Things to doing with a broken-pain-pierced heart, a muddled-foggy-head, and a back-bending-cramping-nauseating stomachache:
Lonely is as lonely does, it faintly hovers up above...
Remember that feeling of psyching yourself up to go? Feeling anxious and sweaty. Getting in the position to make the leap, and counting down. Closing your eyes and imaging yourself just getting it over with.
Self-loathing is a feeling that is close to my heart. It's been hard for me to feel comfortable in my skin, satisfied with my choices or genuinely happy in my thoughts.
Although I'd spent most of the aforementioned time feeling sorry for myself, I became accustomed to the time spent alone.
Good days for me don’t just include my son not melting down over a pair of pants he wants to wear 3 days in a row or my daughter losing her shit because she can't find Rapunzel's dress that's lost in a pile of dirty clothes. Or my husband making it home in time for [...]
substance noun sub·stance \ ˈsəb-stən(t)s \ practical importance I want to put forth myself into the world and provide something of value rather than incomplete posts on my feed. A picture is worth a thousand words but to read a point of view that hasn't yet been expressed is priceless. What makes this so unusual for me is me. [...]
For years I managed to keep everything that truly weighted me down hidden, not a single person knowing how I really felt about my life; how hopeless I was. Ending relationships and avoiding conversations at all costs in an effort to not counteract my sorrow.