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    hope that no matter what difficulties arise in family, health, or finances, a family can survive it and get to the other side. 'How' is not just one response, rather it's an evolving idea. Solutions present themselves as you go along the path. As you seek the thing it is you want to achieve, so will an idea come to you. I do not attribute it to a god or a religion, though I may have one or both of those. This is life. Hope. Live with me,... 



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    Entries in blogging (3)


    My Affair 

    There was a time, since 2004 after the war, that my husband was nowhere to be found. His physical body was around as much as he could stand, but really he was not here. I experienced this effect once we were settled in Austin after being discharged from the military. Suddenly I started feeling suffocated out of this life. We moved closer to my family, whom I quickly realized made me more miserable than happy with their ways of making me feel like I didn't belong. In conjunction with my husband leaving more and more each day: checked out of reality, randomly dissapearing, and emotionally detatched. I was raising four kids, literally, alone. My family was fighting me with every decision I made while I struggled to put my daughter in all of the therapy available to help her with her disability, and raise her 3 siblings. Slowly I melted away. I began to hide, isolate, and detach as much as I could get away with. I was caught between a really bad situation at home with a struggling husband who was unknowingly very sick, and an extended family that, really, did not want me. They say with their words they are there for you but don't back it up with their actions. I felt I had little choice, I could continue with this underlying deathwish that started at the age of 11 or 12 filled with temporal thinking and depression, or find a way to stay alive and cope until I figured out an answer to my situation.

    I found a way to stay alive, it involved being heard, it gave me someone to talk to, it returned to me a feeling of being connected and a sense of belonging. It echoed back to me sentiments of understanding. 

    I found you. And it saved me. My dalliances with writing my story to you slowly helped me return to myself, one letter at a time.  


    History and Memory

    I was re-publishing old posts on my new blog platform today, reading through them as I went. A part of me felt so silly, these very beginning days of sharing my life seemed pointless and immature. It made me wonder if what I wrote today was still as undeveloped and random. Probably. Truth is I kinda like it that way. I never want to approach writing as a marketer, or as a platform for being noticed. I just want to write. I love building community around stories and remembering my history. Without these in the moment feelings jotted down, as revealing and embarrassing as they can be, I wouldn't accurately recall these moments. I couldn't so vividly remember how it tasted, felt, smelled, what it sounded like, or how it occurred. Memory is a fuzzy thing, always changing in our minds as time passes.
    I ask myself, do I keep doing this? What is the value to others? If it's only for me I could just be journaling in my little diary, holding onto those things myself. But something tells me, even though I don't entirely get it, it's just something I must do.


    "What's Your Point?"

    Losing myself. Realizing why everyone keeps bringing up the courage thing about writing publicly. It is starting to hit me. Just the way being honest with people makes you vulnerable in real life, so does writing honestly and publicly the same. And even more so, there's a wider audience that can fuck with you through their knowledge of what you've disclosed. It's like having a relationship with the entire world, allowing yourself to be seen for what you are everyday. When engaging people online through this channel, it's an exercise in trusting intuition, and actually acting on it instead of telling it to be quiet. 

    I am realizing how lost I've become over the course of all of this. What I thought was bringing me closer to my truth might be pulling me away, and what I thought was pulling me away might have been what kept me close. Was it the writing, the life events, the painful circumstances, being seen, or just the natural flow of growing older? Not sure what's drawn me away. 

    I'm so confused I can't even type straight.