I am Not Broken Like I Used to Be

I read this book recently about the tales of a crack addict. The tales of well-educated, successful young gent who chose crack over all else for a long time. There was a point in the book when he had copious amounts of crack in his hotel room and he had jugs of vodka and he had a bottle of pills he intended to consume. And when reading this sordid account of a well-educated, successful young gent's untimely demise, I had an epiphany.

I'm not broken like I used to be.
I'm not broken at all, actually.
I used to be, though.
A terrible mess, really.
I'm not broken like I once was.
I'm light and free and punch drunk love.
I still get tweaky and squeaky and scared,
But He calms me and I know I'm spared.
I'm not broken.
I'm repaired.

By the grace of God, I'm not broken like I used to be.

And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my grace comes in the form of Christopher David Broussard. A line from the same book put it all together for me.

“...he loved me…knowing what he knew, seeing what he’d seen, putting up with what he chose to put up with, he was the only one who ever could. The question I never asked was why.”

God gave me the gift of Christopher's love, because I needed real-life unconditional love in order to truly understand that I am forgiven. And I guess, I picked up that random crack addict story while perusing the bargain bin, because God wanted me to see that I am not broken like I used to be.

Leslie Broussard Can Tweet @Write_to_Think

I finally finally finally found a handle for Twitter that I absolutely adore.

If you have ever spent any time reading my writing, you know that I write to think. I write to process. I write about insight and enlightenment and conflict, but it all centers on my emotion about an event or idea. And emotion is what drives me.

When I got pregnant and the subsequent carpal tunnel inhibited my ability to write, I was one big mess of emotion. I didn’t have my journaling to corral that emotion into a profitable exercise. I didn’t have my written words to help me figure out what I was doing, thinking, feeling. The written word is my outlet, my avenue, my therapist and my center. I write so that you can learn how to not make the same mistakes. I write so that you can think about something in potentially a new light. I write so that I can learn from my choices.

It has taken me a long time to get back into writing after the carpal tunnel subsided, but I think I am finally at a point where I am excited to write again. And with the introduction of @WritetoThink, I am ecstatic to join the Twitter-sphere.

Big big thanks to EmiAnnie for the continual brainstorming for the most perfect name.

Two Years in Kentucky

This week marks two years since our arrival here in the great state of KY.

Whenever I mark time, my first inclination is to always lament how much I haven't yet accomplished.

Today, however, I couldn't help but see the amazing feats we HAVE accomplished in a very short time.

Brytin has played two seasons of very successful football.
We have spent many hours in nature at various parkland in and around Louisville, looking at foliage, watching wildlife and throwing rocks into ponds.
Daelen and Brytin have learned to swim well and very much enjoy all waterplay.
We have completely changed our diet.
I have finally started losing some of that lingering baby weight.
Chris made First Class, solidifying our financial security for the next six years.
We have had a total paradigm shift regarding material things - what we want and what we need.
Our children have experienced a life entirely different from what they had previously encountered in SoCal.
We both have cars we absolutely love.
We have developed a fantastic plan for the next six years, that Lord-willing, will help us transition into Chris's retirement from the US Navy.
We have spent countless hours together, just the four of us, hanging out together, exploring our world, and strengthening our family unit.
I enrolled in college, and am about halfway to obtaining an Associate's Degree in Accounting.
For the first time in my life, I am donating money to causes I care about greatly.
We were able to support my sister-in-law at her bootcamp graduation in South Carolina.
I returned to work full-time with a job that is a perfect fit for me.
We've seen great cities like St Louis, Missouri and Cincinnati, Ohio and Santa Claus, Indiana. We even saw Leslie County, Kentucky :)

Our last two years have been a time of phenomenal skyrocketing growth - physically, emotionally, mentally and even spiritually.

One more year in Kentucky gives us just enough time to finish up a few things. I will finish my degree. We will pay off all our debts. Chris will ride in a racecar on a NASCAR track. Brytin will finish elementary school. Daelen will prepare himself for kindergarten. We will take a family vacation to relax and enjoy nature.

Our time in Kentucky has truly been some of the greatest years of my life.

posted from Bloggeroid

I'm From...

I’m from Fall colors and Spring tulips and 10,000 lakes.

I'm from the outskirts, never a neighborhood, rarely a sidewalk.

I’m from bright yellow dandelions turned into wishes.

I’m from Christmas decorating on Black Friday, flocked Christmas trees and nutcrackers.

I'm from MGD and Home Interiors and Tupperware and Harley Davidson.

I’m from Barbies and “The Babysitters’ Club” books.

I’m from Cub Foods and White Castle.

I’m from tuna salad.

I’m from Kemps’ Tin Roof Sundae in a gallon bucket.

I'm from Gedney pickles, Pronto Pups, tater tots and Old Dutch potato chips.

I’m from roller rinks and week-long vacations at rented cabins.

I’m from a purple paddleboat on Lake Magda.

I’m from over-the-top motorcycle rallies in Sturgis, South Dakota.

I'm from Lutherans and hotdishes and bitter cold.

I'm from sledding and ice skating.

I’m from camping and fishing and RVs and canoeing and road trips.

I’m from visits to the one-Hardee’s town in Iowa called Waukon.

I'm from Nintendo and VHS and cassette tapes and IBM.

I'm from snow days and three months of summer vacation.

I'm from Valleyfair and the Great Minnesota Get-Together, and the Mall of America.

I’m from “Duck, Duck, Grey Duck” and tubing down the river.

I’m from “Red” and "The Boat Killer."

I’m from mechanics, bartenders, bikers and secretaries.

I'm from mutt dogs and stray cats.

I’m from broken families and shattered dreams and unrealized potential.

I’m from family without blood relation.

I’m from Minneapolis, and wasn’t proud of that until I moved away.

I'm from a place I chose not to dwell.

I'm from the place that made me the beautiful creature I am.



Stolen so lovingly from Stacy May.



Awhile back I read an I'm From blog post and decided to take a crack at it myself. If you're interested in writing your own I'm From, you can use the following template to get started (if you write your own, please leave a comment and link so I can read it!): Adapted by Levi Romero Inspired by “Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon I am from ________________________ (an everyday item in your home) from ________________ and _______________ (products or everyday items in your home) I am from the ___________________________ (description of your home) _________________________________ (a detail about your home – a smell, taste, or feel) I am from the____________________ (plant, flower, natural item) The __________________________ (plant or tree near your home) whose long gone limbs I remember as if they were my own. I’m from _______________ and ________________ (a family tradition and family trait) from ______________and ______________________ (family members) I’m from _________________and _________________ (family habits) and from_____________________. (family habit) I’m from _______________ and _______________ (things you were told as a child) and ____________________________________ (a song or saying you learned as a child) I’m from_________________________ (a family tradition) I’m from ____________ (place of birth) and ___________ (family ancestry, nationality or place) _______________and _________________ (family foods) From ___________________________________ (a story about a family member) ___________________________ (detail about the story or person) _____________________________ (description of family momentos, pictures or treasures.) _________________________ (location of momentos – under my bed, on the wall, in my heart) ______________________________________________ (more description if needed) _______________________________________________ By

Follow-Up to "Know It All"

I stumbled upon this blog I wrote almost 4 years ago. In the blog, I recount some lessons I learned through out my mid twenties. At the end, I ponder what lessons I'll learn over the next 4-6 yrs.

The lessons I listed were quite profound, honestly, and I am thankful that God provided me the opportunities and the open-mind to learn those lessons.

But mostly, as I read those words, I felt like I was reading the words of a stranger! At first I thought it was cuz I hadn't learned anything profound about myself, or because I had stopped trying to learn anything profound about myself. Then I thought maybe it was age that caused the divide between Leslie of 2007 and Leslie of 2011.

And then I finally figured it out - I became a mom :) And not just to Daelen, but to Brytin, too. When we lived on OC, Brytin didn't stay with us but for a few days each month. But Since Feb 22, 2008, my days have been consumed with parent-type thoughts. How can I better handle this? Why is he doing that? How can Chris and I be a better team? What homework does he have this week?

And then I got pregnant and those thoughts quadrupled! I've spent almost a year now focused on all things baby. I read umpteen books learning all about babies and how best to do this that and the other. I contemplated how I would handle various situations. As a family, we discussed all the changes that would take place and how we could embrace them.

And now, as I reread those lessons I learned eons ago, I pray that my sons learn them thru me - earlier than I did.

Articles on HubPages

I have been writing in a journal ever since I was a in third grade. I have always enjoyed writing. In high school, that writing bug blossomed from horrible attempts at fiction, to commentary - non-fiction pieces that (hopefully) provide some insight about something you care about.

Back in the MySpace days, I wrote my first ever "blog." Chris and I were breaking up after six weeks of falling in love...

Over the next three years, I wrote occassionally. (Like five days later when Chris and I got back together!) Nothing consistent, and nothing ground-breaking. But at the same time, I wrote blogs that caused people to feel what I felt, learn what I learned and see what I saw. A lot of those Myspace blogs are difficult for me to read, because they are very emotion-filled about MY life. I can still see myself sitting at the computer crying about whatever, and writing my little heart out.

But, I saved them. I moved them to Blogger, because I figured I wouldn't be visiting MySpace much. Thus, in August 2009, the blog "Exercises in Writing" was born. I had always intended to write more, to write better, but sometimes life gets in the way. (See Our Two-Wheeled Adventure and Elementary Escapades for evidence!)

The same month, I stumbled upon HubPages.com. This website intends to be a source of information (like Wiki), but a writer's community, and at the same time a portal for blogs. Make no mistake, I have no ideas of grandeur about my writing "career." I write for me, I write for you, and if a stranger happens upon it - and learns something, sweet.

I more than likely will never write the book I always wanted to. I more than likely will never be a journalist. I more than likely will never be a world-renowned blogger. I'm okay with that :) I'm a wife, a stay-at-home-parent, a biker, a Christian, a daughter, a really great bargain hunter and a friend. Isn't that enough?!

So, all that to tell you that there are some articles I wrote on HubPages, that I think are pretty gosh darn awesome. Unfortunately, they did not get read much. I'll post them here for you to read at your leisure ;)

I hope you have an awesome day.

My favorite Hub articles:

America: Land of the Free?
Barack Obama: Nobel Laureate 2009
Gavin Newsom and Keith Bardwell: Heroes or Villains?

And finally, the article I wrote yesterday:
Voting Dress Code First Step in Restoring Respect

Answered Prayers

There are some things I do not write about on my blog. I know that may be surprising, considering the amount of very personal information that is on here, but a blog is not meant to be a diary. I do not write about all marriage issues, or all step-parenting issues, any financial issues, and I actually leave out a lot of family stuff...

The purpose of this particular blog is for you to read my writing. (I have another blog about motorcycling, one about my stepson and another about Scripture.)

Mostly, I write about lessons I have learned. I enjoy getting into the nitty gritty of experiences I have had to better understand my reaction, the human condition, and how to become a better person.

Well, this week, I have definitely learned a lot.

Most importantly, I learned that God is big enough to answer two very critical prayers regarding two different subjects on the SAME day!

I also learned that my husband will always take care of me when he is given the opportunity.

I realized that Brytin is truly the most amazingly beautifully awesome stepson I could have ever asked for.

And finally, I learned that cranberry sauce on a pork roast is VERY tasty :)

I hope you learn something today!!

School

A couple weeks ago, I made the choice to enroll in a writing school. I want to be a writer, a published writer. I've recently been working some internet avenues to make small amounts of money with my writing, but decided to enroll in a writing course that guarantees I will be published (or my money back).

I submitted my initial assignment (a personal profile), and then waited for my books to show up prior to moving on to my next assignment.

My books came today! Suddenly, I am overwhelmed, I am excited, I am nervous and I am curious. Can I really do this? Can I really write for profit? Am I good enough? Am I smart enough? Am I witty enough? Is what I have to say of any consequence to the world?

Does it matter? Am I writing for myself or for others? Am I writing for creative release or for an income?

Will I be able to find the time to do this? I know it sounds ludicrious - I don't work, but really my days are full! I am going to need to organize myself a little better if I am to write every day in addition to taking care of my home, my family, myself and various other responsibilities.

Today I received four assignments, six books and 7 CD/DVDs. WTF?! Six books? What about the books I am already reading - Becoming a Writer, How to Improve Your Marriage without Talking, Searching for God Knows What? Plus, I am supposed to be reading with Brytin every day!

I have been writing to this blog for exactly two months today. Not everyday, but a lot. I pour my heart and soul out every chance I get. I do not get much reaction. I do not know if anyone reads what I've written. I do not know if anyone is impacted by my efforts.

I have about a week to decide if I'm really going to go through with this schooling...I think my first decision needs to be to decide if I am writing for me or for you.

I've started reading the book "How to Improve Your Marriage Without Talking About It." See hubpages for Part I of my review.

I am very excited to announce that I finally feel as though my writing is having a positive impact on its readers! I have submitted some of my work to hubpages.com, which is a writer's forum of sorts, and I have received very positive reactions.

Also, thanks to all who have read my blogs - my blog comes up as #11 in a search for my name on yahoo and I'm all over page one of a google search for my name :)

Associating Positive Feelings with a Negative Incident

I was molested as a child. I know that is a pretty cliché statement for an emotionally dysfunctional female, but I have a unique tale to tell. I want to share it in case someone has experienced something similar and did NOT have the wise counsel I did to help me through it.

I never told anyone. I never wrote about in my journal. I never even really acknowledged it until 2003. I had moved back to Minnesota and was horribly depressed (NOT because I was molested, but because the sun never shines in that God-forsaken place). In an effort to clear out my head, I started writing daily. One random day in December, the subject came up.

Dec 16, 2003
There were at least 10 people I was intimate with by the time I was 10 years old. Some relatives, some females, some I was perfectly comfortable with (some were not so comfortable). Why does the fact that I was molested not seem to affect me?

When I was three years old, there was a man’s touch that I enjoyed, but it only happened once. For many years, I longed for him. Why is it that I have a love for him rather than a hate? How can I not be angry with him?

Why do I have the memory? Does he? If he does, I desperately want him to know that it is okay. He did not harm me – I feel as if he actually showed me love, care, compassion. That night in his bed is a good memory.

WTF is wrong with me?! How could I write/feel something so perverse? I was THREE YEARS OLD! Am I completely psychotic? Am I supposed to talk about this with someone?

If I ever feel led to say anything to anyone, I pray that I have the opportunity to tell him that it is okay. I would never want him to carry any burden about it…

This journal writing bothered me for quite some time. I didn’t understand. The whole thing was confusing to me. I wanted to know how I could be okay with someone wronging me in the worst possible way.

Soon after, I started to see a counselor for my depression. In March of 2004, I finally told her about the molestation and asked her all my questions. Her explanation was so very helpful to me. Her words brought me so much comfort and relief. She wasn’t able to answer all of my questions, but she brought enough closure to the issue that I have never looked back.

When a person is three-years-old, we are not mentally developed enough to know that sexual touch from an older person is wrong. If there is no physical pain involved, our bodies then associate a positive feeling with the incident. Only when we are older do we associate moral opinions with the incident (but yet still carry the positive physical feeling).

Because the touch was not painful, my body associated happy thoughts with intimacy. The fact that it happened again by someone else taught me that such activity was “common” or “acceptable,” “normal,” “okay.” This deleted the possibility that I would ever tell another adult, and so the molestations continued (and realize that sometimes, I was the aggressor).

The counselor went on to explain that when I was older, say 7 or 8, that I associated moral right or wrong and emotion with each incident. I re-created the memories to include whatever mentally developed thoughts I had. By that time, the repeated actions by others had ingrained in my mind that intimacy between two people – regardless of age or gender – was okay. Thus, deleting the possibility that I would ever tattle, and increasing my desire to have such intimate interactions with people.

There is NOTHING haywire with my brain. I am NOT psychotic! I just have a very different experience than most children who are molested.

http://www.childmolestationprevention.org/

Don’t misunderstand. There are side effects to my unique story. However, the side effects, I think, are of a completely different nature than most children who are molested. The most obvious of side effects is my ridiculous sex drive – seriously, like I could have relations with my husband four times a day if he was up for it. I believe this stems from my positive feeling associated with the first incident. I also place a LOT of importance on physical intimacy - much more than I should. I have a great fear of rejection, but only in regards to physical intimacy. Even so much as if my husband doesn’t kiss me the minute he sees me, I feel rejected. I know that my issues are still issues that I need to deal with. But truthfully, I think the abandonment by my father and the emotional abuse I suffered as a child had a much more lasting effect on my psyche than the fact that I was molested.

Thankfully, my counselor back in 2004 helped me see that I am not crazy. If you have dealt with molestation, please know I am sorry. But also know that there are a plethora of avenues to get help.

http://www.darkness2light.org/



Post Secret

Quick Shout Out

Just wanted to let you know, I made the front page of Blogs by Women Bloggers.

http://www.blogsbywomen.org/

I really really really want to write. I love it so much!

I also got a really cool comment today from someone who does NOT know me :) Thank you so much, CougarTales, for the encouragement!

Possible Side Effects

One of my most favorite books is “Possible Side Effects” by Augusten Burroughs. It is a book that randomly accounts the life of a man. The story is written in first person, and I don’t think the character’s name is ever stated. This writing style results in the reader never actually knowing if the book recounts the life of the author or someone else or if it is made up. Either way, this book is HILARIOUS. It makes me laugh out loud (just as much as Stephanie Plum!). If you have not read it, I recommend it.

Another reason I love this book, is because it is exactly the kind of book I want to write. I would record all of the things I remember in my life and add in the psychological aspects, the growth aspects, the spiritual aspects. Is there a market for this? Is it self-help or fiction? Will it be the autobiography I’ve always dreamed of writing? Would it have to be in chronological order? Would anyone learn anything from the circumstances I have dealt with in my life? Which ones do I include and which ones do I keep out? Are some things too private? With my book, I think the Possible Side Effects would be pissing off people who are included in the book. Would I be able to mask the truth (to protect my relationships) and still be able to convey my message (to help the reader grow)? Do I focus on childhood, teenage or adult years? Can I get three or four or five books out of my life? (I have three blogs, why not five books?)

I have memories that start when I was less than two years old. I know the memories are from this time, because my sisters left me when I was less than two years old. I also know that the memories are mine and not implanted by someone else or a photograph, because I have never told anyone these memories.

The very first memory I have is of my two sisters and I, late at night. We should have been sleeping, but instead we were all on the top bunk. We were giggling. And then we heard a door slam and Mandy said, “Uh oh, Brian is home.” And we were all instantly scared. We cowered in the top bunk together until all was quiet and then I climbed down the ladder and went to my bed. For most of my life, I thought we were scared because Brian was mean, because he had come home drunk and we thought we would be beaten. I think I assessed the situation this way based on what I learned of him growing up. Now that I have a toddler, I realize that we were probably scared because we knew we were doing something we were not supposed to be doing – we should have been sleeping!

My next memory actually includes my biological father. The details are hazy, but I was in his apartment. I can see the layout. I met his girlfriend, Lynn. She was tall and skinny and had long dark hair. I liked her. The same memory includes Rick dropping me off at my mom’s house on Louisiana Ave in Crystal. He was holding me. He had on a hat - brown leather. He had a mustache. I was happy.

Okay, not funny like Augusten Burroughs, but entertaining none the less. “Possible Side Effects” probably sold millions of copies. My book might not sell millions. But if one person learns from it, it would be worth all of the effort.

Revolutionized

Good morning!

I haven't written for a couple weeks. The Broussard house was a little chaotic with visitors and then Brytin starting kindergarten. I have, however, started quite a few rough drafts. Look for upcoming posts to include such riveting topics as:

An alternative ending to my 07/21 post which leads into great detail about my parents
My observations on the great impact adults unknowingly have on children
Fun at the beach
A crazy night of dreams I had
Freedom
Stonehenge
Things my mother taught me
And more!

I very much want to spend a lot of energy honing my writing skills. The only way that can happen is if I actually sit down and write. Starting today, that is going to happen! Look for a new post tomorrow :)

PS - it would be VERY helpful in my pursuit to improve my writing if you add your comments.

Saturday February 23, 2008

Nature vs. Nurture
Current mood:over it
Rick told Jess that for 7 years all he could think about in the silences of his world was "I need to bring my daughter home."
Jess asked him, "Did you ever once think that about Leslie?"
He matter-of-factly said, "No."
"Why? She's your daughter, too."
"Because she doesn't have the morals and values that you do."
And I cried. Not because there is a dillusional man and his family who are so wrong about me and don't care to correct their mindset. But because the man whom God chose to create me refuses to know me, to accept me and is so willing to believe the bad stuff, the lies.
I cry because the man whose blood runs through my veins is not a man who is worthy. I struggle with that today, because I've always given him the benefit of the doubt. Even last week, when Joe asked me "What kind of man is Rick?" I told him that to the best of knowledge, he is a stand-up guy. He has the best of intentions; he is just grossly misguided.
I dont know why, God, you have given me such a sunny disposition, such an infinite naivety. THREE times now this very week, my faith in people has been proven wrong. How am I so well-adjusted that I just let this stuff roll off my back? Seriously? Is it possible that I am just stuffing the emotion and will some day end up bitter? I don't think so. It is very easy for me to say, "Rick's loss," and accept the love of Mom, Brian, Jess, Joe, Chris, Amy, etc as more than enough to replace him. It's like you, God, My Heavenly Father, have filled the void created by that ridiculous man...
I cry because he is missing out. I cry because he is not living up to his God-given potential as a man, a father. I cry because, I am almost sure, You cry. He is a disappointment and I don't think You intended for him to be as such. I cry because it would seem as though Jesus is not in his heart...
And now I cry because I think of Brian...He did the best he could with what he had...And even though he's quite crazy and not always nice, he would never ever ever say that I am void of all moral character.
For many years, I was angry with him. Eventually, I got over it and accepted what the therapist said, "He did the best he could with what he had." And today, I feel as though I owe him a thank you, or an explanation, or credit...I'm assuming that from his perspective, he thinks I do not give him credit. He doesn't realize that I do, I have. Specifically, my thoughts are, "His methods were fucked up, but something he did was right, because I turned out to be an amazing woman. I love who I am, and I know Brian is a part of that."
I want him to know this. I want him to know I appreciate how much he adores my husband. It means so much to me that he was at our wedding.
I don't know if I have or ever will actually forgive him for the shit he has done, but the truth is, I have forgotten.
Lord, I thank you for all the beautiful people in my life today.

Sunday May 20, 2007

vomitting of the brain
Current mood: scared
Why is it sometimes so difficult? All I want is to be happy, but my brain seems to create all this drama...At the same time, I feel in my soul that I am not getting what I need out of life. How can I be so happy and so miserable at the same time? How can I respectfully, eloquently convey my thoughts and get ACTION? Not guilty action, but a stirring in the soul that says "its time to shit or get off the pot." How do I decide if I am fucked up or right? I know that there are manipulative mo'fos that would like me to believe its all in my head, but don't I know what I know? If its really how I feel, isn't it at least a real feeling? (Whether or not it is warranted or correct or whatever adjective you want to put there, it is at least a real feeling.)
If I know that I am not getting what I want, do I wait for it? That certainly isn't the advice I would give my sister...I'd say "Take action! Do what is best for YOU. Do what you think will make you happy and still be pleasing God." But is that what I would do? No. At least, that is not what I have done...I wait. I think I'll change, I'll conform, I'll settle, I'll mature. But I haven't, nor do I think I ever will.
I hate it when 80 percent of life is great and 20 percent is only tolerable. If that 20 percent were atrocious, it would be so much easier to make a move. But I have tolerated before, and that leaves me feeling empty, alone, broken and even ashamed.
Where do I go from here? I cant keep repeating this same vicious cycle. Seriously, only morons commit the same acts and expect different results...
Speaking of moron...I am not one. Seriously. I am not. People may want to believe that, but it is not the case. I often chose to ignore things, but I am not unaware that they exist. Truth is, I am ridiculously perceptive. For some reason God decided to give me that gift. I can make split second decisions and be spot on 98 percent of the time. I attest that to the Holy Spirit dwelling in me, guiding me, but whatever. Call it whatever you want, mine is insanely strong. It's not that I am a know-it-all, it's completely different than that. It's the Blink factor at its finest.
I try to be so uncomplicated, but really, I am girl's girl through and through. I can pick out the "girliness" that I hate in others so quickly, but when it comes right down to it, I am just as psycho. Why/How is that?
As I reflect on the last 28 years of my life, I would venture to say that it has all been the same. With or without Christ. With or without family. With or without a man. I'm still the same fucked up individual I was a child, a teen, a young adult. I still battle the same demons I did as a kid, as a daughter, as a wife, and as a should-have been mother. Depression, anxiety, self-esteem, histrionics, hyperbole, annoyance, frustration, anger, hormones, men issues, family issues, control issues, and so on and so forth. It doesn't matter if I am skinny, pretty, in school or not, in MN or Cali. I battle the same shit everyday.
Will I ever get this right, God? Will I ever be square? Not even happy, just even-keel?