Does anyone just sit and cry?
Which Way is Up?
Or, worse yet, just walk around your house and cry? Not knowing what to do, or where to start?
Do you ponder on what to be when you grow up? (And you are already way, WAAAAY, past “grown-up” age.) Or do you bother to even start with that worry?
Instead, do you make a lap around the house trying to figure out where, or what, to start cleaning or organizing, when it’s simply just too overwhelming to fathom? Your $#^* has literally piled up over the past traumatic couple of years…and suddenly, you are OUT. OF. CONTROL.
I didn’t think so.
Well, it’s happened to me. Big time.
I look around (when I’m out of bed) and wonder, “Who LIVES here??”
“And how the FUCK do I fix this??”
Oh, it’s easy to rationalize. I KNOW what happened. It’s called “life.” Life, and taking care of others and not having time to take care of yourself.
But then “time comes.” I have the time now to take care of myself; plenty of time. However, the ramifications; the remnants of what is left behind…are far too huge.
It doesn’t help that during “the middle” of our life disaster, I started my own business; Since opening just over one year ago, I’ve sunk my whole heart and soul into it; my entire being.
And it worked. It worked almost too well. Our shop is too much work for two people (John and myself) to physically handle. It takes every waking second; and that is not enough time. So what should we do? Quit? NO. Open a second shop? YOU GOT IT! This summer our second Etsy shop will be opening. And it’s gonna ROCK! (No pun intended; you’ll see.)
In the meantime, though, how do I get the motivation (mentally) to dig myself out of my hole? A hole so deep…so deep I cannot even see a peep of light at the top. Is it the top? Or is that the bottom? I’m under water and I don’t know which way is up. It’s the most frightening feeling.
I’ve ALWAYS known where “up” is. I’ve always had goals; I’ve always, ALWAYS had “plan B.” Now? This is the frightening part: I can’t see anything.
My heart is in pieces for my dear daughter, Paige, who’s enduring another wretched bad day.
Her sweet, cherished fur-baby, only 5 brief years old, was taken to heaven from her little household.
Please give her strength, and comfort, and care; she has certainly dealt with much more than her share.
This is my prayer to lift my girl up: To comfort, console; to cheer my Love up.
I love you, my Paigey, my fierce little girl. You are strong, you are tender, you’re caring, and sincere.
Let nobody cross you; yet open your heart. For closing it completely will tear you apart.