here its the irony, anonymous and others.

this was just a snippet in time - maybe a thirty minute episode.  A significant one to me, and one I am still processing.  The pain was very real and there are still remnants and echoes and deepenings from it even today, nearly two weeks later.

Is what we had over?

No, it isn't.

Is it bad that I experienced this level of profound pain?

No, it isn't.

Will we always see eye-to-eye and heart-to-heart and soul-to-soul to those we are the closest?

No, we won't.

And it is all fine. It is all a process.

One of my deepest needs, personally, is to be known for who I am, not for being anyone else.  I tried to be someone else for years and it didn't work out very well.

Blog posts are, at times, little snippets of time that don't include a PS or a "what comes next" - if this post did, you would know much more. 

I just loved the writing as it flowed from me and it felt important to post it. 

I was reminded earlier when I was on my walk that my mother told me when I was a young woman that I shouldn't ever write things down, that people would get angry and my words would come back to haunt me.  Then she would say, in the next breath, "You need to be a writer." Talk about confusing.

I have wondered since publicly putting these words out there if I should have kept them in my morning pages notebook, for my eyes only.  I have to stay with trusting my heart and knowing that for whatever reason, I was supposed to share these publicly, for others as well as myself.

Nothing was lost this night, there was only gain.  There were two human beings sorting through life's many intriguing twists and turns.