Helluva Life

What’s your all time high, your good as it gets?  Your hands down best ever make-up sex?  What’s your guilty pleasure, your old go to?  What’s your worst hangover, your best night yet?  The best damn thing you lucked into?  What’s your double dare, your go all in?  The craziest thing you ever did?  What’s the greatest chapter in your book?  Are there pages where it hurts to look?  What’s the one regret you can’t work through?

 

“Every man dies. Not every man really lives.” – William Ross

An Amazing Beautiful Journey

 It always seems so much easier to hold everything in and try to ignore it. But in reality you never realize how hard it actually was until you let it flow out of you. I’m overflowing. And I’m exhausted. So tonight I grieve my childhood by saying goodbye to her. Like having a funeral without a body. I’ve said my goodbyes to her in my mind I think the next step for me in this process is to do something. A real something to say good bye. Because I owe her so much. I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without her fighting so hard to endure.
Grieving for me is more then just walking around crying and wearing black. Its a chance to honor the deceased, remember them, and honor who them were. I exist today because of a child whose spirit had to die inside of a house filled with rage and anger. I wouldn’t be who I am had all those things not happened so I wish to honor who she was. She was smart, funny, loving, trusting, caring, and gentle. She had the ability to love more then she was ever loved herself. She was inquisitive and wanted to know about the world around her. Why was the grass green? Why was the sky blue? She loved asking questions even if they only one she could ask was god. She was independent and wise beyond her years. She was resilient and found ways to smile even when there was nothing to smile about, even when they tried to beat the smile  off of her lips. She lives on inside of me. I love her and want her to be a peace now.  Goodbye little one and thank you for fighting.

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As kids we would day dream…
that our parents were not my real parents. Somehow these people, imposters, had gotten a hold of us and our real family was out there somewhere searching for us. Our real parents were a King and a Queen from a magical land far far away and we were their princesses. We lost each other but we knew that they were still looking for us.  All the little girls they saw must have reminded them of us. So we drew pictures of crowns and the magical land and we taped them to my window because we just knew that they would find us. They would drive down the street and see those pictures and they would know that that’s the house that we were in. They would pull up to our house in a long white limo, and I would run to them and they would take us away. They would take us away from all the anger, hurt, fear and pain that this fake family had shown us.
 Though we knew it wasn’t real, the hope was enough in the moment.  Every night we would pray that our real family would finally knock on the door and bring me out of this house of terror. That they would save us from the pain and let us be a child, and we would run into their arms and forever we would stay. Sometimes I still pray for them to come, sometimes I still need arms to run into. 

It would be quite unfair to live in the shadows of “what could have been.”  This is life moving on. This is us moving down the path we’re on, doing our best to be more grateful for the blessings here and less obsessed with the roads we didn’t take. 

This is acceptance in progress.

April Lynn McManus

Facebook would probably define the relationship I’m developing with myself as “complicated”

This past weekend has been one hell of an emotional roller coaster for me. Looking for Mr. Right in today’s restless society is quite daunting.  I have met men but have an unerring knack of attracting the wrong type. For me the past couple of years has rolled on with the hope of a wonderful relationship blooming in my dreams — and ultimately withering in the face of reality.  However, the men I have met while I’ve been here the last six months have had a common theme. They’ve all been completely unavailable. Either literally – because they’ve had girlfriends or wives, or emotionally – because they just got out of a serious relationship or because they’re just not looking for a special someone at this time. None of these guys have been particularly rude or nasty – they have all, in fact, been very kind and openly honest. They have poured out their hearts and their souls or spoken of their leading ladies in the highest of terms.

For me, my life overall is in a good place. My children, family, friendships and career are a great source of fun and celebration, but at the end of the day I don’t have that one special person who is just there just for me. So at the age of 32, I got a therapist. She has shown me how important it is to revisit the problems of the past to move on from them. So off we plunged into my tormented psyche until we crashed and burned at the bottom.

Now that I am in a much healthier state of mind, I realize that in every past relationship I have attempted,  I try to push “him” away before he could give up of his own accord.  I wasn’t gonna  wait for fate to throw off its happy-ever-after cloak and shout ‘Gotcha!’ like some horrible pantomime villain.  I had to step back and  distinguish between what I need and what I want. (there is nothing wrong with wants, but just make sure that they are lower on your list than the needs) I have prioritized and know which qualities & attributes I will not compromise on, and which ones are up for discussion.   I need a man who is compassionate, responsible, supportive, caring, dedicated, etc.,  he is the person who will be able to adapt to whatever comes ‘our’ way in life.

Don’t get me wrong though, I firmly believe a woman in a man’s world has to be tough as nails.  For this reason, I have developed a hard shell that no one can penetrate. But, I do have a softer side that not many see. Turns out, once I agree to give love a fair shot, I am surprisingly vulnerable.  It might take me until I was 50 to find the right man, and I will probably have smooched more than my share of pond life along the way, but kissing Mr. Right (My Unicorn) will be more than worth the wait.

– love is always one step ahead

April McManus.

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