I saw this Pedigree brand commercial and started crying. Not because I felt “pity” for the shelter animals, but because I identified with them.
“Maery’s not broken. She has simply experienced more life…”
Too often I think my X broke something so deeply inside me that no matter how strong my will and my spirit is, I can’t fix it and I can’t overcome it. Where other men have hurt me physically, he managed to get to me. He gained my trust and then he broke it.
But maybe, like the shelter dogs, I have that wisdom and that story.
But I’m not sure I’ve reacted to my “bad hand” with courage. It angers me. This weakness. This can’t be the thing that does me in. Buck up cowgirl, don’t give in to pity or give up on life because of this.
The past 30 days have been hard.
I’m kind of starting all over again with the grieving process, the sense of broken heartedness.
The sense of being utterly alone, not literally alone, but alone in understanding.
The anger and frustration that I let him in, when I never should have.
I have at times in my life been hurt physically and at other times I have been hurt emotionally. In either case, what is taken on the inside is so much worse than any external injuries.
I guess I do the things I’ve done before. I walk Java. I ride Luke. And I pray that this period of my life passes quickly.
I dream about throwing caution to the wind and traveling somewhere totally different than anywhere I’ve been before.
I dream about writing a book that knocks the socks off of everyone.
I dream about many things.
But most of all I dream about smiling from the inside out as I realize I’ve come out the other side.