One Wee Spark

Maybe you've wandered over accidentally; you're blessed not to have a parent who hoards. That's not to say that your life is perfect. I know we all take our lumps. But it's entirely possible you've wandered to my little corner of the world, and you wonder... What's the big deal about growing up in a home chock-full of stuff? It's just stuff, right? Only it's not. It never was just stuff; it will never be about the stuff. I distanced myself from my mother less because of the embarrassment about the house and the stuff, and primarily because of the way life feels in the hoarded home.

Warning--this is a very LONG post. Just a heads up.  For almost two and a half years now, I have set out each day to make my life one worth living, not by changing who I am, but instead by learning to love the real me and to give up on the "ideal" me. I'm never going to be that person. It's like Sheryl Crow said: It's not about getting what you want It's about wanting what you got I've spent so much time and effort at this. And yet today, for some inexplicable reason, the weight of codependency has fallen heavy on me.

It's drives my husband crazy when we go to bed, but I find the sound of a ticking clock very comforting and relaxing. Perhaps it reminds me of my mother's heartbeat in utero? I don't know. It just is what it is.