As I sit with my BFF (Best Friend Forever), we watch the rain bounce upon the pavement through his office window. Our hands are tightly wrapped around our ceramic mugs, not because it’s particularly cold, but more for its consoling gesture. With a subtle hint of wood burning in the air, it most certainly feels like fall. As I watch the sky heave, it seems to reflect how I feel as though Mother Nature is bearing the burden of my grief.
I’ve made a commitment to share my fears in hopes that there is some thin veil of a lesson. How easy it is when I share from retrospect. It’s censored. It’s safe. However, I’m not a fan of safe. How can I grow if I stay with what is comforting rather than what challenges me? Oh, yah, I can’t. So, here I am sharing my thoughts and experiences as I face my greatest fear, the death of my mother, my best friend and most certainly, a soulmate.
I have been told that one should avoid religion and politics at all costs in your blogs, yet I’m a rebel! (Insert maniacal laugh here). No, really, I’m just kidding. “The God Pile” is actually just a phrase that I use for boundary lines.
I’m sick and tired of how people readily use the word crazy. I’ve heard crazy slung at people countless times but rarely, is it used accurately. It seems to me that crazy and psychotic are far from interchangeable. Crazy infers not normal. Whereas, psychotic is an actual term used for certain organic imbalances by professionals and even then, psychologists shy away from the term.