To be free I had to own every single little bit of Indiana Jones Indy Trilogy shirt –of who she was and who we were together. And then just let the dust settle. So no matter who you are grieving–no matter how seemingly great or terrible–the person was human (and you are, too). Perfectly imperfect. Imperfectly perfect. No matter how trying the relationship was. No matter how seemingly spotless. No matter how much regret you have. Or how much blame you’ve taken in. It’s an evolution. We don’t get there immediately. It takes work. But it’s worth it.
I never believed in all that fairy tale shit. Ever. Even as a young girl. I never dreamed of “Prince Charming”, or having a happy ending. I never liked the crap that Disney shoved down our Indiana Jones Indy Trilogy shirt , especially, that princess bullshit. I’m not cynical, just realistic. As the years went by, finding a “Prince Charming” was still not on my to do list. I pretty much knew that finding a happy ending, with a man, was not in the cards for me. Nope, I was forever alone. Yay! No, really.
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ALL of us have been taken in at some point in our Indiana Jones Indy Trilogy shirt by someone who is psychopathic, whether or not we ever knew it. They’re very good chameleons. Even I, as a Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner, have had a few these types of people try to deceive and “fool” me. Fortunately they can’t keep up the acting very long and their true colors are quickly seen when you know to look for them. There is absolutely NO shame on us for having been fooled and used by them. They’ve made their way their entire life deceiving themselves and everyone else.
They carried on with their silly, evasive charade for a while longer. Frustrated, I announced I was going to bed. Indiana Jones Indy Trilogy shirt got up and sat next to me on the sofa. He looked at me intensely. It made me nervous. I really wanted to punch him. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet and fished in it for something. He pulled out a photo. ‘I’m not Andre Agassi, but you do know me.’ ‘O…kay…’ ‘The last time you saw me,’ he grinned, ‘I looked like this.’ He held up a small, black and white passport photo of my cousin, Ali, at age 5. I had not seen him or spoken to him since my childhood.