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Colt often jokes I’ve gone a bit overboard. Even though he’s just as bad as I am.
Since my accident, my leg has continued to pose challenges. Despite undergoing extensive rehabilitation, I’ll never fully recover. The surgery that ultimately saved my leg left it almost a full two inches shorter than my left leg, resulting in a permanent limp and bouts of chronic pain and stiffness, which also meant returning to my day job hadn’t been an option. Luckily, my husband is loaded, so I didn’t have the pressure of finding a new career right away.
The first few months after we reunited on my tour were filled with bliss, a honeymoon period where we were inseparable and disgustingly in love. However, life on tour was a world apart from reality, and things shifted once we settled back into the rhythm of everyday life at home.
As expected, reuniting with Colt didn’t magically cure my mental health struggles. Coping with the physical limitations imposed by my injury was a constant battle, especially considering how running used to be my primary outlet for stress relief. Now, even a short walk felt like a monumental task some days, and during pain flare-ups, my depression often made an unwelcome reappearance.
In the beginning, I worried a lot about how both my mental and physical health issues would impact our relationship. While our decision to try again because we loved each other provided a strong foundation, our relationship was still undeniably fragile. Anxious thoughts plagued me, and I hated feeling like a burden to Colt.
Things weren’t perfect. We made mistakes and stumbled along the way. I often bottled up my negative emotions and insecurities, assuming the caretaker role I had once taken on in high school. Only, that role no longer fit the dynamics of our relationship, leading to a pattern of suppressing my needs until they erupted in frustration over something trivial. Colt hated it when I shut him out, and rightfully so.
Learning each other all over again didn’t happen overnight—it was a process that unfolded gradually. We both carried new baggage, shaped by vastly different life experiences. For a while, it seemed like we were constantly at odds, constantly butting heads as we navigated the terrain of what a rekindled relationship looked like in practice.
But amid the turmoil, moments of clarity would surface, reminding us of the journey that brought us to this point. We fought not out of malice, but out of a shared commitment to address important issues like communication. Because at the end of the day, we loved each other and we were committed to making things work.
As time passed, we found our rhythm in our shared life. Colt made the decision to step back from the spotlight, redirecting his focus towards writing music for other artists. It brought him a sense of fulfillment that being an entertainer hadn’t, and he relished the tranquility of the small-town life we were building compared to his life in LA, where he couldn’t even buy a coffee without being mobbed by fans.
I decided to embrace my instinct to nurture, immersing myself in volunteer work at the local animal shelter. I loved it, and I briefly contemplated making a career out of it, but ultimately I realized my true calling lay in being a stay-at-home dad. I wanted the flexibility to be present for our children whenever they needed me.
We’d only been home from our belated honeymoon for a few days, when we received the call about the twins Sean and Seamus. A blissful two-week long stint on the Amalfi Coast had been our last hurrah before officially settling down. Our intimate vow renewal had taken place two summers ago beside our waterfall, with just us, Violet, Remy and Willy in attendance.
The day had been magical, though it was the simple, everyday moments we cherished most. Sharing a morning coffee in bed, giggling uncontrollably at stupid memes until tears streamed down our cheeks, celebrating Violet’s triumphs like passing her driver’s test. Those were the moments that truly defined our marriage—the everyday experiences shared together for the rest of eternity, rather than one day of grand gestures and pretty speeches.
Each night, as we cuddled up in bed, holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes, I found myself falling more deeply in love with him. His eyes, like molten chocolate, held a warmth and depth that never failed to captivate me.
We had intentionally postponed our honeymoon until now, wanting to savor every precious moment with Violet before she embarked on her own journey of adulthood. Moving her into her dorm room, I’d cried like a fucking baby. It was overwhelming to witness the transformation of my little girl into a resilient young woman in what felt like the blink of an eye, but she remained my proudest achievement.
I couldn’t wait to do it all over again, but this time I’d have Colt along for the wild ride.
We’d finally found our Perfect Cadence.
