New Day

Who doesn’t love to linger in bed in the morning, maybe just a little longer than you should?
On those rare days that I allow myself a few extra moments; I actually gift myself with so much more than rest.
Somewhere betwixt sleep and wake, I stare at the scarred and stained floorboards above me.
I wonder about the souls who have passed through this old building.
I wonder what they were thinking and feeling.
What were their dreams and aspirations?
Were they fulfilled? Were they treated well here?
How many fell in love here? How many just fell?
After wrangling my inquisitive mind a bit, I tend to look ahead to the blank, white wall over my closet.
A quaint landscape currently leans against my hutch, awaiting a home.
It would probably look very nice on this bare white wall, however, I can’t bring myself to put it there.
This small expanse of plain, white wall reminds me that every day is a new day.
It reminds me that I can do or be anything.
I can be energetic and creative.
I can be pensive and melancholic.
I can be ambitious and focused.
I guess for now my landscape will await its place, while my white space helps me find mine!

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What do you guys wonder about?

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A Good Cry

A good cry…an oxymoron, right?
Females will readily understand this notion.
Due to societal convention, many men may not.

By a good cry, I don’t mean a, “gee, that commercial or Facebook post really touched me.”
I mean a, “My world just turned upside down and I don’t know what to do with this pain,” kind of cry.

Sometimes it’s easier to just bury the pain; to just compartmentalize it, and plan to deal with it another day.

Easier isn’t always better.

I’ve lived long enough to have many good cry moments. I don’t feel the need to expound upon that. We’ve all been there. Sickness, death, abandonment, disappointment, heartbreak…

I’ve always considered myself a strong person. Crying, to me, equaled weakness.

(Additionally, I don’t cry pretty like the movie stars! I end up with big, red puffy eyes and a snotty nose…yeah, just not pretty!) 

For the first half of my life, I schooled myself in the art of stoicism.

Again, it’s easier to block things out and focus on the next task than it is to face the problem at hand.

I thought I was so cool. I had the ability to shut down and ignore the pain.

Little did I know the volcano I was building for future eruptions.

Then I grew up…a ‘lil bit…

I realized that crying felt good! Crying was cathartic!

I cried in the woods, walking my dog. I cried walking across the parking lot to work. On really bad days, and I mean REALLY bad days, I have found myself in fetal position on my cellar floor, crying like a baby.

Why am I not afraid to admit this, you ask?

Because every damn time, I managed to let it all out and stand up again and face the next day. Because, just because I cry, does not make me weak. In all actuality, it makes me stronger.

I don’t like the person I was when I didn’t cry.

Yes, I was strong, but no one needs to be fortress strong.

It’s better to be human strong.

So I hope you all cry when you need to and otherwise…skip! 