I almost died Wednesday night. Wednesday was my fifth day of being sick. Diagnosed with bronchitis and strep throat, I was officially laid up with Kleenex in hand, amoxicillin by my side and a raspy sexy voice that I wanted to take advantage of.
Forgiveness must come. It is the only way to heal yourself from the pain of betrayal. Eventually, you must forgive. Not only the perpetrator, but yourself.
Do you ever use your past as an excuse? Do you recite your past as proof that you aren't 'good enough' or don't think you can succeed at something? Is there any part of you that believes that if you didn't have your past, your life would be better? Here's a preview of my horrid past...
Twenty years after their deaths, on June 15th, I said to myself, "NO MORE." Here's what I've learned about "The Day that Changed Everything."
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