"Miss Martha, you are so weird!" "I know . . . isn't it wonderful!?"


I am in such a state of physical and emotional limbo.  I have choices to make.  Big ones.  That perhaps should have been made long ago, but I held onto hope, optimism, and denial.  As if these would magically resolve the situation.


If I were my daughter, I would save her from this.  Tear her from this.  Release her from this.


Yet my pity dictates otherwise.


Decisions decisions decisions.  I hate change.  But not changing, as I’m learning, is far worse.


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