It doesn’t happen often

Morning all, hope you are well. The boys are doing okay. I’m sitting here, listening to a woman’s story for the 2nd time. I don’t do this often, but she spoke to me.

I found a new podcast through an ad on another show. On a whim, I went to check it out, and today I spent time listening to the first episode. I got busy, and listened to my favorite archaeology podcasts, and others. Eventually, I cleared my queue, and started fresh.

I grabbed this episode at random, I suppose, and was fascinated. I was held captive by this woman’s voice. Her story, was not my own, not by any means. However, the pain, the alcoholism, and the way it destroyed her life I identified with.

Holy crap, the way her life… how she grew up, and how she survived. How she reacted to the unmanageability around her… the way her soul was destroyed. I identify.

I found myself nodding, and listening closer and closer. I know how she felt, how she lived… I felt and lived that way too. I still do, in many ways.

Living every moment as if you are ‘on’ and that something horrible will happen if something isn’t done exactly the way it is supposed to be done… Yet the rules on what is supposed to be done change one second to the next.

That was my normal, and in many ways, it still is. I’m hoping to heal, and to grow over time. I pray so.

I’m going to go back to my stitching now, and listen to this woman’s words and her life again. Take care, -L


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