Where are we now?

Many of us women are struggling in our relationships. We may need breathing room; the space to be ourselves; to feel love for ourselves; perhaps to find hope that our unions will last.

Some of us are clinging to complicated bonds, and others are solidifying broken ones. We face the fear of being alone, or of starting over again. Some Ladies fear change and some of us fear that we'll repeat the same dynamic.

We all know someone who has jumped ship to swim to an island for some alone time - and this strong woman will move towards better experiences. Sometimes it takes longer than we'd like to reach this decision....

Maybe some of us need to look, yet again, at the men in our lives...I've added some examples of good and bad interactions with your man:

Good - Your man is wonderful to you - he shows love and respect to, and of, you. He adds to the energy of the room, and he always has kind words for you. He's supportive in the ways that you require. His touch feels good. He holds himself accountable for his feelings and actions.

Bad - He's mean verbally/mentally/physically, and you question if you should stay. He sucks the energy out of a room, and cuts you down.

Please don't waste anymore of your precious time with a bad man.

If we want to attract the best possible relationships in our lives then we must respect, love, and enjoy ourselves. It's time for women to pick up their self-esteem/confidence and try it on again. It's time for us to hold our heads up and stare down the hurdles on our paths. Let us embrace newness, challenges, and opportunities.

Home?

He feels like Home to me.... Unfortunately, this Home has squeaky stairs and wood across the windows. As I stand knocking at the door, I see a few fingers pull the drapes to peer out from the darkness. He doesn't answer; he doesn't think I can see him. He's scared to face me because he fears letting go of his relationship patterns. He's scared to face me because he doesn't feel he deserves my love.

Part of him hopes that I'll give up and walk away, and part of him hopes that I'll keep knocking. He wants me to keep knocking in spite of his low self-esteem; he wants me to keep knocking in the face of his immaturity. He prays that I'll keep knocking, and that I won't give up on him. The truth is, he long ago gave up on himself, and I will never give up on me.

I realize that this feeling of Home is centred on a smell, his smell, and I will not base my future on a scent. This smell will be an archive in my memory, and if One walks past his Home they will see a grown man, silhouetted on a shade, crying into his hands.