From my journal dated January 16, 2003:
Sometimes I think I must sound like a broken record – drained, sad, exhausted, depleted, broken-hearted, lonely, alone, guarded, trying not to be bitter, trying to keep going. And most of all I miss my boy so much! I feel like the record is stuck, and I don’t know how to un-stick it. It’s like I’m stuck in a vat of molasses – no matter how much I try to move forward, I can’t seem to find firm ground.
© 2011 Rebecca R. Carney