Well. There you go.

ɹǝƃƃolquǝʞoʇ

It feels good to know I'm not the only one.

Posts like these are the reason that I read your blog. Why else would I follow someone that had Oasis posters on her wall?

Life is the Rabbit Hole.

So totally aren't alone.

wth linguistics textbook was that? i think they use it in kindergarten now.

Long time reader (found your website while you were pregnant with Marlo), first time commenter. I made this account just so I could write this.

Everything's going to be okay.

Where have all the flowers gone?

I have more but typing forces me to look at my old lady hands, and that's truly depressing.

Beautiful post.

And another from the same book:

"... there is always a grinning skull at my side to remind me of the folly of human ambition. I mock this skull. I look at it and I say, "You've got the wrong fellow. You may not believe in life, but I don't believe in death. Move on!"

Sometimes we have to look back in order to move forward.

Memories are what make us "us." The good and the bad.

You're going to be okay, Armstrong.

On another note, I wrote this yesterday: http://www.raisingfuturehippies.blogspot.com/2012/...

Part of the reason I wrote it, and well, had a reason to write it is because you have given me the courage to share my story and seek out some help.

I'm going to be okay, too.

Thought you'd appreciate this....

http://usnews.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2012/01/10/10097...

(Sorry this is off-topic)

I once wore my pajama pants to work by mistake, and decided to pretend it was "a look." But another time, when I worked really late (2:30 a.m.) and realized on the drive home that I'd left my punishing bra on a chair in the break room, I turned around and drove the 40 minutes back to the office to retrieve it. Panda jammie pants are one thing; a dingy underwire Maidenform (complete with safety-pin strap repair) is quite another.
The day we find our highest acceptable embarrassment level is the day we become grownups... and that's a GOOD thing.

Really like these kind of posts... Keepin' it real!

Hmm. I definitely feel the distance, huge expansive distance.. not sure which is better.

You survived it, but it still seems like yesterday. Me too. Some happier older women in their sixties told me that it's the fifties that really rock. That's when the past truly seems far and the present more joyous! I'm 39, so I'm counting down to fifty...just can't wait!

Until then...I'm focusing on living more through the eyes of my son...whose current passion is opening and closing the door. Shouldn't life be that wondrous? When everything seems amazing and the simple things makes us explode into unrestrained laughter?

So metaphorically, I'm closing the door to my painful past and opening the door to my future...where change is possible.

May that happen for you too!

Beautiful writing!

I spent a good chunk of time last night in bed crying on the phone to my best friend. I was trying to explain this lost, confused, falling, flying feeling to her. Eventually, I went to sleep.

Today, I watch the snow dump from the sky. I struggle with a question of identity and a need to be doing and giving so much so that when I die, I'll have lived a life I'm proud of. I get so wrapped up in thinking about my legacy that I think I'm forgetting to craft my life. In fact, I don't even know who the hell I am, so why I don't focus on figuring that out instead is beyond me.

I'm dizzy, too. I'm in a real hole. But, I'll dig out. I always do.

And, I'm also glad I never had to call my boss to tell her I'd be late since I woke up in Andy Dick's bed.

I can relate, except my world unraveled when I was newly married and thought I had life all figured out. Then suddenly, I had a miscarriage and began to slowly descend into a sadness and depression that only worsened when I finally had my son, which is what I had thought I wanted most all along. Why wasn't I completely blissed out with my new baby? Why did I have no connection to him? Why did I feel so physically ill that I almost passed out when I discovered I was pregnant again when he was only 9 months old?

Even now, after being in therapy and on antidepressants for 2 years, I am still feeling like I'm at the starting gate. What the hell do I even really believe? I don't know. All I know is that, even though I love my parents and they love me, I grew up intrinsically knowing that disagreeing with them on anything meant I was wrong. Still does today. And that's a huge struggle for someone like me who wants everyone to be pleased with me and most of all wants her parents' approval!

Thanks for this post, I love your blog.