Perfectly Imperfect.

For the most part, I am happy. 

I want to say 95% of the time I am happily happy. 

I used to be so sad. You know?

For awhile, I was as sad as I think I could probably ever be. 

And then I changed my life and decided I wanted to be happy. 

But I think when you're sad for so long, it etches in your skin a little. 

Like, even when everything in my life is going better than I ever dreamed, the sadness wants me to remember that it's still there and that it's still a part of me. 

It doesn't want to be left behind.

So some nights I get really sad. 

Some nights, my wonderfully hard working husband is at work for 20 hours straight, and I start to remember what it felt like to feel completely alone. 

Sometimes, my brother starts preparing for his mission, and I remember the pain of being without someone you love. 

And sometimes I am just sad for no reason at all. 

These "sometimes" may be rare, and they may not be as bad as they used to be. 

But they're still there. 

And they still affect me. 

I think the moon hates me. 

Because it is only when the sun goes down, that I am able to feel that punching feeling in the pit of your stomach.

It is only when the stars light up,  that my mind starts to remind me of things that I thought I had done a pretty good job of forgetting. 

Anyway, last night was one of those nights. 

Cole didn't pick me up until 1:00 in the morning, after working since 5:00am the day before. 

And I started to panic.

I started to doubt if I could survive a lifetime of 20 hour shifts without feeling lonely and neglected.

But the second he set his hand on my leg, it was all over. And I was ok again. And the night wasn't so scary anymore. 

The sad times are extremely rare. 

But I just wanted you guys to know that my life isn't perfect all the time. 

I am a girl living with a scarred brain. 

I just happen to have found the one that embraces the scars and just makes it a point to love me more than the scars can hurt me.