This Post Will Remain Untitled So As Not to Imply More (or Less) Emphasis on its Content

There are a lot of crappy things associated with being separated.

Losing a sense of security.  Estrangement from family.  Wondering if my married name has only been on loan for the past 10 years.

But one of the worst things, for me, is the tremendous emotional highs and lows.

As much as I’d like to just brush myself off, hit the reset button, and rededicate myself to my goal of marrying Neil Patrick Harris and becoming a finalist on American Idol, I’ve committed to navigating this marital turmoil in a quest to someday reunite our family.

To make it a better, stronger, happier family.

Cause we are working on it, you see.  The fat lady hasn’t sang.  We’re not just walking away, licking our wounds, and moving on with life.

We’re staying all vulnerable and open and raw.

For every ten moments of doubt there is a corresponding moment of hope.

Although some days are so very disheartening.

Some days I fight to keep the end goal in sight.

Some days I have to remind myself that I have a three year-old boy upstairs who will have no memory of his parents being married if we don’t work this out.

Which seems so very awful, particularly in light of the fact that I have been married for nearly 10 years, and with this man for a total of 15.  Almost half of my life.

If Dylan lives until he’s 80 years old, he’ll only have had parents who were married to each other for 1/20 of his life.  Sydney, 1/13.

That hardly seems enough.

And while I realize that the above statements are not a reason for which to remain married, it does keep me from completely rejecting the idea of reconciliation when I’m feeling so very sad, angry, or self-pitying.

There have been some ugly moments, for sure.

Some of these moments have been seared into my brain, and I feel permanently altered because of them.

But there are some things I’ve gained.

Perspective.  The realization that it’s okay to be taken care of once in a while.  Awareness of my high degree of resilience.  Confirmation that with the help of the right therapist, insight can be gained without sacrificing self-esteem.


It should be acknowledged that, lately, there has been some . . . growth.

So I’m going to just stop and celebrate that for a moment.


  1. Meredith says:

    “For every ten moments of doubt there is a corresponding moment of hope.”

    I love you. HARD.

  2. Glenda says:

    Growth is good!

  3. Rose says:

    tara..i hope that whatever decision you both make is best for you…whatever the outcome may be..we love u!! shall i open a can of frostin!!!

  4. Randy K says:

    Tara, this is an excellent post. My favorite so far. But you do realize I have a better chance of marrying Neil Patrick Harris than you do, right?
    I also read your spinning post about pulling your pants off and showing your underwear. It took about an hour for Amy to explain to me why that would be embarrassing. Finally I came to understand that something that wouldn’t embarrass me could embarrass someone else….I guess I still don’t get why its embarrassing though…


    • Tara says:

      Randy. (Sigh). I’m not sure whether to be more exasperated because you don’t think I will marry NPH or because you don’t understand why standing in your underwear in public is embarrassing.

      I do feel bad for Amy that she had to have the hour-long conversation about it. She was probably exhausted by the time it was over.

  5. Alissa King says:

    Tara, this knocked me sideways a little. Especially when I find myself clinging to your blog so often because you are kind of a rock star in our house. Just yesterday I was telling a friend about walking the fine line in blog land and how, when I grow up, I want to be smart, brave AND funny like my friend Tara is on her blog.

    Except this post wasn’t funny.

    It is brilliant.

    And, as per usual, it is brave. I hate that becoming the person you were meant to be sometimes means walking through fire or quitting. Since we know you won’t be quitting, well I can’t ‘cheerlead’ you enough as you navigate the fire part, because wherever your family is supposed to end up? I know you will get them there.

    • Tara says:

      I hope I’m up to the task, Alissa. I’m trying.

      Not sure why I’m a rock star in your house, but thank you! That’s a HUGE compliment, particularly coming from you.

  6. Tara….you are a ROCK star in my world too!! You are the epitome of strength, cool, fun, no fear and an amazing mommy to your babies!! Whatever decision you decide to make is totally up to you, and I am glad that you are going through each day and taking things slow and thinking each choice through….only you know what is best for YOU and only YOU can make that decision. LOVE YOU MORE than you know!!

    Hugs my friend!!

  7. Tara says:

    Thanks, Jen. Love you too.

  8. Lindsey says:

    Thinking about you and the topic of this post almost daily. Your resilience comes as no surprise to me. I’m still hoping and hopeful for the best result of this situation for all of you. {hugs}

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