Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk

Don’t cry over spilled milk. That’s what they say. Little did I know that about an hour after
I took this photo, I’d be crying over so much more…

(I wasn’t sure if I could put it all out there or if I even should. But then I thought, you know what, I’m gonna do it. Maybe it’ll be cathartic. Or maybe it would be a huge mistake that I will regret for all eternity. Who knows? Not me. But I know one thing, could’ve, would’ve, should’ve, so I’m doing it.)


It was a Monday morning in November 2016. I was still staying at my mother’s house in Texas, and my husband was living and working in Dublin while we waited for his green card to come through. 

After waking up, I did my usual, I texted good morning to my long-distance spouse, poured myself a cup of coffee (spilling a bunch of milk in the process), and settled into my morning routine of checking email and social media sites. 

On Linkedin, I saw that my husband had commented on a post, and in that comment, he had tagged someone. It was a woman with a name that I didn’t recognize. “Probably a work colleague,” I thought.

I tried to move on with my morning, but that woman’s name kept niggling at me. Who was she? Maybe she was a new work colleague. Probably a new work colleague. But, we usually talked about those things. At least I did anyway.  

I let curiosity get the best of me and popped over to Facebook to search for her. I was curious if they were connected on there too or if we had any friends in common. 

After typing her first name and then finishing her last, a bunch of accounts appeared. As I scrolled down the list, one, in particular, jumped out at me. I knew it was her immediately because there she was. A big bright selfie smile in her profile picture… alongside a smiling photo of my husband.

There he was. My husband was in another woman’s Facebook profile picture. 

P.S. I’m still trying to figure out how to tell the tale of the past six years or so of my life. It’ll be a jimble jumble jumping around mess, I’m sure, but I need to tell it. I need to get it out. Bear with me.

12 responses to “Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk”

  1. I have wondered for many years, but knew it was not my place to ask. I’m so sorry you went through this, and as hard as writing it may be, it’s also going to be about healing . Xo Prince Snow Farm


  2. Oh nooooooooo. (I hope writing this is cathartic, however and whenever it comes out.) -Betsy


  3. We're here for the jimble jumble jumping around mess whenever you're ready. But if you're not too, that's totally cool. Much love to you – and Fifty! xxx


  4. Oh non. I wondered what happened. Sorry you had to live through that mess and hope you are ok now


  5. I am lived that myself – and I thought the pain would kill me. You aren’t alone.


  6. I am so sorry Sara Louise! Somehow I did wonder something like this happened and I'm truly sorry. I have missed your blog and actually blogging as well, maybe should start again. Bisous, Sini


  7. I have been hurting with you as it was clear something had gone badly wrong. You are such a compelling writer that I imagine there are plenty of us out here who have wondered and worried. You do not owe the story to anyone, as I’m sure you know, but I hope it’s going to help you to tell it. Bises, Katherine


  8. Sorry this happened to you. However writing about will likely be good for you. I often wondered what happened and now we know some of it. However it sounds like you are getting on with your life. Congratulations on that. Shelagh


  9. Buckling in lady- I'm listening. Samantha


  10. I hope it will be cathartic. I'm here for the jumping around.


  11. What a chilling moment that would have been. Take as long as you need to tell the jimble jumble.


  12. This space can be very cathartic. Please know your blogger (and instagram) is here for you whenever/however you choose to let-er rip. PS I’ll be at West Point in October. Not sure if that’s near where you are, but if you fancy a meetup after all these years, please DM me on the gram. 🙂 (Vino With Val)


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