Blue drops of sky
Blue drops of sky
Every day miracles
Contained in a bubble
Of happy smiles
A bunch of stars
The blessings that we hide
This does not happen often. I always have too many things in my head, too many plans to make, too many ideas to organize, too many agenda notes to convey. My head is a chaotic place.
Sometime I find myself silent while walking, listening to the sound of my steps on the ground – on the wet pavements or on the freshly cut grass. My head seems so light for a moment. I enjoy the moment, knowing it won’t last. I stop to breathe for a couple of seconds and I promise myself I’ll do so more often.
It’s not that difficult to take a short break but we often forget, trapped in our crazy lives.
Today is a new day.
Today is a day of Love – Peace – Light and Joy
Today is a day about
Sharing the Magic
Enjoying the Moment
Today is a day of
Today is a good day
Today is a beautiful day!
Oh this song!
It’s not about Sinatra. I love his voice. I love the song.
It’s about a memory. Yes. A bittersweet one.
The day is a sweet memory. The days after are pretty bad ones. The days after are messing up with the image of:
Me, wearing a wedding gown and him, holding my hand against his chest, telling me how much he is happy, how beautiful I am.
The image made others jealous. Of the way I looked at him and the way he looked at me. Bullshit.
He made the promise to fly me to the moon. Who could resist this? I should have followed him. Sinatra obviously!
I used to write in English every day. I miss writing in English.
I love writing in French too. But it’s not the same. I miss the connection with something different, something that told me at some stage “you’re free”.
Maybe it has to do with not mastering all grammatical issues in this second language. In French it feels like I have to follow established rules and this triggers a bit the soul of what I want to say, of the stories I want to tell.
Anyway, this year I decided to write more, to write every day. Not for long, just 2, 5 or 10 minutes every day.
I already wrote 32 short stories, thoughts, poems, words…
I think I will keep doing it in French and I will start doing it in English here. I will let words, quotes, photos inspire me. I will let go and let God guide me on the road…
Till then, take care, love life, live fully every moment and smile!
Our relationship is already summed up in a big file, full of notes, letters, forecast budgets, solicitor fees, court ruling papers, translations, testimonies. It took 4 years to eventually close our case.
Our relationship is contained into a manuscript of 25 chapters, 165 pages, 68 000 words. I never thought I could achieve this one day. I should thank you for this. You gave me matters to discuss, feelings to explore, emotions to review in details, issues to solve. Your madness left invisible scars on my skin, in my mind. You gave me the chance to heal myself, to reconnect with the “true me”. I should thank you for this.
I need a couple of hours to finalize our 4 years relationship. I need a couple of hours to explain what happened after.
When I left I thought it was over. I was wrong. Another story started, the one that would crushed my heart in pieces but the one that would take me to the beautiful light after the chaos of the thunderstorm.
I always loved jigsaw. You must have known this. You don’t know anything about me. It’s the most difficult one I had to do, putting the pieces of my heart back together. It took me ages. Every time I thought I was on the right path, something went wrong and I had to start all over again. I am still working on it.
At the beginning writing was evidence. I needed to get you out of my head. I needed space to let go. I needed words to get rid of guilt. Healing process – dealing with grief. Ups and many downs. Then writing became a way to free my anger. I had so much resentment in me. There could not be any forgiveness. After a while, anger vanished and I started seeing things a different way. I wanted to understand.
Why “yes”, when all my heart was shouting “no”?
Why I let you play with me in such a terrible way?
What happened in me? I had always been a happy child, a dreamer, a girl in love with life, a smiling lady. I had always been surrounded by loving and caring people.
What made me choose you? What made me think I would save you? What made me think you would save me? Save me from what?
Writing gave me the chance to answer some of these questions. Now I know why I want to finish this story. Sharing my experience is key. Sharing the worst before the best. Sharing to help. Sharing to tell the truth about you, about me, about the magnificent light, about the violence of your silences, about the pain inside my chest, about your status of victim, about my resilience, my faith.
Last week a family member answered one of my questions by « you are such a dreamer! ». This was not a compliment. This was a statement saying something like this “you are so naïve” – “you’re 36, wake up”. I heard this before. I’ve heard it since I took the first step into adulthood.
It made me think. What’s wrong about being a dreamer? What’s right about not being one? Should I stop dreaming now? Why? Why should I stop being who I am? Why should I follow the crowd?
Big things happened in this world because at some stage people thought these things were possible.
Everything starts with an idea. Everything is set into motion because people have a dream and believe in it. They make it happen. They have faith.
Do narrow-minded people have dreams?
They don’t. They accept things as they are. Even if these things don’t please them. And if they have some, they don’t follow them, surely thinking it’s not worth it.
Back to the conversation we were having…
Read my full article on World Moms Network
I wanted to be her. Confident. In love. With herself. With the world.
I wanted to be like her. Walking proudly in high heels and feeling like I own the world.
I wanted to be her. So sure of herself. So chatty. So beautiful.
I wanted to be like her. Wearing red lip-gloss and sunglasses. Short skirts and bikinis.
I wanted to be her. So much.
I thought she was happy, she had the perfect life, the perfect family.
She vanished into the night.
And all truth about her came back in a flash of dark light.
She was not loved, she was consumed by passion.
She was not happy, she was in much pain.
She was fake.
She was somebody she was not, so she could face life.
She was smiling at the world. Inside, she was crying.
We never know what people are going through, what life they have, what happens behind closed doors: the best or the worst.
Praying for the best. Always. And remembering that we should never envy others but look at ourselves with love, enjoy whatever is good in our life and change the things that don’t seem right (for us).