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Love.

Uncomfortable.

Unconditional...after I forgave.

I hate love at times.

I continue to reconcile with what my therapist schooled me on.

I still have tremors and screams that ...are....just there.

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Boy, do I understand that. Nothing can bring us to our knees like love, can it? The poet Yeats once said, "Why do we honor those who die upon the field of battle when a man may show as reckless a courage by entering the abyss of himself."

And I agree with that.

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"Learn how to read the road signs" -- I'm not sure that is exactly the nature of my failing. I can read them just fine, I just can't believe them. I chalk it up to a toxic degree of loyalty, but I may be flattering myself. But by the time I have to walk out the door (and it has usually, but not always, been me) it is only because the accumulation of emotional wreckage is so great that even I am no longer able to deny it.

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It is SO HARD to deal with the issues as they arise. The timing is never right. We're tired. We're bristling for a fight, not a negotiation. And yet ... if we keep sweeping problems under the rug, eventually, we stumble over them. Hard. Sometimes fatally.

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I’m not certain what flavor I am, but after two broken marriages and a shit-ton of failed relationships, it finally dawned on me that THEY weren’t the “problem.” Once I did the work to “fix” what needed to be fixed, I learned that I was lovable and worthy of love. What a novel concept, eh?? I’m with someone who loves me for who I am...because I (most of the time) love me for who I am. Simple...and yet not so simple.

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What's great about you, Jack, is that you finally figured it out. A lot of people don't. You might even know those people.

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