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Dating after divorce is a lot like deciding to eat gas station sushi. You know it's probably a terrible idea, but every once in a while someone tells you they met the love of their life at Wawa, and suddenly you're willing to roll the dice.

I sat down to write this week and went digging through old memories for a story worth telling. Somehow I ended up back on an elementary school playground. Red Rover. If you're a child of the '70s or '80s, you already know where this is going. I was always — ALWAYS — the last one picked to "come over." There I'd stand in my overly high waisted pants with the elastic waist and tennis shoes , trying to look completely unbothered while internally negotiating with God. Please… jus

I have long suffered from anxiety. Clinically treated, thoroughly managed, occasionally medicated — and yet. It still shows up. It still knocks. And the older I get, the louder it gets. When my twins were two, my husband and I separated. And just like that, regular life stress got a roommate. Single mom stress moved in, unpacked its bags, and made itself very comfortable. The cocktail that used to take the edge off? Less practical now. The edge itself? Sharper than ever. So I