I need to chill the fuck out.  To calm down, to get myself under control, to stop sabotaging what is good, what is happening.

An angel wandered into my life last Thursday night.  And sat on my front porch, unassuming.  It has been 8 days since I met her, 7 days since I reported her found.  She is like nothing I ever expected, nothing I ever even “wanted.”  But she is perfect for me.

Truth be told, she has distracted me from myself.  She is helping me to “get over myself” as my BFF and I always say.

I don’t need to be so.fucking.obsessed with every detail of my life with my husband.  Our relationship can just be.

This dog needs me, and even more, I seem to need her.  I didn’t know I needed her.

I thought my children fulfilled my heart, the love of them, for them, the love of parenting them, guiding them, leading them through the world… yet here she is, the one who brings me the most patience and compassion within myself.

I love my children massively, wholly, completely- yet something about this dog feeds me differently, nourishes my soul in a different way.  I love her.  I know that she was sent to me.  Of all the houses, of all the kids, she found me.

It has become very clear to me that I need to chill.  I don’t need to control every aspect of life.  I don’t need to inspect every interaction, analyze every touch, every look, every moment.  Some things can just be.  Simplify.  Minimize the importanece of things that perhaps don’t really matter that much.  Each little thing does *not* matter that much.  What does matter?  The love at the end of the day.  The feelings that each relationship put into your life at the end of the day.  I need to breathe, let go, stop being an obsessive crazy bitch.

My poor husband for having to deal with me.  Poor me for what he has put me through but now that that’s in the PAST, poor him for having to deal with my crazy behavior.  For having to work with me being so demanding.  He has as long way to go, a lot of healing and progress and getting comfortable with himself to in turn, get comfortable with me.

He is not comfortable with himself, but the pressure I put on him from every damn angle, every damn day DOES.NOT.HELP.  It hinders.  I hinder my own happiness.  I need to get out of my own way.

I’m beginning to think that a book at this stage of my life just isn’t meant to be.  This dog has taken my out of my head and into it’s life, and my kids lives so much more.  A book can wait until life is slower.  It was coming along nicely but….. BUT.  The dog is here, it needs me, I need it.  And the book will still be able to be written in a few years.

I am happy.  I am totally fine, I realize so much about myself this past week.

I love my husband.  I want him, I choose him, I can forgive him.  The biggest chunk of forgiveness has already happened.  I’m still here.