It has been too long since I have written. I feel like a part of me is repressed when I don't write because I have to keep everything inside of me, and because my brain is too full I lose things. I lose emotions, truths, definitions of self. I find it more difficult to write electronically. Call me old fashioned but one of my most favorite things to collect are journals. A blank piece if paper and a salivating pen makes my heart dance. This is one thing that I have noticed about my daughter. I was cleaning her closet out a few weeks ago and I found journal after journal and pen upon pen. I want to get mad at her hoarding ways at times but finding these treasures brings me closer to her. It makes her a part of me. Things have been rough in my latest days. I am finishing up with nursing school, which I feel is a huge miracle and I am so proud of myself for actually finishing something In my life. Something I am passionate about. Why had I never considered nursing before. I feel like I was born into this world I help touch people's hearts, to help prove that humanity is kind hearted and loving, to define altruism. Nursing is the profession of caring if performed properly. I have never really felt like I had a perfect fit in this world. I have always been a lost spirit flitting around in this world looking for purpose. My children gave me purpose in my youth and continue to ground me but what would I be to this world when they are grown up? I suppose being a mother never ends but when my time is not consumed in raising them, then what? If any career defines who I am or want to be as a person, nursing finds its way into the dictionary of my self awareness. This all being said this last semester has been horrible. I have met two of the anti heroes of my life story and have not struggled with my weaknesses since I finally allowed myself to let my mom out of my life. These women at supposed To be leaders and advocates for other women such as myself but prove to be absolutely heartless. They say that nursing is the only field where they eat their young but my altruistic view of mankind was determined to deny this philosophy. It is hard to be let down by your own species. I am not directly talking about human beings but women. Strong women who set out to prove their strength. It saddens me when women who should be using their strength for example and guidance use it inappropriately and encourage the derogatory "bitch" to define them and demean the strength of femininity. God gives us trials to strengthen us. I believe He trusts in me to overcome and so I try everyday. These are merely tribulations to refine and build the character and muscle of my femininity. High heels and lipstick may strengthen the facade but true power comes through integrity, willpower and above all kindness and charity. These are the qualities I hope to possess. These are the qualities that I strive to be spoken about me when I have left this world. I try so hard to live up to teae qualities but did myself running into this wall I build around my heart. I seem to give freely to those around me and strangers even, but I feel that I lack these things when it comes to my husband. What happened in my life to turn my sense of pride in my sex into stereotypical feminism when I am around the men in my life? This is a dirty trait that I am well aware of and have no idea how to break it down, and shove it aside. It is the one quality I try so hard devoid. Many of my friends are married to men who are not even half worthy of being married to these women. I am married to a man who loves me despite my weight gain over the years of our marriage. A man who has actively participated as a father by changing diapers and cleaning up vomit after a night if the flu. I am married to a man who has forgiven my financial stupidity, and emotional immaturity in the early years of our marriage. A man who does the laundry and washes dishes and buys me sourdough bread and dr. Pepper because he knows how much I love them. I am married to a man who has held me in the depths of my despair as we watched our son almost slip away from this world, a man who has cried because of me, for me and most importantly with me. A man who sobs everytime one of his children is born, a man who opens my door and hold my hand. He is loyal, honest and romantic. He is a man of men. He is hardworking an puts his family first. Why has it taken me 13 years to fully appreciate this man? Why do I try to be a martyr when he is never against me? I feel like I was never taught to love a man. This sentence may sound a little peculiar but those who know my mom understand this truth. Nobody taught me to respect the strong men I have in my life a because of that I feel as f I have missed opportunities to unconditionally love the men in my life, like my dad and my grandpa. A good man wants to be loved. It is amazing the respect that is reciprocated when you love someone unconditionally and it has taken me most of my life to figure this out. I may sound scatter brained tonight but these are the thought in my heart today and I feel like now I can rest easy and my soul can breathe for the evening.