My Tw|t Garden
My Ch@t Garden
My Affil|ates Garden
My W|sh Garden
♥ Faith
♥A beautiful ring A Godly marriage
♥ Peace
♥ Love
♥Our love for eternity Hope
♥ Eternal Life with Abba
♥
♥ Peace
♥ Love
♥
♥ Eternal Life with Abba
My Arch|ve Garden
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
January 2010
February 2010
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
June 2010
July 2010
August 2010
September 2010
October 2010
November 2010
December 2010
January 2011
February 2011
March 2011
April 2011
May 2011
June 2011
July 2011
September 2011
October 2011
November 2011
January 2012
February 2012
April 2012
June 2012
July 2012
August 2012
December 2012
January 2013
April 2013
March 2015
November 2009
December 2009
January 2010
February 2010
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
June 2010
July 2010
August 2010
September 2010
October 2010
November 2010
December 2010
January 2011
February 2011
March 2011
April 2011
May 2011
June 2011
July 2011
September 2011
October 2011
November 2011
January 2012
February 2012
April 2012
June 2012
July 2012
August 2012
December 2012
January 2013
April 2013
March 2015
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Not without a fight.
Yes. Not going to go down without one.
It was four in the morning when I woke up and fought. Terrible urge to succumb to the freaking temptation. As I sat on the sofa staring at the ticking clock... I realized how weak my will was... To win this war.
I seem almost addicted to the pain and sorrow... The bitterness on my tongue tasted almost wonderfully satisfying to my weathered soul.
Is this what is? This distorted, freakish addiction to pain?
Is this it for the rest of my life?
Hell no. My life is looking too good to simply waste it on rehab.
So there I was again, five in the morning, bathing to jolt the fighting spirit awake.
It helped a little... But I wished I could wake my husband up to walk me through the minefield.
Sigh.
I was told to break the chain... The one thing that's keeping me from walking forward...
I have the tool, but do I have the strength?
Yes. Not going to go down without one.
It was four in the morning when I woke up and fought. Terrible urge to succumb to the freaking temptation. As I sat on the sofa staring at the ticking clock... I realized how weak my will was... To win this war.
I seem almost addicted to the pain and sorrow... The bitterness on my tongue tasted almost wonderfully satisfying to my weathered soul.
Is this what is? This distorted, freakish addiction to pain?
Is this it for the rest of my life?
Hell no. My life is looking too good to simply waste it on rehab.
So there I was again, five in the morning, bathing to jolt the fighting spirit awake.
It helped a little... But I wished I could wake my husband up to walk me through the minefield.
Sigh.
I was told to break the chain... The one thing that's keeping me from walking forward...
I have the tool, but do I have the strength?