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Currently Under Renovation

I realized it today. Okay, so maybe today wasn’t the first day that I realized it, but it definitely was the icing on the cake. I looked into the abyss of my current situation, and realized that I needed to find a way out. I hadn’t blogged in months. I hadn’t written a sentence, paragraph or chapter in weeks. I’d had my vacation status posted on my website for so long, that folks must’ve assumed me dead. I was tired, feeling helpless, and I wanted to punch people. No really...I wanted to throat punch people. I felt bad for my husband. Always at my side, always my sounding board. I love this man! I don’t know how he could possibly put up with another tale of woe from the workplace, but he did. Yes, that was me helping myself to another slice of deep dish pizza. I’d gained twenty-five pounds within the last year. Sure, my husband said the extra junk in the trunk was a turn on, but having to purchase new clothes was now becoming expensive. Not to mention, I didn’t feel good about my curvaceous new outline. I was suffering from anxiety attacks, hives and migraines that wiped me out. It’s time for a change.
I could write a book (and perhaps I will) on the who, what, and why’s of my stress, but ultimately the fault lies with me. I trusted too freely, I didn’t follow my gut, and I gave more of myself than I truly had to give. Looking back now, a little older, and a bit wiser, one thing is certain; I’ve decided to become better rather than bitter. I’ve come to terms with what will, and will not work for my Soul. I have learned to say goodbye to people in my life who withdraw more than they deposit. I am confident enough to keep walking past a good opportunity, en route to the perfect opportunity. I’m okay with sitting this one out, because I just don’t feel the need to impress upon anyone, how deserving I am of their acceptance. I no longer accept society’s standards for living, because truth be told, they rarely jive with mine.
Wooo-saaa…the sound you make when you refuse to pop another Advil, but instead opt to ride this mutha out. Seventeen…the number of beads you patiently count on your Mala bracelet, while praying for peace of mind. Green…the color of tea that you sip to sooth your, raw from crying throat. Four hundred and forty-four…words in a blog to dispel the glossy, photo-shopped image, for a realistic, sepia colored Polaroid. Please excuse the mess, I’m currently under renovation.


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