I still am in shock of my stupidity. I have done a lot of stupid things in my life, but I think that is the boldest. Somehow, it's easy to equate the two.
When will she check her messages? Has she already? Should I go ahead and drop the letter?
I vote yes.
Maybe tomorrow night I will sit home, hopefully alone, and go ahead and do it- write the letter- the letter that finally makes sense, the letter the leads to learning and loving, take the leap.
I love words. I think that's called alliteration. My mom was an English teacher. Words were forced down my throat.
Hopefully tomorrow night, I will sit down on my couch, with some El Ten Eleven music playing low, maybe burn some essential oil (love that stuff), sans any alcohol, it really doesn't help, and maybe with some yoga pants and my most comfy Elevation t-shirt on (I have so many).
Man, it sounds like I should be sitting in some freakishly weird position where the tops of my feet are oddly rubbing my thighs. Maybe I'll be humming and talking in tongues too, maybe have a few hundred rings around my neck that stretch out my neck and pierce one ear, just one, with an insanely large object like a bowling ball or a yogurt cup. Ew that just feels yucky to type.
But, maybe the lights will be dim as they always are in my house. Maybe the heat will be pumping since it's supposed to actually freeze tomorrow night. Welcome winter. Uh no.
And maybe, just maybe, if I'm lucky enough, Sarah will be at Momo's house so I can have some peace of mind.
People who have no children have no idea how easy life is. And married couples with children have no clue either. But nothing can replace the bond between mother and child when you are a single mom.
I might cry thinking about it. No. I won't.
Sarah would say to me, "Mom, you cry too much," as she does when she sees me cry at a movie, or a commercial, or when we're riding in to work and I'm listening to my inspirational music station, 91.9 (some of the music is really horrible, but most is digestible.)I hear some sappy stories that some sappy listener felt neccessary to share with thousands of other listeners- like me, who are probably sappy also, that was very private and probably almost unbearable to live through, but somehow she survived. They always make my black mascara run for some reason.
Wait a second. Could I be that person? Is that me? No. I am not that cheesy. Nah. I couldn't call in and divulge all of this on the radio. Oh Lord, could I? Hells to the no, I couldn't.
Ok, back to freaking out. I am so glad I have undiagnosed ADD. I can get distracted like a mf. I will be fine. It will all be ok. It's in God's hands, and I need to remember that there is a master plan for my life, and through God, I can be the true star that I am called to be- even if it means it won't involve anyone that has the same Type O vampire blood that I have running through their tightly constricted arteries.
All four of my great grandparents died of heart attacks at ages under 70. Ouch. At least that's a quick way to go.
And I'm back to thinking of death. God, how morbid.
I should read another book on insecurity. But I'm not finished with the one I'm currently reading. It's a good day to start a new chapter- both in life and in my book on insecurity. I think I will. Ta-Ta.
When will she check her messages? Has she already? Should I go ahead and drop the letter?
I vote yes.
Maybe tomorrow night I will sit home, hopefully alone, and go ahead and do it- write the letter- the letter that finally makes sense, the letter the leads to learning and loving, take the leap.
I love words. I think that's called alliteration. My mom was an English teacher. Words were forced down my throat.
Hopefully tomorrow night, I will sit down on my couch, with some El Ten Eleven music playing low, maybe burn some essential oil (love that stuff), sans any alcohol, it really doesn't help, and maybe with some yoga pants and my most comfy Elevation t-shirt on (I have so many).
Man, it sounds like I should be sitting in some freakishly weird position where the tops of my feet are oddly rubbing my thighs. Maybe I'll be humming and talking in tongues too, maybe have a few hundred rings around my neck that stretch out my neck and pierce one ear, just one, with an insanely large object like a bowling ball or a yogurt cup. Ew that just feels yucky to type.
But, maybe the lights will be dim as they always are in my house. Maybe the heat will be pumping since it's supposed to actually freeze tomorrow night. Welcome winter. Uh no.
And maybe, just maybe, if I'm lucky enough, Sarah will be at Momo's house so I can have some peace of mind.
People who have no children have no idea how easy life is. And married couples with children have no clue either. But nothing can replace the bond between mother and child when you are a single mom.
I might cry thinking about it. No. I won't.
Sarah would say to me, "Mom, you cry too much," as she does when she sees me cry at a movie, or a commercial, or when we're riding in to work and I'm listening to my inspirational music station, 91.9 (some of the music is really horrible, but most is digestible.)I hear some sappy stories that some sappy listener felt neccessary to share with thousands of other listeners- like me, who are probably sappy also, that was very private and probably almost unbearable to live through, but somehow she survived. They always make my black mascara run for some reason.
Wait a second. Could I be that person? Is that me? No. I am not that cheesy. Nah. I couldn't call in and divulge all of this on the radio. Oh Lord, could I? Hells to the no, I couldn't.
Ok, back to freaking out. I am so glad I have undiagnosed ADD. I can get distracted like a mf. I will be fine. It will all be ok. It's in God's hands, and I need to remember that there is a master plan for my life, and through God, I can be the true star that I am called to be- even if it means it won't involve anyone that has the same Type O vampire blood that I have running through their tightly constricted arteries.
All four of my great grandparents died of heart attacks at ages under 70. Ouch. At least that's a quick way to go.
And I'm back to thinking of death. God, how morbid.
I should read another book on insecurity. But I'm not finished with the one I'm currently reading. It's a good day to start a new chapter- both in life and in my book on insecurity. I think I will. Ta-Ta.
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