I went to a friend’s house yesterday.

A house that doesn’t have crap laying all over the backyard and half finished projects and clothes everywhere.

Oh, of course she could have “cleaned up” knowing she was having me over but it’s more than just no clothes everywhere.

It’s a nice house.

A really nice house that is comfortable and roomy and clean and reasonably organized.

Everything my house is not.

I had a dream one time and it was SO TELLLING in its symbolism.

My friend came into my house and I took her upstairs and through this door she knew nothing about.  When she walked through it, there, before her was this entire other part of the house with nice furniture and books lining the walls and a lovely kitchen.

She said, “Wow, I never knew this was here.”

When I woke up, I knew the dream was telling me there is so much more to me, so much more potential then people see.

Then I am allowing.

I don’t know how to fix Me.  I really don’t.

I am so angry and frustrated.

It nearly defies words, trying to explain what it does to the human soul, living with an alcoholic.

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