That's right. I'm still me. I am still my husband's little sailor. I still have bigger things God has to deal with me on before He's ready for the swearing.
I'm so sick of crying. All. The. Damn. Time.
I hold it together, mostly, when anyone is around. Then the second I'm alone, I have an ugly bawling fit.
I'm not kidding, I've felt my stability slipping away from me the past few days. To be fair, I've been pretty stable for over a year. I've been driving over a year. It's hard to believe.
It's taken a lot of work. A lot of doing what I've learned. A lot of being honest with myself and those around me. A lot of talking through those little things that pop up.
Granted, I've been focused on our home and move a good portion of that time. Before that was leaving our first church. I've had other stuff to keep my mind busy. Oh and I can't forget that I was physically sick for about 4 of the past 5 months.
There's also a good deal of healing from the past that has come from moving.
All that being said, it's been tough this past two weeks. To be very simple, I fight to find value here on earth and long for heaven.
Can you blame me? I'm once again feeling a pain that surpasses all understanding.
I think of all the times I could have died. My dad had plenty of opportunities. The armed assault not down the street from out old house. The truck wreck with no seatbelt. I question why not then to avoid this pain. I have to ask those questions. I think without those questions, we never set ourselves in the same direction that God has for us.
This is just so incredibly hard. I'm tired of the tears. I'm tired of the pain. I've told everyone not to rush my grief, but have yet to take my own advice.
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