I live far from my family. My husband's job demands frequent moves, so we go where his business is. I grew up in one part of the country and now I live in another.

Although the area we live in now is decent, I would probably not choose to live here of my own volition. I miss the beauty of my home state, and I miss my family terribly.

If I leave my husband, I'm going to find a little apartment here and stay in this area for as long as my husband does.

Yes, it would be much easier to pack up the kids and head back home, where I could undoubtedly stay with some relatives until I get on my feet. They probably wouldn't charge me rent or make me pitch in for groceries, and I'm pretty sure that they would be more than happy to take the kids occasionally so I could go job hunting or just have a few moments to myself.

So why won't I move back home? The main reason is this: Just because I want to leave my husband doesn't mean my kids want to leave him, too. They adore him. He's a good father, and my daughter favors him quite a bit.

Now don't get me wrong. I don't think that they would fare better with him if I granted him full custody. His patience with them is pretty thin after all-day exposure, but when he's gone at work all day and then comes home he's the coolest person ever, as far as the kids are concerned.

If we split up, it'll be hard enough for my kids, but if they're suddenly moved to an entirely different part of the country and never get to see the father who they adore, well, I'm pretty sure that's a recipe for therapy by the time they hit their 20s.

The plan is to stay right here in a town where I have no family and no reason to stay other than my husband, who — even if he becomes my ex-husband — is still the father to my kids. It will become really messy if he gets transferred to an entirely new location, but for now this is the only solution I can think of.

At the start of each year, I always sit and reflect. I take special note of what my expectations are for myself for the coming year, or things I resolve to work on that will help me get to those goals. I do this for my children as well - things I'd like to help them work on throughout the year. This was especially helpful while teaching them. Writing down my goals gives me great focus and a great sense of joy once those goals are accomplished.

My divorce will continue in 2008, hopefully wrapping up by this time next year (please?). While I don't have any control over this facet of my life, I'd like to consider that a door is closing. And where one door closes another opens.

I feel a door that has opened for me is enrolling in a program to finish my bachelor's degree in education. I loved working so closely with my homeschooling group, and out of everything in my life that has changed, I truly miss them the most. I miss the exposure to the kids, having fun with them and teaching them. I aspire to finish my education so that I can get back on the track of inspiring other children and parents. I love the outreach involved in working with young kids, and I'm ready to dive in to this passion.

I think for me, one goal at a time is going to have to be substantial. While my goal to finish schooling won't be finished in 2008, I have high hopes and ambition for the day when I can cross off this accomplishment from my list. Time flies, and I plan to make the most of this experience - which is what really counts, right?

December is always the busiest month for my consulting business. Because I have a teaching job as well, I have marking and paperwork to do to wrap up the teaching year, at the same time as planning for next year's classes.

And because I am lucky enough to have a big January holiday (that's the standard thing in Australia), I need to get most of January's work done in December.

So I find the end of the work year, pre-summer holiday timing of Christmas and its festivities very inconvenient.

I don't have any religious interest in Christmas, nor any other interest in Christmas really, but it is part of community and family life sufficiently that I am involved in celebrating it anyway.

Australian Christians all run around so busily pre-Christmas that we call it the silly season.

I feel like I am balancing busy and festivity until virtually Christmas Day itself, when busy is forced out by virtue of the reality that family festive commitments are upon me and aided by the fact that the endless busyness means the work is done for the year.

As I write this, I am up to my ears in work. I find myself strangely looking forward to Christmas Day and that must be at least partly due to the rest it gives me.

Perhaps that's not quite what all the fuss is supposed to be about, but maybe it doesn't matter why families spend Christmas Day together. Maybe what matters is that they actually take the time to stop the world for a day and just be together.

So I’m finally going to get divorced. I’ve decided. It’s for real this time. And what led me to this decision, you ask?

I need a passport. My career has finally started to take off, and I’ve been invited to a few conferences in the U.S. I live in Canada, and the rules are changing about the identification you need to cross the border. I used to be able to get away with just my birth certificate, but now they want a passport.

The trouble is, I’ve already changed my name to my new husband’s. My health card, my bank card, my credit cards all use my new name. If I get a passport, they’ll have to use my old name, which belongs to my soon-to-be ex-husband.

This is obviously not acceptable, so I’m getting divorced.

Like I said in last week’s post, my future mother-in-law is starting to get nervous. She’s looking to see her first-born son get married, and I can hardly blame her. All this living in sin and making bastard babies must be stressful on her.

There might be more stupid reasons to get divorced, but if there are, I haven’t heard of them.

Despite all of my usual daily drama/trauma involving Levi, I also have a million — okay, actually four — projects that I'm trying to get off the ground.

To accomplish this, I've got a gazillion — okay, another exaggeration — meetings a day. My phone is ringing non stop, my inbox is jammed full — loaded with personal e-mails and with business e-mails.

It's great that my projects are getting so much attention, but damn I suddenly feel like there needs to be at least three of me! Then, to top it off, I got dreadfully sick — sinus infection and strep throat — could barely move, and still had to take care of Adrian. What a mess!

Has anyone ever tried to be three places at once, take care of a baby, and be sick, all at the same time? I never have before, and its not something I'd like to try again! I have a whole new respect for single mothers now. Wait, scratch that — for mothers in general.

Anyway, with all the madness, the phone calls, meetings and e-mails, comes progress. With all the progress comes accomplishment, and finally, a new found sense of self. I'm so glad I've finally taken these steps. Steps that I believe, if I Levi and I had stayed together, would never have been taken. For that, I am truly grateful.

So it seems as if the universe does have a plan, that perhaps everything does happen for a reason. I have discovered a strength in myself that I didn't ever realize existed.

I am only just beginning to live up to my full potential. Funny how sometimes it takes something so traumatic to open our eyes, and finally allow ourselves to realize that we are perfect, as imperfect as we are.

So I'm working like crazy and it feels great! I've really tapped into my creative side, and I’ve found an amazing outlet and it’s so fulfilling.

I was on the phone with a girlfriend the other day discussing all of my current projects. Her response was "Damn, girl, how many fires do you have burning at once?" The answer to that is: a lot.

I have so many ideas, so many things going at once, that I've actually started writing them down. Anyone who knows me knows that ordinarily I'm quite disorganized, and I don't write things down.

The point is, I'm proud of myself — I don't think I've ever felt really proud of myself before. I'm amazed with myself for having the ability, somewhere deep in there, to go through what I did with Levi, to make it to this point — to come out of it a few months later and still have a smile on my face.

I'm proud of myself for being such a great mom to Adrian, especially because I was so scared that I would never be able to do it by myself. I'm even kind of proud of myself for giving birth to such a beautiful amazing little boy.

I'm proud of myself for finally following my dream, for taking control of my life, for getting somewhere. I'm proud and amazed that I didn't give up.

I think it’s about time that we all start giving ourselves props. What about you? What makes you proud of yourself?

It started when I met a former boss for lunch. I hadn't seen him for years so when our paths happened to cross about a month ago, we agreed that we would meet for lunch just to catch up. While it was great catching up, my divorce naturally became a part, albeit a small part, of the conversation.

Then, when I returned to my office I ended up chatting with my current boss about various personal matters. The conversation ended up focusing on my ex and, before I knew it, I was telling her many details (though, not all!) about John's affair that I hadn't revealed to her previously.

Shortly after that, I was speaking with a co-worker about her pregnancy, as she is about eight months pregnant with her first child. Like most people in my office, she had no idea that I was divorced. She then started asking me if I was thinking about having a baby in the near future, if my husband wanted children, etc. I initially avoided the topic by just saying that I wasn't ready for children but she kept asking questions and I realized that it was best to inform her that I was divorced. I didn't tell her why, but I could tell she was fishing for some details. When she flat out asked me if John had been seeing someone else I said, "yes." Why lie?

By the end of the day I was mentally exhausted. It's almost impossible to imagine that one day my divorce will be so far in the past that it will sink to the bottom of my, and everyone else's, mind. I can't wait...

I just started a new job... yes, the one I interviewed for five times! Aside from the new job jitters, I was excited to be starting fresh at a company that doesn't know who Steve is, doesn't know who Michelle Newman is and doesn't know the history of the past 6 1⁄2 years of my life. I'm now the mistress of my own destiny and the creator of my past. It's kind of like a guilty pleasure and it's quite empowering and liberating.

Now, since starting a family is no longer in the picture at this point in time, my career is my number one priority. I left an uninspiring job and an unfulfilling marriage. I've been given a second chance and hope that this is the start of something wonderful. But as much as having a clean slate is all I want right now, it's difficult pretending the past 6 1⁄2 years didn't happen. It's normal to talk to work people about family, especially when you sit on an open trading desk and know more about your coworkers than you normally would by sitting in an office by yourself.

I called my brother Eric and asked him for his Social Security number. He asked what I needed it for and I said, "well, do you want to be my beneficiary or not?" He laughed and said "I forgot...Steve's out and I'm back in!" Eric and I were always each other's beneficiaries and he knows that I have created a pretty decent portfolio. I received an e-mail from my office manager asking for my "In Case of Emergency" contact. Steve, my ex, had been mine and I thought that he would always be my "person." I responded with my mother's information, swallowed the lump in my throat and hit "send." At least I know that my new "person" will never leave me.

Hello First Wives World community! I'm a relative newcomer to the blog but no stranger to the experience of divorce. I've been divorced for four years...was married for five. And at 31, I'm a non-traditional college student attending school in New York City and working toward my B.A. in Sociology. I'm going all out-going to school full-time-to complete my degree.

My story has a lot of twists and turns and bumps, and I'm sure that's like a lot of women's stories. I guess you'll discover all the bumps and detours here on the blog. I was raised in Gainesville, Florida, but born in Cincinnati where I lived for the first six years of my life. My roots are distinctly southern and Florida is my home; I am a hillbilly! I was raised almost exclusively by my mother who also juggled my four siblings; my father wasn't a contributing factor in my development. When I was 14, my parents finally divorced, a long overdue move by that point.

I left home four years later to start my life and tried the college route. Three semesters later, the attempt proved to be a bit premature. So shortly after leaving Florida State University at 19, I enlisted in the U.S. Army, where among other experiences, I met and married my husband at 22.

Without going into too many details about our split, I will say that if ever two people did NOT match up, this was IT! I wasn't who he wanted, though he tried in a very warped way to make me into that person, chipping away at who I had already become by this point and leaving a very brittle exterior.

My name truly defines me. I’ve just always been Michelle Rosenthal.

Aside from the wedding invitations addressed to “Mr. & Mrs. Steve XXXX”, my friends never changed my maiden name in their phones or on their e-mail messages or introduced me using my married name.

I was always in the “scene” and the social leader of my group. I picked the places we went, had all of the connections to avoid waiting in lines and bartended at some of the most fun bars in New York City and Westchester County. I have a big group of friends.

Somehow my parents believed me when I said I was going out for “coffee” when I began bartending my senior year of high school! I have a brother that was popular, especially with my friends, and an enviable contact list.

I come from a close-knit family. My last name ends with my brother, unless he has a son. I’ve always been Michelle Rosenthal and was against changing my name. But when I got married, changing my name was important to Steve. Of course I felt as if someone were asking for my unborn child when he asked when I was going to change my name already.

I can’t explain the connection I feel to my last name but it’s just part of who I am. I’ve built my reputation using my name: I completed my education with my name; I’ve succeeded in my career using my name. Hello? I've accomplished most of the memorable things in my life using my name!

I’m proud of who I am and all that I’ve done. For me, taking my husband’s name made me feel like I was losing a part of that. The day Steve moved out, I changed everything back.

I called my friend and my Caller ID popped up as “Rosenthal”. “You don’t waste any time, do you?” she said. Next step was the Dept. of Motor Vehicles and changing all of my credit cards.