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Messy, choppy and a little all over the place.


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Being new to the blogging world has me wobbling a bit before I stand so please, pardon the dust.  I have a lot to say, a lot to share and a lot to “get through”. Nothing is really organized and everything can be random but I’ll do my best to begin to create a flow rather than stray paragraphs that begin and end so monotonously. I’ve journaled bits and pieces over the years and that’s allowed a release of sorts but it’s not nearly as much as I would have liked. Perhaps my rhythm and rhyme would be more in time otherwise. I’ll get there.

My words are starving to get out and I’m starving to be heard so here I land. I like this, sharing my life in a way with anyone who chooses to ‘read’ or ‘follow’ my posts. I like the name ‘WordPress’, it has a feel to it that puts me at an actual printing press, watching my words spill onto the page in permanent ink, (pressing) a fascinating visual for me.

A lot can happen in a short amount of time in my world and a lot has happened over the last few years. This left little time to write as catching up with what life was throwing at me kept me running. Running to find the next answer to the latest topic on our kitchen table. Running to relieve tension and running from what was inevitably to be part of my life forever. I’ve felt selfish thinking of myself. I’ve felt that because I’m not working at a job that can pay me and provide health insurance and food for my family, I had to constantly be moving and doing something, anything productive to prove to those around me I was making a difference and doing my part. I had to prove to my family and my husband that I was worthy of basic living expenses. Forget any praise or random, heartfelt compliments. I just wanted to be worthy of living this way. Proof. I had to provide proof. Why? Because they did not and would not accept the diagnosis. It wasn’t real and I was making it all up. I already had proof of an attempted suicide and I wasn’t alone in the house when he, out of nowhere, began to scream very loudly, cussing at the wind because the “voices” were making demands against his sweet heart. My husband and daughter have all been witness to this many times over. Every doctor, therapist, counselor he’s ever seen will put it on paper for you. But only now, when I’m packing boxes and signing divorce papers, is anyone seeing what I’ve seen.

So it may be random for a while, a bit choppy and very messy. Again, please pardon the dust. I’ll get there.

Julie

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