I just drank my 2nd cup of coffee and my 4-month-old daughter is asleep in my arms. My husband left for work about an hour ago and I am contemplating whether or not to go back to bed. I hear a train in the distance as well as the cool silence that the early morning brings. The potential that this blog opens to me is a rather scary one...I'm here to find out about myself and I'm afraid of what I might find. Or should I be excited that I am giving myself a chance at self-discovery, without worrying or caring what anyone else thinks? Sounds pretty liberating for a girl who has always been her own prisoner. MUST BE IN CONTROL AT ALL TIMES! That's no control at all, just fodder (or is it grist) for the anxiety and depression mills. And to think that I hold the key to my own cell! I see the key in the lock, pregnant with promise, but I am forced backwards into the corner of my cell, scared to death. Of what? Of living. Of not being afraid. Haha, I'm afraid of no longer being afraid. They think it's funny, too.
Hmm, my 3-year-old boxer Brules is staring at me, obviously expecting some sort of action on my part. Yes, Brules? Whatcha' want? His eyes bulge and his ears perk up. I'm surprised our lab Mazie isn't right there with him. She's the fun-seeker.
Typing with one hand is proving to be tiring (my child is in my left arm), so I'll post again later. This is fun. Thanks to an old friend for inadvertently leading me here.
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