For several years I have been journaling my ass off each morning trying to get myself through rough patches with the hubby, two smart assed kids, a terrible job and the wonderful transformation of my body from a svelte 26-year-old head turner to a pudgy 50-year-old head turner (only the other way now).
I told myself that by journaling all of the bad decisions that I make and mistakes that I stumbled through, I could somehow forgive myself and move on with my life. Well, the time has come for me to finally accept something critical: fuck forgiveness. I don’t need it and I don’t want or yearn for it anymore.
It is about time that I, and now you too, stop analyzing every-fucking-thing that we do and dreamily plan for how we can be saved by someone else’s judgment and ultimately, forgiveness. I have slowly realized that by making these mistakes, I have really lived life. Sometimes my bad choices have caused me heartache and pain, but sometimes they have allowed me to laugh my ass off with truly wonderful and psychotic human beings that I call true friends.
If you choose to follow and read this blog, know that I am consciously making the bad choice to use profanity, along with course and sometimes gross descriptions. But that is life, not just my life, but a lot of other people out there in this great big screwed up world. I want to journal every day about how I have screwed up in life; what lessons I have learned and what lessons I am choosing to ignore.
Not sure about you, but I was one of those people who used to follow those bloggers named “Emily” and “Jessica” who blogged about how wonderful their homes looked and their blonde-haired blue-eyed babies seemed only to shit yellow hued daffodils that could then easily be turned into door wreaths. Not anymore, that isn’t real life. Not my real life. But if it is yours, follow “Emily” and “Jessica” and not me. Or in other words, Fuck off.