I expect the worst but I keep getting the best.

I think my kids might get hurt and die.

I think I will be fired.

I think my husband is a homo because he is such a snazzy dresser.

I think I am poor.

I think I am not supported.

My mother is dead.

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They are here in my arms.

I have been doing what I love for 15 years.

He told me it would be more likely he will cheat on me with the 16 year old babysitter.

I have affordable and reliable 2 bedroom, 2 level, no rodent, clean and quiet housing.

I have lots of friends, family and a dog that would totally bawl their eyes out and maybe even beat their chests if I died.

I got to spend time with her and prepare for it rather than be blindsided.

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You are not only what you think you are.

The universe is so much smarter than that.

Your life is so much grander and gorgeous and blessed than the shit inside your head.

Uncomfortable as it is, I know, you better learn to accept all this beauty because it’s going to keep coming for you.

You might as well try to feel the warmth.

But I’m used to difficult. I know how to feel pain.

Isn’t it funny how the most challenging thing really is to figure out how to hold all the light.

It’s almost too heavy to bear.

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Because even with the pushing and flailing and arguing and commiserating…

I expect the worst and I keep getting the best.

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God(dess) keeps proving me wrong.

How annoyingly incredible is that?

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