suck. There are times when nothing can compare to the physical touch and sharing of family.
It’s like a battery recharge.
Who, but family, knows you through and through with all your strengths and faults and still loves you? Who, but family, shares the same sense of humor, the bonding of history and activity that can make you laugh until your sides split? And who, but family, will tell you the absolute truth when you don’t want to hear it but need to desperately?
No matter how old I get, there is a little girl inside that needs to be held and loved and even kicked around by the ones I love; and today, dear diary, is one of those times. Do I know what brought this on? No, it comes without warning. Although, historically, whenever my life is about to be touched
emotionally and I feel somewhat out of control, I find the need of a battery recharge (family).
Also, historically, I pull myself together and run from those emotions. Okay, so I am dysfunctional. Who isn’t? It sure is much easier to appear normal and confident when the door to my spirit is locked. So, what to do, what to do? Open the lock or swallow the key?