The one where I begin


On 2004-08-02 @ 1:35 p.m.

I�m not exactly sure how to start. I haven�t kept a journal in about two years now. So I will just start talking, who cares how I sound, I sure as hell don�t.

My reason for starting this journal is to be able to collect my thoughts. To show for myself how I truly feel about things in my life. My life is not complicated like so many others. It is not sad and depressing. I have a great life. I have a great husband and a wonderful daughter. I have a mother who thinks I hung the moon, and I think the same of her. I have a father who made mistakes in the past but is now a part of my life, and his wife is one of my best friends. I have three young sisters who are also loves of my life. So, in turn, I do not have a miserable dark life. I just basically want to vent. To write out my feelings, and open my thirdeye. I do not know who I am, and I do now know myself. I want to find myself and figure out who I am. The only thing I know about myself is that I am Amanda, Kailee�s mother and Tommy�s wife. That is how I live my life everyday. I wake up to take care of my wonderful daughter and show her that she is protected under my wing. And also to please my husband.

Right now in my life, I do not know what I want to do, and I do not know what I believe. Like stated before, I only know that I am a mother and husband. I do not work, and stay at home with my daughter. I live in Idaho. Horrible place really. There is nothing here. My husband is in the United States Air Force. I do not really like it either. But he takes care of us. We have a roof over our head and food in our mouth because he joined the service.

I have been described as a �Broken Angel�. I can�t figure out why that is. I have been blessed in so many ways in my life. Why am I broken? I want to know.

Whatever my reason for starting this journal doesn�t matter. I just want to find myself. I want to know who I am. I feel that writing is therapy for me. Because I have few friends and no family in Idaho, I must have something that is mine. Something to call my own, and that is what this is.





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