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My White Picket Fence. Part Nine.

After my anxiety subsided from my newfound numbing agents, Vistaril and Buspar, I dreamed of my white picket fence. I googled the definition of white picket fence and found this: A white picket fence is a symbol of the ideal middle-class suburban life. It represents a safe, secure, and peaceful home, often with a family and children, a large house, and a garden. The white picket fence is a common feature of American culture and media, but it may also reflect an unrealistic or unattainable expectation of perfection. For a very brief moment I thought the nightmare was over. I wanted my white picket fence and sadly, I learned the hard way, that it does not exist. Sorry folks. The fairytale you may daydream about-the perfect spouse, kids, home, car, and overall existence is unrealistic, and you will break your own heart trying to obtain a status that is not real.


I was home and so happy to be back reunited with Eric but could not stand the thought of living in our home anymore that I felt such bad energy in. It reminded of pain and fights, and drunk episodes, and someone I did not want to know anymore. And after thirty days of inpatient treatment, everyone thought I was healed. I fooled myself but not for long. A lot happened in a short amount of time. So, I am going to give you a very short version of how I ended up in yet another treatment center that led me to pawn my wedding ring, run for my life and going to jail.


I left my apartment, asked for a continuance in court, and I am finding myself not ready to write about this. I want to write about this gracefully, exactly how it should be told so I am going to revisit this another night. Sorry!


I will return when I have a clear head and open mind to share.


Keep reading and know that God is good, and circumstances do change, and restoration is possible.


And you may never obtain your white picket fence, but God's gifts and blessings are more wonderful and better than delusional thinking and society's expectations.




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