It all started on a very busy street. The girl lived in a beautiful house that she created and all her family was loved and supported in the house that she built. They all felt happy and safe. Then one day, the house started to crumble. Small pieces of plaster started falling down. There were large cracks running across the ceilings. Well, we all know that a house divided will fall. This house became divided and it fell.

 

The girl grabbed what she could and as the house tumbled to the ground, she sat down on her one suitcase and watched the devastation. She was perplexed because she didn’t think it would all come down to this pile of rumble. Couldn’t the walls be redone? Couldn’t the cracks be filled in? Why couldn’t she fix the house?

 

As she sat down looking at the shattered dreams and watching the smoke clouds raise into the air, she thought about all the things she had in that house. All the memories of what was and what could have been crowded her brain and she couldn’t help the tears from coming down her face.

 

But what she didn’t know was that right behind her, something larger was waiting. If she would just turn around and wipe the tears from her face, she could see that what she wanted all along…what she thought she built in that house…was just waiting for her.

 

Her tears were too much. She couldn’t understand why this would happen to her. She did everything right.

 

Again, if she would just turn around, her real life was just shimmering right there. All the things she loved she could take with her to her new life. All the things she didn’t need anymore would be replaced with all the things she really did deserve. She would find true happiness and unconditional love.

 

There is one small catch. Her new life is like a spoiled child. It is impatient and very emotional. If she continues to sit in her own sorrow, her new life will be very hurt. It won’t leave her, but it can’t control it if someone else comes along and snatches her new life.

                        *         *            *              *                *                *

 

In writing my new novel, I am really looking at my life. I can’t believe how much of my life I have wasted just sitting down and feeling sorry for myself. I sit down looking at the past and trying to figure out how could I have done things differently. How could I have made more of am impact here and maybe less of one there?

 

I should know better. A life should not be wasted. Time moves forward whether we want it to or not. I am wasting my time and my life just looking at all the mistakes I’ve made. I don’t get up.

 

If I could just turn around, I bet there is something just standing and waiting for me.

If I could just stop crying about all that I have lost and look at what I could gain, I might be better off.

 

It isn’t about having guts or strength to do it. I think it is about accepting mistakes.

 

I am not perfect. I put time into people who don’t think I am worth putting time into. I loved people who don’t love me back. I made mistakes.

 

I hate knowing this about myself. I hate knowing that I have done something wrong. As cautious as I am, I still leave stones unturned.

 

So how do I fix this? How do I stop feeling sorry for myself? How do I get up?

 

I need a big, great push that will knock me off that suitcase I am sitting on. I’ll bang my head, but that will hurt for only a little bit. I need to stop looking at what was lost and look at what I can gain.

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