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Barefoot, Brave, and Bold, Beloit, KS (2026)

$I see their pictures on fb and message with them once in a while. I see (and hear) connection, a whole (non-fractured) ...$

04/06/2026

I see their pictures on fb and message with them once in a while. I see (and hear) connection, a whole (non-fractured) family, and true happiness.

Who?

Three other couples that my ex and I attended “Intensive Marriage week” with, in Branson, MO.

August 2018. Five couples… then-husband and I, these 3 couples I’m referring to, and one other that was somewhat stand-off ish and didn’t keep contact with the rest of us.

It was, as the name suggests, intense… incredibly so. The therapists were calm, engaging and invested in all of us. All the other couples came after infidelity had savagely torn apart their unions, and they were at the ends of their collective ropes. We were too. No infidelity for us, just a multi-decade war…. Constant antagonism, one-ups, and finger-pointing. I was war-torn and ragged.

That week, there were confessions, pleas for forgiveness, tears, teaching sessions, gatherings around a common table for meals… 5 couples bearing their souls in a room with other suffering couples, in order to try to repair brokeness that left us all stunned and aching in every cell. Volunteers literally waited hand and foot on us for the entire week… they seemed as committed to our marriage repairing as we did… it was humbling.

Since then, I’ve heard criticisms of these kinds of programs, but I’m not in that camp.

I’m pro-marriage.
Pro- trying everything.
Pro-counseling/ therapy.
Pro-leaving no stone unturned.
I’m pro- keeping your family intact.

And 8 years later, at least 3 of the 5 couples are together. Smiling with their kids in Easter pictures. One added another child to their “complete” family. They have celebrated milestones with their bright and dearly loved children. No one know for sure what happens inside another couples’ marriage but I saw the rawness these people brought to Branson. I can’t imagine they’d be able to remain together if the breaking and rebuilding hadn’t been successful in bringing them back to unity.

And I’m so incredibly happy for them. There’s no “why them and not us?” No “why were they able to use that intense, challenging week to begin a lifetime of renewed love? And we couldn’t?”

For me, the Intensive WAS the last thing to try… to be able to say I’d tried all there was. It was the final stone, turned. It was the accepting of the biggest grief…. Not being able to give my children an intact family. I filed 3 months afterward. I’d seen no evidence of the tools we were taught being used. He did “ask me out” for our 31st anniversary, that September. It was awkward. There was so much work needed… and it wasn’t occurring.

Everything was tried. The Intensive didn’t save us. I sleep well knowing I didn’t give up before every opportunity was seized upon. I don’t beat myself up, wondering what else I could have done.

And I wish my friends, bonded in a week’s time… all the joy they deserve. they worked relentlessly, at the Intensive, and upon returning home. 🌷

03/31/2026

PEACE- what it is… and is not… for me

I talk a lot about having peace now. It’s probably not the same for everyone. This is what it is… and is not (though in opposite order) for me.

Peace is NOT:
* having perfect circumstances
* having always-smooth relationships
* absence of all conflict
* having the ideal routine
* experiencing full health

Peace, for me is:
* living in a home where others can’t create disruption… a true sanctuary
* helping others without fixing them
* not allowing people to try to “fix” me either
* continuing to grow and learn
* knowing my value is not in what others think of me
* having gratitude for quiet and lack of chaos
* having “enough,” (even though much less than I used to have)
* Being surrounded by things that remind me of my parents, my faith, my interests
* the absence of yelling, name-calling, digs, one-ups
* a little girl’s hand slipped into mine as we walk
* having a balance of feelings…. Knowing that being melancholy for a bit won’t steal all my joy. Being joyful won’t be perpetual but it will come back around.
* knowing I actively choose my relationships only with those I trust
* safety…. Physically, emotionally, relationally.

EVERY single item on my list of what peace entails, was missing in my life for years. That’s why I treasure it so deeply now.

03/30/2026

My 5yo granddaughter and I were recently chatting about letters and spelling and which hand we write with. She’s right-handed as is her sister. Their daddy (my son) is left-handed, as I am.

She was both intrigued and seemingly confused by this information. I told her that more people are right-handed than left, but that in some families, there are a lot of lefties. We tossed thoughts back and forth, as I love to do with a 5yo who is figuring out the world (and this is a highly observant 5 yo).

Then she started piecing things together a bit. She said, “ so you are left-handed and your son(my dad) is left handed?” Well, is dad’s dad left or right handed? “Right-handed,” I told her, slowing the conversation down by using a one-word answer.

Everything was abstract and non-emotional till then. It still was to her. To me, it was about to ramp up a level. I could see it coming and couldn’t stop it.

“Well, WHO IS Dad’s dad?” There it was.

We’ve talked about all kinds of relationships before. She’s delighted in putting them together in her little mind. This one, purposefully for me, hadn’t come up.
“Grandpa.” I was mastering one word answers, not my style with her.

Immediately her eyes darted. Up, to think. Side to side, exhibiting confusion. I very much do not feel it is my role to explain to her that her grandparents used to be married to one another, then divorced. “Divorced” isn’t even in her vocabulary yet, thankfully. I teach her a lot of things but I really feel that her own mom and dad need to explain it as they choose, at the time they choose.

If I’d anticipated sooner where it would lead, I’d have focused more on spelling “box, fox, cat, bat, and rat.”

I knew I didn’t need to give her more. Keep it simple. Be the grown-up and realize her question was innocent. Not complex, like it was for me. I’m just Grandma. He’s just Grandpa… not… all the things that come to MY mind. Of course, she will know someday. It’s not that I don’t want her to know (the very basics). I’ll always demonstrate politeness to him in her presence.

I just want more innocence for her. And I simultaneously want her to know, as she grows, that she must always stand for her own worth and never lose herself in another’s treatment of her. That’s where the complication lies. To teach her to NEVER allow a man to treat her like “Grandpa” treated me…. Without ever telling her that “Grandpa” put me through hell.

03/29/2026

This page was originally started to reach out and offer hope, healing, validation and encouragement, primarily to divorced women or abused women. What I’ve learned about all of you, readers here at Barefoot, Brave and Bold:

Some of you have been divorced. Many have not. You might be in the midst of it now, trying to breathe as you orient yourself to a life turned on its head.

Some were divorced many, many years ago. You’ve healed. You also occasionally have feelings about it creep into your heart for a short “visit.”

Some have lived, instead of divorce, inside of an on-going painful marriage. Your disappointment has been heavy but you’ve persevered.

Still others have been considering divorce for years (as I did) but not yet felt the moment was right to take the step (which might feel like it’s off a cliff).

There’s some who read because their parents divorced… and it either wrecked you or saved you… depending on the details.

And yet others have walked through divorce with a grown child… and your heart has taken the beating as though it were your own pain.

Some carry a deep grief, not divorce-related at all. A child who has passed or estranged themselves. A personal tragedy. An ache that sits like a weight of sorrow on your chest.

Some of you are here solely because you’re my friend, online or in real life. You come here to support me. That blesses me, truly.

Some see something in the words here, that resonates with you. The details may be different but the reaction or emotion may bare resemblance to your own life experience.

Some of you just enjoy reading blogs… looking into the windows of others’ lives, hearts and minds.

How do I know? You’ve told me. With a comment or in a personal message. We’ve connected.

I’ve spent my whole life in “helper roles.” I’ve never NEEDED help myself more than I did pre and post divorce.

I had to toss away my comfort zone and just… surrender… just give up striving and find rest.

My identity was stripped… then so slowly re-created.

And that’s why I write here. If someone you “know “ (personally or online) could peel herself off the floor, undone and in a fog of grief… others can too. It’s my turn to try to give back. I had to rely on others mightily to sort through those flat-on-the-floor years.

Thanks for reading, whenever you can. And… We’re all in this together.

03/28/2026

In my marriage, one thing my then-husband did regularly and well… was keep the yard mowed, w**d-free, and attractive. I didn’t do much yard work in our own yard… though I did often help with his mowing and landscape business he operated.

Never-mind that the lawn business put enormous stress on our marriage (definitely was one factor leading to the demise of it). Never-mind that he often mowed our yard, with headlights on as late as midnight…. Or that he didn’t know how to say no to anyone, even if it meant working 16 hour days. 🙄

When I moved to my little “house of peace,” I dropped the ball (or really never picked it up) with lawn care. I made sure it was mowed, but I didn’t address w**d control. In 4 years, w**ds seized the entire yard.

Of course, I visualize the analogy of the w**dy yard and the w**d-consumed life I lived pre-divorce. The gnarly yuck didn’t show up in a week or even a year. It crept in, but once the w**ds were established, they superseded all good growth … in the yard… and in my life. The “w**ds” grew uglier, more taunting, and more stubborn. It happened slowly enough, that I didn’t notice at first.

Eventually, I couldn’t see any grass in my yard.
Eventually, I couldn’t see any hope in my life.

Fortunately, my ugly yard has just been an annoyance. And I’m armed to reverse course on those w**ds. My life reversed course too, when I left and started over.

I hired a certified w**d control guy (happens to be my son’s brother-in-law). “Aggressive!” I said! “I want your most aggressive w**d control program.” The first application is working. Not a dandelion in my yard! One tried, bloomed for about 2 hours, then helplessly wilted. A w**d I can’t identify (because of my own ignorance about them) stayed green all winter… including when the temps dropped to below zero. Hardy little boogers. But they now look very dismal, post first-spray application.

The w**ds weren’t allowed to own my life either. The w**d killer came out and I reversed course, not as quickly as the spray, but at least I was headed in the right direction. I got rid of the w**ds of my life, not fast, but steadily.

People had to go.
Old beliefs had to be altered.
Habits, revamped.
Effort exerted, to find a new path.

The w**ds of our lives, yours and mine, might look hardy but get out the weapons of destruction and eradicate them.

And I’ll let you know, but we’ve got a good start on w**d destruction in my yard!

03/27/2026

A truly big number is coming up as far as a class reunion for me. I’ve never gone to an alumni banquet of my own (though have gone to a couple class reunions). However, I used to go to alumni events with my ex in his home town.. I’d look at the table with the 45-year and 50-year-since-graduation attendees and think… “Their life must feel…. Well, OLD. And boring. And I bet it was hard to hobble in here.”

And now, here I am! How did that even happen?? (Though I don’t feel significantly old or particularly boring… and I only hobble when I first stand up after sitting a couple hours).

I’m reluctant (or perhaps, more ambivalent) to attend the reunion, truthfully. I left my home town for the final time (living there) in 1984. My parents had already left, moving across the state. I’ve had no relatives residing there for 40+ years…. And had few reasons to return over the years. Yep, I’m definitely disconnected… significantly.

I’ve kept touch with only a handful of classmates for all these years. My Maid of Honor from my wedding will be there (sweetest gal ever) and I would love to see her and some other friends mutual to us.

My class was only 70-something in number and around 20% are no longer living. There’s at least another 25% I likely didn’t ever speak with in High School. One of the guys I’m sure I’d never spoken to showed up at my house 2 years ago. I was having a garage sale (for a highway sale, a couple hundred miles long) and as he was buying a few things, I inquired where he was from. Hmm… my hometown… asked his name… we were classmates! We talked 10 minutes… longer (which didn’t take much, since it was previously zero) in 4 years of high school.

I ran into another guy (I’d talked to VERY little in High School) from my class at a Sam’s Store 60 miles from my current home. He was riding in a handicap cart but he jumped out of it and hugged me. We had a fabulous convo!

I’m so far from who I was then, in High School. The only quality remotely similar to the “then-me” and “now-me,” is a love for writing. I was a journalism ju**ie and yearbook editor then. Writing is still a passion. Otherwise, I don’t even know “that girl” (me). And maybe that’s the point. Maybe we’ve all changed. I’m sure we’ve all lived a lot of life. Maybe I’ll go and see what that life has been like for them? Maybe I’ll go and look up all the people I didn’t even ever talk to in High School? Maybe, even though I left high school in the rear view mirror and never looked back, someone will remind me of something funny… and I’ll laugh?

Maybe.

03/20/2026

It’s coming up on the 5th anniversary of my mom’s death. She died as Covid was “wrapping up,” after spending several years in the local nursing home and the last year, without visitors, due to Covid rules. The day she died, April 16, 2021, early in the morning, I felt……..

…. Completely different than you might imagine. I felt extreme…. Relief. My dear mom had, over the course of more than a decade, lost herself due to the relentless disease of dementia. A bright, articulate woman had become slowly, obsessed with the same stories over and over. Some were true (stories of her mom and her daddy, who died when she was just 9). Others were imagined in her mind (a bad man trying to “get her” in the nursing home).

I had grieved my mom, as she slipped away, like sliding into the ocean, inches at a time. During that time, as I watched her “lose herself,” I was simultaneously losing myself. My identity had been shattered by an increasingly toxic marriage occurring at the same time. My brain was foggy every minute of every day as grief upon grief tortured it. I’d also launched my children into the world and had war declared upon me by my sibling. I’d grieved my dad, who had died suddenly 5 years earlier. There was more grief than I could hold and more loss than I could face. I felt buried in it.

And then she died, with a brain that had completely betrayed her and a stroke that finished off her mobility more than a month before her final breath. Honestly….I didn’t just feel relief. I felt joy. According to my faith and hers, she was no longer trapped and lost. I cried the day of the funeral, and I probably haven’t cried about her death more than 5 additional times in those 5 years. All my tears for her had occurred while she slid away. I was still lost at that time… divorced then, but far from healed of the trauma….my identity stripped and my peace non-existent… except for the fact that my mom no longer suffered.

What I didn’t know was that my own healing was actually around the corner. Just 5 months away, till I would recover my my own sense of hope, identity, and ongoing belief that life was worth living and that I could be whole again. Some would suggest that my mom helped that along from her heavenly vantage point but that doesn’t fit with my personal beliefs. I believe God alone orchestrates the events of the universe, of life and death.

I miss her, yes…. But I continue to be joyful that she no longer lives, muddled and confused…. ♥️ so very thankful.

03/17/2026

It gives me goosebumps, to read the line in the book, “Healing is a Choice,” by Stephen Arterburn.

He’s talking about feelings… the hard ones… anger, rage, pain, fear, anxiety. The ones that propel us into places we don’t want to go. The deep hurts that we aren’t sure how to survive. Then he addresses the fact that many times we hide those feelings, either because they are too painful…. Or maybe we’re afraid of what they look like to others. Then comes the goosebump line:

“But we don’t bury them dead. We bury them alive.”

Alive. Those feelings are alive… but they are too much, so we bury them anyway. Burying anything alive seems so… gruesome.

My own tendency is different with regard to emotions but I’ve known many who bury their feelings alive… people I care for profoundly. And that has caused me great angst. I know they carry a wound that festers, often triggered out of the blue. I know they use emotional energy they could be using instead to grow and enjoy life, just to push the deep pain down. I know they avoid me… because I talk about feelings openly.

What I’ve done, esp in the past, has been harmful too… I have ruminated and obsessed over my feelings, fueling them and creating a fire from a little spark. My anger about a man that just needed to “act decent and treat his family as well as he treated everyone else” was fueled into an inferno as I spent hours a day obsessing about it, more so after I was out of it than inside it.

Burying emotions alive doesn’t bring healing.

Fueling painful emotions doesn’t bring healing either.

What does bring healing then? For me, it was sorting them, challenging and adjusting my thoughts about them. I needed to understand that I could choose my feelings by repeatedly choosing my thoughts and owning what I focused on. I was never one to shove them away, but instead of burying mine, I just let them surround me like an aura. They literally created a fog. Sometimes, it felt like it was almost visible to others and it greatly occupied my brain.

I had to decide, on purpose, that someone else’s actions could NOT control me. I had to practice that. I didn’t understand at the time, but I was rewiring my brain… training it to react differently… to not fan the flame. I had to decide that I’d bowed to my feelings long enough (most of my life/ marriage) and I was now in control. I COULD regulate what I felt.

Along the way, I actively chose two feelings on which to focus: joy and peace. I chose joy in small things…. And I began to “fuel” that with gratitude. I chose peace by letting go and surrendering my “need” to be understood by people committed to not understanding me… or maybe just too tired to do that. Or even who “enjoyed” hurting me. In a sense, joy and peace were replacement feelings for the anger and pain, but it wasn’t quite that simple. It was incremental and it took me 4 years to accomplish. It was really slow. It was intentional, but subject to many setbacks.

All I can say… it was totally worth it. It’s NEVER too late to learn to regulate emotions, rather than bury them alive, or fuel them into fire.

03/12/2026

**FOR THE LOVE OF SLEEP**

I’ve been thinking about writing about “sleep” for a few days…. Then this morning, this quote popped up on my fb feed. I really enjoy this author as he writes about a wide variety of topics… success, leadership, relationships, growth, self-care and more. Sometimes i disagree with his quotes but never in an intense way… I feel he pushes me to think critically… and he writes about topics I care about too. I love an author who can challenge me, inspire me and with whom i can agree with AND sometimes disagree.

So… on to the topic of sleep. I wholly agree with this quote. Like 1000% (for silly emphasis). And, sleep has been an “issue” for me MOST of my life. Left to my own devices, i sleep very poorly… and walk around like a zombie. When I used to teach (adult education), i developed a class on sleep hygiene. I have tried every trick in the book. Lack of sleep (I NEED 7-8 hr a night) is like slapping me across the head a few times… and then i try to get on with my day. It’s not good.

I don’t even want to be around me when I’m short on sleep. I think much of the struggle came from the chaos, hyper-awareness, anxiety in my marriage. Shutting it off was so hard. I was in constant “over-thinking mode.”

Now… on to the possibly VERY controversial part. It could upset some people… but…
With a dr’s supervision, i use sleep meds regularly as my sleep is still very erratic and my nights leave me exhausted, if I rely on the “natural process.” And as a result…I sleep well. I feel good. I don’t feel like a zombie. My doctor knows me very well… all my PTSD, all my years of tormenting depression. Together, we decided to help me sleep. It is, for me, a god-send and I’d rather do it with a perscription and a dr than using an OTC med.

I’m NOT AT ALL recommending this or encouraging it. Only a patient and dr can decide if it’s a good choice. I know every med carries side-effects. I’ve decided for me, the risks are worth the benefits. It’s legal. It’s given me quality of life I couldn’t possibly enjoyed otherwise. It’s what some would call a vice. But I’m so grateful for the sleep that leaves me refreshed most mornings and ready to live my life instead of drag myself through it.

** disclaimer- I’m not encouraging this for any other human. Only you and your doctor can decide if it’s right for you. I am not a medical professional, or attempting to portray one. ***

03/11/2026

FRIENDSHIPS- sharing to help you think about how your friendships have changed during major life transitions.
******
Ask any woman who is divorcing or has, and I suspect they will tell you that the process brought major shifts in friendships. ‘Might be some rare exceptions. I didn’t anticipate that… but then I laugh at myself for even saying that. The truth is…. I didn’t anticipate (with any clarity or cognitive skill) ANYTHING well, while in those “survival years.” It took all I had JUST to survive.

Now, I can do a rear-view mirror version.

* My bestie stuck by me every step of the way. That is hard to find words for… the deep gratitude I have for that level of loyalty. She had a LOT going on in her life too, but without her, I doubt I’d have “made it.” ♥️

* several long-term (20-30 years of close bond) friends “backed away.” But to be 100% fair, I think I bear at least half or more of the responsibilty and actually pushed them away. I knew they were battle-weary of my depression and endless stories about the mistreatment of my ex. That wears on a soul, hearing about it endlessly. They are all “helper-types”…. And they couldn’t help. They’d walked through my years of depression and tears with me. I felt they didn’t think I was “helping myself” (probably right but in survival mode, one usually doesn’t know how). Today, I love them in more of a casual friend mode… and it is OK. 🌷

* Generally, the toughest for me to sort out were many (not all) of my church friends (though the above mentioned gals were also church friends). A few were fiercely loyal and and a couple were leading a “Divorce care” group. They shored me up more than they know. 💕 Most in my church NEVER checked in to see if i was OK. I was hurt deeply by that… and realized… abuse and divorce are still pretty taboo subjects in many churches. 😢

* I now have several new friends… people whose lives I share and paths I crossed SOLELY because of our respective divorce journeys. People I’ve agonized with, healed with, grown with… mutually. After 8 years, many of these friendships remain… and enrich my life. Some are deep, some more casual, all valuable.🌸

Changes in friendships happen for a multitude of reasons, through the seasons of life. The angst that fact once caused me, has settled into an accepting and peaceful place. It’s one of the ways I can validate that I have experienced true healing and growth. 🙌♥️

03/10/2026

I love talks with my son… (and I would love if my other son would talk with me more 😢 ).
He’s a deep thinker and employs both logic and emotion, along with spiritual principles. He sees beyond face value and digs deep. He has a heart of gold but understands the beauty of appropriate boundaries. (I kinda think I raised him… and he “got it” more quickly than i did 😉).

In a recent discussion, we were talking about young people with “big dreams.” And then I thought… it’s not just young people… it’s anyone with a dream. We talked how we wouldn’t want to squelch their dreams or even necessarily imply they weren’t realistic (like becoming an astronaut but you barely passed science in high school).

But…. We concluded, nearly simultaneously…

***Dreams don’t materialize from dreaming big. They materialize from the actions and many choices that we make.

Perhaps both are needed… to set a big dream and to exercise effort… but clearly… without ACTION, the dream won’t ever get “off the ground.” (Pun intended).

After we hung up the phones, I thought… “what ACTIONS have most changed my life?” There were many, in different eras. As for the here and now, of what I experience daily, some of the actions that have moved me to my dream of a mostly peaceful life are:

* Choosing my own mental health over other people and things, even as a total empath
* developing better sleep, eating (sometimes exercise), and thought patterns
* taking the risk to buy my home
* becoming more grateful each day/ choosing to know I have all I need
* trusting God enough to “let go” of my need to fix others or sort out their lives…Let go and let God.

What are some of YOUR actions that have moved you to your dreams?

03/10/2026

I’m going to put some various “older posts” on here from time to time, as a lot of new people have joined the page. This is the first one I ran across.

Barefoot, Brave, and Bold

04/06/2026

03/31/2026

03/30/2026

03/29/2026

03/28/2026

03/27/2026

03/20/2026

03/17/2026

03/12/2026

03/11/2026

03/10/2026

03/10/2026

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