But even as those memories flooded my mind, I answered my mom with a shocker. 'It was hard, but it needed to be. I needed the struggle, both real and just in my head, to learn to live. What didn't kill me, or make me want to kill myself, gave me strength.'
Why bring it up? Between work and its crazy hours, no word on how my car repairs are going, planning an amazing menu, two birthdays in my family, juggling three siblings who are missing me,planning a vacation for the end of the year, my latent crushes, trouble finding clothes that fit in my closet, editing items on my 101/1001 list, having items I bought not fit in the car (so I have to set up alternate plans), loss of sleep, etc, I am doing so well my coworkers swear I am being medicated or smoking something. My hours have kept me from being able to call my friends at decent hours, so what is keeping me together? The same thing that kept me from dissolving into a puddle of goo in HS. Having people I love, making plans to spoil them, feeling needed/wanted, my favorite shampoo, finding an ounce of courage to make a fool of myself, posting comments on friends' pages or blogs, and that annoying sense of hope that tomorrow will be better.
"It's not waiting for the storms to pass, it's learning to dance in the rain"And I feel like learning a few dance moves.
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