Tag Archives: heartbreak

25

Mar. ’13

“Failure”

failblog

I saw the above picture when I was scrolling through Facebook earlier.  And immediately, something in particular popped into my mind.  I’m willing to bet that when you saw it, something popped into your mind too.  Am I right?  Doesn’t matter what it is.  Doesn’t matter what mine is.  We’re not going to talk specifics here.  Just take that thing that just popped into your mind and visualize it for a second.  Here’s what I want you to concentrate on:

What’s the worst that could happen?

Really.  Think about that.  Whatever this thing is that you’re thinking of doing that scares you to death – if you try it, and you “fail” (although the definition of fail might need to be examined a little more, but I digress…), what’s going to happen?  Is someone going to die?  Are you going to die?  Is someone going to be hurt beyond repair?  Are you going to be hurt beyond repair?  Will the world stop turning on its axis because you didn’t get the result you were hoping for?

I’m guessing not.

“I don’t believe in failure.  It is not failure if you enjoyed the process.” – Oprah Winfrey

I like that quote.  Think about that.  When you decide to take the chance on whatever it is (and notice I said when, not if), don’t you think you’re going to be pretty proud to know that you tried?  Aren’t you going to enjoy the process?  The process of knowing that you got off your butt, put your big girl panties on (or big boy boxers for my dude readers.  Well, unless you want to wear big girl panties – hey, I’m not judging…), and took a chance.  You took a chance.  Where’s the failure in that?

“They who have conquered doubt and fear have conquered failure.” – James Allen

Yeah.  That.

Go out there and conquer some failure.  Show failure that it doesn’t even exist.  Trying is succeeding.

And that’s just all there is to it.

***

“Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure…than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much, because they live life in a gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat.”
– Theodore Roosevelt

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19

Mar. ’13

Just Like That

wreckblog

This is how my day started.

I was on my way to work this morning and I rounded a curve and this is what I saw on the side of the road.  Myself and one other person coming the opposite direction were the first (and only) people to arrive and stop.  Both of us pulled over and got out of our vehicles and started jogging to the scene.  I could see the look on his face and assumed it probably mirrored mine.  We both thought that we were the first ones to arrive at a fatality.

But thank God, we were wrong.

I saw movement in the front seat and got down to look in what was left of the passenger side window.  She was shaken, but she was alive.  And not only was she alive – but she was just fine.  Really.

Just fine.

She was just stuck.  So, working together, the man and I were able to get the back door open and crawl in to get her free from the seatbelt and help her crawl out.  Once she was out, we called for help.  After realizing that she was a little unsteady on her feet, we brought her back to my car and put her in the passenger seat.  With her there, myself in the driver’s seat, and the other man kneeling on the ground at the passenger side, three strangers spent the next 45 minutes together.

Soon, that number rose to four.  The next to arrive was an elderly man who was a retired local volunteer EMT.  He didn’t have any equipment with him (he was just called because he was close by) so he proceeded to climb in the back seat and just hold the woman’s head with his hands to keep her stable.  He did that for about 15 minutes before more help arrived.  All in all, we were there close to an hour.

But it’s those first 30 minutes that I’m going to remember for a while.

Without knowing each other at all, we all sat in the car and just talked.  We exchanged stories about who we were, why were driving on this road at this particular time, what kind of jobs we had (a nurse, a preacher, a retired EMT, and a paralegal), our kids, our marriages – or lack thereof, etc.

We just sat there and chatted.  And at one point, I looked down and realized that this woman had been holding my hand the entire time and I wasn’t even aware.  I held a stranger’s hand for 30 minutes.   I can assure you that when I woke up this morning, if someone would have asked me to make a list of things I would be doing today, that sure wouldn’t have been on it.

So there we were.  Just four strangers chatting in my car after having just witnessed a miracle.  Yes, a miracle.  And you can’t tell me otherwise.

She was fine! 

Now, did you see that picture?  Really?  Did you look at it?  And I was there.  I saw that car.  I just knew without a shadow of a doubt that the person inside the vehicle would not have made it.  I was astonished that all she had was a pretty nasty bump on her head.  That’s it.

I don’t even know why I’m blogging about this really.  I’m not sure exactly what I wanted to take from this situation, but sitting here still shook up almost 5 hours later, I know that this interaction today meant something to me.

There’s a video that I remember to watch periodically.  It’s the song Hello World by Lady Antebellum.  The song is about rolling through life with burdens on your mind, and then something happening – some unplanned event – that makes you stop in your tracks and look around.  The video (which I posted at the end of the blog) makes that ‘unplanned event’ a car accident.  This man sees this, sees the humanity that surrounds the event, and realizes things just might not be that bad after all.  In other words, he wakes up.

Maybe that’s what happened there this morning?  Maybe I started to wake up?

This woman was about one minute ahead of me on this road.  That could have been me.  It could have been anyone.  It could have been you.  And it could have ended so so differently.  Everything could change.  Just like that.

You know?  Just like that.

Maybe it’s time to wake up?

***

“Hello world, how you been?
Good to see you, my old friend
Sometimes I feel as cold as steel
Broken like I’m never gonna heal
Then I see a light,
a little grace,
a little faith unfurl
 Hello world”
– Lady Antebellum, “Hello World” lyrics

Video: http://youtu.be/al2DFQEZl4M

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17

Mar. ’13

Favorite Race (so far)

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This is a picture I took at the Shamrock 4-miler, a St. Patrick’s Day theme race my son and I ran in Abingdon, Virginia, last night, March 15, 2013.

Now, granted, after every race I do, I seem to think that it was my favorite race.  And this was no exception.  But I have a feeling that this one may remain my favorite for a while.  And I’ve decided to list the top 10 reasons why.

*** 10.  The St. Patrick’s Day theme.
This was the first race I’d ever been a part of that had a theme.  And themes are awesome.  The atmosphere was completely different…everyone was in such happy spirits and seemed to be just a tad friendlier and a little more chatty than in other races.  I’ll definitely be searching for theme races in the future.

*** 9. The cowbell.
Oh yes.  There was a cowbell.  About a half a mile in, there was a random guy standing on the side of the road with a cowbell.  And, of course, the guy who was running beside me yelled, “Hey – we’re gonna need more cowbell!” as we passed.  Teehee.  That made me laugh all the way up the hill we had to climb right after we passed the cowbell man.  I needed that.

*** 8. A pooping dog.
Yes, you read that right.  A pooping dog made the top 10 list.  And here’s why.  One of the runners decided to run in the race with her dog.  Around the 1.5 mile mark, nature called.  She was standing, embarrassed, on the side of the road letting him do his business while other runners passed.  Eventually, runners started high-fiving her as they passed.  That was pretty awesome.  Lots of laughter came from that.  And laughter during a race is always awesome.  So, thank you pooping dog for your contribution to my list.

*** 7. This guy:
racebloggreenguy
Yeah.  Meeting that guy definitely made the list.  Duh.

*** 6. Being passed (yes, passed) by a man running the race while pushing his TWO kids in a stroller.
While going up a hill.  Yes, I know.  How did that make the list of reasons why this was my favorite race?  Well, just because.  People are awesome.  That’s all.

*** 5. Remembering to thank the people at the water stations.
I always forget to do that.  Always.  This time, I remembered.  There were three separate water stations and I remembered at every single station.  I finally forgot my own misery during a race and just remembered that there are awesome volunteers sitting out there for long periods of time just making sure that we have the best race we can.  And how cool are they?  They deserve more than a simple “thank you,” but that was all I had to give at the moment.  I hope hearing me say it made them feel as good as it made me feel to remember to say it.

*** 4. My time.
My MapMyRun tracking device told me that I ran 4.08 miles in just over 40 minutes.  That’s less than a 10-minute pace.  Best I’ve ever done.  Heck yeah, baby!  For this fairly new runner, that was something to be proud of.

*** 3. My kids’ dad.
Whoa.  I know, right?  How the heck did my ex-husband make this list?  I think you’ll soon understand.  Kevin (that’s his name) has Becker muscular dystrophy.  He is lucky to still be walking because the prognosis long ago was that he would have been in a wheelchair before he was 30.  (He’s 38.)  As I was leaving for the race after picking up my son, Kevin said something that stuck with me.  He said, “You guys do good.  I’d run it with you if I could.”  All I could think of after he said that, was this quote I saw once:

“I run because I can.  When I get tired, I remember those who can’t run, what they’d give to have this simple gift I take for granted, and I run harder for them.  I know they would do the same for me.”

That quote went through my mind many times during this race.  And now I have a feeling it will go through my mind in many more races to come.

*** 2. Memories
I had run a 5k race on this course once before.  It was last year.  I was afraid that running it again would actually make me feel sad because the person I ran it with wasn’t with me this time.  But you know what?  It didn’t make me sad at all.

The course was filled with memories at every turn.  At one point, I remembered how we both felt when we saw this dreaded hill looming ahead and realized just as we got to it that the course veered to the left and we didn’t have to actually run up it.  When I saw the hill this time, I just smiled.  Yep, no sadness.  Just a smile.

I remembered how we stayed at each other’s pace and he refused to leave me during the brief time that I had to stop to walk, when I know he could have gone on ahead easily. When I got to the place that I had to stop and walk that time and the memory filled my mind – again, I smiled.  (And went faster.)

There were many more memories throughout the race.  And many more smiles that accompanied them.  And that made me realize something.  I think something has healed.  And that’s a beautiful thing.

*** 1.  And hands down, the #1 reason why this was my favorite race?  This kid:
raceblog3jeff

That’s my son.  Now, this isn’t the first time we’ve ran a race together.  But this is the first time that he finished the race well ahead of me (as usual) and instead of waiting at the finish line, he turned around and came back on the course to find me.  I finished the race with my son by my side cheering me on.

So there.  The list is complete.

So, see?  How could this not have been my favorite race?

Oh, wait.  One more notable mention.

Another reason this was my favorite race?  I wrote this whole blog in my head while I was running it.  Combining two of my passions is a beautiful thing.

So blessed to be a runner.

***

“Methinks that the moment my legs began to move, my thoughts began to flow.”
– Henry David Thoreau

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14

Mar. ’13

My Rock

timeblog

Ok, so I’m kind of silly.

A few months ago, I found this rock in a store.  It was during a time when I felt like nothing – not time, not distance, not space – NOTHING was going to heal my “wounds.”  But yet, ever the secret optimist, I bought it anyway.  And I put it in my pocket.  I’ve carried this little thing around every single day for two months.  (Well, except that week or two where I lost it – but then found it in the bottom of my gym bag where it had been hiding all along, and all was right with the world again.)

I have never been one for superstition.  Never believed in lucky charms or any of that mess.  But this rock is awesome.  Seriously.  Sometimes I’ll just put my hand in my pocket to feel it and know that it’s there.  I know it’s all in my mind – but that rock has worked miracles on me.  No doubt.  It has been my constant reminder that time really does heal.  It really truly does.

But today I had a thought.

I think I’m probably more “healed” right now that I’ve been in years.  I am in the process of making myself a better person.  I have a new outlook on life.  I’ve lost some things that needed losing; I’ve mended some things that needed mending; and I’m charging forward.  Full of life and determination and spunk.  I feel better than I have in a very long time.

So, here’s what I think I’m going to do.

I’m going to pass my rock on to someone who needs it more than I do.  It’s time.  It has served its purpose, and now I’m going to send it on and hope it does the same for the next person.  And when that person heals, which I know they will, then they can do the same for someone else.

Pipe dream?  Maybe.  But I think it just might work.

It’s kind of like this blog.  I write this stuff for me just as much as I do for anyone else.  I write it; I read it; I try to let it sink in and get into my heart – and then I pass it on to someone else, hoping and praying that it somehow touches someone somewhere and they see that everything really does get better.  It does.  You just have to believe it.  Believe it.  That’s it.

So, goodbye little rock.  Go do your thing.  You got this.

***

“He who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones first”
– Chinese proverb

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13

Mar. ’13

The Gift of Forgiveness

forgiveness2

(This is one from my private archives.  More like a journal entry.  I wrote this years ago when I heard from an old love after not having heard from him in a long period of time.  For some reason, I keep being drawn back to this.  I have re-read it many times over the years when I found myself needing a reminder.  Recently, I’ve shared it with a few friends who have found themselves in the same situation, and they have said that reading it brought them comfort as well.  So, I’ve decided to share it on my blog.  Maybe you might be one that needs to hear it too.)

I got a text tonight from him. He wanted to know if we could talk.

Wow.

So, I had rehearsed what I would do or what I would say when/if this ever happened. Of course, I never really thought it would happen at all. But if it did, the Melissa of my fantasies was gonna be a hard ass. She was either going to (1) not respond at all; or (2) respond with a “not a chance, a$$hole” or something equally witty and clever. But somehow, that’s not exactly how it played out. It was more like a “Really? Well, now is not a great time, but would 10:00 p.m. be ok for me to call you?” Oh yeah, hard ass. Reeeeal hard ass.

So, I called him.

I really have no idea what I was expecting to hear. But what I did hear surprised me. There was no “I’m so sorry I ever let you go.” There was no “I really want you back.” There wasn’t even a “I just thought I’d say hey” or something equally mundane.

Instead, it was “Melissa, I need your forgiveness.”

I need your forgiveness.

The tone of his voice had that phrase behind everything he said. And yes, that phrase – I need your forgiveness – may sound selfish. And I’m sure it was. But there was more to it than that. He desperately needed to know that I was ok. That he didn’t do any lasting damage to me. Maybe it was partly for his own conscience. But that wasn’t all of it. I heard that guy who knows me. Who knew me better than most guys because I let him know me. And that guy that knows me knows that he truly and deeply broke my heart. And he wanted to know if it was healing.

So, you know what I did? I gave him what he wanted. I told him that I forgive him.

But you know what? I don’t.

Now, I will.  I know I will.  One of these days.  But not quite yet.

But he doesn’t need to know that.

Yes, it would have been easy to hurt him like he hurt me. It would have been easy to hang on to the bitterness and the pain and to lash out and remind him of how deep the wound was. But why do that? One little lie won’t kill me. I’m going to feel the same way tomorrow whether I let him off the hook and ease his conscience or whether I make him suffer more by giving him a recount of the past few months and how I cried myself to sleep many, many nights (more than I care to admit. More recently than I care to admit also). I was known for lavishing him with gifts throughout our entire relationship. And in a way, this was just another gift. Maybe my last gift. I gave him the gift of releasing him.

And you know what that said to me? That told me that when you love someone…really love them…one little sacrifice for their benefit is really not that big of a deal. And if I had it to do over again, I’d tell the same lie over and over.

***

“Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.”
-Mark Twain

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12

Mar. ’13

Tunnel Vision

I see you there.
Are you looking?  Can you see me?
I’m performing.  Don’t you see?
(I act like I don’t see you, but I do.)

I’m moving; I’m swaying; I’m smiling; I’m laughing; I’m staying in the lines; I’m following all the rules.
I’m doing it all for you, my solitary audience member. 

Look at me.

Look at me!

Yes, I’m aware that there are others in the room, but it doesn’t matter.  I don’t see them.  I see you.

I hear the applause…the thunderous applause…but it’s all just noise.  Irritating noise that interferes with hearing you.  What if I missed something you said!?  Are you saying something?  What was that?  I can’t hear you over the crowd…

Yes, yes.  I see that ovation out of the corner of my eye.  Sit down, people!  Can’t they see they’re blocking my view?  Are you still there?  Are you standing? 
Are you impressed?  How did I do?  Are you there?  Did you see? 

Wait! 

Are you leaving?

NO!

But I’m not done.  The show isn’t over.  Come back!  There’s still more performing left to do.  Stop!  You just haven’t seen the best part yet.

LOOK AT ME!

And then – just like that – you’re gone. 
Gone.

Sigh.

Oh well, there’s still an audience left.  Surely they’re still here.  Right?  Right?

Hello?

Silence.

tunnelvision5

***

“I was single-minded and I had tunnel vision. 
Now it’s time for a change.”
-Evelyn Ashford

Posted by . Categories: Poetic Musings. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 2 Comments

11

Mar. ’13

Cemetery

“The only people without problems are those in cemeteries.”
– Anthony Robbins

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(Photo above is taken at one of my favorite places – an old, somewhat abandoned graveyard on Round House Road in Grayson County, Virginia.)

I like cemeteries.

I know.  Weird, right?  But I do.  I always have.  And I got it honest.  I remember my daddy and I going to cemeteries and just walking through them in silence.  Not really saying anything, not even discussing what the heck we were doing there or why, but just walking around, reading the stones.  I’m not really sure what he was thinking (hmmm…maybe I should ask), but I know what I was thinking.  I was inventing lives for the people in my head.  I was looking at the time differences between the deaths of couples and wondering what it was like for the survivor during the interim.  Wondering how often they sat at that very spot visiting the grave where they are now buried themselves.  Wondering if the death of their loved one changed them…made them live life differently after that, with more of a purpose or awareness of how it could all end at any time.

Yep, all that stuff went through my head even as a child.  I’ve always been weird.

Well, this weekend I found myself drawn back to the same abandoned cemetery that I seem to be drawn to a lot lately.  I hadn’t been there in a while because of the winter weather, so it was nice to visit again.  It’s almost like visiting an old friend in a way.  For some reason, no matter how down or low I’m feeling, I find myself feeling better when I’m surrounded by these graves.  How weird is that?  Sitting there, I wondered that very thing – why in the world does being around these seemingly forgotten graves make me feel at peace?  Then, it dawned on me.

I was surrounded by silence.

Hmmm.  Mystery solved.

I’m drawn to this particular spot because I’m forced into silence.  There’s no one to talk to, no one to listen to, no need to put on airs or be someone I’m not.  I can just be me in the stillness.  I can cry if I want.  I can smile.  I can feel nothing.  It’s all accepted.  I’m surrounded by spirits of those who have gone before me.  Those who have felt all of those feelings before and will never have the chance to feel them again.  I’m allowed to just be; to feel whatever I want, and know that I’m blessed to do so, and will not be judged.  I can be reminded that, unlike my unknown companions, I am still alive.  My heart is still beating.  There is still time to say the things that need to be said, time to apologize for any wrongdoings, or, in some cases, to just learn to simply let things be.  In the stillness, surrounded by my silent audience, I can say my goodbyes.  Not for anyone else’s sake, but for my own.  I can let go.

Then, the real world starts tapping on my shoulder, and I realize it’s time to leave.

I pick myself up; dust myself off; bid my silent friends a quiet farewell; and go back to the hustle and bustle that I call my life.

megraveblog

***

“Cemeteries are full of unfulfilled dreams… countless echoes of ‘could have’ and ‘should have’… countless books unwritten… countless songs unsung… I want to live my life in such a way that when my body is laid to rest, it will be a well needed rest from a life well lived, a song well sung, a book well written, opportunities well explored, and a love well expressed.”
– Steve Maraboli

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10

Mar. ’13

Landscape

bloggraveview

I went for a walk yesterday and stopped to take a picture of the scene before me.  And yes, I was a little mopey during the walk.  It happens.  It’s not all sunshine and roses with me, people.  I know – shocking.  Anyway, all that kept going through my mind was this beautiful, melancholy poem by Dorothy Parker.  This chick knew her stuff.

And I think she knows my heart.

Landscape
by: Dorothy Parker

Now this must be the sweetest place
From here to heaven’s end;
The field is white and flowering lace,
The birches leap and bend,

The hills, beneath the roving sun,
From green to purple pass,
And little, trifling breezes run
Their fingers through the grass.

So good it is, so gay it is,
So calm it is, and pure.
A one whose eyes may look on this
Must be the happier, sure.

But me- I see it flat and gray
And blurred with misery,
Because a lad a mile away
Has little need of me.

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09

Mar. ’13

Stronger

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This is the back of the shirt that my son and I got at a 5k race we ran in this morning in honor of Leigh Cooper Wallace, a local hero who passed away a few months ago from complications resulting from pneumonia.  As the race director described it, this was a race “in memory of her compassion and generosity, her service to this community, her incredible strength, her support of young athletes, and her encouragement for all people to pursue a healthy lifestyle.”  They put together this first annual race to honor the “incredible example she set, so that we may continue to live life as fully as she did.”

I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing Leigh Cooper Wallace personally, but I can’t help but be influenced by the example she set.  She went through a lot in her short lifetime (most notably being that she was a kidnap/rape survivor), and she used her story to teach others to become fighters – to not let circumstances defeat you, no matter how tempting it might be to give up.

I couldn’t help but be aware of the timing of this race for me personally.

Although I am doing great and getting tougher every day, I do still have my moments.  I’ve had a rough couple of months.  I’ve lost more than one friend to various circumstances, including my very best friend who I miss every single day, and that’s not something that is very easy to bounce back from.  But I’ve been trying.  And as part of the trying, I’ve been pushing myself harder with my running.  If you’re not a runner, it’s hard to explain to you what running does to you.  I know there’s something chemical to it – endorphins and whatnot.  But it’s more than that.  So much more.  It’s a way to measure your ability to endure.  To teach yourself not to give up just because things start getting a little tough – but to push through.  Push through.  Even when you think you can’t keep going, you can.  Yes, there are going to be tough spots and yes, you may have to allow yourself to slow down a little to make it.  But you will make it. Push through.  Endure. Stay strong.

So, not only did I proudly run today with those thoughts in my mind, but I managed to achieve my own personal record.  I’m not a fast runner, by any stretch of the imagination, but I was a lot faster today than the old me ever was.  I managed to fall under the 30-minute mark and ran the race in 29:42.  It has been my goal for a very long time to break 30 minutes and I did it today – on one of of the toughest 5k courses I’ve ever run.

So, how about that?  Here I am.  My first race in this “new life” and I’m starting off with a bang.

Turns out I really am stronger than I think.   Thank you for the reminder, Leigh.

***

“As I get older I see that running has changed for me.  What used to be about burning calories is now more about burning up what is false.  Lies I used to tell myself about who I was and what I could do, friendships that cannot withstand hills or miles, the approval I no longer need to seek and solidarity that cannot bear silence.  I run to burn up what I don’t need and ignite what I do.”
~ Kristin Armstrong

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*Note: Here’s a link if you’d like to read more about what an amazing woman Leigh Cooper Wallace was: 

http://www2.wataugademocrat.com/News/story/Local-runner-coach-Leigh-Wallace-dies-id-009923

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings, Running. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

10

Feb. ’13

Thin Line

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You’ve heard it. That old saying – “There’s a thin line between love and hate.”

If you’re like me, you’ve probably heard that saying all your life. And honestly, I suppose I’m lucky to say that I have managed to go 34 years without really fully understanding what it meant. Not sure how I managed to escape that sentiment, but I did. There’s no one in my life that I’ve ever hated; or, for that matter, that’s ever hated me (to my knowledge).  And even if I did hate someone, how could I have loved them first?  That’s ridiculous!  What kind of sense does that make??

Oh.

Now I get it.

Love.  Love is intense.  It’s passionate and all-consuming.  It gets your heartbeat racing, makes you do stupid things you never would have dreamed of doing before, makes you barely recognize yourself.  It takes over your brain cells.  It’s like a drug.

Hate.  Hate?  Hmmm.  Turns out hate is exactly the same thing.  It does all those things too.  All-consuming.  Heartbeat racing.  Making you do stupid things you’ve never done before…barely recognizing yourself.  And so on, and so forth.

When love is taken away at a moment’s notice, what are you supposed to do with all those feelings?  When you’re on the receiving end of “we need to talk…,” you probably weren’t expecting to have to chuck all those emotions at the drop of a hat.  But yet, you have to.  You really aren’t given a choice.  And I’m not sure the human brain (heart?) is equipped to do that.  So, it has to compensate.  It has to channel all those feelings and emotions into something else.  With hate being so similar, and being something that, let’s face it, feels slightly better than unrequited love – it’s easy for the love to slowly slip over to hate.  Too easy.

Is that a bad thing?  Eh, I don’t know.

I’ve always been the kind of person that sees the good in everyone – even when it might not even be there.  And being that kind of person, that usually means that I tend to take on a lot of guilt and blame for things that might not necessarily be my fault. (I mean, it couldn’t be their fault right?  Everyone is “good” and “kind,” so surely it must be me…)  Maybe it’s time to let myself off the hook.  Maybe it’s time to give myself a chance to really feel anger towards someone.  Even a little bit of hate.  Just temporarily.

Oh, I know it won’t last.  Nothing does.  Nothing.  If life has taught me anything, it has definitely been that.  So, for now, I’m just going to go with it.  I want to be a grownup.  Really, I do.  And I will again soon.  I see the high road up there.  It looks great.  People look content up there.  And hey – I’ll probably climb on up there and join them eventually.  But for now, I’m okay down here on this other road.  It’s a little easier to travel here for a while.  Oh, I know the views are better up there, the people are nicer, blah blah blah.  But I don’t wanna.  I don’t have the strength to climb at the moment.  And that’s okay.

Oh, I’ll heal.  I will.  But on my own time table and in my own way.  And right now – all that love needs to be replaced.  And this – this hate thing – well, this is all I’ve got.  And I’m using it.

Sigh.

This too shall pass….

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