I don't know, I just want to write a lot in my journal. I tend to mull things over here and come out purged by the time I click "publish post". I wonder if I would feel as purged if I never clicked the button? Something about putting it all out there in all of its glory makes the difference - different than keeping it in the closet.

Sometimes I look at my sitemeter and find it curious why some people find me. There are several boards who come here sometimes and I can tell by the meter run that they must have been discussing me. I go there then and read what they say. It completely touches my heart sometimes that anonymous strangers can be so sweet. One board was discussing my 2nd IVF and as they followed along, they all wished me well to each other and then all agreed they didn't have a good feeling about it working. Ends up they were right. I hated reading that the day before I had my beta, I was eavesdropping on a private discussion about how hopeless I am to others and it makes me wonder how obvious it is that I should give it up. Even now, I still have hope for myself. Anyway, I am rambling, but one discussion board was discussing how they thought I was crazy. Now, THAT was interesting to read about. There was one woman who understood me, she gets me but the others clearly didn't. I found it very amusing that I could appear so crazy that a discussion board could have a hay day debating about it.

I am of the firm belief that everyone is crazy to some degree. Everyone is insecure to some degree. Everyone is scared to some degree. It is the degrees of separation that make the difference in compatibilities (says Dr. Julianna).

So anyway, now I find myself wondering how honestly I want to reveal my core and should I? As crazy as I have ever been or felt in my life, I was blessed with a therapist who validated my feelings and made me feel normal and I realized that everyone is a bit off balance sometimes and that is okay and normal.

I spent the first half of my life being unsure, insecure, and scared. It is so powerful to have some chutzpah. I am still a pussy underneath and I am entirely too sensitive. I still work on toughening up my tender heart.

I will never finish working on me.

I will never "get it".

I will never completely be free.



Yesterday, I found myself being more insecure than usual. I could get to the core and peel the layers but suffice is to say, we were spending Christmas day with someone else's family. My husband loves to help out on weekends at the winery so he is completely comfortable with the group and surroundings up there. I have never spent such a personal holiday with someone else's family. In a way, M. and I were the needy being adopted this holiday season. They knew we were here without family and insisted on us coming up to the winery. I think that is it.......I just realized......ironic that it actually ended up being us who were the needy at Christmas.

The first hour at the winery was awkward for me. The women were in the kitchen and the men were outside cooking the meat on the massive cooker/barbecue.

I try to lay low when I am feeling out of sorts.

I noticed tiny things, like all the women pulled their hair back when they were in the kitchen, I had no scrunchie or barrette so even something as tiny as that made me uncomfortable. I was just not comfortable in my skin there.

I knew everyone, but I still had meaningless conversations for the first hour or two. I wanted to be outside with the men where I could let my hair down (literally and figuratively). Then something happened, one woman and then another started peeling the onion of themselves back more and I noticed how much more comfortable I was. It is in sharing the craziness in each other that bonds us sometimes. The more they really talked and made themselves vulnerable, the more comfortable I became.

We had a lovely afternoon and evening and I have new found friends, true friends.

I got to know their "ick" and they got to know some of mine.

The ick that binds.