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.
“‘I need you to go take this test to make sure. If you are pregnant, we can’t do the x-rays.’ I thought this was crazy, went into the bathroom, and pee’d on the stick. She grabbed it, looked at me, and called for another lady to come look. The other lady looked at me. ‘Yeah, we aren’t doing the appointment.’ I walked out, called my boyfriend and told him they wouldn’t finish my appointment. He was confused.”
“I never, ever said explicitly mean things to anyone’s face. I only said it because I felt sorry for you! You know the kind – those Gretchen Weiner-type girls who feigned shock when one of their friends said something hurtful, but then giggled about it anyway.”
“The night my mother-in-law passed away, everyone was a mess. Emotional, tired and grieving that she had been suffering so long. Even after being a nurse for 15 years, I wasn’t prepared for how it would feel to be the family member in the nursing role. On the way home, I wasn’t ok.”
“First thing, if you end up with the boy that you’re most certain you’re going to marry and have babies with, you will be 32 and living with his mom. Which is exactly where he still lives. If someone wants to walk out of your life, let them. It is their loss! You are not defined by the crappy things people do to you. The crappy things people do to you show more about their character than yours.”
“I’ve been in groups that are giggly and fun, but I also never got to know their parent’s names, or their greatest insecurities, or what their dreams were beyond motherhood. Making it incredibly difficult for women like me, who mostly keep to themselves, to find a seat.”
“Don’t get married for the way you feel now. Get married because the person you’re looking at is the one you want to struggle with. Marry the one you want to continually choose. You’re going to clean puke off the floor for them. You’ll stand together as loved ones are buried. You will hurt one another.”
“You married her when I was 3. I wasn’t at your wedding. I was maliciously sent to Chicago by my mother, just to get back at you. Remember that time you came to my Grandma’s and literally kidnapped me? Dragging me down the hill, kicking and screaming, you trying to hush me? I was 4. This is one of my earliest memories. Tragic. My kids don’t know you. But that seems to be a pattern in this family.”
“I really loved him, so I was caught off guard by my own response to him ending our romantic relationship. ‘Wait, shouldn’t I be sad? Shouldn’t I be crying or something?’ My dating self was cool, sexy, and mysterious. I knew how to seduce and intrigue men. I played the game well.”
“We had just lost the squirrel and the hamster the week before – I just didn’t feel like the kids could handle yet another death. ‘Hi, I have a prescription to pick up,’ I said. ‘Patient name?’ the cashier nonchalantly asked. ‘Ummmmm Cockadoodledoo Evans?’ I responded. ‘Um, ok birthdate?’ she asked. ‘Ma’am I’m not really sure, it’s a chicken,’ I said.”
“Her brown curls bounced as she ran up to me with a smile on her face. She eagerly handed me a picture she drew that day. It was a colorful winter scene with penguins skating on a pond with the date 12/14. When my husband returned, he passed by the drawing, stopped and started counting. ‘Did you see what I saw?’ He pointed to the stars in the sky she had drawn. I counted them. Exactly 26.”