F*&!$ Yo Couch! – Really? Like For Real?

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“Well maybe you have been menopausal for the past ten years, based on your attitude”

Everyday I move about in this world, for the most part happy, sometimes satisfied as well (because those are two different things).  I laugh, I love, I play on the internet with my friends, I cheer for my child and straighten out the safety net that she still needs, I pursue passions and practice being passionate, I add and remove people/places/things from my life.  I work on my ‘story’ but there is always this shadow………

It feels like a coat with a turtleneck sewn in.  It strangles me and the best i can do is cut the sleeves off, but like a mythic Greek creature, they come back and sometimes doubles in size.

Back in the day, it was just easier to do and say whatever it took to calm it down.  It cost me all kinds of relationships, some that will never be repaired.  It caused me to have a nervous breakdown.  It is this part that if I get serious with a man and it’s time to ‘strip naked’, this is what I have to divulge.

I used to take pride in the fact that I stayed, no matter what, I was following the good books:

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I’ve been made to think that I am imagining all of this and that I’m ‘too sensitive’ and I ‘hold grudges’ and the duplicity of my life can be difficult sometimes. I am who I am around.  If it’s stressful, then I’m stressed and all my personalities band together to protect…me.  There is some real visual to the fact that only certain people in a certain circle claim that is who I am.

People feel sorry for me and the fact that I am not known by the person I’d like to know me the most.  I am not honored by the person who I try to honor the best way I know how, I am never doing anything right to the person who claims they tout all my good to people I know nothing about.

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The only way to preserve myself to myself is to become quiet.  I am not understanding of the principal of a one way conversation.  To never inquire or ask about my life YET when an offering is placed at the throne, it always gets shitted on is a hard way to live people. I constantly stand in a room full of trinkets that have been stomped on. I constantly try to pick up the broken pieces and salvage what is precious to me.

As I have grown and matured and worked on my own story, I untangle my tongue more often now. I block more often with a mirror……….

When I need someone to tell me it’s going to be alright, I can place a call, but her candle is dimming and the wax doesn’t return, no matter how much we want it to.

As I sit and laugh and smile and rub the back of my own daughter, I secretly am making sure that she doesn’t have on a coat…

I’m alive in ways I never thought possible..but I’m not sure when I’ll be able to really..live.

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