The Last Day of The Purple Life.

by Lori Dwyer on March 25, 2011 · 82 comments

It’s the very last day of my Purple Life.

And it’s all packed up and ready to go.

I’m terrified. Up until now, I’ve hated the word ‘brave’.

But this time, I feel brave.

Because this is a choice. This isn’t just grinding on. This is flight, or fight.. or simper.

Stay, in a place where I’m expected to walk around with my tail between my legs, head down, displaying to the world that Tony was, indeed, correct- what a terrible person I am.

Fuck that.

The same way I chose to be honest, with a story that was now mine, to prevent myself feeling suffocated, to prevent the shame and stigmas of this closing in on me… It feels the same as choosing to stand up now. To go, and be alone, in a quiet place, with my children, away from this.. toxicity.

I feel like I’m on the very edge of a cliff, ready to jump. Holding my breath.

Part of me longs for the crisp crack of the ocean, salt up my nose, my whole body immersed in feeling alive…

And another part of me, it waits for the body slam, that drives the air from my lungs and turns the air black with stars… (I took a friend with me to HomeTown, last night, and we stood on the beach and looked at the millions of stars, the milkiness of asteroid belt… “This is where they all run to, all the stars. They come here.”)

I’m not sure if I’m doing the right thing. Two rainbows in two days, that seems to tell me yes.

I don’t care. I’ll figure out if this is right thing when I get there.(What if the light at the end of the tunnel is actually the headlight of an oncoming train…?)

This happened so quickly.. three months ago, I was normal. I heard Wanderlust speak at the ABC,and she mentioned ‘cognitive dissonance’.. how long it takes for the mind to catch up, when your physical circumstances change so quickly.

My head is still reeling. I’m not sure what I’m doing, but every instinct in body is telling to run from this trauma, run somewhere safe, so my mind can process it properly.

Home, it’s not here anymore. HomeTown, (Summerland) it’s the closest thing I have.

I bought home a child to this house, and birthed another one right here, in my backyard. I entered this house, deliriously happy, with my boyfriend who would become my fiancee who would become my husband.

I celebrated one single, perfect, happy wedding anniversary here.

I laughed and sang and danced with Tony here.

This was our home. The place where we were both so blissfully happy, with our little life.

It was the happiest either of us had ever been, and we said that to each other so many times.

Those memories.. I keep.

I have plenty, that I want to leave behind.

A creaking rope, as I shook him, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

Standing, saying, thinking, he was bluffing, he had to be, he was on a garden chair and his feet would touch the ground, how could he possibly hang himself?

A moment, the moment, the first night this happened, an hour after leaving Tony in the ICU, realising that this was over, really over, that he was my best friend and no matter what happened from here on in, I would never talk to him ever again, screaming that and pulling at my own hair and walking, walking, walking in circles because it was the only thing that took the edge of the pain. Like childbirth, but so prolonged.

Saying to my shrink.. “I can’t believe this has happened to my life“, and her looking me straight in the eye and saying, “Lori, neither can I.”

A social worker, next to Tony’s bed, crying and swearing and telling em how fucking unfair this was, there was not a single thing here that told her this man wanted to die.

The heavy, heavy feeling of waiting for your brother, who will carry the casket, to drive you to your husband’s funeral. Saying to him, when he arrives, “This is… sad. That’s all I’m feeling. Sad.” (And sadness, it’s such a heavy, heavy thing, my torso weighed tonnes, my legs were immovable objects.)

Telling my son, his daddy had died, and would not be coming back.

Wishing there was a note.

Being eternally grateful there was not one, that this was not planned.

Laying on my best friends lounge, eyes swollen from crying, trying to close my eyes, and seeing nothing but a blue shirt, orange rope, feeling the dead weight of husband’s body beneath my hands as I shook him.

All of those, I leave behind.

And the ones I can’t leave.. hopefully the sea, the salt, will wash away them away.

OK, my lovely jellybeans… this is Lori, signing off, for the last time, from the Purple House…. I’m quite literally about to turn off my computer and pack it in a box, so I’ll be back in a day or two. Let’s make a date for Sunday, but please don’t hold it against me if I stand you up.


Hold your breath, close your eyes…. and jump.

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{ 82 comments… read them below or add one }

Watershedd March 29, 2011 at 8:19 pm

Lori, there's no right decision. There's only moving forward, choosing a change when your situation is not what you want. Bravo for having the courage to instigate the change, when the changes – and losses – have already been so enormous. X


marketingtomilk March 28, 2011 at 8:08 pm

Good luck Lori. I hope you get the time and space to grieve, and to process everything. You will be okay. In time.



Lavender Hearts March 28, 2011 at 5:39 pm

Good luck! x


KiTx March 28, 2011 at 8:09 am

Is there ever a "right" thing? You're making the best choice for you and your little lovelies that you can make right now, and the list of things you wanted to do in Hometown sounds GLORIOUS for both you and them. I love what you said about your "whole body immersed in feeling alive"- if that doesn't sound right to me, I don't know what could. xoxox here's to positive changes!


Wanderlust March 27, 2011 at 7:57 pm

None of us ever know if we're making the right choice until after we make it. We just have our gut instincts to act on. Much love to you my friend.


Donna March 27, 2011 at 2:24 pm

Yet again I'm moved to tears by the rawness of your words. And by making this choice you have taken one small step towards reclaiming your life. Wishing you much peace on this new journey, brave & beautiful Lori x


jessicajamey March 27, 2011 at 1:01 pm

oh lori, don't be afraid to jump. i feel you've already proven you can fly


lwa March 27, 2011 at 12:49 pm

Hugs, prayers, love and luck!


Darker Side of Pink March 27, 2011 at 9:42 am

You're in my prayers. You are so brave and strong. Jump and you find that you can fly. There are many times in life that you find things that you wish you could change, moments you wish you could go back to, things you wish you would have done.. So in life, through the good and bad you have to jump.


Jen D March 27, 2011 at 6:05 am

Many blessings to you, Lori.


Kelley Simpson March 27, 2011 at 6:03 am

I will be praying you through your move this weekend, that every step would be wonderfully planned and you will be loved and protected and safe.
Sending many many hugs.


In Real Life March 27, 2011 at 2:25 am

*HUGS* Wishing you all the best! See you Sunday! :)


Hear Mum Roar March 26, 2011 at 7:52 pm

You're so right. Bravery and strength is a choice, and this is where it gets you… somewhere better. Let yourself heal, you deserve it.


Miss Pink March 26, 2011 at 7:19 pm

The weight of such "simple" emotions when you feel them fully is outstanding isn't it?
How many times do you or someone else say you're "sad", and then there are those moments when you say it and it is a whole nother meaning behind that word. Sorta like looking at the stars for the first time.

I think what you're doing is right.
Staying…you're just stalling. Sitting in the one spot.
If things in your hometown don't work out, you can always come back. There are so so many people back here who will happily open their arms to you and your children. So rally you have nothing to lose by giving this a try. It doesn't work out? You've lost nothing. You may even gain just a fraction more knowledge, or clarity or some shit like that.
Hoping your move is safe and problem free. Hoping that hometown brings you at least a little of the something you need.
And just remember i've got your back ;)


Beck March 26, 2011 at 6:14 pm

woo hoo! You're doing it! :) I know that this next chapter isn't going to be easy, but I sense that there's some rest for you in sight. Hug those close and enjoy the peace that comes. xoxo


Sam March 26, 2011 at 5:14 pm

All the best Lori xox


Brooke Farmer March 26, 2011 at 4:45 pm

Brave. And strong. And beautiful.


deardarl March 26, 2011 at 3:11 pm

Brave. Yep.
We have no other choice, you and me.
I hope that being around your people, your hometown will help.


Kylie March 26, 2011 at 2:57 pm

Lori I just want to say thank you. I was a reader before Tony took his life and I have cried tears for you, him and your kids since. Recently my sister's marriage ended. Suddenly, without warning and it has devastated her. While what she is going through is nothing compared to the trauma in your life, your writing, your journey has given me hope. "If Lori can survive this, D WILL be ok." is something I think frequently. Thank you for giving me hope and for sharing your purple life with us. I feel truly blessed.


Brenna March 26, 2011 at 2:33 pm

Best wishes to you!


Annette March 26, 2011 at 2:14 pm

"Leap and the net will appear."

Words I've used to get me through over and over. (My life has some similarities to yours.)

Leap, Lori. xox


Marianna Annadanna March 26, 2011 at 1:24 pm

This certainly is a choice, Lori. A courageous and wise choice, and one that I'm sure you'll be glad you made.

No choice is risk-free, but they also all present tremendous opportunity.

Sending LOVE, STRENGTH, and PEACE for you in Honetown.


PinkPatentMaryJanes March 26, 2011 at 11:51 am

Sounds like the ideal move. xxx


Shelley March 26, 2011 at 9:59 pm

There are soo many words my heart wants to say but my brain cannot translate them. I wish u the best of luck in this move back to HomeTown.

Good Luck Sweetheart


Kelloggsville March 26, 2011 at 10:34 am

Thinking happy thoughts for you so very hard and sending lots of fairy dust to make the unpack smooth. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life, welcome to it :)


Veronica March 26, 2011 at 9:44 am

Good luck! And (((hugs)))


edenland March 26, 2011 at 9:28 am

Jump … and the net appears.

The flipside to all of this yuck and gunk … is that your Spirit is so broken open right now, you are letting all the good things in too. All the magic.

I love you hon. I'm here.



Hope’s Mama March 26, 2011 at 9:15 am

Brave move. Incredible woman.


Sandy March 26, 2011 at 8:04 pm

Having the guts to make the big changes is what gets you the biggest rewards. Keep your head up when it's hard and scary.. I think you've done the hardest things already.

You should somehow install a chat room here, so when ur feeling lonely or mad or scared.. there will most likely be several loving people here to take your mind off of it all!

Cheers all the way from Texas!


Good Golly Miss Holly! March 26, 2011 at 7:23 pm

I'm pretty sure I had something really poetic ready to share then the Bug caught wind of your jellybeans … and now, I have nothing.

So all I will say is you are fucking wonderful, and I am coming to stay. Margaritas and sneaky fags? Yes please!


Being Me March 26, 2011 at 8:21 am

I hope you've breathed out by now. Your HomeTown sounds divine. I think magical things await you there. Just you wait and see xox


Janet NZ March 26, 2011 at 8:12 am

Jump Lori – that's how you discover you have wings xxx


Andrea March 26, 2011 at 7:54 am



the-mfp March 26, 2011 at 6:25 am

Wishing you love and healing. God bless.


Melissa March 26, 2011 at 6:21 am

Jump, mama, jump. You do what's right for you and those kiddos – I know you'll land on your feet. We're all pulling for you. Hope the move is uneventful, quick and easy. Come back to us soon!


Jewell March 26, 2011 at 6:17 am

Girl! You are brave! You can do this! You can!

I'm wishing you loads of good and happy moments from this day forward. That you finally feel like you are healing! I've followed you religiously since that post so long ago on The Bloggess' site. I keep pulling for you, pushing for you…know that you have one of many readers on your side, keeping you in our thoughts, sending you our love. ((( Lori )))


Jenn @ South of Sheridan March 26, 2011 at 3:44 am

Sending love your way as you leap into this new part of your new life. We're all rooting for you. *hugs*


0e73b802-56fe-11e0-99f1-000f20980440 March 26, 2011 at 3:36 am

Godspeed, Lori.


MammaBri March 26, 2011 at 3:18 am

My heart is full of hope for you and your babes Lori. You're surviving. You're doing the right thing by leaving I think. Way too much torture to stay.

Heres to turning over a new leaf.


PBfish March 26, 2011 at 3:10 am

From half a world away, I wish you luck and love and everything that you deserve. Be well.


Duly Inspired March 26, 2011 at 2:54 am

I wish you a soft landing. You are a brave woman and I admire your decisions to take care of yourself and your children. Sending you a hug from Texas.


Steph(anie) March 26, 2011 at 2:53 am

I am glad for you to be going.


Cassondra March 26, 2011 at 1:54 am

I'm so glad you're doing this, fast as it is. I think, hope, pray that it will help your healing. Right now I'm all for ANYTHING that will help your healing.


Cinda March 26, 2011 at 1:52 am

Wish you all the best. Hope the Hometown brings you to a better place… peace, love and time for healing.


Glowless @ Where’s My Glow March 26, 2011 at 1:52 am

Enjoy the stingy salt as it cleanses your wounds. If you stand me up I might cry, but I'll forgive you :)


Kate March 26, 2011 at 1:18 am

Delurking to say that it definitely sounds like this is the best thing for you and that's all that's important right now.

I hope the move goes smoothly.


Doodah March 26, 2011 at 1:17 am

A leap of faith, a soft place to land. Enjoy the salty air.


Kim March 26, 2011 at 12:58 am

Lori, jump! You will find that when you jump your wings will carry you right where you need to be. This is right. This is good. And as someone else said, there are invisible strands of love holding and helping you. You are the bravest person I have ever known, even though you don't know me. :) Good luck with the move.


ruddygood March 26, 2011 at 12:02 am

Jump, lovely girl. It sounds like the very best thing for you to do right now; its rightness shines from your words. Good luck with the mechanics of it all, and we'll all be here, Sunday or any day you're ready. xx


mummabear1970 March 25, 2011 at 11:51 pm

Travel safely Lori….look after you and your babies……may Hometown bring you comfort and peace in time……sending you strength and hugs…..


thatblogyoudo March 26, 2011 at 10:37 am

Love hugs and best wishes. x o


Lucy March 25, 2011 at 11:36 pm

♫♫ Don't wanna live in the city, my friends tell me I'm changin',
The smell of salty air, is what I'm chasin'….♫♫


Kim H March 26, 2011 at 10:34 am

All the very, very, very best to you guys on this move. May the beach be a wonderful place to be cosy and safe and snug and protected:) xx


Carly Findlay March 25, 2011 at 11:13 pm

Wishing you the best Lori. You are brave.


LJB @ crankymonkeys in london March 25, 2011 at 11:08 pm

Day after day I'm amazed at how well you write… may the healing begin.


Erin March 25, 2011 at 11:07 pm

A leap of faith.

Good luck. I hope your HomeTown helps you heal. I hope those people that have been toxic stay away.

Follow those rainbows. Surely they are a sign you're moving in the right direction.

I have been following along. Commenting irregularly.


Ms Styling You March 25, 2011 at 10:50 pm

You are brave, you are beautiful and I'm sending you love.


phonakins March 25, 2011 at 10:47 pm

Jump :) Hit the water smiling.


Jodie at Mummy Mayhem March 25, 2011 at 10:44 pm

Go you!

I really do think this is the best thing you can do for yourself and your kids right now.

You are awesome, and I'm wishing you every bit of happiness and good thoughts on this new journey of yours.



tenille-help-mum March 25, 2011 at 10:23 pm

Good luck xoxo


Michael March 25, 2011 at 10:23 pm

God bless you, lady.

There's a metaphor I used with a client that I stole from my late father- if you have a big huge lawn to mow, or a lot of weight to lose, you can't think about the whole thing or you'll just give up.

So just mow the square where you're standing. OK. That's done. Now mow the next square.

You can do this. You've made it this far- which is a lot farther than I could have.


The syders March 25, 2011 at 10:21 pm

Let the sea air heal you, go with your gut instinct and sod what anyone thinks. You deserve some peace now. Sending you Good wishes & love as you begin this new journey xxx


Dorothy March 25, 2011 at 10:18 pm

Today I have no words. Nobody should have to go through what you've been through. So I'm sending (((hugs))) instead.

I look forward to your Hometown blog.


Suz March 25, 2011 at 10:16 pm

Wherever you land, I will be here reading. I am so happy I got to give you that lame arse hug on the dance floor the other night. You were probably wondering who the weird chick was….twas me. much love and light and power and strength to you gorgeous lori. You have guts and determination in spades and you are going to be ok. I know it. xxxx


MrsKellB March 25, 2011 at 10:15 pm

My eyes welled up reading the last post from the purple house where so much has happened but you must follow those rainbows to your next adventure. Looking forward to it.


ss2306 March 25, 2011 at 10:05 pm

And just as Indiana Jones in the Last Crusade, you too will realise that jumping off the edge of that cliff will deliver your Holy Grail. The only way to get there is to step into what looks like thin air but you Lori, are a brave being that listens to your soul. I don't even know you but I'm so proud of you. You are an inspiration.


Sam-O March 25, 2011 at 10:04 pm


Good luck with the move. May it be mostly positive experiences for you and your bubbas from now on.



Nicky March 25, 2011 at 10:02 pm

Lori, Just wanted to say thank you. This journey of yours, it has helped me stay strong. So many times your story could have been mine, thankfully for me (and my babies) it isn't. You have helped me find strength to make my husband communicate when it all just seemed so hard. Thank you. You are awesome and so so brave. Good luck with everything. I have the deepest respect for you.


kymog March 25, 2011 at 10:01 pm

There are no words, only the wish that when you land, you receive the love, support and peace you deserve.


Jane March 25, 2011 at 9:59 pm

As always, I'm thinking of you, Lori :) xxx


Helena March 25, 2011 at 9:55 pm

Good luck Lori! i'm thinking of you. every day, i was playing squash on wednesday and suddenly couldn't help thinking about your life, how suddenly it crumbled under you. I felt guilty that i could live life in such a way, forget about it but you couldn't. You really are on my mind.

I'm very proud of you, i think we all are.
take care, Lori xxx


Linda March 25, 2011 at 9:51 pm

Jump Lori. May you and your babies land somewhere warm and soft.


MJ March 25, 2011 at 9:48 pm

So much I want to say- but can't so I hope you can feel how much love and respect I have for you. Hope you can feel that- hope you know how much you give.
Honor yourself always I do believe you do that. There are so many invisible strands of love that hold you as you breathe, as you close your eyes and as you jump. Feel them xxx


Brenda March 25, 2011 at 9:48 pm

Massive, squishy hugs to you my friend.xxxxxxx


Amy xxoo March 25, 2011 at 9:46 pm

Brava Lori – brava. For this post, for your blog over the last few months, for your having the balls to make a change. Bra-freaking-va.


Varda March 25, 2011 at 9:44 pm

Lori: I hope there is now healing for you, as much as can be. It is good to be in a place of ocean and stars and big skies when you need to come home to yourself and reconnect. Sending love and light to you and your children. May this next part of the journey be all that you need it to be.


Sarah March 25, 2011 at 9:43 pm

Jump…. And let the sand & surf & loveliness of hometown be there to catch you. I hope that the sea washes all the badness for The After away & leaves you with only the beautiful happiness of The Before.

You my girl are brave, the bravest there is. Making a new start and leaving with your head held high. No tails between legs, no blame. You are not terrible, you are awesome.

I love you chook & I am going to miss you so much, but as lame-ass as it sounds I am so proud of you doing this. This is all you, the bravest strongest person I have ever met.


4 kids, 20 suitcases and a beagle March 25, 2011 at 9:43 pm

Once again, beautiful, Lori.



Annieb25 March 25, 2011 at 9:41 pm

Just put one foot in front of the other and follow your instinct. You need this. You are brave and beautiful. You are also vulnerable and lost. Be gentle with yourself and listen to your own heart. I wish you peace and light lovely Lori xx


Mary March 26, 2011 at 7:50 am

Wishing you many ocean breezes to blow away the pain.


Toni March 25, 2011 at 10:38 pm

I've got a good feeling about this, Lori.
And I hear hope in your post today. I have a good feeling about that, too.


Emily {Mum’s the Word} March 25, 2011 at 10:24 pm

Beautiful. Here's to a brand new life, with promises of some wonderful memories for you and your babes! x


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