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So it's been a while since I've posted in my blog. Time constraints keep me from accessing the parts of me that I desire. Hopefully, now that can change.

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On Hating and Loving Myself

"a woman's worth isn't valued by the man that claims he loves her, but the love of self she claims before anyone can claim her..."- Jared C Loving myself has always been difficult for me. It's easier to tell myself that I'm not laudable. In times I have even hated myself. So much so, that I push the people I love the most away, feeling as if their love for me was completely unwarranted and that I was the least deserving person of this love. As I recoup from the disseverance of my marriage I realize now that for a long time I was unhappy with myself. It wasn't my husband that made me miserable or the routine of my days, it was me. I have become cognizant of the fact that I put forth my best efforts to convince myself and my husband that I was undeserving of any of the things that made me happy. I became a person I never wanted to be but had convinced myself that I was. I acted the role so well, that at the end of our marriage my husband was convinced that...
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Confessions of my Heart

Normally, my posts have a theme or topic. Today I'm taking a venture off that beaten path and just writing whatever comes to mind. So bear with me if the post gets lengthy and becomes quite the harangue. I guess I'm just writing to get things out of my head. Things seem quite jumbled lately and nothing seems to make sense. There's a lot I have sorted through in the last month as far as my self worth and happiness are concerned but I feel as if I haven't touched on some real feelings that I was trying to avoid or deny. I'll start rather bluntly. I miss him. I love him. I'm afraid of him yet find security in him. Everything is all sorts of fucked up. I feel like life has played a cruel joke on me. Fuck cruel, it's played a malicious joke on me. I've been touched by love more than once. True love, not just the superficial, teen angst-y sort of love. Not the I can't live with out him sort of love but true, down to the core, feel it in your soul, comp...
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“ The sacrifice which causes sorrow to the doer of the sacrifice is no sacrifice. Real sacrifice lightens the mind of the doer and gives him a sense of peace and joy. The Buddha gave up the pleasures of life because they had become painful to him. ” Sacrifice. Who measures a sacrifice? Who's right is it to measure the sacrifice? The person who makes the sacrifice or the people the sacrifice is being made for? I wish I knew.
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