LJ Herman is a former editor at Love What Matters and lives in Colorado. LJ is a concert, ticket and technology enthusiast. He has seen the Dave Mathews Band over one hundred times and counting.

LJ Herman is a former editor at Love What Matters and lives in Colorado. LJ is a concert, ticket and technology enthusiast. He has seen the Dave Mathews Band over one hundred times and counting.
“She could see I was avoiding eye contact. She showed up to my house, took my baby. I stood there, staring at her and my baby. Like, ‘What do I do now?’ She looked at me and said, ‘We are fine! GO TAKE A SHOWER. I know what I’m doing!’ Sometimes the kind of love I need is this.”
“‘My entire adult life, I’ve been a father. Now I am not sure who I am without them,’ my husband said, sitting across from me at the restaurant. I wasn’t ready for this. I failed to anticipate this. ‘Slow down. You are fast-forwarding,’ you might say. And you would be right. I need to slow down.”
“‘It doesn’t look good. I’m sorry.’ Her words echoed through my head, but I dared not let them sink in. Instead I collapsed against the waiting room wall. She had been healthy my entire life. She never smoked a cigarette. She didn’t drink alcohol. When the surgeon exited those double doors, removed her mask and looked at me, I could see it all over her face. My mother didn’t make it through.”
“I am SO burned out. My kids don’t respect my needs. My clients push me around. It’s time to show everyone, including myself, where the standard is for how you treat ‘Meg.'”
“We didn’t know when we went to bed, and you told us you loved us, it would be the last time we saw you alive. You didn’t know either. You only wanted care from the VA. Did you know the priority mail envelope that contained your hearing appointment was finally delivered to me, 4 months after you died? Yeah, you can’t make this up. We applied because of your pain.”
“I definitely don’t want to hang out with the friend who tells me my husband walked about because there was obviously something wrong with me. My best friend, my soul sister, told me ‘I can’t even keep my life together’ because I was not able to keep my marriage together. Ouch.”
“I proceeded with my plan to be Susie Homemaker meets Carol Brady. But no one was around to witness it. I was with another human all day, but felt horribly unseen. I was over-touched, but not talked to enough. I’d been constantly moving, but never really exercised my mind. I often found myself staring at the clock, willing the magical sound of the garage door to arrive.”
“My daughter dropped her pacifier on the floor under the bed. I bend down to grab it, and what do ya know? There’s a pair of dirty underwear under the bed.”
“The lady at the thrift store bravely asked about how we were doing. And you know what? I didn’t lie. I didn’t say good. I thought, ‘Wow, it has been over 2 years. How can that be?’ I found your box of baby clothes and the blankets Grandma made you. You are everywhere here, and at times I don’t want to live in this place anymore.”
“Meeting up with friends, trips away and nights out become distant memories. Because your tribe becomes parents in the same position. We can’t relax, because we still have someone to care for. It doesn’t go away. If this job was advertised, I couldn’t see many people applying.”