best cover of this song

Acceptance is everything in this world. Everything happens in its own time. I’ve said that before but it’s really REALLY nice to believe it so much that you have inner peace. So this is faith, huh? It feels nice. I have often muttered many such platitudes with merely the hope of feeling better. You do become what you think. I’m glad I didn’t give up.

I’d love to moan about the details and lament how I messed something up. Instead, I sit back and I ask, “how did I get here?” For once in my life I am not going to panic or find a way to fix it temporarily. Relaxed and contemplating the last few years is much more insightful. When you look at this cross section of my life it’s almost predictable that when authentic and awesome finally showed up in my face I wouldn’t see it and couldn’t accept it.

I’ve been fighting fate and trying to wrestle the Universe for several years. Tricky is the art of knowing when to fight and when to lean in and just go with it, dropping all resistance. I fought way too many times when I should have just let it go and stayed on course with what I can do in the moment.

Today, I’m leaning in to life. No more pushing against the winds of change or trying to chart my course. Or worse, chart someone else’s to align with mine. It’s probably a biologically driven thing in some way. Inevitably faced with fear that the time span to reproduce is ending. Sure I have 6-7 years at least but I now understand how fast 6-7 years go by and before you know it a decade has passed. But going upstream with life and people is impossible. And draining. And desperate and unhappy. This is MY life. I will listen and learn. And be thrilled. Scouts honor.

So I’m gonna focus on me and being happy with what I do. Too much ignoring my own beauty. I write and I am starting to seek ways to make a living doing it. I collage and its therapeutic and relaxing for me. Maybe somebody will see some value in it and relate to the combination of images. If not, I have some cool things I made and lots of beautiful gifts. I get overwhelmed and scared about relationships so I’m bowing out quietly, hopefully with grace, for an indefinite time. This makes me happy. All it takes is that one time you take responsibility for royally screwing a good thing up. But I saw something beautiful in me. And the rest of me just needs some reflection and time to perfect the beautiful soul I was lucky enough to get! “And there ain’t nothing like regret to remind you you’re alive”-Sheryl Crow

If you should need me I’ll be doing what I do: laughing, collaging crazy images that somehow fit in my brain, writing about this beautiful ride, and loving this life. Taking proactive steps to sift through the endless number of layers inside me. And outside of me, accepting people and circumstances at face value. The panicked biological clock is just gonna have to tick itself to death and be ignored. When I am ready and not looking into someone’s eyes, I have no doubt that’s when an equally calm, lively, independent soul will cross my path. Life has a tendency to do that.

***I am starting to write a book for my future daughter. I had a thought last night. It went something like, “how did I end up like this? I never want my kids to make this mistake.” Viola, the idea took its hold on me. This is rough draft stuff so critique, review, praise away. But be honest always 🙂 **

Dear daughter of mine, you aren’t even a twinkle in my eye but I feel like I owe you this book my sweet baby girl. You’ve been with me since birth. Quick biology lesson, women come equipped with all their eggs and slowly we lose them starting in our teens. Month by month. Birth control has fooled my body most of my life. In other words, most of my eggs are still down there. I think that’s how it works. I believe that helps make you extra special. Along with a stellar mom, you have survived the process of natural selection which means you’re awesome. You’re also awesome just because you arrived.

Some might say your mom is a hot mess. Those people must have all their shit together. Lesson 1. Never gonna make everyone happy, don’t waste time trying, and NO ONE has their shit together. Oprah does, but it comes at a high price and priorities are different when you run the free world. If you interact with other humans-& I encourage you to do that-things get messy.

Mom is 34 now. That’s old in woman years. Somehow I thought you’d be here by now. Lesson 2. Don’t fight the Universe/God/Spirit; the more you fight it the harder it is to get on track. This is a new-ish lesson for mom. Hopefully by explaining in detail later in this book you can avoid some of the same regrets. While they are very few, they exist. I did the best I could with what I had at the time. However, at 34, that best is a lot better and what I have are lessons learned the hard way.

Not to say by reading about what I know I can spare you anything. You have to master the game and live your own life. However, I think I can guide you through some things less sloppily now and hopefully increase your happiness. And that brings us to Lesson 3. Be happy. Do what makes YOU happy. Find your passions and follow them. I don’t want you to have lots of money, fame, or an entourage. I want you to look up at the birds and down at the flowers and realize that’s what it’s all about. If your passion brings success-however you end up defining it-then YAY! Mommy likes tshirts, Chucks, & traveling so you can give me a big thank you with those kind of things.

Finally, let me express to you my undying love. You’ve been on my mind since I first held a baby doll. Not every day and sometimes not every year but in a way, always. I don’t care if you are gay, of mixed race 😉 or whatever special quirks make you feel different. In fact, I promise to love that about you. Mom is a basket of quirk so we’ll have a shit ton of fun. That’s one promise. We will spend a lot of time together at museums, listen to all kinds of music, read a million books, see a lot of different places, go on bike rides and hiking trails, and (only for you) we’ll visit the sea.

Should my physical body leave you earlier than I have planned, I will still be there sweetie as you do all of those things. You’ve been with me always. That will never change. I don’t want you to be angry or fight God. It is as it was meant to be. Everything big and small happens. It just happens, my love. There is nothing you can do but accept that. And once you do, a lot of peace can be found. And when you have peace, you are closest to God and wonderful things unfold in your life. Accept, embrace, and enjoy this life.

I know everything happens for a reason. I am learning the exact lessons that I need at the exact moment I’m supposed to. From the exact people I need to learn from. Doesn’t mean I can’t breakdown every now & again.

Willingness is a state of mental and emotional receptivity. 

The will is the controlling and directive faculty of the mind that determines consciousness and character. 

Willingness is a state of consciousness that allows the mental faculty to be infused with the will of the Divine.

  -Iyanla Vanzant

Yesterday one of my bffs asked me something to ponder: Go back to your happiest days with [insert name].  If a magical fairy [or some such power] had come to you, shown you how everything would end, would you trade the happy days to avoid the end?  Well, that was easy.  A big fat NO!  Despite the nastiness and hurt that showed up in my life at the demise of the relationship, the answer is still no.  Because the happy times were some of the best in my life.  So, why now, am I scared to show people the real me and be happy? 

I wish the end to the fear could come quickly but it cannot.  Real, meaningful change is a process.  Not a fast one either.  It’s developing new habits that become a way of life.  For example, my previous blog.  Yesterday I battled with the news reel in my head that judges me harshly.  Here’s a sample of what I hear:  “You’re a coward, ignorant, awkward, delusional, girl who fucks everything good up.”  It doesn’t come precisely that sharp and sometimes not all at once, but if you put it together that’s the chain of self-loathing holding me down.  And to stop it every single time and not accept it was a battle.  But, I’ve been in a really peaceful state the last few days and I wasn’t going to end it.  Not with the same old crap anyway.  But it will take the same thing today and the day after that and the day after that and the weeks and months after that to really form a new habit of letting myself just be.

But I sincerely want this change.  Serial dating is a wonderful thing to pass the time and never have to live your truest self.  Except when suddenly you are faced with someone who is true to themselves and others.  It’s like a mirror was held up to my soul by this person.  And I didn’t like what I saw.  I was dressed in flakiness, concessions [no, not popcorn!], and worst of all the truest self was hidden under the cloak of making others happy.  Once you strip those things away from your soul and look at your soul naked, then you can start a change.  Just like my outer shell being way more sexy these days, my soul has such beauty. 

I don’t want to sound vain but really I do have a beautiful soul if you ever get to see it.  It’s a happy soul full of encouragement, equality, and love.  It’s a soul who aims to change the world before it’s all done.  It’s a daydreaming and poetry writing kind of soul.  My soul is joyous and there’s always music emitted.  It’s appreciative and diverse.  It’s kinda business savvy and I’m not sure if that’s good.  It sees so very much and catches every detail, but has a tendency to turn it’s head.  But it saw.  You can’t take it back.  And I think that’s the part I have not nurtured and therefore it’s out of control.  It’s like Oprah says, when someone shows you who they are, believe them.  When my soul crosses others that aren’t good for it, it turns it’s head and continues to dance.  That’s all fine and dandy except you realize one day you’re dancing with a bunch of people who exhaust you.  And you didn’t want to dance with them anyway!

The worst kind of lie is to yourself; and self-inflicted wounds burn.  And the truth that brings you peace is the calm that soothes.  The yin and the yang.  Every layer of my soul is full of the yin and yang.  And once I find the balance, I can see deeper inside.  It’s really like an onion.  Or, like a bunch of happy meals with a prize at the end of each one.  [<—inner fat kid alert]  Enough of this pain and doubt I’ve been living in for God knows how long.  I’m getting off that ride.  I’m leaving the dance floor to go find the souls outside underneath the sun and the moon, in the VW van, getting high! Those are my kindred spirits!! 

And one final anecdote, a “friend” who borrowed at least a grand about a year ago and who has not repaid one cent NOR said hello NOR written at least a text to say “this is what’s going on” is suddenly wanting to go to the Quarter’s Dubstep Monday to have a drink and explain.   To that individual, who I know did not siphon through the above, all I have for you is a middle finger.  My Mondays ARE like living through dubstep from 8-5, screw living it after 5.  The time for explaining has long since past.  By not contacting me prior, you’ve explained everything you needed to.  And there you go.  An example of seeing someone for who and what they are.  Yes, I could use the money right now badly but since I doubt you have any, keep your explanations right where they are—there’s nothing you can say that would make us friends any longer.  Once I realized that, I was free.  Another layer of bullshit comes off the soul.  Now, keep calm & carry on folks. 

I had an AHA moment, as Oprah says. To use a school analogy, we always tend to think of judgment day as being our final exam at the end of a semester of life. It occurs to me that’s incorrect. Judgment is our midterm. That’s right, not the summary of what you know but rather the point when you’ve accumulated enough knowledge to be tested. Whether you pass or fail a midterm can definitely impact your final grade.

For me, that means literally to stop judging others. The stuff inside is so overwhelming that I find myself projecting it back into others undeserving of such criticism. And guess what? I don’t deserve that criticism from me either. The added pressure is frivolous and stifles much of the good. If I was kinder to myself and slowed down then I could see that just being me is enough. It’s an abundance, not merely “enough.”

I give myself a hard time all day every day. What I eat, how my hair looks, it’s thickness, how my stomach looks in jeans, the way I approach a problem at work, the words I used with someone, the way I chew, the fact my car is dirty, and it goes on and on and on. I judge me sooo harshly it’s almost amazing I get anything done. And it all adds up to an overwhelming sense that I am not good enough. Much less for anyone else but worst of all, for me. And if you aren’t happy with yourself you will never allow you to be good enough for another.

Amazingly we look to others to fill a void that they can never fill. That’s why it’s bad to think someone else can complete you–because it’s impossible; not just because it’s simply false. All those times your friends say “you can do better than him” or “you don’t need a man” isn’t a statement about your relationships it’s a statement about your dependency and giving away your power. The difference between need and want here is also important. When you need someone you are losing autonomy. A much bigger compliment to both you and another is simply to want them. Babies need their mothers, as adults we want our moms.

So I am gonna stop the reel of self bashing playing in my head and just love myself for who I am, the things I create, & the life I already have. It’s so much more than enough. And I am letting everyone else off the hook. No more judging based on my insufficiency. No more measuring so that I can feel like I can be equal. Being here with one another is the peer group, for better or worse LOL. Hopefully the last half of the semester is a breeze and filled with a lot of fun 🙂

Somewhere I have a list of qualities I want in a mate.  I made it after reading an article in Oprah magazine which encouraged said list-making activity. The point was to focus on the things you won’t compromise on and (I guess) to somehow figure something out about yourself.  It’s an okay exercise I suppose, but I am the kind of person who leaves room for negotiation in almost all areas.  Some people may be a bit too stringent with it and become settled with a way prospects MUST be and well let’s be honest, that will lead to some serious disappointment.  It struck me how odd it was that I would make a list of qualities for someone else to uphold—something I have no control over—yet not a list of things I aspire to be to said individual—something I DO have control over.  Buckle up, kids, here’s the impossible list of characteristics I want to bring to my relationship.  Expectations of someone else are futile if you don’t declare to bring the same level of excellence, right?  Anyway, I decided to start over with me being who I want to be before I go holding someone else up to a list I made in a moment of fantasy.

Lack Hypocrisy.  Look, if your hair in the bathtub and on the floor drives me nuts then my own hair laying about should be just as sinful in my mind.  Yet, it isn’t.  I hate hair off the head.  Mine included.  But I’ll overlook my own hair laying on the floor until someone else’s one single strand falls on a heap of my own and oh holy shit I come unglued!  Ludicrous and pretty hypocritical behavior I admit. I vow to try to resolve that somehow.  Is that a double standard?? I have several items that I can add to this category.  Moving on…

Be a Good Listener.  I’ll never be a great listener.  I have too many thoughts running through my own little brain to even keep up with them.  When others speak I immediately begin to react, feel, think, or just get images lit up inside my head.  However, I have been proactively seeking to improve my listening skills over the last year.  I have really stepped it up.  But it’s hard and I am certain it will require constant attention.  However, I vow to develop my mediocre skill set up to at least “good.”  I really want to hear you and your thoughts, feelings, and images if I want to spend time with you. 

Not Overanalyze You.  Whew, this just gets more and more difficult as I type.  I am an avid fan of details.  I can consume a person and their every little movement, accent, gait, and even cough.  Usually this means I eventually find something I dislike or that irks me.  Well, yesterday I was driving and checking my teeth for food when I realized my teeth aren’t as white as I want them.  I mentally added that to my long list of irritable qualities I have concerning myself.  Then I had a revelation: what if someone analyzed me as much as I pick on myself.  They’d come up with quite a hefty list of annoyances.  What if they judged me by that?  I thought, “Well, that’d be a lame ass person!”  Oh wait…I’m not lame and I do that.  Hmmm.  That didn’t feel so great.  So I vowed yesterday to not overanalyze someone and their quirks or imperfections.  In fact, I will embrace them.  Yes, embrace.  As in love them as much as I would have hated them.  Not easy but way less shallow.  Besides, my real problem is that I hold myself to an impossible standard which is why I have to find something to dislike—so that we’ll be equal.  That’s a whole other blog but obviously unacceptable for me or for The Man.  As the song goes, “let it be.”  If I’m gonna love or hate you, it will be for something more significant than nose hairs or cracking your knuckles. 

Encourage Interests Beyond Me & Interaction with Other Women.   The first part of that is pretty easy for me.  I have interests that I don’t want to include my man in and especially not constantly.  This blog as an example.  It’s my space (ha).  I might share, repost, or provide links to whatever might concern as still undetermined beau.  However, the only time I want a guest writer is the announcement of my funeral.  Seriously, stay out of my blog.  I am open to a creation of an our blog—that might be entertaining.  Having put my foot down and gotten on my little soapbox, he is free to set similar guidelines.  As a very random example, pretend said beau is an artist.  Boo, we ain’t EVER gonna have an exhibition of our collective work.  Choosing a font color is the extent of my artistic ability.  Do. Ya. Own. Thang.  And let me do mine.  It makes for more interesting conversation when we’re together, gives an outlet for personal expression, and gives me a damn break from your ass.  Having said that, I’ll go support my man in his endeavors, no matter how successful or not.  If it makes you happy, it makes me happy.  I am big proponent of this theory.  Which is why I challenged myself and added the last half, the interaction with other women part.  Having a cheater in my personal history, made me a jealous woman.  I guess lack of trust and jealousy go hand-in-hand?  Either way, it’s an ugly quality I disdain.  I don’t mean go on some dates, I just mean if women are included in the endeavor of your choice then I encourage it.  If not, find something that gives you a woman to chat with.  This has its advantages.  Men with lots of females friends—just friends & no agenda otherwise—tend to be better boyfriends.  My theory: they bounce ideas and problems off the females and therefore come around with some better thinking than had they gone and played basketball with the guys or whatever.  It’s just a theory.  But it also keeps your manners up to par and in a time of trial or tribulation, I have someone I can talk to who also knows the guy who may help me understand his perception clearly. I am aware she will not be my buddy—she’s his—but when my pals need some female counsel I try to be there and hope my man has the same.  Besides, I’ve learned the difference between intuition and imagination.  If my gut says it’s gone beyond friendship, we done. 

I think I am exhausted for one day.  To be continued.

I’ve spent a great deal of energy the last bit pondering what love cannot do. Luckily, as a born optimist, we ponder what love actually CAN do as well as the negative cannot. FYI Gen Y or whatever you are, cannot is one word not two. Point: Love cannot improve someone else’s grammar or spelling. Interesting enough, this brings up something I have also been spinning about in this wack brain: spelling and grammar.

I am making an inspiration wall in my bedroom for anyone who doesn’t check Facebook. I intentionally put up quotes with misspellings or “u” instead of “you.” Why? Because as I prepared it I realize I judge people pretty harshly on their use of the English language. And it hit me all at once: am I gonna miss the message by focusing on a missing letter? That might sound trivial but hardcore grammar nazis understand. Yes, I have missed whatever point people were trying to make (or worse, felt smarter and better) because they spelled something wrong, did a your/you’re, can not/cannot….. How sad is that?

See, I came to find value in myself growing up in being smart. Learning easily, quickly, and excelling in school. My brother was athletic and artistic. I was not. I had to find something and that’s just how it came to be in my head. There were plenty people smarter than me in school, but I ranked really high when I gave it minimal effort. Long story lengthened, that’s where I placed my “strengths” and fundamentals of who I was came to be on how super smart I was!

This served me well for quite some time! Career advancement? Mastered. But like I said, it also led to a certain degree of snobbyness. (Does anyone see what I did there?!!!) Anywho, it was unconscious and really, seriously hit me last week. Was I really going to judge someone on their writing to make me feel better about who I was??? No. As soon as it hit me I knew I needed to pay attention to this flaw. It’s amazing.

So what love CAN do is reach somebody and deliver a message they wanted/needed to hear or reinforce in their head. I must master the lesson but love delivered it. What love CAN do is humble someone and make them appreciate things. What love CAN do is take the tiny cracks in people and fill it with something valuable and good. What love CAN do is remind you we’re on the same journey–like it/believe it or not–and you don’t ever have to be alone. What love CAN do is make you smile when you are tired and calm you down so that you can make the best decision yourself. These things I witnessed and lived firsthand. I shall try to find more of what love CAN do today. <– now watch the test I'm about to get!!!

It was there all along. On the tip of my tongue. Like when something comes and goes so quickly from your mind that you can’t remember what it was but you know it was brilliant. And now I get it: MY. LOVE. WILL. SAVE. NO. ONE. It never will. It’s not that powerful. Love is not all you need, Lennon.

That’s gonna have to be the biggest revelation I’ve ever had. It sounds pompous I suppose. “You thought your love was gonna save someone else?! Hahaha! What makes your love special?” And perhaps, it is egotistic. But let’s be scientific here and deduce some shit. If I thought my love would save someone then that would equate I also believed someone’s love could save me from my own dark corners and demons. For simplicity we’ll name those corners and demons Depression. And from the previous blog, I’ve come to find that people can only win when they fight their own wars. You can’t step in and save a life. I can tell you with the utmost confidence that loving people at war with themselves and what’s inside their own minds is a ridiculous and painful journey to disappointment. It’s literally mission impossible. Your message will self-destruct….In your palms and ricochet inside your chest until the pain is so great you are certain that your heart is going to explode and come out of your mouth and ears. But, like all fools, I’ve gone in every day of life with my mission to love people.

I suppose, continuing logically, that it isn’t just MY love that is so ineffective, it’s everyone’s. No one can save someone else from what is hiding inside trying to eat them. Only you can mend what’s broken inside you. Damn. That totally sucks. [<—literary genius can only come up with “That totally sucks.”] Long pause. Can this all really be true? How far off have I chartered now?

Today a lady blew her head off in a gas station parking lot about a mile or less from my house. Her old man was getting some cigarettes or whatnot, probably 100 feet away. She had kids that will never have an answer. Combined with last night’s blog, I’ve been wondering all day just exactly how much we can help one another. I admit, before today I was dead set on love can save all. I was an official Love Advocate. I wanted to love thy enemies and your enemies and I just loved finding enemies so I could give more love. Where there was no hope, I thought love could come in and fill those dark spaces with light. Christianity is based on the whole concept that a soul was saved. So, as much I turned away from my Southern Baptist upbringing, it looks like I internalized it about as far into my soul as it can go. Perhaps that upbringing is also what makes me think I’m broken and need fixing….?

I’m gonna have to sit on this thought a bit. Maybe for you more evolved souls this is silly but for me it just changed everything I ever believed about what makes this world a wonderment. I have 34 years of stuff to mull over. I feel some poetry and songwriting coming on.

To be continued.

It’s time to heal wounds. Time does some of that for you. Wounds of the heart, they get scabbed over but they can be infected and take a lot of time to heal. Sadly, some people die from their heart infections. I just have a little scar tissue. It’s time to actually accept that wound and learn from it. So this blog may be unfit for global broadcast, but I’m not a fan of convention or Emily Post. Gossip, share, or blast back if you desire.

I’m going to vent on the damage the alcoholic lover can cause. Especially when you think you found everything you ever dreamed of when you met him. Lesson 1: their battles aren’t my battles and therefore I can’t win or lose them. Addiction makes those who love an addict feel like the most unworthy and unsuccessful individuals on the damn planet. When you love an addict, you are never first place and your relationship will never mean as much as the substance. Everything unravels and you fight for the person you love. And pray. And know you can’t win. For a long time, I thought that was me failing. I got fat. I knew you cheated. More than once. [I’m not violent but that one night I found out you had cheated and I damn near killed you with my bare hands, remember it? Well that was kinda powerful and healing. It was a turning point for sure.] And I am such a strong-headed fighter that I thought there was still hope. When we were over, I didn’t want it to be through. And even when I knew it was unhealthy and we weren’t even safe or happy around each other, I thought fate would step in at some point. And then, my life went on and it was suddenly happier than it had been with you. But there you were in the shadows. I was confused on how something can feel so perfect and end up so wrong. That’s the part that took some time and perspective.

Lesson 2 was a long time coming: loving an addict is almost like an addiction itself. It harms oneself and it’s a dead end road. They actually call it co-dependency. It’s a misleading term so google it if you really wanna know. It’s very hard to accept that the wonderful times when the drug was out of the picture are forever gone. Hanging on to the person you know is underneath an addition is a slippery slope. You just want what he was before it got of control to come back. Looking back in hindsight, even if you ever cleaned up it wouldn’t have been the happily ever after it started out as. But love makes you fight for the days of smiles and laughter and happiness. Those days are wispy little bastards with someone not addicted; they’re rare as unicorns once addiction takes over.

You stripped my soul to the bones but what replaced it was more beautiful than ever before. Some of that is because of the treacherous hell you put me through in loving you. I came out of that shit like a phoenix. You had all the power but letting you go and putting me back together (for a second time in this lifetime) made me thank you. Thank you for letting me know that I can indeed see my future and everything I ever wanted when I look at someone and love them. But if they can’t fight their inner demons, those demons dance and trample the light inside someone. And it’s so nice to know you’re passed out on her floor tonight and not mine. In fact, at times, that’s the reality I need to smile and realize everything happens for a reason. Best wishes in all your endeavors. And, let’s just go to front street, I completely feel sorry for the daddy issues your little girl is going to have and I may start a therapy fund. She deserves more than you can give. I’m angry for giving you my love and hope. And time. All I can assume is that I was at the place I needed to be, when I needed to be there, and we took from it whatever there was to take. Mainly, I learned that love doesn’t mean the same thing to an addict. And at some point, someone who doesn’t want help isn’t going to get it.

But mostly what I learned is that I can stand by but I can’t fight your war. It showed me letting someone be free to be what it is they want to be is paramount. And if you aren’t included, well, there’s no changing that reality. And you can’t let your own hope for light dim when you aren’t in the war. It’s not your war, it’s their own. The shredded up version of love is not a lesson in love, it was a lesson in addiction and the damage it can cause everyone. But love? No, that’s not a lesson in love except to know it has limits. I love you but I can’t let you have my light. And I can’t take your addictions as life lessons of my own except to know when to say goodbye; and if self-preservation becomes an issue? It’s not love. Get the hell out. That had nothing to do with me except the fact I stayed and thought it was worth fighting for. And, now I know I can choke a grown man out if I should ever need to but fact is, if I make better choices I won’t have to. It’s an option if things go all Sons of Anarchy here at the beach 😉

In conclusion, that part of my life is being closed. I got out of it what I needed. Some of me hardened now beyond what I wish was the case but I see now there’s room for light to come in and melt that misplaced anger. I’m just gonna stay away from naturally born assholes who feel the need to carry out their father’s legacy from generation to generation along with the addictions. There’s nothing for me to be sad or angry about that when it comes to me. I’m sorry you’re a clueless fuck is really all I have to say about that. And to anyone who feels they were in that crossfire? NO, you were part of the healing and I was just scared and mistrusting. But I think you know that if you really thought about it.

This blog seems healing. And a year in the making. I’ve got at least three other people in my life fighting addictions. And I can love you, but I can’t sink with you. If you want a hand to help you up, I’ll be there. I’m just not going down into the pit with you. I’ll always lean over the side and talk to you through the battle your demons. I have hope for you, but I can’t save your soul no matter how hard I try or what songs may imply otherwise. …***To be continued***

I know this is odd but I think Sundays suck. In fact, I’ve thought that since as far back as I can recall. I have made many many efforts over the years to undo that feeling but I always end up back at “Sunday sucks.” I don’t know where that comes from or why. I’m just sad and lost on Sunday. I hate it. I want Sunday to rock. Any ideas????