My husband was not a great communicator. Our fights were me crying, trying to reach him to truly understand what I needed from life, from him from our marriage.

My husband didn’t want me. My husband didn’t desire me. Why would any other man? I believed I was not pretty enough. Sexy enough. Worthy enough. I couldn’t satisfy him in bed. So painful.

Unfortunately, no matter how much I shared with him or how many fights we had over the same things, I never felt like he was getting it.

I can’t remember the last time I have been touched by a man. Strong, firm hands touching my lower back. Holding my hand. Loving my body.

I can’t remember the last time someone kissed me with only the intent of giving me pleasure.

I can’t remember the last time I looked into the eyes of a man and saw that he sees me as beautiful.

I can’t remember the last time I was held. In the way, a man holds a woman close to his side. Tightly. Securely. Protecting us both from the outside world.

I can’t remember the last time someone couldn’t keep his hands off of me. The hands that push all troubles away even if for only a short moment.

I can’t remember the last time I wanted to feel again. Feel the brush of a hand. Feel the soft whisper of a kiss.

I can’t remember the last time I felt like a woman.

I can’t remember the last time I didn’t feel broken.

I lost so much in my divorce. My husband.My future. My whole world.

I have been working on healing myself. I have shed layer upon layer of hurt and failure, becoming a whole new me. One I didn’t know I could be.

I found the cleaner receipt, after coming back from Paris. I am saving everything (I cried pretty much the whole time)

I’m a woman in the process of evolving. I may not know much about what’s ahead, but I know this about myself: I am sensitive, feeling, creative, loving, passionate, relentless, empathetic, compassionate, kind, and strong.