"All My Favorite People Are Broken"

I'm moving to a new community. This is not a new thing. It's been a long time coming. We knew even before D-Day that this is something that would probably happen eventually. I got the courage a while back to seek out a job that was more child-friendly, with more flexible hours, less stress. This job is also in a location that is much closer to my extended family. Although we've certainly had our ups and downs, the fact that I could be a single mother some day is very real should Husband stop recovery, and to be able to take a day trip to see family will be such a comfort if needed.

We moved to our current city shortly before D-Day, and I didn't really leave anyone behind when we moved. I never allowed myself to become close to anyone where we lived previously, and I didn't shed a single tear. I was sleepwalking through life, trying to hide my faults and project a perfect image.

This move is so different. So difficult. After D-Day and without family nearby, I was desperate for a community of support. And I found one. I reached out, allowed myself to be vulnerable, and developed the closest and most authentic friendships I've ever had in my life. So this move is bittersweet. There has been so much heartache in this city, but this is also the place where I started to heal. Where I started to be real. Where I started to be vulnerable. Some of my closest friends share my same struggles, while others have been a shoulder to cry on when I was overwhelmed. Others include Child's teachers, who have treated Child like their own and filled in on days when I was less than energetic. And yet other friends without children have welcomed Child to Saturday night gatherings openly and freely. Knowing that this is just part of my life separated from Husband.

Today I said good-bye to the first woman with whom I shared my secret. I don't know why I decided to share it with her, I didn't even know her that well. In fact, she is a co-worker, and I shared some of my deepest fears with her in her office. I didn't know exactly why I was telling her, but when she responded I knew. She disclosed that her marriage was also being ripped apart by sex addiction. We have been the closest of friends ever since. Sharing our struggles and our triumphs. Walking this journey together. She wrote me a beautiful letter, and in it she included her favorite song lyrics.

"All my favorite people are broken."

She went on to say that she is reminded through me of how there can be beauty in brokenness, and that brokenness often leads people to a life filled with more joy and peace. My friend has taught me that friendship means sharing the good and the bad. Letting go of the image of an ideal life. We are beautifully broken.