Feb 23
If you came to find a positive post today, let me for warn you, although the destination positive, it will journey through some of the dark places I seem to have found myself during my everyday struggle forward. This mental space happens to many of us at some point in our lives, whether we choose to share it, or keep it private is solely our discretion. I am hoping that through sharing that is will give me a firm patchwork of where I am, how I got here, and how to get out; and at the same time maybe add some relief to many of you out there that you are not alone during those trying times, even when it feels like you are, someone has ventured there before you.
Today I found myself in a bit of a mental conundrum. Much of this isn’t something that happened over night, but over many years.
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Feb 02
I was heading out to the store last night to grab some food. Along my way, I came across a bread truck sitting by the side of the road, and I couldn’t help but think of one of my fondest memories of my Dad and I. He had worked the overnight shift for a bread company dropping off loaves of bread to the local supermarkets, and deli’s. My father was always one to do whatever it took to make sure ends were to meet at home. This would of course sometimes interfere with some of our personal time. But Dad was always one to make sure one way or another family didn’t take a back seat. My father one day asked me if I would like to join him during the overnights on the weekends to help deliver bread. I can’t even remember how old I was, but I had jumped at the chance. I can remember many a night riding in that big truck, getting orders ready, dropping them off in their bins or bringing them into the supermarket, and then falling asleep on the way home on the shelves of the truck. To this day I can still remember the smell of the bread, standing by the open door of the truck, and just chilling with Dad.
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