...has broken my heart again.
Why am I such a flake? How can I be so passionate about something one day, and terrified of it another? Where in the process do I break down?
I blame it on my "vision" and my self-expectations. Like seeing a huge, glorious mountain summit, imagining myself at the top, bathed in light, shouting victory across the broad-faced earth...and after a week of frenzied planning, organizing, and sprint climbing, I collapse somewhere in the lower-half, wishing the ground would swallow me up, and almost admitting I've grown to hate mountains.
Interpretation, please.
"You were called to be a mother." — Brooke L.
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