I realized last night, sitting on Scare Bear's porch after assisting in the making of a fine, mostly-fried meal that I had thrown my hands up into the air. I had given up.
And that's when everything went to pot.
I can't pinpoint the exact time or date that it happened, I am just acknowledging that somewhere I broke down and stopped living intentionally, with a purpose, with a drive, with a goal. I had just given up because everything felt so, so very out of control.
Funny how that seems to happen when you are more focused on surviving instead of focusing on living.
I am done with that.
I have made a budget, a budget that we are going to stick with because we have done it before and I am not coming back to this place ever, ever again.
I have clearly re-defined my goals for my family and for our future, at least our short term future.
I have prayed, everyday, several times a day for the last week (which may not seem big, but is a habit that so easily slips from your fingers when you are struggling to just breathe in and breathe out).
It is time again to step back into my life, to clean up the aftermath, to pull my family from the embers of the before and into the future.
I am not coming back to this place, it's time to move forward from the disaster that was us and into something new and better.
It's time to be intentional.