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Alisa Bowman - Project: Happily Ever After: Saving Your Marriage When the Fairytale Falters

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What do you do when your marriage is so unhappy that you begin to fantasize about your husbands funeral? Thats how bad it got for Alisa Bowman. . . So she launched a last-ditch effort to save her marriage. Project: Happily Ever After is her fearlessly honest and humorous account of how she went from being a divorce daydreamer to renewing her wedding vows and all of the steps in between.
From bikini waxes to erotica, romance instruction manuals to second honeymoons, the silent treatment to power struggles, she goes where many marriage-improvement gurus have feared to tread. Equal parts funny, poignant, and most importantly, useful, Bowmans story will give other miserably-married folks courage and hope. And in addition to telling her own story, she packs straightforward prescriptive guidance, including a 10-Step Marital Improvement Guide. Readers will laugh. Theyll cry. And they can start on the road toward their own happy ending!

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Table of Contents For Kaarina Introduction You are okay Really you - photo 1
Table of Contents

For Kaarina Introduction You are okay Really you are You are even if you - photo 2
For Kaarina
Introduction
You are okay. Really, you are.
You are even if you have not one ounce of desire to ever bed down with your spouse in this lifetime or the next.
You are even if several times a week, day, or hour you fantasize about your spouse conveniently dropping dead.
You are even if you have a long mental list of the people you will definitely date (or possibly marry) once your current spouse becomes your late spouse.
You are even if you dread the moment your spouse arrives home from work.
You are even if you cant think of a single thing to say to your spouse over dinner.
You are even if you cant for the life of you remember what possessed you to marry that dolt in the first place.
You are even if youve ranted about your spouse so often that your friends, siblings, and coworkers are taking bets regarding how long your marriage will last.
You are okay. Youre exceptionally normal. In fact, you and your marriage are downright typical.
You, of course, worry that you are not okay. Indeed, you are probably worried that such thoughts, feelings, and experiences are a sign that you deserve the Worst Spouse of the Year Award.
And you worry about this because you think that you are alone. You assume that none of your friends, family members, coworkers, or acquaintances has ever planned their very healthy spouses funeral. You assume that they are all just as attracted to their spouses nowafter many years of marriageas they were when they met.
You assume that they still believe that they married their soulmates.
You assume all of these things because no one talks about being stuck in a bad marriage. People dont talk about that dread of having ones spouse move into the spoon position, and of thinking, Oh for the love of my sanity, please dont let him want to have sex tonight, or tomorrow night, or ever, really! Why cant I be the woman whose husband is in dire need of Viagra?
And because people dont talk about it, it makes you feel so very alone, as if you are the only screwup on the planet who accidentally married the wrong person.
But youre not.
No, youre definitely not. For one, theres me. Ive thought and felt and done all of those above-mentioned things, and so have pa-lenty of others.
For instance, there are the thousands of unhappily married folks who read my blog. I cant tell you how many of them have emailed me and thanked me for outing the death fantasy. I also cant tell you how many friends and acquaintances fessed up to similar thoughts, feelings, and experiences once I finally started talking about mine.
What I can tell you is this. It doesnt matter how bad your marriage is. You can probably make it better. It doesnt matter just how strongly you believe that you married the wrong person. You probably didnt. It doesnt matter if your mother-in-law has already declared your marriage hopeless and has asked for you to return that heirloom silver service. You can probably prove her wrong.
Thats why I wrote this bookbecause Ive been where you are right now. In 2007 I planned every detail of my divorce. I planned every detail of my very healthy husbands funeral, too. But then a friend told me that I needed to try harderthat I needed to try everything before giving up.
So I did. I read 12 marital improvement books, I interviewed happily married friends (all three of them), and I studied the research.
Within just four months my marriage went from a 2 on the Happily Married Scale to an 8 and I was renewing my wedding vows.
Now, I feel closer to my husband than I ever have, and not a day goes by that I dont mentally thank the friend who told me to try everything.
Thats how I know theres hope for you. Heck, if my abysmally bad marriage could be saved, there is hope for nearly everyones marriage.
But you want more than hope, dont you? You want a 100 percent guarantee. When I embarked on my marriage project, I wanted one of those, too. I wish I could give you one, but I cant. No onenot me, not your parents, not your marriage therapist, and not your spousecan know for sure whether your personal project will lead you to Happily Ever After.
No, you have to take a leap of faith. But I can guarantee this. If you take that leap, your life will improve. You will become stronger, happier, more assertive, and more confident. You will not regret your project. Even if, in the end, it does not save your marriage, your project will save you.
Take the leap.
Try everything.
Start your Project: Happily Ever After.
Once Upon a Time
MAY 2007

I dreamt my lady came and found me dead
William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

I knew something was terribly wrong with my marriage when I planned my husbands funeral. I did it in late 2006 and early 2007, between Marks fortieth and forty-first birthdays. At least 210 times that year, I fantasized about the day Rbi, one of Marks closest friends, arrived at my door. His voice trembled as he said, Youd better sit down. Ive got bad news. Theres no good way to tell you. Mark dropped dead of a heart attack 5 minutes ago. They tried everything. Hes gone. Im sorry. Rbi drove me to the hospital morgue. After viewing the body, I phoned Marks parents.
I made the arrangements.
Mark would be cremated. His ashes would go into an urn until our daughter, Kaarina, was old enough to choose a location to scatter them. The funeral? No, it would not be held at a church or a funeral home, but rather at The Farmhouse, his favorite restaurant and the place where wed first met. The mourners would enjoy Magic Hat #9, Stone, and Flemish sour, a few of Marks favorite brands and varieties of beer. Chef Michael would make my husbands favorite foods, including the butternut squash soup, crusty rolls, and braised lamb. For dessert, there would be hand-stretched strudel. He loved that.
A cinematographer would record the event, filming friends and family as they told stories about Mark. Rbi, for instance, might talk about Marks love of his bicycle. Taylor would say something interesting about Mark and his bike shop. Maybe Wood would come up with a drinking story. Ken might talk about their many road trips to Formula One races in Montreal. Jeff might mention something about rock climbing or kayaking. Chris could tell a story about Mark and his motorcycle. This film I would store away, somewhere secure, perhaps in the very safe where I kept our life insurance documents and passports. There it would stay until Kaarina was old enough to want to know more about Daddy. Then I would pull it out and let her watch it.
I always got stuck on the eulogy. What could I say? What should I say? It was appropriate to say something positive, of course, but I could only think of the negative. Perhaps I wouldnt say anything. Some widows are too distraught to talk, right? Wouldnt the other mourners notice my dry eyes, though? Wouldnt they think something was odd about my facial expression? Wouldnt the most perceptive among them think, Shes relieved?
Mark, in reality, was much more likely to die of old age than of a heart attack. Heart disease did not run in his family. His grandmother had lived well into her nineties. Yet staying married until old age felt unbearable, and the alternative, divorce, was terrifying.
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