Like many carers I was sensitive to the needs of my mother because I am sensitive.
My heart rules my head. I am also not always easy to get along with. My head is a radar for out of control ego's. My face can't hide what I'm feeling. When I'm under attack my fangs always hit their mark. I have spent most of my life learning how to be social and nice to people, but I haven't mastered it with people that aren't nice to me...I'm really bad at it. When my rage is unleashed, I can easily be the nastiest.
I am lucky to have a few close friends. One of them lived very close by to my parents and reserved a constant space for me, in her heart and her home. Her worries and responsibilities were far greater than mine, but still she offered me a place to rest.
Respite from the relentless routine...of death and dying.
Replenish, Rejuvenate. Time to repair the rage.
Ride horsey together...
Here's a 'Miranda sings,' video my niece introduced me too about how to get a girl friend.
I really wouldn't have managed without my girlfriends constant support, late night phone calls, the occasional night out, and that 'ABBA' concert in the park. Singing old 70's songs outside with a bunch of strangers cures just about any affliction, even rage.
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