Imagine that a butterfly may not metamorphose just once, but could seek or create a protective shelter at any time, and emerge as something a little different.
You can't hurt me with what isn't the truth. I will fear no evil.
Everyone needs to have a love like this at least once in their lives—a “forever” love—the kind where you can totally see yourselves as old farts chasing each other around the nursing home with your canes and walkers or wheelchairs.
I was invited to visit Frank yesterday. And I did. Frank is a sweet old man. He seems to have changed little, except...
I'm healing. I'm not healed. I may never be healed. But the process of healing is improving me.
Our youngest did not learn until she was nineteen that my ex was abusive. And that is darkly one of my proudest achievements.
Am I a good person? I can say nice things and do good deeds, but am I a nice person? Are my thoughts nice?
For some time in early 2013, the only way I could contact my son Stuart was through his paternal grandmother, Donna. He'd gone to visit her for a day or two on numerous occasions. When he'd left home in October 2012, I never imagined he would not return.
Don’t tell me you’re praying for me while you’re putting me through Hell. You don’t know me at all. You know a ghost. The person you accuse me of being is a figment of your imagination, nothing more.
I began responding to a volatile telephone call in a letter. The letter soon became more of a release of pent-up anxiety and anger. I didn't mail this letter. I did show it to my therapist.
Going through old writings, and it's tough. I should have fought harder. I just didn't — couldn't — believe, it would get so bad.