Crushed or Cubed - ch1

Alright, so here we go. 
I awoke this morning from a crazy dream. I dreamt that I was hovering over my life lamenting on my failures, my disappointments, my let-downs when, I realized that I, in my hovering was so self deprecating and judgmental. Who am I to put myself down so terribly? I am my own advocate! So my grounded self decided to put an end to it. I looked up at my "spirit" and said "BACK THE HELL OFF"!


Enter my annoying alarm clock and the impending  traffic that would consume most of my morning.


After downing a very lovely coffee and peanut butter toast, I felt it again. That self-loathing hovering feeling. That feeling that tells me that I am worthless, ugly, painfully boring, and sometimes embarrassing. Why do I do this? 
Can't I take one day and just let it all go? Be happy with myself, and ok with my decisions. 
This is why I have decided to write. Maybe it will all come out in this progression. 


So you're probably wondering about this whole crushed or cubed thing. I'll try my best to explain in two scenarios.
1. I just moved in with my fiance to our adorable house. We have this terrific side-by-side fridge with the ice-maker in the door. When we hooked up the ice-maker, the crushed ice in that glass of water was so refreshing and wonderful, I couldn't stand it! I love crushed ice. Though my mother insisted that I, as a child, not crunch the ice with my teeth (she was a dental assistant at the time). When we go to restaurants that have the "ballpark" ice, I almost lose it! There's just something about how it melts, how you always seem to get that one renegade sliver of ice in your coca-cola that just swooshes around until your teeth come crashing down upon it. It makes things taste better. I can even remember going to church functions with my family and down in that fellowship hall (that's what the baptists call it), they had an ice-maker that I think my grandfather (who was the preacher at the time) raised the money to purchase. The kids in my sunday-school class would sneak in the back room while the little old ladies were preparing our "BYOD" (bring your own dish) dinner. We would plunge our dirty hands into that ice-maker and steal out a fist full of delicious ball park ice. That's one of my most intense memories of the church, surprisingly enough. 


2. Another more metaphorical scenario is more about self-discovery than possible dental woes. Am I a crushed ice or a cubed ice kind of person. What about me is molded into a perfect little cube-like shape, and what about me is a unique sliver of refreshment? 


I'm getting married in a year. Ken's great - he makes me laugh often, protects me and my daughters, and loves me dearly. I needed that in my life so terribly badly. I am so completely blessed to have him. And so are my daughters - they're in later blogs - so much to say!


So here's our journey (should you choose to follow). We're deciding on which to be, crushed or cubed. And in this journey, hopefully I'll be able to regain some of my self confidence and be a better mother, wife, friend, daughter, and sister. Let's see!


Talk soon!
C or C!