I have a lot of feelings on this sunny (finally) Super Bowl Sunday. I feel the need to explain myself a bit regarding my writings. I write because I have to. It is a need deep within my soul, my heart, my mind. Take your pick. I think any can apply.

I loved a man. Sometimes I hated a man. I thought about divorcing a man countless times. I learned to accept a man. A man learned to accept me. All of that is fact. I lost that man at 37 years of age. There are so many different feelings regarding that man and losing that man. Love, loss, grief, rage, guilt, relief, pain, happiness, sadness, pity, hate, humor, loneliness, exhaustion, hope – the list is endless. Real, human feelings and emotions that I can’t, don’t know how and don’t want to express face to face with even my closest, favorite and most trusted people.

I write. I write what is in my heart. And I share what I write because maybe somebody else needs to read it. Maybe those closest, favorite and most trusted people get a better understanding of what I can’t share verbally. And maybe they don’t. This is about me, though. How I cope. I share my rage and anger. I share my happiness. I share my love. I share my guilt. This is my safe place. The place that is just for me. My own form of therapy. How I get through the day to day life without that man. I do not write to offend, although my writings can be offensive. My writing is selfish. I am self-absorbed in my pain and in my joy and in my release and getting all of the swirling, a lot of times contradictory, messy, beautiful and often inappropriately hilarious feelings that are racing through my body every minute of every day.

My writings can be funny, they can be exaggerated, they can be morose, they can have many typographical errors because the words start coming out so fast that they sometimes don’t make sense and I often times don’t have the time to go back and proofread even though proofreading is one my favorite things to do. I’ve heard my writing can provoke feelings in others. I’ve heard they can be helpful to others. I’ve heard that they can piss others off. Please know, I am not writing to upset anyone. It’s not about you. It’s about me. Selfish, self loving and self hating me. These are my stories, my thoughts, my life. I curse. A lot. I cry. A lot. I laugh. A lot. And I share. A lot. I turn my filter off when I sit at my computer screen and I let my fingers (and my mind/heart/soul) do the rest. It’s never pretty or eloquent but it’s real. My reality (other than those exaggerated bits but we all know I love a good laugh!).

What I ask of you is to read it if you wish. Or don’t. But please, take it for what it is. My world. My life. My feelings. My children’s world and life and feelings. We are on a constant roller coaster. Up, down, up, up, down, up, down, down, down, up (ok, I don’t know what roller coaster has that many peaks and valleys but you get the point). That is life. We love the good, work through the bad and embrace the in between.

I write. I write because I have to. I write because it helps me. And right now, I’ll take all the help I can get.