Just Rambling

There is nothing worse then someone trying to take your feelings from you...ok there's a lot worse things, but right now this is the subject I want to address.  Why is it so hard to validate other's feelings?  Good, bad or ugly.  If I don't want help from someone because I learned a very long time ago that "help" tends to come with a price or implications that I'm stupid or needy, two characteristics that I don't want to be associated with; or if I speak as if I'm right, yet willing to say "oh shit, my bad" when told I'm wrong.  WHO CARES?  Why is it such a BIG DEAL???? 
And why is it that people who have had the "worst lives" out of everyone on earth (and believe me there are a lot of people who have this mentalilty), think that no one can possibly understand or that no one else's problems matter just because we allegedly have it better in life?  There will always be someone who has endured worse then you; ALWAYS.  There will always be someone who is fighting the same battle as you, there will always be survivors of varying degrees, and there will always be those who give up, and lay down and die.  Problems don't discriminate.  So who gets to say who has it better or worse?  I have never understood the ignorance of looking at someone's life from the outside and deciding they have it better or worse.  We all have our demons.  No one is the judge of who's is worse.
My point in all this??  SHUT UP and QUIT WHINING.

April 8th, 2012

Easter Sunday.

It is almost a year to the day that “J” and I broke up. I can remember sitting on my patio last Easter and realizing the promise that my life still held. Despite the devastation I felt from that break up I looked out into my yard, across the horizon at the lush green trees, felt the breeze at dusk, and I knew things would be ok.

I’ve been to hell and back this past 2 years; the first one being an emotionally numbing blur, only finding strength in my late night walks at the track and budding friendships; the second year being one grueling, heartbreaking test after another it seemed. But somehow I made it through to the other side. Well not somehow, with God, with friends, with therapy, with hope. And the journey to the “other side”-- life after an 11yr emotionally abusive, painful marriage-- can be scary but exciting all at once. And now, here I sit a year later, and I feel the same promise that I felt a year ago. …. I just looked out into the same horizon, from the same spot on my porch, and things are ok. I whisper thanks to God for bringing me to this place.