Writing angry is a lot like driving drunk...

Let me get right to the point.  Pain and hurt is the alcohol and anger is the drunkenness.  It's midnight. I am tired, but not tired enough to turn my brain off, so I will write.  Even though I told myself I would never write while intoxicated...or angry.  While I have lost the fight with myself to avoid writing while, I will try to convince you to never pen while under the influence yourself.

Anger goes right to the brain, impairs judgment, gives you blind verbal courage, and can cause hurt to those around you.  It started tonight.  I was hurt.  Anger is where I went from the start.  More time passed and I became more and more belligerent in my own brain.  I couldn't focus on anything but the way I was feeling.  I was stubbornly obsessed with becoming infuriated.  Distracting myself to try to slow down the process only made it worse.  I started to think irrationally, fabricated stories and scenarios, (imagination does not lack when angry) anything is possible and on the table.  I search for more reasons to be angry, I expected more hurt and you didn't disappoint.  Waves of sickness came and went and came again.  Memories of similar pain flooded me and I realize I still haven't forgiven completely.  Or maybe I have to keep forgiving.   But this is so painful.

Then it came like a fire up from my most vulnerable self but it was covered and coated in anger.  It was disguised so the person it was directed at would never be able to see that I was wounded.  I returned fire with fire.  You hurt me, I hurt you.  I was bold and fierce, but not in a good way.  Not in an empowering way.  In an atomic bomb sort of way.  Destruction follows and then we are left to pick up the pieces.

The hangover.  You don't really understand what happened, but you see the destruction.  Most times not knowing the true extent of damage until much later.

Here it is...staying between the lines is hard when you are drunk and driving on the road and it's even harder to stay between the lines when writing while angry.  I hope I didn't go too far above or below.

Everyone's Journey Begins with a Birthday

Today is Wednesday February 17, 2016.  Twenty-eight years ago, also a Wednesday, I was born.  My mom was instructed to schedule a C-section due to the fact that I was folded in half with my butt down where my head should have been.  However, at the last minute I flipped and was in proper position.  Since childcare (for my older sister) and other things had already been prepped they went ahead with the surgery as planned, despite my procrastinated cooperation, I was born.  I was forced out of my comfort zone maybe before I was ready.  Isn't that ironic.  Forced out of my comfort zone but due to my own stubbornness.  So from the start I was stubborn, I was a procrastinator, I wanted to do things my own way, I was tricky.  I was not squeezed through a birth canal, I did not have to push my way to the surface, I was brought out by hands.  In a way, it is a beautiful picture of how life has gone for me from the beginning.  History...or in this case "Her"story seems to repeat itself time and time again.

I am always screwing up...I am human, its how I roll.  Luckily God is not far from me no matter how stubborn I am.  He is filled with grace and mercy and has constantly been those hands bringing me to life again, saving me from being stuck where I am, showing me there is more.  The evidence of this has never been as clear as it is now.  Marriage changes things.  My husband and I were married October 2014.  It has been the biggest roller coaster ride.  Fast, scary, at times thrilling, really steep highs, even steeper lows.  I felt a pull to write it down.  Maybe it will help give hope to the hopeless or maybe it's just for me to remain hopeful.  Either way, Happy Birthday to my Blog!

disclaimer: I realize this is posted on February 19th...just staying true to my procrastinating ways!