<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5213238652828437094</id><updated>2025-04-20T03:55:29.413-07:00</updated><title type='text'>forEverAfter</title><subtitle type='html'>Living the dream...with occasional nightmares!  Striving to make the second part of my life as wonderful, romantic, and fulfilling as the first - or perhaps even better!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03030295688346508547</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1P8mY918CMS7bRcDqlqfipDZLbVzucuHywuOc6jfsJVzsGyANqLjKJ4hCx-8YJMOLPM_Kw-yId3Bc4sFObNByqYyrta2HMVOHoeXlBmTRMlN_FIiQuTgIYBTpl17sjTAmLma9gLM2Y4qr9nnj6gGCfLT2iQH_8wCnpCSxKFBrocSVXHg/s220/EABF5079-8E61-4270-9A27-41036F924BE6.jpeg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5213238652828437094.post-5560264157191992815</id><published>2013-11-10T06:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2013-11-10T06:57:04.849-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Re-Living</title><content type='html'>This morning I watched an interview of some of the members of the Wounded Warriors Band. &amp;nbsp;Watched as a young man who has lost both legs and his right arm describe himself as more whole than ever before. &amp;nbsp;Singing Halleleujah, he described the feeling as his life and dreams crumbled around him and yet he has found new purpose and joy.&lt;br /&gt;
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And so I remembered my musings on losing my dream life. &amp;nbsp;Mourning what I have lost. &amp;nbsp;Grieving over what I had and have no more. &amp;nbsp;Basically giving up on life and the overwhelming sense of hopelessness.&lt;br /&gt;
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What timing that this segment should be on television at the exact moment my husband and I were watching. &amp;nbsp;Because I had not just written my thoughts but had shared them with him. &amp;nbsp;Probably not what his therapist would list as a supportive gesture.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Because what happened to me watching those brave young men who have lost so much and yet find joy is that I realized that perhaps the life I lost was not the one I was meant to have. &amp;nbsp;Perhaps the answer is that this is the new dream. &amp;nbsp;The new path I have been directed to. &amp;nbsp;How can I question what I have suffered when I still have so much.&lt;br /&gt;
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I still have my husband and my son. &amp;nbsp;And if they have changed, perhaps that is what life should be. &amp;nbsp;Constant change, growth, redirecting. &amp;nbsp;Appreciating what is here and finding a new dream. &amp;nbsp;Having faith and trusting is difficult for me. &amp;nbsp;So perhaps this is learning to trust.&lt;br /&gt;
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I do have hope. &amp;nbsp;But not that I will get back what I have lost. &amp;nbsp;Instead, I will hope that I will find joy once again with what I have now.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Halleleujah!&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/feeds/5560264157191992815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5213238652828437094/5560264157191992815?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default/5560264157191992815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default/5560264157191992815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/2013/11/re-living.html' title='Re-Living'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03030295688346508547</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1P8mY918CMS7bRcDqlqfipDZLbVzucuHywuOc6jfsJVzsGyANqLjKJ4hCx-8YJMOLPM_Kw-yId3Bc4sFObNByqYyrta2HMVOHoeXlBmTRMlN_FIiQuTgIYBTpl17sjTAmLma9gLM2Y4qr9nnj6gGCfLT2iQH_8wCnpCSxKFBrocSVXHg/s220/EABF5079-8E61-4270-9A27-41036F924BE6.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5213238652828437094.post-573592317929301392</id><published>2013-11-09T19:58:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2013-11-09T20:21:28.235-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Self-fulfilling Prophecy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;Reading the previous posts I came upon the one about reaching out. &amp;nbsp;I questioned why, when I am sad or hurt or afraid I turn away from him instead of looking to him for comfort and support. &amp;nbsp;And I proposed that I was afraid to trust him...afraid that if I did I would find that when I needs him he was not there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;I had a wonderful life...for about 5 seconds. &amp;nbsp;Not that I would trade all the years we have had together. &amp;nbsp;But there had been hard times. &amp;nbsp;I prayed for peace, and finally I felt it. &amp;nbsp;We had been through hell and had come out on the other side better, stronger, and finally together. &amp;nbsp;A true marriage, physically, spiritually and emotionally.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;And I loved my life. &amp;nbsp;He bought a motorcycle...his dream come true. &amp;nbsp;And we rode...just like in the commercials.. He and I together, riding down the road...off into the sunset. &amp;nbsp;Carefree and happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;We had raised our children and they were on their own. &amp;nbsp;Our nest was far from empty, filled with laughter and love, friends and family. &amp;nbsp;There were magical trips midweek when the rest of the world was working. &amp;nbsp;We played and had so much fun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;Summer nights on the deck, listening to music and drinking wine. &amp;nbsp;I saw my girlfriends and we entertained. &amp;nbsp;We joined a gym and worked out together, enjoying the sweat and admiring the results. We felt healthier and younger than we had in years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;I had the dream come true. &amp;nbsp;And I loved it. &amp;nbsp;I told everyone how much I loved my life. &amp;nbsp;Was that what I did wrong? &amp;nbsp;Is that what happened? &amp;nbsp;Because I lost it. &amp;nbsp;All of it. &amp;nbsp;My wonderful, beautiful life has been disrupted, displaced, destroyed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;The events of the last 3 years have taken everything I had. &amp;nbsp;I lost my sense of peace, my laughter, my dreams. &amp;nbsp;I lost the trust I had finally built. &amp;nbsp;I turned around and it is gone, replaced by sadness, fear, and hopelessness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;Events have happened that have changed things, changing people, forever? &amp;nbsp;I don&#39;t know. &amp;nbsp;I don&#39;t know why it happened. &amp;nbsp;I don&#39;t know what else is going to come or if I will be able to survive. &amp;nbsp;So many depending on me and I don&#39;t want it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;This is not my life. &amp;nbsp;I want it back. &amp;nbsp;And I don&#39;t know how to get it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
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&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/feeds/573592317929301392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5213238652828437094/573592317929301392?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default/573592317929301392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default/573592317929301392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/2013/11/self-fulfilling-prophecy_9.html' title='Self-fulfilling Prophecy'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03030295688346508547</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1P8mY918CMS7bRcDqlqfipDZLbVzucuHywuOc6jfsJVzsGyANqLjKJ4hCx-8YJMOLPM_Kw-yId3Bc4sFObNByqYyrta2HMVOHoeXlBmTRMlN_FIiQuTgIYBTpl17sjTAmLma9gLM2Y4qr9nnj6gGCfLT2iQH_8wCnpCSxKFBrocSVXHg/s220/EABF5079-8E61-4270-9A27-41036F924BE6.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5213238652828437094.post-8767983575220044592</id><published>2013-11-09T19:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2013-11-10T06:56:14.619-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reaching Out, Closing In - 2012</title><content type='html'>I always advised my children that the person you should be with is the one who makes everything better just by being with you. &amp;nbsp;When the day has been the worse day and you can&#39;t wait to go home, knowing that when you are in his arms you will be able to breathe. &amp;nbsp;And I have been so blessed to have that connection with my husband. &amp;nbsp;But then why is it when I am afraid, or sad, or worried I turn away? &amp;nbsp;Instead of wanting his reassurance and compassion, I want distance, retreating to the private place where I can hold all my emotions in. &amp;nbsp;Is it not having learned to share, or is it fear to trust him and then have him not be there.&lt;br /&gt;
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It is so unfair to him, I know. &amp;nbsp;All he wants is to help and I become a tense, angry, impatient woman that he wants to run and hide from. &amp;nbsp;The very reason to be in a relationship is to not be alone when the world turns upside down. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/feeds/8767983575220044592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5213238652828437094/8767983575220044592?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default/8767983575220044592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default/8767983575220044592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/2013/11/reaching-out-closing-in.html' title='Reaching Out, Closing In - 2012'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03030295688346508547</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1P8mY918CMS7bRcDqlqfipDZLbVzucuHywuOc6jfsJVzsGyANqLjKJ4hCx-8YJMOLPM_Kw-yId3Bc4sFObNByqYyrta2HMVOHoeXlBmTRMlN_FIiQuTgIYBTpl17sjTAmLma9gLM2Y4qr9nnj6gGCfLT2iQH_8wCnpCSxKFBrocSVXHg/s220/EABF5079-8E61-4270-9A27-41036F924BE6.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5213238652828437094.post-935286255103915092</id><published>2011-05-19T07:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-04T17:27:54.350-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Togetherness</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Helvetica Neue&#39;, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;There was a time when hubbie would go on his golf weekends with the boys (or bowling, etc) and I would look forward to having ME time.  You know, hanging with the kids, no cooking, catching up with girlfriends.  But I have noticed that in this new era I seem to be at a loss when he is gone.  Something is missing, and I don&#39;t mean just his adorable snoring, and I find myself being almost overcome with melancholy.  Perhaps the difference is in my youth I had no sense of mortality and saw unlimited time together.  Now I get a little glimpse of what life would be like without him and it fills me with dread.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPnwd66zwI7uNZD6Cus1uZm8ajaNHl10yhx_ZEmeeTTBHInFbz21xft-KVwrTQyivoSNbT9Wc3gcXShmzGLBQ9dVz3RT_TUs1xJLrVdS0PvGPQhdF_B32t8-RWMi0RVpHQP3ezX_hrZkch/s1600/35320_1384120481541_1187867121_30892430_1999928_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Helvetica Neue&#39;, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;150&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPnwd66zwI7uNZD6Cus1uZm8ajaNHl10yhx_ZEmeeTTBHInFbz21xft-KVwrTQyivoSNbT9Wc3gcXShmzGLBQ9dVz3RT_TUs1xJLrVdS0PvGPQhdF_B32t8-RWMi0RVpHQP3ezX_hrZkch/s200/35320_1384120481541_1187867121_30892430_1999928_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;200&quot; /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Helvetica Neue&#39;, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;Yes, I have wonderful friends and family who offer to spend time with me and bonding with my son is a welcome bonus.  But the truth is, my life is dependent on that goofy guy who is thoroughly enjoying his second childhood and has never had a happier time.  I know I should follow his lead and become involved with the new world now available to us.  But with the children grown and most of my friends still working I find myself with many hours with nothing to fill them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Helvetica Neue&#39;, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Helvetica Neue&#39;, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;So....enough of this pity party.  I need to follow my own favorite philosophy - &quot;in the midst of my darkness I found the sun within myself&quot;. &amp;nbsp;Note it says &#39;my&#39; darkness. &amp;nbsp;I believe we are each responsible for our own happiness and to put that on someone else is not only unfair but impossible. &amp;nbsp;I will become involved in the pursuit of fulfillment and satisfaction. &amp;nbsp;Perhaps by looking to help others instead of wallowing in self pity I will make my life more meaningful. &amp;nbsp;Here goes.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/feeds/935286255103915092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5213238652828437094/935286255103915092?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default/935286255103915092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default/935286255103915092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/2011/05/togetherness.html' title='Togetherness'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03030295688346508547</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1P8mY918CMS7bRcDqlqfipDZLbVzucuHywuOc6jfsJVzsGyANqLjKJ4hCx-8YJMOLPM_Kw-yId3Bc4sFObNByqYyrta2HMVOHoeXlBmTRMlN_FIiQuTgIYBTpl17sjTAmLma9gLM2Y4qr9nnj6gGCfLT2iQH_8wCnpCSxKFBrocSVXHg/s220/EABF5079-8E61-4270-9A27-41036F924BE6.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPnwd66zwI7uNZD6Cus1uZm8ajaNHl10yhx_ZEmeeTTBHInFbz21xft-KVwrTQyivoSNbT9Wc3gcXShmzGLBQ9dVz3RT_TUs1xJLrVdS0PvGPQhdF_B32t8-RWMi0RVpHQP3ezX_hrZkch/s72-c/35320_1384120481541_1187867121_30892430_1999928_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5213238652828437094.post-2113043285206848610</id><published>2011-05-16T15:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-20T15:54:05.268-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Did I mention...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlYYdAhhSfM9gcM0Poro9jmtLG9kACmHp45GeChKcv47VoW9rzvP9abb5f3ZdpFh4iUEyowU2_f2ybctzpk95cip6CTwu_VuKunGj-me9rhwY2ocWHZbcOqtHxcRrRYO7ASlPojrugVY-I/s1600/n1187867121_30178016_992961.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;150&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlYYdAhhSfM9gcM0Poro9jmtLG9kACmHp45GeChKcv47VoW9rzvP9abb5f3ZdpFh4iUEyowU2_f2ybctzpk95cip6CTwu_VuKunGj-me9rhwY2ocWHZbcOqtHxcRrRYO7ASlPojrugVY-I/s200/n1187867121_30178016_992961.jpg&quot; width=&quot;200&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;that I love, love, love my husband? &amp;nbsp;Yes, he has his moments. &amp;nbsp;Like planning a golf weekend on my birthday. &amp;nbsp;But then he ends up having a terrible time because he feels so guilty. &amp;nbsp;I honestly don&#39;t try to make him feel bad. &amp;nbsp;I know he is not the only man to schedule things without thinking. &amp;nbsp;But I guess we have our ways, don&#39;t we. &amp;nbsp;Anyway, he is wonderful at trying to make things up to me, overcompensating for the amount of time he has been gone. &amp;nbsp;Finding just the perfect card that sums up his feelings and getting that tear in his left eye as he tries to hold back. &amp;nbsp;A man that feels so much emotion he struggles to contain it is one in a million. &amp;nbsp;And being someone who has always tried to box up feelings and tuck them away, I appreciate his openness. &amp;nbsp;Just when I decide I am a strong, independent &amp;nbsp;woman, he comes home and wraps me in his arms and I realize there is nowhere else I would rather be.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Did I mention that?</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/feeds/2113043285206848610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5213238652828437094/2113043285206848610?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default/2113043285206848610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default/2113043285206848610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/2011/05/did-i-mention.html' title='Did I mention...'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03030295688346508547</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1P8mY918CMS7bRcDqlqfipDZLbVzucuHywuOc6jfsJVzsGyANqLjKJ4hCx-8YJMOLPM_Kw-yId3Bc4sFObNByqYyrta2HMVOHoeXlBmTRMlN_FIiQuTgIYBTpl17sjTAmLma9gLM2Y4qr9nnj6gGCfLT2iQH_8wCnpCSxKFBrocSVXHg/s220/EABF5079-8E61-4270-9A27-41036F924BE6.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlYYdAhhSfM9gcM0Poro9jmtLG9kACmHp45GeChKcv47VoW9rzvP9abb5f3ZdpFh4iUEyowU2_f2ybctzpk95cip6CTwu_VuKunGj-me9rhwY2ocWHZbcOqtHxcRrRYO7ASlPojrugVY-I/s72-c/n1187867121_30178016_992961.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5213238652828437094.post-8575671589943113310</id><published>2011-05-13T14:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-20T15:55:10.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday to me?</title><content type='html'>Yes, today is my birthday. &amp;nbsp;Funny how our day once was a day to celebrate and now it is a reminder of how many years have passed. &amp;nbsp;Sometimes I feel like a got a very late start...being a good wife, friend, daughter, and sister. &amp;nbsp;If only I knew then what I know now, or more accurately if I had felt the way I do now years ago. &amp;nbsp;Confident, generous, kind, trusting, and open have come very late to me, accomplished by facing devastation and years of therapy. &amp;nbsp;I now understand why I have taken the paths I have and am so grateful that with all of my detours I have ended up here. &amp;nbsp;I thank God that I have not only been given a second chance, but a third, fourth, fifth...oh, who&#39;s counting. &amp;nbsp;And not just God, but my husband, parents, children, and friends. &amp;nbsp;There were many years I really did not see this coming - this life filled with people who care and really like me. &amp;nbsp;I know, I sound like Sally Field, but it is true. &amp;nbsp;They say you have to love yourself before others can love you, but if that were true I would have had no one.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1BFHB0FH8_ezIbwk3x-e2YWURi0HDY-xccZkgUrD3YD9f4RkO_oKdwFbMAzg-52vqE-cfD73rloiO2IGqKHnUTOlil57hU6W9f3Ffhzn4H7MkNCq23fgbGe1RBKryr2lHl2pFHf7QeVLx/s1600/26908_1423482064088_1143836722_1242537_1515182_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;150&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1BFHB0FH8_ezIbwk3x-e2YWURi0HDY-xccZkgUrD3YD9f4RkO_oKdwFbMAzg-52vqE-cfD73rloiO2IGqKHnUTOlil57hU6W9f3Ffhzn4H7MkNCq23fgbGe1RBKryr2lHl2pFHf7QeVLx/s200/26908_1423482064088_1143836722_1242537_1515182_n.jpg&quot; width=&quot;200&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Now, I feel differently. &amp;nbsp;And instead of dreading this day I am grateful for a renewal of spirit, an appreciation for what I have, and the opportunity to embrace and revel in each day I am given. &amp;nbsp;So.....Happy Birthday to Me.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/feeds/8575671589943113310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5213238652828437094/8575671589943113310?isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default/8575671589943113310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default/8575671589943113310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/2011/05/happy-birthday-to-me.html' title='Happy Birthday to me?'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03030295688346508547</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1P8mY918CMS7bRcDqlqfipDZLbVzucuHywuOc6jfsJVzsGyANqLjKJ4hCx-8YJMOLPM_Kw-yId3Bc4sFObNByqYyrta2HMVOHoeXlBmTRMlN_FIiQuTgIYBTpl17sjTAmLma9gLM2Y4qr9nnj6gGCfLT2iQH_8wCnpCSxKFBrocSVXHg/s220/EABF5079-8E61-4270-9A27-41036F924BE6.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1BFHB0FH8_ezIbwk3x-e2YWURi0HDY-xccZkgUrD3YD9f4RkO_oKdwFbMAzg-52vqE-cfD73rloiO2IGqKHnUTOlil57hU6W9f3Ffhzn4H7MkNCq23fgbGe1RBKryr2lHl2pFHf7QeVLx/s72-c/26908_1423482064088_1143836722_1242537_1515182_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5213238652828437094.post-1356153641809445132</id><published>2011-05-08T17:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T16:35:15.137-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother&#39;s Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FlWwMoTh586qS1VTJnnnSFhiFQXjPBvDYkor_zpzPq9M_7mY_pMQKIpO086LDiTzvYN0HgERTamp0LRdca1AKUl19sCe2vOPb6va2n4vQ1kibCFlqJ9JnqxuvbwSx5n9skx0hLo3Ytb6/s1600/191143_1933623577307_1143836722_2385801_785830_o.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;240&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FlWwMoTh586qS1VTJnnnSFhiFQXjPBvDYkor_zpzPq9M_7mY_pMQKIpO086LDiTzvYN0HgERTamp0LRdca1AKUl19sCe2vOPb6va2n4vQ1kibCFlqJ9JnqxuvbwSx5n9skx0hLo3Ytb6/s320/191143_1933623577307_1143836722_2385801_785830_o.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;So today was another Mother&#39;s Day. &amp;nbsp;What I don&#39;t understand is why a mother is working her proverbial *** off cleaning, cooking, baking, shopping when it is supposed to be her day? &amp;nbsp;I am the Mother and yet it is one of the most exhausting days of the year. &amp;nbsp;Didn&#39;t anyone think, when they were creating this Hallmark Holiday, to make rules? &amp;nbsp;Like - if it is Mother&#39;s Day, all those who are not the mother should be doing the cooking, cleaning, baking, etc. And the Mothers get to relax, be pampered, and enjoy their day. &amp;nbsp;Obviously the creator of this holiday was not a mother - not even a woman. &amp;nbsp;It was a man who said, yes - let&#39;s honor all the mothers in the world by having a day to be presented with cards and flowers and they in turn can cook us a great meal! &amp;nbsp;What a great idea????&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;So next year, I think I will take my Mother and we will take Mother&#39;s Day off. &amp;nbsp;Go away somewhere so we can relax and rest. &amp;nbsp;Oh, and the cards and flowers? &amp;nbsp;Give them to your Dad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/feeds/1356153641809445132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5213238652828437094/1356153641809445132?isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default/1356153641809445132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default/1356153641809445132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/2011/05/mothers-day.html' title='Mother&#39;s Day'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03030295688346508547</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1P8mY918CMS7bRcDqlqfipDZLbVzucuHywuOc6jfsJVzsGyANqLjKJ4hCx-8YJMOLPM_Kw-yId3Bc4sFObNByqYyrta2HMVOHoeXlBmTRMlN_FIiQuTgIYBTpl17sjTAmLma9gLM2Y4qr9nnj6gGCfLT2iQH_8wCnpCSxKFBrocSVXHg/s220/EABF5079-8E61-4270-9A27-41036F924BE6.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FlWwMoTh586qS1VTJnnnSFhiFQXjPBvDYkor_zpzPq9M_7mY_pMQKIpO086LDiTzvYN0HgERTamp0LRdca1AKUl19sCe2vOPb6va2n4vQ1kibCFlqJ9JnqxuvbwSx5n9skx0hLo3Ytb6/s72-c/191143_1933623577307_1143836722_2385801_785830_o.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5213238652828437094.post-4439133091230244097</id><published>2011-03-24T16:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-24T16:06:37.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Explanation</title><content type='html'>Don&#39;t get me wrong - the first part of my life was amazing. &amp;nbsp;I married the love of my life and we were blessed with two beautiful children. &amp;nbsp;I was able to be a stay-at-home Mom and enjoyed every minute of it. &amp;nbsp;Oh, of course there were troubles, but nothing that we could not get through. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The years whizzed by and before we knew it our children were adults with their own wonderful lives. &amp;nbsp;As that time drew nearer I occasionally had the random thought of what would happen after they left. &amp;nbsp;I had spent years making them my world with my husband waiting patiently on the sidelines. &amp;nbsp;As we entered the teenage years, he wanted to make plans of what we would do when the nest became empty. &amp;nbsp;I, of course, could not imagine that happening and tried to pretend that everything would always be the same. I don&#39;t react well to change, and I dug in my heels, refusing to contemplate a world without my little ones. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then it happened! &amp;nbsp;They grew up and left me...with Him! &amp;nbsp;Panic set in and for the first few months I donned mourning clothes and proceeded to grieve for my life. &amp;nbsp;Really made Him feel great, I&#39;m sure.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/feeds/4439133091230244097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/5213238652828437094/4439133091230244097?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default/4439133091230244097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5213238652828437094/posts/default/4439133091230244097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tess-foreverafter.blogspot.com/2011/03/explanation.html' title='Explanation'/><author><name>Tessa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03030295688346508547</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1P8mY918CMS7bRcDqlqfipDZLbVzucuHywuOc6jfsJVzsGyANqLjKJ4hCx-8YJMOLPM_Kw-yId3Bc4sFObNByqYyrta2HMVOHoeXlBmTRMlN_FIiQuTgIYBTpl17sjTAmLma9gLM2Y4qr9nnj6gGCfLT2iQH_8wCnpCSxKFBrocSVXHg/s220/EABF5079-8E61-4270-9A27-41036F924BE6.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>