Stop. Sometimes I just have to tell myself to stop it.
Heather, stop it.
Life is good right now. It's getting a little better with each step. So, Heather, let's stop looking backwards, however lovely the view; let's stop picking scabs. It's not moving on. It's moving, and not spinning.
Stop. Stop. Stop. Don't beat yourself to death over it, but stop all the same.
I'm going to bed--I just wanted to commit that somewhere. Sometimes it helps to talk to myself in the third person--or I pretend it does.
A proper blog is coming soon--probably something about music.
Life is good, and getting better. It's always grace.