I have my life fall apart more times then i wish to count. But when im having a rough go, i pull up past catastrophies and remember that i got thru that. Thisbis cake
I'm so sorry, hon. But glad you didn't.
Yes... It was also due to circumstances...
I don't mind revisiting since it wasn't ALL about me.
Tragedy does not define us. What defines us is how we grow after the field is scorched.
Damn girl! You have a way with words!
Your so complimentary today bud, thank you again
I've hit some rough spots, some were very painful.
Losing loved ones to death of course is painful. Healthy grieving gets us through and we can remember our loved ones and still smile.
Betrayal is a tough one. Getting stabbed in the back by someone you loved / trusted shakes the foundation of things, nothing makes sense for awhile. Some concentrated healing is in order. Some self evaluation, and then growth. Times of Personal growth have been some of the most painful times in my life. Also, some of the most rewarding on the back end of it.
I'm not saying to look for painful situations, but don't fear them either.
Yes, and I try not to think about it.
Yes, it has felt that way several times. I do revisit those times once in awhile, for the same reason you mentioned, but other times the memories come unbidden.
Oh I have been no stranger to my life fallen to pieces. I have hit rock bottom a few times. When I was younger I tried to commit suicide but as I had a change of heart I flipped my car multiple times. I have a habit of going to the road I had my accident on & set & think. I do it as a reminder that there is a reason I am still here even if I ain't sure the reason. In 2013, 2015, & 2016 I tried stupid stuff when I fell apart. I sit & think about those moments & wonder why I was so stupid.
Yes my life when to hell due to an illness when I was 38 then after that the man I was living with wanted to move to Denver so I sold my house, Then he dumped me. What a mess and I think on it often so I will never make such stupid choices again.
I lost my partner, home, career job, neighbours, most of my savings, most of my possessions and even my dog in the space of about six months and I am reminded about it by others every time I interact with anyone at all.
Yes, and yes. I get stuck in the past sometimes. Some things I can't let go easily.
Yes ad yes. The letters PTSD spring to mind.
Daily. I had to convince myself the whole world is in a Dream State and also beware of my own mortality. You are going to die someday. That's a given. You accept these simple truths and begin looking forward to the positive.
Great. Hope it sticks
The year was 1955 and I was in the sixth grade. We lived in the
desert, in a town with no social life. Television didn't exist,
and it was a three mile walk to a movie theater. The only
cultural input was a classical music program once a week on the
radio, and the teacher always let the class listen to it.
One day a professional violinist came to town to do a
concert. I didn't hear about him until he showed up at the
school to play for us kids. I was thrilled because I had never
heard a live person play a violin. It was darn seldom that I
heard or saw anything good at all. I loved it. He announced
that if we wanted to go to his big concert there was a special
price for students, one dollar and eighty cents.
I was electrified. I could go to a real concert and listen
to a real musician playing real music. I had only heard about
such things. All I had to do was find $1.80, not easy when my
only source of income was collecting pop bottles for the two
cent deposit. When I got home from school I went crazy. Home at
three, concert at seven, four hours to pull off a miracle, and
two of them had to be spent getting dressed and getting to the
auditorium. There was only one auditorium. I hopped on my
bicycle and rode frantically out of town, watching for pop
bottles. I rode for about an hour, then rode back. You better
believe I didn't miss a single bottle along that highway. I
cashed in my find and counted it: $1.15 (quart size beer
bottles were worth a nickel). I counted it again, hoping for
better results: still only $1.15. I needed sixty five cents
more. It occurred to me that maybe I should have ridden just a
little farther out that highway, but I rejected that thought: I
knew I had done all that was humanly possible, and now I was
out of time. There was only one thing left I could do: beg.
That is what I did. Of course I was smart enough to say
"borrow". One brother had the money, and didn't mind giving it
to me. It surprised me that he had the money, and even more
that he would hand it over with no explanation, but I was in
too much of a hurry to ponder those things.
With the money problem whipped, I turned my efforts to
getting ready in the short time left. I showered and dressed
and started looking for a ride. Dad was gone. Mom didn't drive.
Three brothers were home, and two had cars. I asked the first
to drive me to town. "Why?" he demanded. That was pretty normal
for him. I told him. He refused. He didn't like that stuff and
he didn't think I had any business going. That was pretty
normal for him too. I knew there was no changeing his mind, and
I didn't have time to try. I ran to find my other brother. He
was nicer, but the answer was the same: "No. You wouldn't like
It took me forty years to try again to get something that
took a lot of effort.
55' in the sixth grade. You had the capability to see all of my musical idols live. Could have seen Hendrix. Could have hung out with the Doors. Could have been a mover and player in the 80's when I was still a kid. What were you doing instead?
I was an electronic engineer. I designed the modem for the Dolby Digital Stereo system to put VH1 on the air.