emotional times, turning our tears into shared moments of joy. Whenever the kids were upset, I would start singing, and we would belt out the song together, loud and proud, finding solace in its melody.

 That song became more than just a tune for us; it turned into a symbol of resilience and connection during a challenging time. It helped us navigate our emotions and find moments of joy amidst the struggle. Even now, whenever I hear that song, I'm reminded of the strength we found in each other and the love that carried us through. It’s a powerful reminder of how music can heal, bring people closer, and transform even the toughest times into cherished memories. 

You know that uninvited, sneaky friend who always seems to show up anyway? That’s anxiety for me. I’ve been wrestling with it for 11 years now.

Looking back at my life before I really understood what anxiety was, it’s almost funny. I remember having a panic attack in the middle of a Target, but in reality, I was alone with my 1- and 3-year-old, sweating and struggling to keep it together. I kept telling myself, “I’m having a panic attack,” but it was really just a perfect storm of stress, exhaustion, and being overwhelmed.

My anxiety started during a particularly vulnerable time in my life. I was holding onto things I should have let go, lessons I needed to learn on my own. After my divorce, I reunited with my ex-husband for a year, believing it was the life and stability my children needed. In the end, I realized that it wasn’t what any of us needed. Trying to keep everything together made me physically ill. I remember one evening collapsing on the floor, feeling like my heart was about to explode and my body was shutting down. I thought I was dying and ended up in the emergency room. Despite everything being normal, the doctors suggested I follow up with my GP, who also confirmed it sounded like anxiety. I refused to believe it; I insisted there was something more serious wrong with me.

I saw various doctors and specialists, underwent multiple tests and MRIs, but was repeatedly told it seemed to be anxiety. I was losing sleep and appetite, dropping 25 pounds in a month. I couldn’t handle being in a car without panicking, and I just wanted to stay locked in my room. I felt like I had lost myself and didn’t want to go on living like this. My mind wandered to dark places, and I’m ashamed to admit how weak I felt and how I struggled to lean on my faith.

One day, my 5-year-old daughter came to me and asked if we could move back to our apartment because she didn’t like where we were living. That broke me. I found myself alone in my room, crying and then dropping to my knees. Amid the pain, I felt a comforting warmth and the scent of flowers around me. I began praying my rosary. Just kneeling there praying, I felt better instantly. 

A few days later, I secured an apartment for us, started medication and counseling, and turned to prayer and God. I began to accept that I needed help and couldn’t face this alone.

Moving back home with my kids was a crucial step for us. Being near my family gave me the support I needed. While counseling and finding the right medication have been important, I believe the most significant help has come from prayer. It’s been a challenging journey, and there were times when I questioned how my life had become so difficult, worried about my children, and wondered about the future.

Prayer has played a crucial role in my healing journey. Regularly saying my rosary and talking to God has been deeply comforting. My children have also been a major source of motivation; I wouldn’t have worked so hard to overcome this without them.

Though the path has been challenging, I've found strength and hope through my faith, my family, and the support I've received. By sharing my story, I hope to remind others that they are not alone in their struggles and that reaching out for help is a sign of strength, not weakness. We all have our battles, but with perseverance and support, healing is possible.

The rain came pourin' down
When I was drownin', that's when I could finally breathe
And by mornin', gone was any trace of you
I think I am finally clean
The rain came pourin' down
When I was drownin', that's when I could finally breathe
And by mornin', gone was any trace of you
I think I am finally clean

Underneath the sparkle of a mirrorball, echoes of my youth come alive—moments of laughter, tears, and everything in between. Each flash of light reveals a piece of the puzzle of my life, shimmering in the dark.

 As the mirrorball spins, it weaves a tapestry of experiences—some bright and joyous, others  with sorrow, that together form the mosaic of who I’ve become.

I am a resilient woman who has fought fiercely for what I have today, a mother whose love for her children is boundless, and a devoted child of God striving to guide my family towards heaven and live as Christ intended. Though I still face moments of sadness, I have learned to lean on God and my family for support.

If I could speak to the woman l I was ten years ago, I would tell her that it gets better. Never give up. The future holds blessings far beyond what you’re enduring now. Pray, listen to God, and trust in His plan for you.

As the mirrorball continues to spin, casting its light on the dance of life, I see not just a reflection of who I was and who I am, but a promise of who I will become. Each glimmer reminds me that through every twist and turn, there is beauty and grace to be found.

In life, we often find ourselves at the intersection of joy and sorrow, especially when it comes to love. Recently, I’ve been reflecting on my own journey through a tumultuous relationship, one that resonates deeply with the themes expressed in Taylor Swift’s song “Champagne Problems.”

For years, I was happily married, wrapped in the warmth of love and shared dreams. However, as time passed, my partner transformed into someone I barely recognized. The man I once adored became lost in his own struggles, leaving me feeling isolated and confused. Eventually, this culminated in a painful divorce—a decision that shattered my world.

After a year of navigating life on my own, I found myself drawn back to him. We reconnected, and I believed the words he spoke promises of change, whispers of renewed love, and even talks of marriage in a church—something deeply significant to me and my family. I wanted to believe that the man I once loved could return, that the darkness had lifted, and that we could build a future together once more.

But as I fell into this renewed hope, the reality began to unravel. Despite his assurances, he wasn’t the person I remembered. The comfort I sought transformed into a familiar discomfort, as I confronted the stark truth: he hadn’t truly changed.

This experience mirrors the heart-wrenching narrative in “Champagne Problems.” The song captures the essence of dreams and expectations falling apart—those moments when life’s milestones, which should be filled with joy, become tinged with sorrow. Just as the proposal in the song symbolizes both hope and heartbreak, my story embodies the deep emotional complexities of love and loss.

The phrase “champagne problems” highlights how, while these struggles are significant to those involved, they might seem trivial to outsiders. For me, the pain of revisiting a past relationship was anything but trivial. It was a struggle that echoed my values and desires, particularly around faith and family.

In sharing my story, I hope to connect with others who have experienced similar feelings of love, loss, and the yearning for change. While the road to healing can be rocky, it is essential to acknowledge both the joyous moments and the painful truths that shape us.

I’ve learned that moving on doesn’t mean forgetting; it means embracing our experiences—both the beautiful and the heartbreaking. It’s about finding the strength to let go of what no longer serves us and holding onto the lessons learned along the way.

Love can be a complex and bittersweet journey, filled with highs and lows that shape our understanding of ourselves and our relationships. As I continue to navigate my own path, I find solace in the idea that each experience, like a line in a song, contributes to the melody of our lives. “Champagne Problems” reminds us that while love can bring us to our knees, it also teaches us resilience and the importance of honoring our true selves.

If you’re facing similar struggles, know that you’re not alone. Embrace your journey and remember: every story has the potential for a new beginning.

A powerful, personal reflection of a relationship, using All Too Well as a lens to process life lessons....

1. The Illusion of the Perfect Beginning: "You call me up again just to break me like a promise / So casually cruel in the name of being honest"

At the start he was drawn to you in part because of your youth and energy. This can tie into that feeling of being loved for something about  you, but ultimately realizing that what you brought to the relationship was not as valued as you thought.

The idea of a "promise" represents hope you had, and the pain when you realized that those promises were broken over time. You worked hard to keep the relationship together for the sake of your children, this line could echo the emotional toll it took on you.

2. The Growing Distance and Emotional Toll:  "Maybe we got lost in translation / Maybe I asked for too much"

Over time, his temperament had become more difficult to manage. His short temper, possibly his emotional withdrawal, or perhaps a growing resentment or disinterest, would create a sharp contrast to how things started.

You found yourself compromising too much, trying to keep the peace, even if it meant sacrificing your own well-being. This is where All Too Well touches on how difficult it is when someone you love becomes someone you don’t recognize.

3. The Cost of Keeping It Together: "I  may be in a coma, but I'm wide awake"

This line from the song speaks to the mental and emotional toll of being in a relationship that is slowly draining you. You like you were "awake" to the reality of how things were but trapped in a  situation that was hard to escape. The effort to keep the relationship going—taking on more than your share, emotionally or physically—could have been exhausting.

Making yourself sick to keep the relationship together, and this resonates deeply with that idea of emotionally, physically, or mentally pushing yourself past your limits just to maintain some sense of normalcy, even though it was harming you in the process.

4. The Shift in Who He Became: "You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath"

He was initially captivated by you but later became dismissive or emotionally  distant, you might have felt like an afterthought. In a sense, you could have been kept like a secret.

Meanwhile, you held onto the relationship with all the conviction of an oath—believing that commitment and loyalty should be enough to weather the hard times. You might have felt that if you just gave enough, tried hard enough, it would work out, even if his efforts or investment in the relationship were dwindling.

5. The Emotional Disconnect and His Short Temper:  "You were there, you were there / And I was there"

This speaks to the idea of being physically present but emotionally absent.       Even when he was there—living in the same house, going through the motions of a marriage—you may have felt emotionally isolated, even ignored, by his unpredictable temperament.

6. The Final Break: "And  you were tossing me the car keys / ‘Fk the patriarchy’ / Keychain on the ground"**

There’s a sense an abrupt loss of control, where things shift from being a shared       experience to a moment of powerlessness. You felt the unraveling with no real warning or understanding on your part, this could reflect that sense of a sudden and chaotic transition.

The "car keys" here symbolize your loss of direction or agency, and the discarded keychain could symbolize the moment you realized that the relationship you had built was no longer something you could save, no matter how much you tried.

Conclusion: A New Beginning

In the end, All Too Well isn’t just about loss—it’s about reclaiming yourself after heartbreak. You gave so much of yourself to this relationship, but now, you’re left with the fragments of what could have been. There’s grief in the loss, but there is also strength in the survival. The emotional journey you’ve been through—marked by love, pain, and ultimately the hard decision to let go—has shaped you. You are no longer the person you were and you’ve learned, grown, and found resilience in the aftermath.

The road ahead is not without its scars, but those scars are a testament to the depth of your heart, the lengths you went to for love, and the courage it took to walk away when it was no longer healthy for you. Now, as you turn the page, you can begin to heal and rediscover your own path. The story may be all too well-known in its pain, but it is also one of reclaiming your power and forging a future that belongs to you.

Begin Again (by Taylor Swift)

Took a deep breath in the mirror
He didn't like it when I wore high heels
But I do

Turn the lock and put my headphones on
He always said he didn't get this song
But I do, I do

Walked in expecting you'd be late
But you got here early and you stand and wave
I walk to you

You pull my chair out and help me in
And you don't know how nice that is
But I do

And you throw your head back laughing
Like a little kid
I think it's strange that you think I'm funny, 'cause
He never did

I've been spending the last eight months
Thinking all love ever does
Is break and burn, and end
But on a Wednesday in a cafe
I watched it begin again…..